After a whole day in the dungeons Harry felt exhausted. He heard his stomach growl and remembered that he hadn't even eaten today. Outside the sun had already started to set. Harry grabbed with him a couple of sandwiches from the kitchen before heading back to the Gryffindor tower. He decided that he would turn in early tonight.

Harry put the sandwiches on his bedside table and threw himself on the soft bed. Hungrily he started to eat on a sandwich. Suddenly he remembered that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He had been so busy with potions that he had almost completely forgotten about it. Harry didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but one thing he definitely not would do was to spend the day in the dungeons! Maybe for a change he could read a book that he actually wanted to read. He remembered a book that Ron had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago; Quidditch through ages. With one hand he started to dig for the book in his large trunk. In the other hand he held the half eaten sandwich.

It was almost impossible to find anything in there. He pulled up the first book he felt. It was the photo album of his parents that Hagrid once had given him. He started to flip the pages. Even though he had seen the photos an endless number of times, he always felt the same warm emotions. His spirits rose, only to sink as quickly. Suddenly Harry knew what to do on Christmas Eve. He would go to visit his parent's graves. Only once had he been on the grave yard before, but that time he had had Hermione with him. This time he would have his parents entirely to himself.

Harry put the photo album aside and continued rummaging. His fingers closed around another hard object. He pulled it out. Gasping he looked at the small wooden box. He had almost forgotten! From inside the wooden box he carefully took out a vial, filled with memories. He eyed the shimmering content. This was yet another thing belonging to Snape that Harry didn't want to give up. It was the best memories of his mother that anyone had ever given him. Although he knew that Snape never would have given them, hadn't it been absolutely necessary to defeat Voldemort.

Harry knew that however badly he desired those memories; he had no right to keep them. First of all, they belonged to Snape, and second of all, the memories wouldn't do anything to help him stay in the present. He didn't want to make the same mistake as Snape had. He put the photo album and the vial aside. He had come up with a plan! Now all he needed was someone to help him put it in motion, but he would deal with that in the morning.

Harry ate the last of his sandwich and started to get ready for bed. It was almost completely dark outside by now. If it wouldn't have been for the snow, lighting up the ground a bit pitch black. Harry was just about to lie down on his bed when he noticed something moving outside. A familiar black robed figure walked briskly toward the forbidden forest. It was Snape, Harry was almost sure of it. Where could he be going at this hour? Harry mused. Maybe his suspicions about Snape spending a lot of his time somewhere outside of Hogwarts were right. Harry yawned and decided to leave Snap's nightly adventures for another day.

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Harry awoke the next morning in a slightly better mood. He smiled as he noticed the small pile of Christmas gifts at the foot of his bed. For Harry every Christmas felt like the first one in his life. He would never get used to getting presents. The most the Dursleys had ever given him was an old stinking pair of Dudley's socks. Talk about generosity. He got up and dressed quickly. Deciding he would save the presents until later he headed for breakfast. He was eager to put his plan in motion.

As he entered the great hall he was instantly greeted with happy Christmas wishes. As usual the hall was over decorated. Harry could count to at least eleven Christmas trees.

"Merry Christmas Mr Potter!" McGonagall said smiling at him. Although it was just a few words, it was strange hearing her speak without a hint of her usual sternness. She sat together with the other teachers at a long table. The table was set with more delicacies than usual if possible and it was only breakfast. Luckily enough Hermione wasn't here to see this. The poor house elves had probably worked better part of the night.

"Merry Christmas professor" Harry had barely finished the words before he heard someone else call his name.

"Harry m'boy!" Slughorn boomed. "Come have a seat here next to me!"

Slughorn had gotten up from his seat to greet Harry. His bulging belly threatened to split the seams of his dark green velvet suit at any moment. Munching fervently on a cookie, Slughorn reminded Harry of a walrus in heaven. Great, Harry thought as he took the seat next to Slughorn. This was the perfect opportunity for Slughorn to rave about Harry's potions skills or worse, mention Harry's grand achievements in the war. That was the last thing he wanted to discuss, but it looked like he didn't have a choice. He had hardly sat down before Slughorn started to offer him all kinds of cookies.

"These gingerbread biscuits are excellent! Care to try some Harry?" Slughorn said with his mouth full.

"No thanks." Harry said and started to butter himself a sandwich.

"How's your potion brewing coming? Some of them, I have to admit are rather tricky."

Harry stared down at his plate, trying to come up with something good to say. He had barely opened his mouth to reply when Slughorn happily continued.

"But what am I saying? For a natural as you, it should be a piece of cake!" He patted Harry on the shoulder as he spoke.

Harry felt his cheeks blush. He offered Slughorn a vague smile.

"Yeah." was the only thing he managed to say.

Suddenly he had an idea. He took out a carefully wrapped package from his bag.

"Professor, I was wondering, since it is Christmas and all, if maybe I could ask you a small favour?"

"Ask away my dear boy! Anything for the saviour of the wizarding world!" Slughorn beamed.

Harry cringed and tried to hide a grimace. He looked around to make sure no one would overhear them. Everybody seemed too busy with their breakfast to hear anything, but just to be sure he cast a silent muffliato, a dead useful spell when you didn't want to be overheard. Conveniently he had learned it from no one less than Snape. Harry continued.

"Could you deliver this to Professor Snape sometime later today?"

"Of course! But why can't you do it yourself?" Slughorn asked.

"I don't want him to know who it is from" Harry lied. Snape would know exactly from who it was.

"I see. All right."

Harry finished his sandwich quickly and stood up to leave.

"I've got to get back to my potion." Harry lied again, anxious to escape the embarrassing topics Slughorn wanted to discuss. He was also eager to get back to the dormitory to see what Ron and Hermione had gotten him for Christmas.

"See you around Harry!" Slughorn said and continued to munch on his biscuit.

"Thanks! See you!"

Harry hurried away. As he burst out of the great hall he barely managed to avoid bumping into someone who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry-" Harry began, but stopped in mid sentence when he looked up and was met by the black, cold eyes of Severus Snape.

"Sir." he finished his sentence.

For a moment Snape had looked mildly surprised by the unexpected encounter, but his eyes had quickly turned cold as ever.

"It's inadvisable to run around with one's eyes closed, especially in times like this Potter." Snape spoke in a low warning voice. He paused a moment, offering Harry one of his trademark sneers.

"But then again..." Snape continued with a haughty expression. "Since when has the golden boy ever cared to be vigilant, when there's always someone else to pay the consequences of his insufferable arrogances."

"I said I was sorry" Harry spoke through gritted teeth. "And I'm not careless!" he added defiantly.

"And I'm Santa Clause Potter." Snape said with cold indifference, and with a swish of his robes he strode away.

Boiling with anger Harry watched Snape go. Wouldn't the man ever give him a rest?! He would have thought that after all that had happened in the last year, Snape would relent his tormenting at least a little bit. Obviously that was far from the case. Harry almost started to have second thoughts about returning the Advanced Potion Making book to Snape. Angrily he stalked back to the Gryffindor tower. The good mood he had been in earlier had vanished completely. He didn't even feel like opening his presents anymore.