Shadows seemed to float through the dungeons as Harry Potter made his way toward yet another Halloween detention. Torchlight flickered against the ancient, damp walls, causing the Fourth Year to shiver at the macabre dancing shapes leaping about the endless corridor.  He paused at an alcove, feeling a chill breeze emanating from a crack between the dark stones in the niche. Harry couldn’t imagine anyone actually taking the time to sit on the stone bench in the shallow recess; even in summer, the dungeons would be too cool to linger in for long, much less to just sit idly around.

After glancing at his Muggle wristwatch, the young wizard picked up his pace. He should have left Gryffindor Tower at least five minutes earlier. Now he was going to arrive at Snape’s detention late. Again. And lose more points. Again.

Harry sighed. This detention wasn’t deserved. Crabbe and Goyle had conspired to trip him up as he was returning ingredients to the storage cupboard after he had completed his Rash Relief salve. As a result, Harry’s unneeded handful of goldenrod leaves and jewelweed flew across the Slytherin side of the lab and landed in Pansy Parkinson’s cauldron at a crucial moment, causing a bad reaction with the gob of thestrel wing skin that the startled girl accidentally dropped into the boiling liquid as she jumped backwards.

Unfortunately for Harry, the Potions Master had witnessed everything except Harry’s tripping up, and the young Gryffindor was immediately docked twenty points for sabotaging Pansy’s potion, plus assigned a Halloween detention. Severus Snape scowled mightily at the black-haired boy as he pronounced his punishment, and Harry forced himself to accept the sentence with as good a grace as he could, since arguing would make no difference in the end, and only result in the loss of additional points.

As the Great Hall reveled several floors above, Harry pushed open the heavy wooden door to Snape’s dungeon classroom. He stifled a groan when he spotted several piles of grubby cauldrons stacked near the stone sink at the back of the room.

“Late again, Potter.” A statement, not a question.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Shall I assume that your tardiness is due to your stopping off in the Great Hall to indulge in Halloween sweets on your way here?”

Harry glared at his despised professor. The man truly looked like a Halloween bat, tall and dark, his robed arms folded across his chest, black hair trailing down each sallow cheek, black eyes burning across Harry’s soul…

“You can assume whatever you want,” Harry shot back unwisely. “You always do, even when it’s not true.”

Snape stared at the boy for several long seconds before his black brows lowered ominously. “For your cheek, Potter, you have just doubled your detention. Report here again tomorrow, same time, ON TIME.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.” Without a further word, he turned and marched to the stacks of dirty cauldrons.

Severus Snape glared daggers at the boy’s back, then turned on his heel, ebony robes flaring out dramatically around his lean figure, and strode toward the door which opened into his private office. In the doorway he paused, glaring once more at Potter’s tense spine as the boy froze by the stone sink, his back toward his instructor, but obviously keeping a sharp ear focused on Snape’s whereabouts. Infuriated at the brat’s insolence, Snape slammed the heavy oak door behind him, as he entered the sanctuary of his office. At least he wouldn’t have to see the brat while he worked.

In the classroom, Harry finally relaxed. He could clean cauldrons, no problem. But it was a relief when he could do so without Snape hovering over him, making all sorts of snide remarks as he worked. This entire year had felt off balance to Harry, what with the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang in the castle, so a solitary detention in Snape’s dungeon felt almost normal.

Back in Snape’s office, the Potions Master sank into his comfortable leather chair and leaned back. For once, he was actually grateful to Potter, since this detention excused Severus from attending the raucous Halloween Feast. Not that he would ever let on, especially to the brat himself. But Dumbledore normally required all of his staff to be on hand for the Feast, and the dark-haired man found each passing year making it increasingly difficult to put up with the celebratory festivities on the anniversary of the darkest day of his life.

He looked at the clock quietly ticking on the mantel above his fireplace. He just had to wait a few more hours…

In anticipation, he carefully unwarded one drawer of his desk and took out a delicate box inlaid with mother-of-pearl, setting it on the center of his desk top.

-:- -:- -:-

Harry reached into his left front pocket and pulled out his wristwatch. No point wearing it while doing heavy cleaning, so he always tucked it away for safekeeping while scrubbing. The hands indicated about twenty minutes until midnight. Halloween was almost over. He sighed as he stared at the second hand ticking around the face of the watch. This day saddened him every year, as he knew it was the anniversary of his parents’ murders.

When he had first learned that they had died on Halloween, Harry had imagined it was Halloween night. Later, however, he had learned that Voldemort had come to Godric’s Hollow just after midnight, in the very early minutes of Halloween morning. As a result of Voldemort’s backfiring curse, all of the British wizarding world spent the whole of Halloween day celebrating Voldemort’s defeat and lauding the Boy-Who-Lived, but with seemingly barely a thought for the deaths of James and Lily Potter.

Since discovering the sad facts surrounding his family’s tragedy, Harry could think of little else every Halloween day, from the time he first opened his eyes on Halloween morning until he finally retired late at night. His parents had died, trying to save him, and he wished ever so much that he could let them know how much he missed being with them.

When Harry had voiced his wish aloud in the Gryffindor Common Room last year, Lavender Brown had immediately decided they should hold a séance to summon the spirits of the Potters. Hermione had instantly debunked the concept of a séance, saying it was complete rubbish, but Harry wasn’t so sure. After all, Nearly-Headless Nick floated happily around the castle, so ghosts were real … why couldn’t they at least try the séance?

Hermione hmphhed loudly and declared that she needed to visit the library, although it was nearly curfew, while Lavender ran to grab a candle and a mirror, uncertain as to what might prove the most effective means of summoning spirits. After Hermione had exited the portrait hole, the remaining young Gryffindors gathered around the candle in the darkened Common Room, holding hands and whispering, “Come, Lily… Come, James… Come to Harry… “

Nothing had transpired, of course, and Harry had to put up with Hermione’s “I told you so” repeatedly all through breakfast the next morning. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from wishing that there was some way – any way at all – to contact his deceased parents. Lavender had suggested that on a future Halloween, Harry should visit his parents’ graves and try to summon their spirits while the Veil was thin. He just shook his head. Hermione was right; séances were just silly.

Sighing, Harry fastened the strap of his watch around his wrist, and eyed the piles of cleaned cauldrons with a sense of satisfaction. Even Snape, git that he was, wouldn’t be able to find fault with Harry’s work. Eyeing his watch once more – a quarter till midnight now – Harry supposed he should let Snape know that he’d finished the cauldrons.

Just as he turned toward the door that led to the Potions Master’s office, Harry heard a tiny tinkling sound, like a tiny tune, emanating from the office. Soundlessly, the boy approached the doorway, only to discover that the heavy oak barrier hadn’t latched properly when Snape had slammed it shut hours earlier. There was a crack between door and doorjamb, a vertical opening about an inch wide, and it was through this opening that Harry could hear what he finally identified as a music box playing that repeated tinkling tune.

The revelation boggled his mind.

Snape with a music box?

Cautiously, Harry pushed the edge of the door open another inch or two so he could see the inside of the office.

Severus Snape sat with his back to the door which separated him from his least favorite student, and upon his desk, just at his left elbow, a beautiful music box played a haunting refrain. The opened music box was oriented away from the dark man, its lovely lid standing vertically, facing Snape – and Harry well behind him – and the cherry wood glowed warmly in the golden light cast by Snape’s desk candle. Delicate designs created in mother-of-pearl swirled across the reddish wood in a silvery sheen of contrast.

Harry strained his ears. What was Snape saying?

“Please,” whispered the Potions Master. “Lily, please… “

And from the interior of the opened music box, a thin stream of an ethereal silver mist rose and spun gently, gradually taking form in the candlelit dimness of Snape’s office. The mist glowed of its own accord, and the music box itself began to glow as the haunting tune repeated, repeated, repeated…

Harry never felt his jaw drop when the mist finally coalesced into the form of a slender woman, with features he knew from Hagrid’s photographs…

Lily…

His mother…

Was he dreaming?

“Oh, Lily… “ whispered Severus Snape. “I’ve missed you so!”

“Severus, it’s only been a year for you since our last encounter,” replied the silvery Lily.

“An endless year, and now I only have a few moments with you until next Halloween. Another endless year ahead.”

Harry couldn’t see Snape’s face, but his voice sounded incredibly sad, nearly desperate.

“But look, Sev, you’ve brought me a visitor this time,” Lily smiled broadly, and oh, so sweetly as she turned her head to look beyond Snape at Harry himself.

“Visitor?” Snape sounded baffled. “What visitor?”

“Harry, my darling boy,” replied Lily, looking past Snape to Harry hovering behind the half-opened door.

Snape whirled, leaping to his feet, wand at the ready. “Potter! How did you get in here, you prying little prat!”

“Er… the door was ajar… “ Harry replied absently, his emerald eyes drinking in the sight of his mother. She was so beautiful! Obviously, her photographs couldn’t begin to do her justice, even if wizarding photos were charmed to move. Harry simply couldn’t get enough of looking at her, as if he could drown himself in her very image and never feel anything except his mother’s love radiating from her glowing features.

“Come here, sweetheart, and let me look at you,” Lily urged her son, but Harry stayed in the doorway, clutching the edge of the doorframe for support.

“Get out, Potter. Your detention is over. Leave. NOW.” Snape actually pointed his wand at the boy. Various jars of obscure potions ingredients began to rattle ominously with his wrath, but the boy who had been his bane still refused to remove himself from Snape’s private refuge.

Harry swallowed nervously at the Potions Master’s obvious ire, but couldn’t force himself to budge, not wanting to leave the lovely vision of his mother.

“Now Sev, don’t be selfish,” chided Lily. “I want to see Harry. You’ve had me to yourself all these years. I just want to spend a few minutes with my son before I fade away.”

Gritting his teeth so hard that Harry could hear them grinding and scraping from across the room, Snape finally jerked his chin at Harry. “So speak to him, then,” he growled at the vision of Lily Potter, while angrily waving Harry into his office. The man gracelessly flung himself back into his leather chair, a glower as black as his voluminous robes aimed at the Gryffindor who continued to hover in the doorway for a few more seconds.

Cautiously, Harry pushed the door farther open and slipped into Snape’s jar-lined sanctuary. He approached the desk with the glowing music box, never taking his eyes from his mother’s face. “Mum? Is – is it really you?”

Lily nodded her silvery head, though her eyes looked sad. “It’s a bit of me, darling,” she replied. “The night I died, I had run with you to your nursery and put the music box on to help calm you down, while your father … while he tried to hold off Voldemort.”

Harry bit his lip. “But Voldemort came anyway, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Lily, smiling her sad smile. “I was hit with the Avada Kedavra curse, and I believe this all happened as I was falling to the floor… My soul began to separate from my body, and part of it passed through the music box which had fallen from the table I collapsed against. The lid to the music box closed, and a tiny bit of my soul was caught within, while the rest went on to join your father.”

“Oh,” Harry said, knowing it sounded about as clueless as he actually felt about such things. In the wizarding world, many things still took him by surprise, and the prospect of a bit of soul being caught in a music box definitely fell into such a category.

Lily turned toward the Potions Master. “Tell him the rest of it, Sev.”

With great reluctance, and not looking directly at Harry, Snape took up the story. “I had gone to check on your family, Potter. It was known that they were not safe from the Dark Lord, that he was actively seeking them, and I went ... to warn them." He closed his eyes, shuddering slightly. “I was too late.”

“Go on, Sev. I want Harry to hear the rest.”

Snape remained silent, his eyes unfocused, or perhaps, focused on something far away that only he could see.

After a long silence, during which Harry couldn’t help wondering how long it would be before Lily would “fade away”, as she had described it earlier, he finally ventured, “Um, how exactly did you end up with my mum’s music box? Sir?”

“That’s what I want him to tell you, sweetheart,” Lily said, and then, more sternly to Snape, “Go on, then. I won’t be here much longer, you know. You’re wasting time!”

“Fine!” snarled Snape. “I got to your cottage and found your parents already dead, and you were still alive, Potter. Only Merlin knows why, since you’d apparently been hit by the Killing Curse, just like your parents.”

Harry nodded. That much he already knew. “And the music box?”

“I… “ Snape hesitated, trying to think of how best to put his actions into words. Not that he wanted to say anything at all. “I… “

“Sev!”

Snape slammed his left hand down on the padded arm of his leather chair. “I took it! I took the music box from the nursery, as a memento of your mother, who was my best friend in school.”

“Oh.” Now Harry really didn’t know what to say. Snape with a best friend was such an alien concept in the first place, and for that friend to be Harry’s own mother… It completely blew his mind!

“And tell Harry how you found me,” Lily urged. “It’s nearly midnight.”

Snape groaned aloud, the sound coming from the very bottom of his soul. “It was on Halloween night, the following year. I’d kept the music box safe all that time, never having played it once. But on the anniversary of her death, I felt compelled to play the music box. All day long, I’d felt this compulsion, but I resisted and resisted – if only I’d known… “

“Known what?” Harry asked, then winced, fully expecting for Snape to take points or assign a third detention.

The dark man’s deep sigh could have rocked Hogwarts castle off its foundations. “By the time I finally gave in to the impulse and played the music box, it was nearly midnight. If only I’d done it earlier in the day, Lily could have lingered throughout the entire day. Instead, I only got the last quarter hour with her.” Snape’s voice was nearly cracking as he related the story to her son.

“Oh!” This, at least, Harry could comprehend. “So she only comes out on Halloween, then?”

“Precisely, darling.” Lily smiled, a gentle smile full of joy and beauty. “So I get a tiny visit once a year. All these years, it’s just been with Sev, but I’m so happy to see you at last, my dearest Harry. I hope I will see you every Halloween night in the years to come.” Lily turned her head toward Snape as she added that last, and it was hard to tell if she meant it as a mere stated wish, or an order, or a threat.

Snape, obviously, took her statement seriously, given the glare he subjected the boy to.

After a moment, Harry asked, “So, I’m to just come down here at a quarter to midnight on Halloween nights, and we play the music box together, and Mum shows up?”

“In your dreams, Potter,” growled the Potions Master.

“Sev!”

“Yes, yes, all right.” He shook his head, dark hair swinging violently. “We’ll play the music box together.”

“Excellent!” chirped Harry, grinning, his emerald eyes glowing with anticipation. “I’ll look forward to it!”

Lily folded her hands and gazed at her two favorite men, aside from her husband, of course. “I’m so sorry we won’t have more time together, but at least it’s something, and something is always better than nothing.”

Harry nodded, his throat clutching as he regarded his mother, who was already beginning to fade.

“Bye, Mum,” he whispered. “See you next year.”

“Goodbye, darling,” Lily replied, smiling fondly at her son. “Goodbye, Sev. Please watch out for Harry.”

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh, followed by a grimace and a brief nod.

As the tinkling refrain from the music box gradually slowed down, Lily’s silvery form faded little by little, until she once again became a stream of silvery mist, which sank into the interior of the music box.

The last silvery note died away, leaving a dead silence permeating Snape’s cold stone office.

The clock on his mantel chimed twelve times.

November had arrived.

After several long moments of quiet reflection, Harry mused, “The music box is so lovely. I wonder where she got it from originally?”

After an even longer silence, Snape replied in a barely-audible voice, “I gave it to her … for Christmas ... in our Fifth Year.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Then it’s right that you should have it, Professor. Just … take good care of it.”

“I always do.”

-:- -:- -:-