December 31st, 1986:

Harry waited impatiently in front of the roaring fire in the drawing room, shifting from foot to foot and back again. He was waiting for Blaise Zabini to arrive, along with his mum, Annamaria. They had a playdate together for the first time in over two weeks, since Harry was now off his grounding for sledding down the grand staircase and out the door into the snow. He had thought it jolly great fun, but his father and grandfather had not agreed at all. Thus, the two weeks of grounding, where he wasn’t allowed to step foot outside or do anything fun at all, like have friends over. Not that he had so many of them, there weren’t too many kids his age among the families who worked for Prince Enterprises, just Blaise and Mindy Klasky, who was sick with a bad cold today and couldn’t come. Since Severus homeschooled him, Harry didn’t really have a chance to meet other children, but today was different.

Today he would be able to play with not just Blaise, who was great fun and an imp for getting into scrapes as well, but a new little boy, Neville Longbottom, whose grandmother was an old acquaintance of Augustus’, and who was raising Neville since his parents were very sick in the hospital. It was kind of similar to Harry’s family and Harry was eager to make another friend.

He sighed and tapped his foot impatiently against the slate-tiled hearth, much as his father did when he was waiting for Harry to get dressed and go somewhere. The foot tapping was usually accompanied by a scowl and some kind of comment to quit dawdling.

“Why are they late?” he asked Mystic, who was curled up on his favorite pillow near the hearth.

Augustus’ familiar was very old now, almost thirty, he was a half-Kneazle, and he mostly slept.

Harry had hoped to get a kitten that year for Christmas, but no such luck. He supposed that Father Christmas didn’t think he was ready for one yet, especially after the sledding incident. Oh, but it was so hard to be good all the time! He thought forlornly. But there was always next year. By then he’d be seven and plenty old enough to be responsible for a kitten.

He moved over to stroke the old cat, who purred, his eyes shut, half-asleep. Mystic, once an avid hunter, now preferred to bake himself in front of the fire, his bones were stiff and he lacked the swift spring in his muscles he had once had. Where once he used to run and hide from Harry, he now allowed the boy to pet him, and Harry, who had learned over the years to respect and love the black cat, was mindful to pet him very gently.

Suddenly the fire flared green and Harry looked up, a smile appearing upon his little face. Mystic looked up, yawned, and returned to napping. He was too comfortable to dash for the safety of the bedroom anymore.

Blaise stepped through the fireplace, brushing the soot casually off his jeans and pullover. He was a slight boy with black hair, olive-colored skin and flashing black eyes. He loved to run and climb things, he was like a monkey, and he could speak both Italian and English fluently. He also loved Quidditch and playing in the snow. He had a little sister, Josephine, who was five, and an older brother and sister, Alina and Alexander, who were nine year-old twins.

“Hiya, Harry! Ready to go and build a snow fort?”

Harry nodded eagerly. “Yeah!”

“Mind you put on your hat and gloves and your coat, bambino,” reminded Annamaria, whose speech still bore traces of her native Sorrento in it.

Blaise rolled his eyes as she summoned the required articles. “Mama, quit fussin’,” he muttered. “I’m not a baby!”

Annamaria, a pretty dark-haired woman who had just turned thirty, frowned at her son and said, “Never you mind Blaise Domenic Zabini. You just do as your mama says and no backtalk, eh? Or else we go home right now and you can play dolls with your sister.”

Blaise was scandalized. “Mama! Boys don’t play with dolls!” He blushed, and took the coat and hat she handed him and reluctantly put them on. “Okay, they’re on.”

Annamaria bent to give him a kiss. “Be good, and behave for Sev and my lord Augustus now, y’hear?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“I’ll be back around supper to pick you up, and don’t forget to give Harry’s papa the pignoli cookies I made for the tea. Tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” She handed her son a white bakery box. “Ciao!” then she Flooed back to her home, where she was working on a formula for a new Disappearing Elixir.

Blaise grabbed Harry’s hand and started to drag him out the of the room. “C’mon! The snow’s just deep enough for us to have a great fort and then we can have a snow war.”

Harry shook his head. “Wait, Blaise. There’s someone else coming over to play too.”

“Who?”

“His name’s Neville and his gran knew my grandpa when they were both young, like centuries ago or something. He should be here soon, with his gran, her name’s Augusta.”

“Like your grandpapa, no?”

“Yeah.”

Just then Severus entered the drawing room. He was dressed in his formal green and silver Slytherin dress robes, his hair neatly tied back with a silver knotwork clasp. He looked quite handsome. “Ah, you’ve arrived,” he said. “Hello, Blaise. How is your family?”

“They’re doin’ good, Mr. Snape.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s too bad your mother was too busy to stay for tea.”

“She’s brewing a new potion,” Blaise said quietly. “You know how that is.”

Severus chuckled at Blaise’s tone of fond exasperation. “I do indeed. Your mother is an excellent Potions Mistress.”

“But not as good as you, Papa. You won an award,” Harry stated proudly.

“Yes, well, an award isn’t always a good indicator of a Potion Master’s skill.” Severus said modestly.

“But you’ve won lots,” Harry pointed out. It was true. Severus had won more awards for his innovative and original brews than any other Potions Master ever to come out of Britain. His name was a byword in every potions journal printed, including international ones.

Severus was rather embarrassed and quickly changed the subject. “Harry, if you’re going to play outside, then go fetch your winter coat and boots and mittens.”

“Aww, Papa! I wanna wait for Neville!”

“The quicker you go the quicker you’ll return.” Severus told him.

Harry sighed and ran up the stairs.

Blaise remembered the bakery box then. “Here, Mr. Snape. This is from my mama. She baked you her special pignoli cookies and says she’s sorry she can’t be at the tea. She makes the best ones, got the recipe from my nonna.”

Severus took the box and then sent it to the tea table with a brief flick of a finger. Like many of the Prince line, wandless and silent magic came naturally to him. “I know she does, Blaise. She sent some over for Christmas and we all enjoyed them immensely.”

“What’s . . .imma . . .immensely mean?”

“It means we enjoyed them very much,” Severus amended, Blaise was very bright, like Harry, so sometimes he forgot he was talking to a six-year-old.

He grinned then. “Everyone loves my mama’s pignolis.”

When Harry finally came back down, the Floo had activated again, and from it stepped a tall woman wearing emerald robes that matched Harry’s eyes, a fox fur scarf, a large hat with a stuffed vulture on it, and she carried a large red handbag over her left shoulder. She had light brown hair and a no nonsense air about her. She appeared to be in her early fifties.

Holding onto her hand was a rather pudgy boy with blond hair and hazel eyes, he was bundled up in a blue jacket and boots with a red scarf wrapped about him and earmuffs.

Severus stepped forward to assist Augusta out of the fireplace, giving her a brief respectful bow. “Welcome to Foxfire Hall, Mrs. Longbottom. I’m Severus Snape, Lord Thornton’s grandson.”

Instantly, Hotspur appeared and bowed also. “May I take your wrap, milady? And your bag?”

Augusta looked at him in surprise. “A freed house elf? I had no idea Lord Thornton was so progressive.” She handed the elf her scarf and hat and her bag.

“Milord believes that after so many centuries of good service, we ought to be rewarded and so he freed my wife and me upon becoming master of Foxfire Hall,” Hotspur explained. “We were very grateful and continue to serve him as best we can. He is a kind and generous wizard.”

And with that, he bowed to Augusta once more and disappeared.

Augusta nudged Neville and said, “Neville, say hello to Mr. Snape and his son, Harry. And you’re one of the Zabinis, yes, lad?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Blaise said. “I’m Blaise, pleased to meet you.”

Augusta shook his hand politely, then turned and did the same to Severus and Harry. Neville shyly introduced himself to the other boys and Severus. Augusta eyed Harry for a moment, then looked questioningly at Severus. “You look about the same age as my son, Frank.”

“I am, Mrs. Longbottom. We were in the same year in school.” Severus said.

“Call me Augusta,” she said. “I do believe your mother and I went to school around the same time, though I was her senior by three or four years. Her sister, Grace, was in my year.” Augusta winced. “Such a tragedy when she died.”

“Yes,” Severus said feelingly. “As it was for your own family five years ago.” He was referring, of course, to how Frank and Alice Longbottom had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix and Barty Crouch, junior for not revealing to them where the Dark Lord was hiding after the Potters’ deaths.

“Indeed, though if the Auror Department had had competent back up, it never would have happened. But that fool Mark Pike was in charge and he sent all his available teams chasing after that wretch Sirius Black. There was no one left on duty at the headquarters to hear when my son and his wife called for help.” Augusta shook her head angrily. “Poor management! Such would have never happened in your grandfather’s day, young Snape! Augustus Prince knew how to be prepared for anything and not even a drunken louse got by him when he was Captain! Nor his replacement, Achilles Antonius. But by the time Frank joined the force, Achilles had retired and Pike was in command. Bah! But what’s done is done. My son is as he is and I’ve been left to raise his boy these past years. Much as you yourself have, correct? Your grandfather told me your wife passed away also around that time?”

“Yes. She . . .it was sudden. She took sick and there was nothing anyone could do,” Severus improvised, looking very uncomfortable, which was not an act. Speaking about Lily’s death always made his insides shrivel up and his eyes burn with unshed tears. It was not quite a lie, there really was nothing one could do for a victim of the Killing Curse. Lily had died instantly.

“Too bad. But at least you still have her son. He seems to resemble his mother a good deal from what I can see.”

“Yes, Harry looks like her more than me,” Severus agreed. “Why don’t you come and sit down, Augusta?” He said, quickly changing the subject. He gave her his arm in an old fashioned gesture. “We will be having tea shortly in the Blue Room and my grandfather—”

“Is late, and I apologize, Augusta, for not being on time to greet you,” Augustus said, coming into the room, his silver dress robes fluttering slightly behind him. “Welcome to my home.” He took her hand and bowed over it, a courtly gesture that had long since been done away with in modern times. “You look as lovely as ever.”

Augusta laughed. “Dear Augustus, you always could charm the quills off a hedgehog! At least that’s what Drusilla always told us.”

Augustus’ eyebrows rose. “So . . .Drusilla was telling tales out of school, was she?” His eyes sparkled. “What else did she say about me? Did she complain about my terrible compulsion for neatness? My dreadful flashfire temper? My obsession with gardening?”

“None of those things. She used to say she wished you were home more often, instead of out saving the country from its own folly and teaching Grindelwald and his cronies a lesson in manners. She missed you something dreadful, I believe.”

Augustus sighed, a lost look creeping over his face. “I know. I regret that I let my work take precedence over spending time with her . . .but I never thought she would go before me . . .Forgive me, I grow maudlin again. Please, come into the Blue Room, Lina has the tea service all waiting for us.”

“Of course. Neville, say hello to Augustus Prince, Lord Thornton,” instructed his gran.

Neville shyly greeted the old wizard, swallowing hard. Then he darted back beside Harry and whispered, “Your granddad sure looks scary. A little.”

Harry giggled. “Only sometimes. Like when he gets mad as blazes at you. But he’s not now. Papa, can I go play now? Please?”

Severus looked at the three eager children and waved a hand in dismissal.

They tore out of the drawing room and through the hall to the front entrance, squealing and whooping like a band of marauders. Well, Harry and Blaise were whooping, Neville was just following.

Harry led his two friends out into the fresh snow, a veritable winter wonderland for them to play in.

Three sleds with shiny runners were sitting beside the pathway leading to the back of the house, where there was a nice big hill for them to sled down and a long expanse of lawn as well so they didn’t crash into the back of the manor trying to slow down.

Three sets of little feet went crunch, crunch through the snow as they ran for the sleds.

Harry grabbed the one with the green painted front and called, “C’mon, you slowpokes! Grab a sled and lets get to the top of the hill!”

Blaise grabbed the blue one, and Neville took the red one and then they ran, panting, down the path after Harry, the sleds gliding along behind them with a soft swishing noise, since Hotspur had greased the runners with a special solution to make them glide easily through the thick snow. The wise elf had anticipated the young master’s snow escapades and wanted him to have fun and be safe too, since sledding could be dangerous if the sled got stuck and you flew off and hit something besides snow, like a tree.

Unknown to them, Hotspur was perched high in an oak, watching the three boys, as per Severus’ instructions. His magic kept him invisible and warm as well and he was enjoying watching the three scampering across the lawn, and sometimes tripping and landing face first in a snowdrift.

Ah, to be young again! And it’s too bad Lina and I were never granted any elfkins. But the Oak Lord never saw fit to give us any, and so the little master must be my foster son. Hotspur thought fondly. House elves conceived rarely and he and Lina were almost past childbearing age. Which was why they doted so on Harry and had on the two Prince girls when they lived at the manor also.

Giggling, Neville brushed himself off and raced up the hill after Blaise. Harry was already at the top and lying on his stomach, his mittened hands gripping the sled along the front bar. “Last one to the bottom’s a griffin turd!” he shouted. Then he pushed hard with his feet and the sled flew down the hill, Harry clinging and screaming “WAAH-HOO!” all the way.

Because of the greased runners, the sled picked up a good amount of speed and shushed right down the hill and across the lawn before Harry braked it to a stop. Then he turned to see where the other boys were.

To his surprise, Neville was beating Blaise down the hill and Blaise was laughing as snow sprayed his face.

He never really cared if he won or not, Harry was the more competitive of the two.

Neville was having the time of his life, he rarely got to play with kids his own age, much less go sledding in the snow this way. He had been a bit nervous at first, but after seeing Harry go down, he thought it looked like fun and it was. So very much fun!

He slid to a stop a few feet behind Harry, his face reddened from the wind and snow but he was grinning like an elf high on butterbeer. “That was great, Harry! Can we do it again?”

“Sure, Nev. Uh, you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

“No. Though my gran never uses nicknames, she says it’s not proper.”

“Neither does my grandpa. He always calls me Henry,” Harry told him. “But Papa says that’s just his way and it makes me special to him.”

“Oh. Harry . . .are you ever . . .err . . .afraid of your granddad? B’cause sometimes I’m a little afraid of my gran.” Neville admitted softly.

“Only when he gets mad. Like he did the time I snuck out on the roof last year and tried to hang some bells and almost fell off. He was ready to breathe fire like a dragon.”

Neville’s eyes went wide. “You did? Weren’t you awful scared? I . . .I don’t like high places much.”

“Oh that’s no big deal. I like flying, Papa taught me how to fly a bit last year on my training broom.” Harry said. “But what was scary was the way Grandpa yelled at me and got all red and then he . . . well . . .he spanked me. Hard.”

“Oh my,” Neville said, shuddering.

“Ouch!” said Blaise, coming up beside them, he had already heard the story before. “But he got it worse ‘cause he lied. Even I know better than that!”

Harry snorted. “Don’t listen to him, Nev. Blaise ends up over his mama’s knee practically everyday!”

“Do not!” Blaise cried. “I’m not that bad!”

“Are too! You made your sister’s dress fly up in front of your cousins at that picnic last year, you said so!”

“She was being a snot, teasing me, and I didn’t know my magic could do that.” Blaise defended. “You put snakes in your papa’s cauldron!”

“Really?” Neville wasn’t sure whether to be awed or shocked at the two boys’ antics. He never would have dared misbehave like that for Gran or Great-Uncle Algey. “Did you get spanked for that too?”

“No. But Papa did make me stand in the corner for uh . . .seven minutes and I was grounded to my room for the rest of the day for it.” He began to drag his sled back up the hill for another run. “What’s the worse thing you ever got in trouble for, Nev?”

Neville thought. “I . . .uh . . .I dug up my gran’s really expensive blooming mimbletonia once when I was four. I wanted to see if there was buried treasure under it. She was really mad.”

“Did she spank you?”

“No . . .well . . .she gave me a wallop and then she yelled and said I was just like my dad when he was that age and then she showed me how to re-plant it. I like plants.”

“Me too. My grandma Drusilla has a rose garden by the house that blooms all the time even in the winter,” said Harry.

“My mama has a vegetable garden,” said Blaise. “And an herb garden too. Sometimes I help her water it and pick the ripe vegetables. Then we make a salad and eat them—yum!”

“Gross, Blaise!” Harry made a face. “How can you like vegetables? Ugh!”

“Um . . .I like vegetables. Well, I like corn and potatoes,” Neville said.

“Those are the only good vegetables,” Harry stated. “The other ones are just yuck! I only eat ‘em ‘cause my papa makes me.” He shoved off and went down the hill again.

“No wonder you’re small for your age!” Blaise shouted as he pushed off, speeding down the hill and passing Harry.

“Am not!” howled Harry. “You take that back, Zabini!”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

Harry stopped the sled abruptly at the bottom of the hill and jumped off and tackled Blaise into the snow.

“Eat snow, Zabini!”

“You first!” Blaise growled, knocking Harry off and rubbing snow in his face. Then he ran away, laughing like a fiend.

Harry gave chase, snowball in hand, as Neville watched, horrified, thinking they were fighting.

Harry nailed Blaise in the back with his snowball, and Blaise threw one back and hit Harry square in the face. Snow dripped all over his glasses. He lifted a hand to wipe the snow off the lenses when Blaise knocked him in the snow.

“Gotcha, Signore Snape! Here’s snow in your eye!”

The two tussled like puppies, rolling over and over in the snow.

“Stop it, guys!” Neville cried in alarm. “Why are you fighting?”

“Huh?” Blaise stared up at Neville, puzzled. “We’re not fighting, we’re wrestling.” Then he yelped when Harry shoved snow down his shirt. “Ahhh! It’s co-o-ld! I’m gonna get you for that, Harry!”

Harry climbed to his feet, smirking in a very Snape-like way. “Only if you can catch me, Blaise!”

“You mean, you’re not mad?” Neville said, still trying to figure them out.

“No, ‘course not.” Harry snickered. “We’re just playin’, Nev.”

“Oh. I don’t . . .I never . . .played like that before.”

“C’mon then, you silly thing!” Blaise tossed a snowball at him.

It hit him on the shoulder. Neville scooped up some snow and tentatively threw it back. But it missed Blaise and landed on the ground.

“Merlin, Longbottom!” groaned Blaise. “Ya gotta aim! Like this!”

He threw another one at Harry.

Harry ducked. “Nice one, Blaise! Watch me, Nev!”

Together, the two boys taught the diffident Neville how to throw a snowball and have fun tackling each other into the snow drifts.

Soon they were all coated in snow and then Harry suggested they build a snow fort so they could play Snow Wars, and started molding the snow into “bricks”.

Hotspur waved a hand and some of his magic floated down over the snow, making it just hard enough to build a good sturdy snow fort, since the snow was not yet a good consistency.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Severus was having a pleasant tea chatting with Augusta, who had known the lord of Foxfire Hall when he was still attached to the Aurors and had attended several classes where he had instructed her on battle techniques. “There was never a better teacher, Severus. I learned more from your granddad in an hour than I did my entire three years at the Auror Academy.”

“Now that’s a bit of exaggeration there, my dear,” Augustus protested.

“It’s the truth, sure as the sun rises,” Augusta insisted. “You taught the most important lesson of all—know your enemy and know yourself. You said that it’s not how much power or magic you have, but how you use it that matters. And you were right. You also said, once you’re committed to a duel, never hesitate, but fight to win. Because if you don’t, you shall surely die. I remember everything you ever taught me, Lord Thornton. And it saved my life that time when the Death Eaters tried to attack me and get my grandson.”

“Death Eaters came after you and Neville?” Augustus cried.

“Yes, it was right after Frank and Alice were attacked, they wanted to kill him or something in the name of some fool prophecy. But they didn’t get past me. I made them cry for their mummy like little babies!” Augusta declared.

“Good for you!” said Severus. He had no doubt that Augusta Longbottom would make a formidable adversary. Especially if she were once a student of Augustus’. He knew the old man’s reputation and knew he would have trained only the best.

They reminisced some more over the cakes and tea and Annamaria’s delicious pignoli cookies, which melted in your mouth. Then Severus decided it was time to call the boys in for some hot cocoa and cakes, let them get warmed up, and he went to fetch them, leaving Augusta and his grandfather happily chattering away about their days in the Auror Department.

* * * * * *

He found the three happily engaged in a snowball fight, and he stood at the edge of the lawn and called, “Harry, Neville, Blaise! Come inside and have some cocoa and cakes. You need to get warmed up.”

Harry looked up from behind the fort. “Papa, come and play Snow Wars with us. We need someone to fight.”

“Yeah, we need an enemy!” Blaise shouted.

“Y’mean, besides me?” asked Neville, crawling out from under a snow drift.

“Harry, I don’t think so,” Severus began. No way in hell was he going to participate in a snowball fight. He had never liked the snow . . .it was too cold and too mushy and . . .his nose was starting to run just thinking about it. “You play with your friends.”

“Aww, Papa! It’s no fun without another person! Nev needs help.”

“Why don’t you switch sides?”

“That’s boring! Please, Papa! Just one game?”

“Harry, I’m too old to play about in the snow . . .”

“Are not! You’re almost as old as Blaise’s papa, and he plays with Blaise!”

Severus groaned. “Come on, son. Let’s go in and have some cocoa and we can discuss this inside.”

But Harry knew once they were inside, Severus would have an excuse as to why he couldn’t come out again, so he decided to play a little joke on his father. “Blaise, Nev, c’mere!”

The two came over to him and he whispered something into their ears.

“Okay?”

“Harry, are you sure . . .?”

“Positive. Ready? On three. One . . .two . . .three!”

The three started to walk towards Severus, who was on the verge of yelling at them to hurry up, that he didn’t want to stand out here all day. But before he could say anything, the three suddenly charged him, screaming like maniacs.

Harry dove at his ankles, Blaise threw his arms about his knees and Neville hugged him around the waist.

“What . . .?” he was caught completely off-guard. He tried to backpeddle, to keep his feet, but his traitorous son was gripping his ankles so tightly that he staggered and the other two boys added too much weight and he found himself falling.

Whump!

He landed with a loud thud on his back in the snow.

The boys whooped and howled in glee.

“Gotcha, Papa!”

Severus sputtered, unsure whether to be angry or amused. Until he recalled how much he hated the snow and then his eyes gleamed. “Wretched brats!” he mock-growled. He heaved, throwing Neville and Blaise off him and into the snow. Then he rose, dusting himself off. “This means war! Run!”

They scattered, running to hide behind the fort.

Snow trickled down his neck and melted into his hair, but he quickly banished the chill with a wandless charm. Then he conjured his gloves and began making ammunition to use against the little ambushers. Because no one knocked Severus Snape into the snow and got away with it.

A barrage of snowballs flew through the air from behind the fort. Severus was ready, though, and he ducked. None of them caught him that time. Then he began lobbing snow back, and the three soon discovered that Severus had a wicked arm and a deadly aim.

Neville ended up with snow all over his front, and Blaise and Harry both got facefuls. But no one minded. They were just happy to have another person to play with.

To his eternal astonishment, Severus found he was actually . . .enjoying himself. He found that as long as he kept moving the snow wasn’t cold and getting back at his sneaky son and his comrades was very satisfying.

Up above, Hotspur laughed at the sight of the Potions Master romping with the boys. Good for you, Master Sev! You are too serious, I think you need to learn to have fun.

Then Severus beckoned to Neville and said to the shy boy, “Come, let’s double team those two scamps! They’ve been trouncing you pretty good, haven’t they?”

“Uh . . .yes, sir. I guess.”

“Humph! Well, now we’ll give them a good licking!” said the Potions Master. He gave Neville several snowballs. “Ready?”

Harry peeked up from behind the fort, just as Neville threw a snowball at him. To his shock, the snowball split and became several smaller ones and he couldn’t duck quick enough to avoid them all.

“Ahhh!” he yelped, falling backwards.

Blaise was running away, trying to avoid the other bunch of snowballs Severus had charmed. “Help, Harry! They’re too many!”

He tripped and all the little snowballs struck him in the back. “No fair!”

Severus was smirking. “All’s fair in love and war, boys!”

Neville looked at the other snowball in his hand. “Are they all like that, sir?”

“No. But it was a good trick.” He waited for his son and Blaise to get to their feet before throwing the other snowball at them.

He was so busy playing that he didn’t realize he had been outside for over twenty minutes until he heard Augustus’ voice behind him.

“Severus, lad, if you wanted to have a snowball fight, you should have called me.”

Severus turned about so fast he nearly skidded and fell. “Grandfather!” he exclaimed, blushing. “I . . .I was just . . .I mean . . .”

Augustus waved off his pitiful attempts to explain his actions. “It’s quite all right, Severus. Playing with your son is a good thing. You need to do it more often.”

“I do?”

“Oh yes,” smirked the Unleasher of Earthquakes. Then he tossed a snowball at his grandson.

Severus dodged. “Pretty good, milord. But . . .not good enough!” He whipped out one of his charmed snowballs and nailed Augustus smack in the face.

The older wizard sputtered. “Why you . . .what do you call that, you insolent whelp?”

“A Snape Special,” Severus retorted, grinning.

“Just for that I’m returning your birthday present,” the old man threatened.

Then he used his elemental mastery to summon a wind that knocked Severus into a snowdrift up to his neck.

Severus gasped. Then he concentrated, willing the snow to melt, and it did so, thanks to his newly fledgling Water powers. He stepped free of the puddle of water and stood, completely dry, facing his grandfather. “You were saying, sir?”

“Bloody hell! You’re a Water Master,” said the elder wizard. “Water and a bit of Air too. Ha! I knew one day one of my descendents would inherit my talent.”

Then he formed another snowball out of the air.

* * * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, all of the boys and the men were sitting in front of the fire, sipping cocoa and nibbling on the sweet chocolate pudding cakes Lina had made especially for the tea on New Year’s Eve. Augusta declared she had never eaten anything so scrumptious and asked if Lina could give her house elf Snozberry the recipe.

“Certainly,” Augustus said. “She would be delighted. I’ll send her over tomorrow.”

“Well, it’s certainly been a delightful afternoon,” Augusta said. “But I’m afraid we must be going. Neville, say thank you to Mr. Snape and Lord Thornton for having you over.”

“Wait!” Harry interrupted. “Mrs. Longbottom, can’t Neville stay over?”

“Stay over?”

“Yeah, like sleep here for the night? Blaise too? We could eat the New Year feast together and . . .and . . .stay up till midnight to ring in the New Year. It would be so cool.”

“Harry, now don’t pester Neville’s grandmother,” Severus began.

“Please, Papa? We’ll be really good,” Harry begged shamelessly. “Please?”

Severus was tempted to veto the whole thing. But then he recalled how he and Lily used to celebrate New Years as a child together with the Evans family. He turned to Augustus. “Grandfather? Is it all right for Harry to have a sleepover tonight?”

“Of course. He’ll never stay awake till morning,” Augustus said indulgently.

“Neville and Augusta, is that what you want to do? Augusta, you’re welcome to stay as well.” Severus offered.

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose, Severus,” Augusta demurred. “Neville, do you want to stay?” she looked down at her grandson, who was biting his lip.

“Yes, please, Gran.”

“Very well then. I’ll Floo you over a bag.” Augusta said. “And mind you behave, young man.”

“I will, Gran.”

“Yes!” Harry cheered. “Blaise, will your mum let you stay?”

“Sure! Her and my dad are going to some party and my Aunt Zingazaria is watching us tonight. She’s big and loud and eats too much salami and I’d much rather be here.” Blaise said. “I’ll go ask my mama!” He looked at Severus. “May I use your Floo powder, Mr. Snape?”

Severus nodded and Blaise called Annamaria.

* * * * * *

Several hours later, Severus wondered what he had been drinking to agree to having three boys hyper on cake stay over for the night. They had set up small camp beds with plenty of blankets and pillows in Harry’s room, but Severus doubted if they would see use tonight.

The boys were all wound up, after dinner they played quietly for about an hour and then Augustus made the mistake of handing out a few wizard crackers and noise makers. In two minutes, they were making an unholy racket and Severus feared he would go deaf right there.

Then Blaise began to sing “Auld Lang Syne”, and the other three joined in after the second round.

“All right, now settle down and talk or play quietly,” he ordered after they had stopped warbling. “Matter of fact, why don’t you all get into pajamas?”

So they all trooped upstairs and got into their nightclothes and brushed their teeth under Lina’s watchful eye. But none of them were tired, and they ended up going into Harry’s room and talking about the first time they had ever used accidental magic.

Harry told his friends about bringing the snow dog to life, and Blaise revealed he had made his llittle sister Jo’s dolls come alive and dance the tarantella across the room.

“What’s a tarantella?” asked Neville.

“It’s a dance they do in Italy, where my family’s from,” explained Blaise. “They do it at all the weddings. It’s fun, even a baby can learn it. Maybe some time I can teach you.”

“Oh.” Neville said. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to learn it. He still tripped over his own feet sometimes.

“What was your first time using accidental magic?” asked Harry curiously.

“Uh . . .I made a plant grow a little,” said Neville. “About a few inches. Nothing like you two.”

“Growing plants is good,” Harry said. “Maybe you can be a . . uh . . .herb wizard or something when you grow up.”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “I’d like that. Plants are cool. Even the carn . . .carno . . .carniv’rous ones. They eat bad insects.”

He was starting to grow sleepy, but was determined to stay awake with his new friends to ring in the New Year.

Harry suggested they go downstairs for some more cocoa and sweets.

Severus looked up from the page of his book and frowned. “You are all still awake? It’s nearly ten thirty!”

“We want to ring in the New Year, Papa!”

“And we’re thirsty,” Blaise added.

“And a little hungry,” Neville said, looking at the ground.

Why did I ever agree to this? I must have been out of my mind. The Potions Master thought. “Fine. You may have some water and crackers. Ask Lina.”

“But Papa, we want cocoa!” Harry protested. “And some cakes with sprinkles.”

“Absolutely not!” said Snape firmly. “The last thing you boys need is sugar this late at night.”

Harry fussed, but soon stopped when his father threatened to send him to bed, and took the water and soda crackers Lina brought.

“Sit down, you three,” Augustus ordered. “I’ll tell you a story.” He winked at Severus. He figured they would fall asleep if he made it long and sort of boring.

Thirty minutes later, Augustus was snoozing in the chair, Severus’s eyes were glazing over and the three kids were still awake. And they remained awake till midnight and had a great time using the noisemakers and cheering and drinking a small amount of sparkling apple cider.

By that time Severus was ready to ring their little necks and to hell with the new year.

“Everyone, upstairs now and into bed,” he ordered, and they all marched upstairs and he tucked all of them into bed and dimmed the lamp. “Go to sleep.”

* * * * * *

An hour later he was woken from a sound sleep by little giggles.

“Eeww! Blaise, you farted!”

“Not me. It was Nev.”

“I didn’t. It was Harry.”

“Liar.”

More giggles followed.

“Henry Snape, don’t make me come in there!”

“Sorry, Papa.”

“It’s one o’clock in the morning, now go to bed!” Severus called, unwilling to leave his cozy bed to go down the hall.

“’Kay.”

But they didn’t. Not until three o’clock.

By then Severus’ patience was worn to a sliver and he swore he would never allow any more sleepovers. Then he wondered why it was called a sleepover if none of the children ever went to sleep! It should have been called an all-nighter.

Worn out, he sought his bed and finally drifted off at four in the morning. Only to be woken by his alarm at six, he had to stir a potion brewing in his lab. Rubbing his eyes, he got to his feet. Happy New Year, Snape! Arghh, but I hate mornings like this. I’m not even drunk and yet I feel like it. This is the last sleepover he’s ever having till he’s seventeen.

Gulping a Headache Remedy, Severus stumbled into his slippers and pulled on his robes and made his way down to his lab, that bloody song still ringing in his ears.

Once he had stirred his potion he made his way back upstairs and went back to bed, putting the pillow over his head. His New Year’s resolution was a simple one—he was going to hibernate for the rest of the week, or the month, or maybe the year.