“Will we decorate the tree before dinner?” Harry asked.

“After, I think,” Snape replied. “There is a potion I’d like you to brew first.”

Harry nearly groaned. He didn’t feel like brewing a potion, at least not with Snape standing over his shoulder, watching his every move. It felt too much like class, and Potions class had a way of bringing back bad memories.

“What will I be brewing?”

Snape pushed open the door to the pantry that had become the makeshift potions lab. “A combination solution. One of my own invention.”

“Oh,” Harry said, following Snape into the small room. “When did you invent it?”

“Just now.”

Harry gaped at the man. Surely he must be joking. But Snape’s expression was serious and, if there was one thing Snape didn’t joke about, it was potions.“All right,” Harry hedged. “Should I ask what it’s for?”

“You may ask, but I will not answer,” Snape replied, pulling a few different books, as well as parchment and quill, to where he seated himself in front a brewing bench.

Harry bit back a sigh. The man could be so cryptic at times. Then it occurred to him. “You want me to guess, don’t you?”

“No, Harry, I do not want you to guess,” Snape bit out. “I would hope you would have gained enough of an education by now to do more than guess.”

“I mean,” Harry said, “you want me to look at the ingredients, the formula, and figure it out.”

“Precisely. I will be combining three simple potions. It will be your job to not only brew the concoction, but to work out which three potions have been combined and what their end-product will achieve.”

Harry bit his lower lip, wishing Hermione was here. She would relish the challenge, and succeed with minimal effort, no doubt. Harry, on the other hand, barely managed to make one potion correctly, much less an experimental combination of three.

“Sir,” Harry began. “May I ask a question that I’m sure you’ll think is stupid?”

Snape lifted his head from where he was writing and cocked an eyebrow at him.

Taking that as permission, Harry said, “How do you know when you combine three potions together that they won’t just blow up or something?”

Snape set down his quill. “Are you suggesting I would be so careless as to endanger you?”

“No!” Harry said quickly. “But if I threw three random potions together in the same cauldron, I’m sure it would explode.”

Snape studied him for a moment. “You will not be combining three completed potions. I am devising a new recipe that has elements of each of the original potions in them. The ingredients that make up these elements are stable when combined. As a Potions master, I am required to know which ingredients can be safely mixed together, and which ones interact in a negative manner.”

“Better you than me,” Harry mumbled. “I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to do what you do.”

A quarter of an hour later, Snape handed over the formula for the new potion.  

As Harry read through it, he noticed that Snape had made annotations in the margins.

At this point, the potion should be faintly orange in color.

After adding the dandelion root, the potion should release an odor similar to charred wood.

Once steam begins to rise, decant and cork immediately.

“Any questions?” Snape asked.

“It looks clear enough,” Harry responded. “Thanks for the extra hints.”

Snape nodded. “I do not wish to waste what few potions ingredients we have. If you have a question, or make a mistake, come to me immediately.”

“You aren’t going to stay and watch?” Harry asked.

“Do I need to?”

Harry gazed up at the man. Snape was actually going to trust him to brew a new potion alone? “No,” Harry said. “I think I can handle this. I will let you know if I need help.”

Snape nodded and left the pantry.

The brewing, it turned out, was the easy part. The instructions were clear, the ingredients familiar, and the tips in the margin aligned well with his efforts. He decanted the steaming solution into the two glass bottles Snape had set out for the task and then sealed them, mesmerized by the shimmering liquid inside that seemed to writhe and pulse against the glass.

Now the only thing he had to figure out was what the potion actually did. And what three potions it was derived from. He washed his hands and fetched a glass of water to drink, contemplating all the while how exactly he was supposed to do that. Hermione would know. And if she didn’t, she’d look in a book. Glancing over at the lab bench, he saw the stack of books that Snape had set there. He hadn’t seen Snape refer to them while he wrote out the new formula, so likely the potions were simple ones. At least he hoped that was the right assumption. And if Snape didn’t need the books, why had he set them out? The only logical answer was that Harry would need them.

With no better idea of where to start, he sat and began to look through them. There were four books. One was a small book of ingredients, their attributes, and the potions they were most commonly used in. Another was a book of elementary potion recipes. The third was a book on ingredient combinations and their joint characteristics. The fourth book was in Latin. He frowned at that one and set it aside, not sure what he was supposed to do with it.

As two of the books were about ingredients, he supposed that was the easiest place to start. He pored over the two tomes, making notes on each item Snape had instructed him to use. Dandelion root, for instance, had a wide variety of properties on its own but, when combined with coneflower, it acted as a sedative. When it was combined with thistle, another of the ingredients, it acted as a nutrient for some woodland creatures.

By the time he’d compiled the various ingredients and combinations he could find across the two books, he had a list of about twelve different properties and felt more confused than ever. Glancing over at the elementary potions book, he began paging through it, trying to find mention of the different properties and then seeing if the list of ingredients matched with what he’d used. It took him awhile, but he finally managed to come up with four potential potions. Unsure of how to rule one of them out, he went to seek out the Potions master, whom he found in the sitting room poring over a journal of some sort.

“I’m finished, sir,” Harry said.

“The potion was successful?” Snape inquired.

“Yes, sir. That part went well. I’m just not certain about the three potions you combined.”

At Snape’s raised brow, Harry continued. “I found four potions it could be, I think, and I’m not sure how to narrow it down to only three.”

“I see,” Snape said, setting the journal aside. “Let us first examine your potion.”

Harry followed Snape back into the pantry. Snape picked up one of the two clear glass jars and studied it carefully, turning it this way and that. “Very good, Harry.”

Harry, who had been holding his breath even though he was pretty sure he’d got it right, let it out with a smile.

“Now, what are your conclusions about this potion?”

“Well,” Harry began, “I believe it’s some sort of calming or sleeping solution, maybe both. I can tell that from these two ingredients here,” Harry said, pointing to two adjacent substances on the formula Snape had written out. “And I’m guessing these two have something to with stabilizing the other ingredients. I don’t think they do anything on their own. Or, if they do, I couldn’t determine what.”

Harry glanced at Snape, who gave no indication of how correct or incorrect Harry’s deductions were.

“These three seem to be some sort of nutrient solution, but not for humans. I’ve found references to woodland creatures and wood lice and some other species I haven’t heard of. So maybe you want to sedate something but you want to feed it first?”

When Snape didn’t respond, Harry continued. “But these ingredients,” Harry said, pointing them out, “don’t make any sense to me. This one doesn’t seem to do anything that I can find. And this one I just can’t find at all. These two seem to have some masking properties, as if they make something undetectable, but this isn’t an invisibility potion, so I’m not sure why they’d be in here.”

Harry looked up and waited for Snape to speak.

“When you say you could not find a reference for these two ingredients,” Snape began, “did you check this book here?”

“Er, no,” Harry replied. “It’s in Latin.”

“Indeed it is. Take another look at those ingredients, Harry. Crosscheck your references. Then come and tell me what they do.”

With that, Snape left the room, and Harry looked after him, feeling bewildered.

It wasn’t long after that, though, that he was able to find the Latin names of the ingredients in one book and cross-reference them to entries in the Latin book. Soon, everything became crystal clear.

After dinner, Harry watered the tree and then brought all of the ornaments they’d made, as well as the strings of garland, into the sitting room. He studied the fir tree, his fir tree, cocking his head to the side in imitation of the bend in the trunk.

“I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before,” he said, tilting his head the other way.

“It is not difficult,” Snape replied. “The ornaments go on first, then the garland.”

“We don’t have an angel.”

“Pardon?” Snape asked.

“For the top of the tree. The Dursleys had an angel they put on top.”

Snape reached into the basket filled with ornaments and pulled out a gold, star-shaped seedpod. “Engorgio,” he murmured, followed by the lighting spell. “We always had a star atop our tree,” Snape said, standing on tiptoe to place the large star at the tree’s apex and using a sticking charm to keep it there. “How’s that?”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, admiring the glowing beacon.

As Harry hung the next several ornaments around the tree, he noticed that Snape was only watching. “Aren’t you going to hang any?” he asked.

“I have done so before. I thought I would allow you the pleasure.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “It’s fine. Come and help me. It’s more fun to do it together.”

Snape shrugged and reached into the basket, pulling out one of the apple-cinnamon stick ornaments. “This does smell like Hogwarts’ apple pie,” Snape remarked.

“Told you so. Smell this one,” Harry said, handing Snape an orange studded with cloves.

“It reminds me of a spiced tea we used to drink at Christmas. Perhaps I will try and make us some. I don’t remember the recipe, but I might be able to replicate it.”

“You’re a Potions master. If anyone can do it, you can, sir,” Harry said, reaching up on tiptoes to try and hang a dried starfruit slice on a lonely branch that was sticking out near the top.

“Allow me,” Snape said, plucking the ornament from Harry’s hand and attaching it easily to the high branch.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “I think I’ll let you do the top of the tree. You’re taller than me.”

They finished decorating in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire in the grate providing the only sound in the room.

When the basket of ornaments was empty, Harry stepped back to admire their handiwork. “What do you think?” he asked Snape.

“It is your tree, Harry. Thus, it is your opinion that matters.”

“I like it,” Harry declared. “Let’s add the garland.”

Standing on opposite sides of the tree, Harry and Snape handed the long strings of garland back and forth. Soon they had wrapped the strands of bright white popcorn interspersed with brilliant red berries around the tree from top to bottom.

“You were right. I thought we’d made way too much garland, but it’s barely enough.” Harry tilted his head again, studying the tree. “There’s only one thing missing.”

“What is that?” Snape inquired.

“Lights.”

Harry had gone to bed that night particularly relaxed. It had been a good day. He’d learned a bunch of stuff from Snape—and Snape hadn’t even denigrated his intelligence once—and he’d decorated his first ever Christmas tree. He couldn’t wait to tell Ron and Hermione about it. Ron would be startled that Snape could be so normal and do anything as frivolous as make Christmas decorations. Hermione would want to know about the spells he’d learned and the potion Snape had invented. Except that he couldn’t tell them, could he? He had no way of contacting them.

He tried to picture their faces and was alarmed when he couldn’t. At least not as clearly as he would have liked. How could it be possible to forget what they looked like? He knew he hadn’t forgotten, per se, but he just couldn’t bring their faces clearly to his mind. He could envision Hermione’s curly hair and hear the tone of her voice. He could see Ron’s red mop and his overlarge feet. He could even hear Ron’s laugh. But their facial features were blurry.

He felt a sharp pang in his chest. He missed them so much. He missed the freedom of being able to talk to them whenever he wanted. Whenever he needed. And he’d never needed them so much as he did now.

He wasn’t sure how much he’d really be able to tell them about what the Death Eaters had done to him, not in detail anyway. But he knew he could if he needed to. He knew they’d listen, they’d be there for him. They wouldn’t turn away from him or judge him. They’d stood by him thus far, hadn’t they? Through all the craziness that defined his life, they’d been there for him.

This was the first time since he’d arrived at Hogwarts that he hadn’t been able to rely on them. There had been bad summers with the Dursleys, of course, but he always knew Ron and Hermione would be waiting for him on the other end of his time there. Now who knew when he’d be able to see them again. Would they forget about him? Give up on him? Make new friends and move on?

It was an awful thought, one that made him feel wretched and alone. As alone as he’d been in that cell. Alone except for the cruel sadistic guards and the one other prisoner who they’d tortured mercilessly.

Harry shook his head, forcing those thoughts away. The last thing he wanted to dwell on before he went to sleep was his time in the Death Eaters’ clutches. Nothing good could come of that.

But his mood had crashed, what with missing his friends and remembering things he’d rather forget. He tried to focus on the Christmas tree, with its uniquely fragrant ornaments and hand-threaded garland, topped with the shining gold star. The tree Snape had made a reality for him. Instead of the warmth he’d expected that image to bring, it reminded him that this would be the first Christmas since he came to Hogwarts that he wouldn’t be surrounded by his friends. Ron and Hermione would be celebrating without him, as would the rest of the Weasleys.  

Looking over at the man sleeping in the bed a few feet away, he sighed. At least he wouldn’t be all alone. Snape was here with him, and Dobby, too. But surely Snape would want to be somewhere else if he’d had a choice in the matter, not babysitting Harry Potter of all people. Harry fell asleep wondering just how much Snape resented Harry’s intrusion into his private life.