Visions of Gingerbread by shadowienne
Summary: For a Christmas gift, Severus Snape receives a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Patented Daydream Charm. What sort of Daydream will he have… ?
Categories: Fic Fests > #20 Holiday Fest 2015, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Flitwick, Hermione, McGonagall
Snape Flavour: Snape is Angry
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fantasy
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 4945 Read: 2437 Published: 20 Dec 2015 Updated: 20 Dec 2015
Story Notes:
J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter; I own nothing Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended.
Visions of Gingerbread by shadowienne

Severus Snape jumped slightly as a brightly-wrapped gift with a glittering bow suddenly materialized upon his dinner plate. He stared at it as if it were a highly-poisonous snake. When it did not shake, rattle, or roll of its own accord across the polished china, he slowly raised his eyes to scan the vast cavern of Hogwarts’ Great Hall, where a larger-than-usual number of students had remained over the Christmas holiday. His black eyes narrowed speculatively as he focused on a certain Harry Potter sitting with his fellow Sixth Year Gryffindors.

“Oh, really, Severus,” chided Minerva McGonagall. “Can’t you take a simple joke? My gift will hardly bite, you know.”

“Your gift?” Snape swiveled his gaze to the Transfiguration Professor’s smiling face.

“Of course it’s from me, you big dolt. Who else would give you something like this? Who else would dare?”

Snape stared at the Christmas gift once more. “What is it?”

The older woman sighed. “It is customary to remove the wrappings and then thank the giver for her thoughtfulness,” she instructed.

“I see.”

Clearly, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor did not see at all.

“Just open it, Severus.” She shoved his elbow for good measure. “Before Christmas is over. As in, TODAY.”

Against his better judgment, Snape reached for the small package and carefully removed the bow, then the wrappings. The item which had been concealed within caused his jaw to drop.

“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Patented Daydream Charm?” he said slowly, reading from the front panel of the colorful box. The handsome youth pictured on the box seemed to wink at him while leaning over the swooning girl who had collapsed in his arms. The young couple appeared to be situated on the deck of a pirate ship, of all things. “You must be joking!”

McGonagall laughed. “That’s entirely the point of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Severus. Go ahead and try it. At the very least, you’ll get a good laugh. I fully enjoyed my own Daydream, and I thought it would make the perfect gift for you.”

Snape heavily plunked the lightweight box down on the pristine tablecloth next to his plate. “No thank you, Professor. I do not intend to indulge in anything remotely connected to the Weasley twins. Thank you all the same.”

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head. “Well, it’s up to you, of course, but I’m sorry that you’ll miss out on a great bit of fun. Those twins were awful pranksters, I’ll not deny, but they certainly know how to turn out a quality product. Miss Granger gave me a Daydream Charm for my Christmas gift, and I decided to owl-order one for you. Please, Severus, just unbend a little. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

Snape scoffed and hid the box under his napkin. “I seriously doubt it. I can’t imagine what those twins would design for me, but I know it wouldn’t be fun.”

“They’re not customized, Severus. The Daydream Charm is generic – it’ll work for anyone. The instructions simply say that it will play off of your subconscious mind, bringing out innocuous thoughts and organizing them into a coherent Daydream.”

The dark man glared at the lump under the napkin. “Surely, there must some sort of side effects involved.”

“Well, aside from a vacant expression and minor drooling – “

“Drooling!” Snape shoved the lump a bit farther from him.

“Very minor, Severus. Honestly, I don’t think I drooled at all.”

Snape sighed. He did not give gifts to other staff members, hoping they would get the message that he did not wish to receive gifts from them. Gift giving was so awkward, after all. One never knew what to give, and several of the items he had been given in the past had proven … unsettling. Poppy Pomfrey’s bottle of fruit-scented skin lotion four years ago had nearly been his undoing.

“It’s not as if you need to have a Daydream here and now, Severus,” the woman was insisting as she nudged his black-clad elbow with her own. “Take it to your quarters and use it later tonight, after everyone has gone to their Houses. The Daydream only lasts thirty minutes. And it is fun, truly.”

Feeling that he should simply Vanish the lump, napkin and all, Snape looked into McGonagall’s hopeful face. “Am I obligated to report to you the details of this Daydream?”

“Of course not,” she laughed. “It’s entirely private. But if you wanted an excuse to use the product, you could always take an academic approach and write a review of the product based on your experience. I’m sure the Weasley twins would love to have a professional endorsement published.”

“I daresay they would,” snarled Snape, shoving the box into the depths of his robes. “But they won’t get it from me.”

“Still, you will try it, won’t you? Please?”

Sighing, Snape shook his head. “I make no promises. None at all.”

Farther to their left, Albus Dumbledore waved his wand, and the tables abruptly filled with platters of holiday foods. There were enough students staying over the holidays this time to justify one short table for each House, and the conversation level rose with exclamations of delight when the students saw how the house elves had outdone themselves preparing their Christmas dinner.

At the Head Table, roast goose warmed Severus Snape’s plate, while a small box seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket.

-:- -:- -:-

It was nearly eleven o’clock that night before Snape had the opportunity to take the Wheezes box from the deep pocket of his robes. A pirate ship indeed! What sort of advertising was that, if the product was intended to play off of the user’s own thoughts? Who would be thinking about a pirate ship? And what sort of fantasy would that person’s mind concoct? He glared at the swooning girl. Little idiot! And the cocky youth… He thinks he’s going to get lucky, no doubt. Both idiots!

Gritting his teeth, Snape opened the box, pulling out a small piece of paper which contained instructions (including the statement that this was a one-time-only Charm which required that the user be holding the instructions in his or her non-wand hand in order to activate said Charm), a warning about the vacant expression and minor drooling – drooling! – and the Weasleys’ patented incantation itself.

His eyebrows rose as he studied the incantation. Several languages must have gone into it in the end, because it was nothing he could recognize as having a single root language. In fact, the incantation seemed to be a string of vocables, rather than a word or extracts of several words. However, according to the instructions, the wand movement was based on a simple swish-and-flick, reminiscent of Wingardium Leviosa, with the wand held pointed at the user’s chest. Snape frowned. Pointing a wand at any part of his anatomy went against his better judgment and against basic safety rules taught to all First Years. Of course the Weasley twins would ignore basic safety. Of course!

The “simple” incantation was broken down phonetically, with hyphens between the syllables for ease of pronunciation. He supposed he had better sit down for this experience. With instruction sheet in his left hand and wand in his right, Snape practiced saying the incantation a couple of times, then readied his wand for the swish-and-flick.

If this went awry, he vowed, he would shove a hefty dose of U-NO-POO down each twin’s throat…

Severus Snape swished and flicked and incanted, and suddenly he was trotting along the dungeon passage in the direction of the stairs rising toward the main entrance hall. He trotted – why was he trotting? – up the stairs, only to find Hagrid coming through the gigantic main doors, wearing jingle bells in his beard. Snape tried to greet him, but no sound came out of his mouth. Hagrid grinned at him, however, and waved a friendly glove, shaking snow off onto the cold stones of the floor. Snape waved back, since his voice wasn’t working, and thought that his hand looked funny for some reason, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what seemed different about it.

Turning a corner, Snape trotted up more stairs toward the Great Hall, where a bunch of rosy-cheeked Hufflepuffs were caroling under the direction of Pomona Sprout. Their song fell apart when they spotted Snape, but instead of the usual wariness or outright fear he was accustomed to seeing in students’ faces when he confronted them, the Hufflepuffs’ faces shone brightly with amusement, and they began to point at him and laugh. Snape tried to wave a fist at them, but once again, there appeared to be something odd with his hand. It wouldn’t curl effectively into a fist, so he settled for glaring at the carolers and trotted past them – WHY was he trotting! – into the Great Hall itself.

He immediately spotted Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley involved in a food fight with the Slytherin table, throwing Brussels sprouts like dungbombs.

One hundred points from Gryffindor, Snape tried to shout, but once again, his voice failed. The food fight continued, with all types of food from the Christmas Feast sailing across the expanse of the room. Snape ducked as a single-serving-sized mince pie whizzed past his head like a tiny Frisbee, and the students finally took notice of him. For no apparent reason, the Weasley boy began to point and laugh, and the other Gryffindors followed suit. The Slytherins, however, looked horrified and whispered urgently among themselves as they stared at Snape.

What was going on? Snape stood with his feet apart, and tried to put his hands on his hips, which only made the Gryffindors laugh louder as his hands slipped down his sides again and again.

Enough was enough!

Potter! he tried to shout, but no sound emerged from his throat. Fine. If he couldn’t talk, he could still grab the worst students by their ears and haul them to the dungeons for detention!

His eyes fixed on Harry Potter’s form, bent double with laughter, Snape attempted to stride forward, but he slipped on some loose Brussels sprouts and found his feet flying out from under him. Sprawled on the stones, he looked at his feet and something struck him as not quite right. They were his feet – they were attached to his body – but they weren’t the right feet, somehow. He shoved himself onto his faux-feet, and waved his faux-hands threateningly at the Gryffindors, causing them to roar with more laughter.

Carefully, he picked his way amongst the Brussels sprouts – slippery little devils! – and other remnants of the food fight, and he attempted to grab Weasley and Potter by their ears. Unfortunately, his faux-hands failed to get a grip, and he only succeeded in rubbing their hair, sort of like petting a couple of unrepentant dogs on the head. The walls were vibrating with the Gryffindors’ laughter, and by now the Slytherins had begun to shout, trying to get his attention.

Snape gave up on the boys’ ears and beckoned impatiently with his faux-hand. Surely, they weren’t so thick that they couldn’t recognize that gesture! But Potter – blast the brat! – simply shook his unruly black head and grinned infuriatingly, backing away from Snape. Weasley backed in a different direction, and Snape had to choose. He went after Potter, who practically crowed with delight at having been chosen to bear the brunt of Snape’s wrath.

Potter ran a few steps away, then paused to look back at Snape, who was still picking his way among the loose Brussels sprouts. The moment he hit a clear patch of floor, he began to trot after Potter, but the boy just cackled and ran faster, keeping ahead of him easily while the Gryffindors laughed in their wake.

The idiot Gryffindor ran out into the corridor, passing the Hufflepuff carolers, and he paused again, as if daring Snape to catch up to him. Snape did try, trotting for all he was worth, trying to ignore the laughing, pointing singers, but before he could reach Potter, the brat turned and ran farther down the corridor, shouting over his shoulder, “Run, run, fast as you can! You can’t catch me ‘cause you’re a gingerbread man!”

Snape stopped trotting and stared down at himself in horror.

It was true! He was a gingerbread man!

He had the overall surface appearance of a rich, oven-baked brown all the way down, except where he had frosting cuffs piped above his thumbless, mitten-like faux-hands and frosting boots on his faux-feet. Below his piped frosting collar, there was even a long line of frosting buttons down his torso… He didn’t want to think what his face looked like!

A gingerbread man! This was the work of those Weasley twins, he was sure of it! Somehow, they’d gotten word that the Daydream Charm was for him, and they’d customized it to turn him into a gingerbread man!

But even knowing that this was a Daydream did not squelch his compulsion to pursue Harry Potter, who stood grinning at him from twenty feet away. Snape took a step forward, and Potter took a step backward. Snape took two steps forward, and Potter stepped back twice. Snape threw himself into a high-speed sprint, but he only succeeded in trotting after Potter, who laughed and jogged just fast enough to stay a decent distance ahead of him.

And so they journeyed through Hogwarts castle. The boy’s worn trainers slapped the granite stones beneath his feet, and Snape trotted behind him, leaving a faint trail of crumbs on those same stones. Once, when Potter had whipped around a corner, Snape lost sight of him for several moments. Three different corridors and four doorways confronted him when he’d rounded that same corner, and he paused, trying to figure out which way the blasted brat had gone.

Suddenly, something rough seemed to be rubbing against his ankle, and expecting that Potter had laid some sort of a trap for him, Snape looked down, only to see Mrs. Norris rhythmically licking frosting from his faux-foot boot. Aaaagh! he tried to shout, but she paid no attention to his silent mouth opening and closing – was his mouth made of piped frosting? He tried to kick her aside, and the cat nipped at his leg in response, ripping a chunk of gingerbread loose. He kicked again, a rather ineffective action, given that gingerbread men lacked substance, but the cat finally took the hint and slunk away.

Potter’s head popped out of one of the doorways. His emerald eyes danced with glee. “Run, run, fast as you can… “

Snape tried not to give in, but he couldn’t help trotting after Potter once more. Merlin knew why he could only trot, but if he EVER managed to get a grip on Potter with his faux-hands… And as if trotting weren’t bad enough, now he was limping on the leg that had a chunk bitten out of it!

Up stairs, down stairs, around corners, along corridors… Trotting, trotting, trotting…

As they passed through the wing housing Gryffindor Tower, they spied Minerva McGonagall dressed in green tartan robes. She smiled in delight and called out, “I told you that you’d love it, Severus! Wasn’t I right?”

Snape glared at her silently and trotted on, Potter’s laughter echoing off the walls ahead of him.

The patented Daydream was supposed to last only thirty minutes, but Snape had lost track of how long he’d been trotting already. He had to catch Potter before the half hour was up – he just HAD to!

Snape’s limping seemed to be getting worse, although his leg felt no actual pain. He glanced down to where Mrs. Norris had taken that chunk out of his leg, and to his horror, he realized that the leg was beginning to crumble away. Still, he kept up his limping trot, and he felt a wave of fury wash over him when he saw that Potter had apparently slowed his own jog to accommodate his professor’s gimpy gait.

First Potter, then Snape, rounded the umpteenth corner of the castle, and Potter suddenly called back to him, “Hey, Snape! Here’s someone who can help you!”

And there was his esteemed colleague, Filius Flitwick, wearing antlers on his head for some reason, happily waving his wand to music that only he could hear.

“Severus!” he greeted the taller man with a warm smile. “Happy Christmas!”

Snape stopped trotting and looked pleadingly at the tiny wizard. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Frantically, he gestured with his faux-hands toward his mouth, and Flitwick seemed to get the message. After several complicated gestures with his wand, the tiny wizard said, “There, that should do it. Can you speak now?”

To his utter relief, Snape discovered he could, and he lost no time communicating with the most talented Charms expert on staff. “Professor, please help me get back to normal. Do something! Wave your wand! Finite this Charm!”

Flitwick looked puzzled. “What Charm, Severus?”

“This Weasleys’ Patented Daydream Charm! They turned me into a gingerbread man!”

“Is that a problem for you?” Flitwick asked seriously, looking the Defense teacher’s new form up and down with keen interest.

“Of course it’s a problem for me!” shouted Snape. “I don’t want to be a gingerbread man! And besides, I have to catch Potter!”

Flitwick stood rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t see how I can Finite a patented Charm that you cast upon yourself, Severus, but I can offer something which might help you.”

“Yes! Good! Anything!”

Once again, the tiny Charms professor waved his wand, making Snape wonder for the first time what had happened to his own wand after he’d cast the Daydream Charm – he’d had it in his hand, after all – and suddenly, Flitwick was offering Snape a conjured candy cane.

Snape stared at the red-and-white-striped cane in confusion. “And this is supposed to help me … how?”

“Oh, of course,” chortled Flitwick. “You are taller, aren’t you?”

“Taller?”

Flitwick waved his wand again, and the candy cane enlarged to Snape’s hip height. “There you go! I’m sure it will help you walk with that limp.”

“WHAT!”

Flitwick held out the candy cane encouragingly, even though it was now taller than he stood. “Go ahead, Severus. Take it! But seriously, you should see Poppy about your leg. That just looks … bad.”

Snape stared disbelievingly at the small man. Flitwick was not joking, he realized. The Charms teacher actually expected him – a gingerbread man! – to walk with a candy cane! Still, what with the crumbling state of his leg… Mustering all the dignity he could manage under the circumstances, Snape reached out and accepted the proffered candy cane, wincing at its slightly-sticky surface, although he had to admit that it helped the cane adhere to his mostly non-functioning faux-hand. “Thank you for your assistance, Professor,” he said, inclining his head.

Flitwick smiled broadly. “Excellent. Now remember, walk so that the cane swings forward with your bad leg to take your weight on that side.”

“Thank you,” Snape said, turning his head to glare after Potter, who had witnessed this exchange with unconcealed mirth. “Now… “

He took a step with his good leg, tried to walk with the candy cane as Flitwick had instructed, but suddenly found himself trotting uncontrollably again.

“Walk, Severus! Walk!” called Flitwick, now receding into the distance behind him.

“I can’t walk!” shouted Snape despairingly. “I can only trot!”

And matching action to words, or words to the action already in progress, Snape trotted after Potter, the huge candy cane swinging alongside his bad leg, tapping the corridor stones with every other step. The sound echoed off the towering walls, interspersed with a brief silence between each tap as the gingerbread man’s frosting boot made the opposite step without discernible sound.

Maddeningly, the Potter brat giggled ahead of him, as Snape trot-tap-trot-tapped along in the Gryffindor’s wake.

All of a sudden, Potter was joined by Hermione Granger, who had emerged from a side corridor carrying a long, tangled popcorn string in one hand and a tall soldier nutcracker in the other. “Harry, what are you doing?”

“Running from Snape, of course.”

The Granger girl glanced back at the Defense teacher. “Why?”

Potter snorted. “He wants to put me in detention. But he has to catch me first.”

Granger stopped jogging beside Potter and waited for Snape to catch up, falling in next to him as he trot-tap-trot-tapped. “Professor, are you all right?”

“Does it LOOK like I’m all right?” he growled, never taking his eyes off of Potter.

“But what happened?” she asked, looking him up and down as she trotted easily beside him. “You seemed perfectly all right at supper.”

“Professor McGonagall gave me a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Patented Daydream Charm as a Christmas gift,” Snape huffed impatiently. “And this was the result.”

“So, this is a Daydream?” Granger inquired.

“Obviously,” Snape grated, thinking he might have gained just a little distance on Potter, who must have dropped back to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“That’s okay then,” said Granger. “It should wear off soon. They only last thirty minutes, you know. And Fred and George do know how to turn out a superior product. I was quite impressed with their level of magic.”

“Those twins should count themselves fortunate that they are no longer at school,” said Snape, “or they would never see the outside of the dungeons again. I would be sorely tempted to allow Mr. Filch to have his way with the both of them.”

Granger kept staring at his bad leg. “Professor, I really think you should see Madam Pomfrey about your leg. That looks like a bad injury. What happened to it?”

“Mrs. Norris … bit me,” Snape admitted.

“Oh, dear.” Granger actually looked concerned. “Cat bites can fester, you know. You should really go to the hospital wing.”

“I’M. A. GINGERBREAD. MAN!” Snape roared, his thunderous shout filling the castle. “GINGERBREAD MEN. DO. NOT. FESTER!”

Granger shrugged. “Well, your icing might leak out,” she said reasonably.

Potter howled with laughter. “Give it up, Hermione,” he called back to them. “He can’t stop trotting long enough to go to the hospital wing! Trotting is in his nature!”

“Stop being so mean, Harry!” she called back. “You’re acting as bad as Ron, now.”

“Mean?” Potter stopped in the middle of the corridor. “ME?”

Snape saw his chance and, after trotting several more limping steps, flung the oversized candy cane like a police officer’s night stick, catching Potter just behind his knees, sending him crashing to the stones.

But without the cane to support his own weight, Snape’s bad leg suddenly broke apart, sending a spray of crumbs in all directions. His frosting boot slid across the floor, and bumped to a halt against the right-hand wall, while Snape’s soft-baked body fell silently to the floor. One of the stiff frosting buttons popped off his front and rolled along on its edge, slowing, then spinning briefly in place before plopping flat onto the stones.

“Professor!” shrieked Granger. “Oh, Merlin! Are you all right?”

Snape blew out his breath. “Do you really need to ask?” He tried unsuccessfully to shove himself back to his good foot. “Of course I’m not all right!”

“Here, let me help,” said Granger, using her take-charge tone of voice. She shoved the head of the soldier nutcracker beneath the stump of Snape’s bad leg and began tying it into place with the popcorn string.

“That’s not going to work,” advised Potter, who had managed to scramble to his own feet, surrounded by shards of broken candy cane.

“Nobody asked your opinion, Potter,” snapped the Defense teacher. “And count yourself in detention until the end of this school year.”

“Gotta catch me first,” Potter grinned infuriatingly.

“Harry! Stop it! And help me lift him up.” Granger tried to get one of Snape’s thick brown arms over her shoulder.

Right, Potter, thought Snape. Just come over here, just let me touch you, and you’ll never be free again…

“No way,” demurred Potter. “He’d cheat and say he’d caught me.”

“Fine,” growled Granger. “Then stay out of my way while I help him.” She pointed her wand and incanted, “Reparo!” The candy cane sprang back into one cheerful piece, although some of the red and white stripes appeared to have gone a bit wonky in the process.

“Here, Professor,” she said, shoving the candy cane into Snape’s other faux-hand. “Let’s get you up.”

She bent her knees and pulled hard on the gingerbread arm tucked over her shoulder – and the arm broke off, sending Snape crashing soundlessly to the stones again, while Granger lost her balance and careered sideways against the wall.

Potter doubled over with laughter, and Snape shook his thumbless remaining faux-hand at him. “When I get you – “

Granger stood stiff as a rail, staring with mingled horror and curiosity at the arm she was holding. “I wonder what this tastes like,” she murmured, swiping her finger through the frosting cuff.

“NO!” shouted Snape, frantically shuffling toward her on his stomach. “Don’t eat that!”

Granger’s eyes lit up. “But it’s really good!” she exclaimed. “Here, Harry … try a bite!”

Potter reached for the disembodied arm, obviously planning to pinch off a bit of gingerbread.

“NOOOOO!” shrieked Snape. These Gryffindors were real-life cannibals! “NOOOOO!”

His scream of horror and disgust bounced off the walls of his quarters, and Severus Snape found himself back in undeniable human form, still clutching the Daydream Charm instructions in his left hand and his wand in his right. His heart pounded fiercely beneath the buttoned-down frock coat as the adrenaline surge caused his head to throb mercilessly.

Home.

He. Was. HOME.

It had all been the Daydream.

What a nightmare!

Blast McGonagall anyway…

And the Weasley twins…

And Potter, whose fault it had to be, for forcing him to trot incessantly…

And that cannibalistic Granger!

He’d always known to never trust Gryffindors for anything!

He relaxed his grip, and the Daydream instructions and his wand slid quietly to the Oriental rug by his lounge chair. Snape sat as still as possible, breathing deeply, willing his heart rate to calm. Not even the Dark Lord’s meetings had involved cannibalism… And how, EXACTLY, was this supposed to reflect his inner thoughts? Snape shook his head. If he tried to psychoanalyze this Daydream, he’d probably find an answer he didn’t want to acknowledge. He preferred to think that the Weasley twins MUST have tinkered with the Charm, customizing it just for one Severus Snape! That was the only possible ACCEPTABLE explanation!

Snape shook his head again, wiping an indecent amount of drool from below the corner of his mouth.

As for the context of his Daydream, he refused to explore any other possibilities than the twins’ grossly-misplaced senses of humor. Furthermore, he would never give Fred and George Weasley the satisfaction of knowing that he had, in fact, actually used their Patented Daydream Charm. If Minerva McGonagall asked, he’d simply tell her that he had discarded it. In the fire. Yes. That would do it. Definitely. Yes.

He released a shaky breath. Absolutely, that was thirty minutes of his life he hoped he’d never have to relive.

The clock on the mantel struck midnight.

Christmas was over.

Until next year!

-:- -:- -:-

Severus Snape strode firmly through the corridors of Hogwarts castle, his polished black boots gleaming in the torchlight. He stalked the halls, looking for miscreants who had the bad judgment to be out of their Houses after curfew. There were always a few, even on the night of Christmas’ ending.

And yes! A shadowy form had just disappeared around the corner up ahead…

Snape cast a Fogfoot Charm on his leather boots and ran silently after the guilty party, his black robes billowing majestically.

“Potter!”

The guilty party whirled around at his shout.

“Oh, hello, Professor,” said Harry Potter, attempting to look innocent and failing miserably.

“Detention, Potter.”

“For what?”

“For gingerbread and Brussels sprouts and all the rest of it,” sneered Snape.

“WHAT?”

“You heard me.”

Potter stared at him, his jaw dropping down. “But I was on my way to the hospital wing, Professor. Seamus… Well, you can see for yourself.” The Sixth Year held up a bloody, makeshift bandage on his left hand.

“Serves you right,” pronounced Snape.

“What’s gotten into you, Professor?” Potter actually looked puzzled.

“I’m escorting you to the hospital wing, so move along. Go on, then. TROT!”

Potter edged sideways, keeping a wary eye on the Defense teacher. “Right. Er – Happy Christmas, Professor.”

Snape gave a thin smile. “You would be wise not to start with me, Potter.”

“Mrrrrrowwww!”

The dark man jerked spasmodically at the sound of Mrs. Norris’ shrill yowl, and he couldn’t help his reflexive response. Without a backward glance at the wayward student, Snape trotted away, his black robes jerking along the stone floor behind his heels with every step.

Harry Potter stared after Snape’s fleeing form, watching until the man disappeared around a distant corner in the castle.

Mrs. Norris was still standing at his feet when Harry looked down at her. The cat’s lamplit eyes looked up into his emerald ones, reflecting the confusion they both felt.

“Yeah, kitty. I know exactly how you feel. What say we both pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey? I know she likes cats… “

The Gryffindor lion and the tatty cat strolled off side by side through the darkened, silent castle.

The End.


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