Severus Snape had been enjoying his breakfast, to the extent possible when one was seated next to Dolores Umbridge. In fact, had, unfortunately, was the key word.

He heard a strange whizzing sound and had just enough time to look up and spot what appeared to be a firework of some kind barreling towards the table. There was an almighty shriek from the toad- like woman next to him, which almost covered the sound of the detonation as it landed in her breakfast. There was such a wave of porridge that Severus was certain some kind of duplication charm was involved. In seconds he was swimming in porridge, though the woman next to him was positively drowning in it.

Filius Flitwick, however, who was sitting on her other side, was covered in some sort of glimmering shield, and was grinning so widely, Severus wondered if he was responsible for the excess food.

Dead silence reigned in the room as Umbridge wiped the food from her eyes and began glaring about the room, looking for the miscreant. She looked remarkably like one of the swamp creatures Lupin had been fond of teaching classes about.

It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Then a small snicker erupted from the Gryffindor table. Umbridge immediately zeroed in the grinning students like a hawk.

"Potter!" she ground out. She rose from the table, looking like some kind of demented beast from hell. She descended on the table much like one too, dripping as much fury as porridge.

Feeling rather much as angry, Severus followed.

It was perhaps fortunate that Umbridge was as angry as she was. In her current state she was almost unable to form words. After a few minutes of incomprehensible sputtering, she finally managed to grind out, "You will have detention with me every day for a month after the start of term!" She stalked away, still dripping porridge.

"And you will have detention with me every night. Starting tonight," Severus said.

Predictably, Weasley started protesting. "But sir! Tomorrow's Christmas holidays!"

Severus sneered at him. "What difference does that make, Mister Weasley?" He looked back at Potter. "I repeat, detention every night, starting tonight." He stalked off, heading for his quarters to get a clean set of robes.

As he left the room Ron scowled. "Greasy git! Tomorrow's Christmas holidays! You can't give detention then!"

Harry scowled too. "I didn't even throw that thing! Now I've got detention with both of them!" his scowl deepened. "Snape and Umbridge, I hate them both!"

***

Severus slammed into his private laboratory that night, still feeling in a rather sour mood.

There was a sudden rattling sound, and a strange unnatural chill swept through the room. Then a whisper of a voice, and clatter of metal seemed to erupt from behind him. Very slowly, he turned around.

His mother was dead. He knew that. She had been for years. She was as dead as the proverbial doornail, or at least as dead as an inanimate object could get.

All of which was why he found it quite unnerving to have her dark eyes staring back at him as the flames in the hearth were unexpectedly snuffed, sending smoke rolling through the room.

"Hello Severus," she said, simply as her black eyes, so like his own bore into him.

His wand was out in an instant, "I don't know who you are, but you cannot be who you appear to be!"

The tired, lined face drew into a mirthless smile. "But I am."

"I don't believe you."

She shook her head, causing the chain attached to her neck to rattle. "You rarely did. That is perhaps the greatest problem." She sighed. "And it is perhaps my greatest failure."

"What do you want with me after all this time? If it truly is you?"

"Much," she said grimly. "Why must you doubt your senses so?" the question sounded almost plaintive.

The specter of his mother stifled a cry, and shook the chains. She began to wring her shadowy hands. "You are fettered,'' Severus observed, pointing at the chains. "Tell me why?"

"Penance for my ways. These chains I forged in life, link by link by small cruelties, wrought from the iron forge of my own folly!" She wailed pitifully, shaking the chains again.

Sniffling a bit, she gazed at him. "It is the same fate that awaits you, as you are now, my son," she said as she drew a useless breath. "Unfortunately, your burden will be far more than this, Severus, if you continue to walk this path," The apparition shuddered. "Should you continue on, yours is a burden none other would or, indeed, could shoulder."

"So even in death, I will have no peace. Is this all you have come to tell me? That I am already damned?" Severus sneered.

"I have come to tell you there is hope for you! Hope for the damned," she said wringing her hands, causing the chains to rattle ominously.

"You jest. I have no patience for foul jokes such as this."

"I am here tonight to warn you. You have a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope I want to give you, Severus.''

"Bah."

"Severus please!" she wailed, imploringly. He found it was so like Lily that he couldn't bear it. "My time here is nearly gone!"

He grimaced, sure he would regret his next words. "Then speak your piece."

"You will visited by three spirits tonight. Expect the first as the bell tolls midnight. Each shall arrive on the chiming of the clock."

"Couldn't they all come at once so I could be done with?" Severus asked snidely.

His mother gave him a reproachful look. "It is a journey of yourself that you must walk Severus."

She backed away from him, her spectral hand raised in farewell, fading with each step until she was mere vapor dissolving into the stone walls.

Severus bolted to the door and looked out into the dark, empty hallway. "Bah," he muttered, slamming the door. "Three spirits indeed!" he muttered snarkily. "This is obviously a Weasley twin prank." He rubbed a hand across his chin. "Or Sibyl managed to spike the eggnog again. Frankly I'm not sure which I'd prefer."

***

Severus shook the encounter off as he walked into his private chambers and completed his nightly ablutions. After what seemed like hours, he collapsed, exhausted into his soft four poster bed and promptly fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Severus stirred slightly, but did not entirely wake as the clock over the mantle began to chime. To his great astonishment the bell rang until it stopped at twelve. Twelve? That could not be the correct time; a doxy must have made a nest in the inner workings of the timepiece.

As the chime ceased ringing, he stirred at another sound.

"Sever-us," the familiar singsong voice called as he burrowed deeper beneath the duvet, turning on his side.

"Severus," the voice called again, less singsong this time and more insistent, "we don't have much time, wake up."

"Severus!" the voice bellowed this time and Severus shot straight up, the sheets tangled around him as he pushed his lanky hair out of his face. His eyes snapped sharply around the room. It took only a moment to see the source of the untimely wake up call. Lily was sitting with her legs crossed at the foot of his bed.

Severus dropped back onto the mattress, covering his face with the pillow. "I'm having that dream again," he moaned miserably.

"You're not dreaming, Severus."

He sat up again at the sound of her voice. He pulled the pillow from his face and took a better look at her. Lily looked very solid, but was faintly glowing as though a soft light was lit within her. Her long red hair shone so brightly it seemed to be aflame.

"Then you have come to haunt me, to torment me for killing you," Severus said somberly.

"Voldemort killed me, not you. You tried to save us," Lily said softly, smiling faintly. Severus opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted him. "That is neither here nor there, Sev, and not the reason I'm here tonight."

"Then why are you here after all this time?" Severus asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"I am here for you and you alone, Severus," Lily replied, sliding off the bed and holding out her hand. "Come along, Sev." She began walking toward the far wall of his chamber.

"I am a wizard, Lily," Severus remonstrated, "but I cannot pass through solid stone walls."

"Tonight you can," Lily said, clasping his hand firmly and as the words were spoken, they passed through the wall and were standing in the cobbled street of a much newer and cleaner Spinner's End. It was a clear, cold, winter day, with glittery snow upon the ground.

Lily gazed upon him mildly and he was suddenly reminded of many hopes and joys he thought long forgotten.

"Lead me where you will, Lily," Severus stated, looking warily at the row houses where he lived. Lily did not turn towards his home, but was headed in the opposite direction, the direction of the Evans' home. Severus picked up the pace and was quickly a step ahead of her.

"You recollect the way?" Lily asked raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, I remember it!" cried Severus with fervor. "I could walk it blindfolded."

They walked along the cobbled road and Severus recognized every facet of the very familiar route.

"These are but shadows of the things that have been," Lily chided gently as he stared dumbfounded at her childhood home, listening to the laughter drifting from behind the house. "They have no consciousness of us."

They walked around the house to the back garden and Severus gasped to see himself and Lily not more than nine years old, playing together.

"Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning, Sev!" young Lily cried gleefully as she danced around his young counterpart, both of their cheeks pink in the cold air.

"I remember this day!" Severus said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, "this is the Christmas after we met. I had never really celebrated the Holidays before. My first Christmas present was from you, a copy of The Hobbit. You were in your Peter Pan phase."

"Yes, I remember. I had been Wendy in the school play that fall," Lily laughed. "You were always willing to be Peter when I asked." She grew quiet for a long moment. "You were a wonderful Peter Pan."

"I am a better Captain Hook," Severus said thickly.

"You don't have to always play that part," Lily replied turning away from the happy scene. "Come on, Severus, there is still much to see."

The Evans house faded from view and another memory replaced it. Severus realized they were back at Hogwarts, on the Astronomy tower. A younger Lily and Severus, their hands clasped raced past them, giggling.

"Do you know when we are, Sev?" Lily asked as they followed the pair.

"Yes," Severus replied quietly, "Christmas during our fifth year."

The teenage Lily and Severus stopped when they reached the furthermost edge of the highest tower.

Older Severus and Specter-Lily stepped closer to the young pair. Young Lily clambered up on the railing and Severus pulled at her arm, "Are you mad, Lily? You could fall!"

The teenage girl laughed as she balanced herself on top of the railing. "Silly Severus, this is your Christmas present."

Severus reached for her arm again to pull her down, "Seeing you plummet to your death is not high on my Christmas wish list, Lily!"

She shook her head, causing the snowflakes that had collected in her thick hair to dislodge and come raining down in his face. "You are not the only one who can invent spells, Sevvie." She shut her eyes as if concentrating and shot off her perch. Lily was flying without a broom. Severus remembered how shocked he had been, before he had never heard of such in the wizarding world, but the first bit of magic he had ever seen Lily perform was flying from her swing. Severus could only watch her once again in awe, she surrounded by a beautiful glowing white mist as she moved smoothly through the cold air.

Young Lily landed easily back in the astronomy tower. "I'm going to teach you how to fly it will be our secret. We will be the only two people in the wizarding world who can fly," Lily said brushing the snow from her clothes and hair.

"You learned how to fly very quickly, Sev," the specter form of Lily said, watching her counterpart explaining the details of the spell she had invented.

"It was an amazing bit of knowledge you gave me," Severus said quietly

"You gave the knowledge to him, out of pure spite," Lily spat. "Yet you haven't bothered to teach it to Harry, my son. He has nothing from me... just memories of my death, my screams, to haunt his dreams."

"He dreams of that?" Severus asked, inwardly horrified that the boy would remember such things.

Lily nodded looking away and tugged at Severus' arm again. "Come on, Severus, one more stop."

The world faded around them and another place materialized in its place. Severus recognized it as well, Gryffindor tower, heavily decorated for Christmas. An eleven year old Ron Weasley was staring up at the stairs leading to the boys' dorm.

"Come on, Harry, open your presents!" Ron called up the stairs.

Seconds later, Harry Potter appeared rubbing his eyes in wonder as he stared down at the tableau. "I've got presents?" Harry asked, as if the idea amazed him. The black-haired boy raced down the stairs and fell to his knees in front of the very small stack of gifts. Severus fully expected the boy to pitch a fit at the lack of presents, but the boy reverently moved his hands over the gifts as if savoring them.

"Not the spoiled, arrogant Potter you thought?" Lily asked sharply, as she and Severus watched her son open a lone envelope with a fifty pence piece taped to the letter within. It was clear who was so cruel. "Tuney?" Severus asked, "I would have thought with her obsession with our world and begging to come to Hogwarts, she would have been thrilled to play host to our 'hero.' I thought she would have spoiled him to no end."

Lily shook her head, "They treat him no better than an abused house-elf, Sev."

They watched as Harry finally began to open his gifts, savoring each moment and carefully examining each card before laying the gifts to the side.

"Reminds me of another little black-haired boy, who cherished every gift he was ever given."

Severus looked up sharply at Lily, his throat tightening uncharacteristically, "Why do you show me these painful images, Lily? How can I make a difference?"

"These are but shadows of things that have already happened. You cannot change them, Severus." Lily replied as a snowy mist surrounded them and they were back in his bedchambers at Hogwarts.

The clock began to chime and Lily smiled sadly, "It's time for me to go. You will have two more visitors tonight. Listen to what they have to say, Severus. If not for yourself, then for me." She began to fade right before his eyes and he slammed to his knees at her feet, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please Lily, don't leave me! I cannot bear it!"

She faded into nothingness, but her voice rang out one last time, "Severus, do you know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting for you. Always."

Severus stared at the spot where she had been standing, willing her spectral form to return to him. After a few moments he wiped his face and rose from his position, his knees creaking in protest.

***

Severus was usually prepared for almost anything, but he was not by any means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the clock struck one, and no shape appeared, he was more than a bit nervous

The clock however, was evidently more prepared than he was for the next interlude.

As he watched, it slowly began to run in reverse, finally coming to a stop at midnight. Twelve great booming gongs rolled through the air, each sounding like thunder.

Then all manner of delicious aromas filled the room. The fire in the hearth blazed up merrily, crackling with vigor. A great ruddy light suddenly filled the room.

When it cleared away, Severus found himself staring at a table laden with food, and seated behind it...

"Hagrid?"

The half-giant gave him a grin, "Hello Sev'rus, I'm the Ghost o' Chris'mas Pres'nt."

Severus looked around the room, which was filled not only with Hagrid and the food laden table, but with piles of gold Galleons and treasures that would rival what was found in the Malfoy's vault at Gringotts.

"Look a' me!" the man boomed.

Severus did as he was told. Hagrid was clothed in a simple Slytherin green robe bordered with silvery white fur. His baby dolphin sized feet were bare; upon his shaggy head was a holly wreath. Severus was overcome with the deepest desire to laugh with the genial man who was looking upon him with a distinctly amused looked on his bearded face.

"Yeh look like yeh ne'er seen a spirit b'fore."

"I've seen a lifetime's worth just tonight, Hagrid"

An' far more ta see."

The spirit hauled himself up from the table and reached into one of his sleeves.

When he withdrew a battered pink umbrella, Severus closed his eyes. "Now I know I'm dreaming."

The spirit chuckled good-naturedly, raising his umbrella over his head much like you would a torch. "Ah now, tha's up ter you." Hagrid held out his arm for Severus to grasp. A shower of sparks came from the umbrella, spinning around the two men as the room disappeared around them.

"Hi mum."

It took the potions master a moment to realize where they were and who they were watching for that matter. Severus easily recognized the sterile looking room of a ward at Saint Mungos.

Neville Longbottom was standing across from them, speaking to someone in a bed. Severus recognized it to be Alice Longbottom. Severus couldn't help but notice how different she looked from the brave Auror she had been so many years ago. Fresh guilt welled up in Severus, causing his insides to squirm unpleasantly. Neville's parents' mental state was just as much as his fault as the Potters' deaths. Alice was staring at her son with a curious blank look that made the hairs rise on the back of Severus' neck.

"So…I've got top marks in Herbology. I should be better at Potions because I know the properties of the plants, but Professor Snape makes me so nervous. I'm good at charms, but Gran thinks my grades in Transfiguration should be better. It's just a really hard subject for me, you know?"

To Severus' surprise, Alice Longbottom gave a very serious nod in response.

Looking down at his feet however, Longbottom missed it. Very softly he said, "I still don't know why the hat wanted me in Gryffindor."

The spirit gave Severus a glance. "Ya' know, I lil' encouragin' often goes a long way."

The walls of Saint Mungo's began to warp before bleeding together in a cacophony of color and sound.

They disappeared, but not before Severus saw Alice Longbottom launch herself forward and wrap her son in a hug.

***

The swirling finally resolved into a gloomy looking room. It was quickly apparent that they were in one of Severus's least favorite places to visit, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He gave the Spirit of the Present a questioning glance.

Then he did a double take. There were streaks of gray spreading liberally through the giant being's hair and beard. He could see a few age lines gracing the boisterous ghost's face as well.

Before he could comment on it however, someone spoke. "Sit down Remus, don't stand there like a lump."

Severus turned to find Sirius Black sprawled on a sofa, a bottle of something in his hand. Even from his place across the room Severus could tell the man was drunk, though how badly, remained to be seen.

Remus Lupin was standing in front of him, holding an overcoat and looking a cross between amused and disapproving. But he finally shook his head and waved his wand, conjuring a comfortable looking armchair and sending the coat to hang itself on a nearby hook.

"Happy Christmas, Sirius." He gave the other man a look. "How much of that have you had?"

Black waved a hand flippantly. "Enough . Or maybe not quite. Still not sure." Severus rolled his eyes, but continued to listen. "So, how's old Dumbledore's missions treating you?"

"Oh I can't complain,"Lupin said airily.

Evidently, Black hadn't had enough to drink, because he gave Lupin a rather shrewd look. "Tell the truth," he snapped, sounding far more alert.

Lupin flushed. "Well, I suppose I could complain," he said quietly, looking down at his feet. "But it's all for a good cause, so I really shouldn't."

Black snorted and took a slug of his drink. "Who's cause exactly? Yours or Dumbledore's?"

It was so like the question Severus wanted to ask, that the Potions master couldn't help but be amazed. "I suppose even Black can have a moment of intelligence," he remarked to the spirit. The spirit simply laughed.

Lupin, however, was giving the man across him a look that was partially annoyed, but had a hint of something very like pity. "I rather like to think they're the same," he said finally.

Black just grunted and took another swig of his drink. "You would like to think that wouldn't you?" he said after a moment. "Dumbledore's got his own agendas. Where'd he send you this time?" he snapped.

Lupin pursed his lips. "America," he said. " The headmaster believes we will be able to gain ourselves some staunch allies from the packs out there, as Voldemort has never made any attempts to sway them."

Black sat up at that. "Any actual luck?"

Lupin frowned and shrugged. "It's hard to say. Most of them don't even know who Voldemort is, let alone Harry." He gave a faint smile. "I've lost count how many times I've had to explain to someone over there who the two of them are."

Black hauled himself up into a more comfortable position. "What's the bloody point then? Those Yanks aren't likely to help a bunch of people they've never met!"

Lupin's expression turned sour. "Dumbledore is a man of many subtleties."

Black rolled his eyes. "Subtleties! You sound like ol' Snivellus!" He leaned forward and began making strange passes over the table. "The subtle science and exact art of potion making," he snorted and took a deep draft of his drank. "Get real Moony!"

Lupin's eyes narrowed. "You should show more respect for your fellow order members, you know."

Black actually laughed. "Are you serious Moony? This is Snivellus we're talking about, the same one we hoisted into the air as a kid. The same one that despises Harry!"

Lupin was on his feet. "Yes! The same one that still works hard to help us!"

"The same one who nearly wet his pants when James saved his arse in the shack!" He waved the bottle about rather wildly. Severus was certain it must have had a bottomless or refilling charm on it.

Lupin suddenly made a lunge for the bottle. Black was evidently sober enough to spot this coming however, and held it out of reach. The two of them ended up almost nose to nose.

"You know Remus, You've always had the most. . . hypnotizing eyes."

The punch he received was enough to knock him off his feet. "You are obviously drunk off your arse Padfoot," Lupin said, his face slightly flushed. A flick of his wand vanished the bottle. "You need to sober up. Imagine if Harry saw you like this! What would he say if he saw you disparaging people all the time?"

Severus stared at them. "And what would he say if knew you were carrying a torch for the wolf Black?"

"Unrequittence is the purview o' the present," the spirit said suddenly, speaking at last. "Here and now are rar'ly as clear as the foregone." The great face grinned at him. "And time can make fools of us all, one way or 'nother." Leaning on his umbrella, he gestured at the door, which swung open. "As for what the Young'uns think, well, there's really only one way ter find out now, isn't there?"

The giant spirit leading the way, they traipsed through the passage and down a set of stairs to fetch up in the entrance hall.

To Severus complete astonishment, the Portrait of Black's mother awoke as they passed.

"Back again filthy scum of the earth! Twice in the same day! But not at all is it!" It was the sanest Severus had ever heard her. "Traipsing around through my home, spreading your infernal cheer!"

The Spirit gave her a somewhat weary look. "Madame, the wonders o' the present are lost upon ye."

Mrs. Black sniffed haughtily. "Not lost enough! And too much still!" she scowled. "Your time is nearly up, as much as it never is!" She scowled again. "Off with you, for the first and last time! They're in the sitting room." Her curtains shut with a snap.

Severus followed behind the spirit, wondering once again just what kind of spells were on the mad harridan's portrait.

They entered the sitting room to find Potter standing on a chair, surrounded by Granger, The Weasley twins, and their youngest brother. Potter himself was doing a perfect imitation of Minerva McGonagall, right down to her accent.

The younger Weasley shuddered. "Merlin mate! That's creepy how good it is!"

Potter grinned and sat down, letting his hair out of the pseudo bun he had been holding it in. "I hear her often enough is all."

He jumped when Granger snatched his glasses from his face, putting them on her own before fluffing her hair and making it much bushier than usual. Then she leaned over and started making strange passes. "The Grim my dear! I see the Grim in your future!"

It was so like Sybil Trelawney that Severus very nearly laughed along with the rest of them. As it was, he was unable to restrain a small smile.

As the Twins began imitating a standard exchange between Peeves and Argus Filch, (mainly raspberries, shouting, and insults,) Severus turned to the spirit. He was quite startled to see a most out of place look of sadness on the lined, craggy, face. "Spirit, whatever is the matter?"

The spirit before him let out a sigh. "The future is not my purview, but I ken see a bit o' it." It sighed roughly. "If things continue as they are, that chair may soon lay empty till the end o' days."

"You mean Potter?" The spirit nodded, looking older than ever. "Surely not!"

"For all that he is, he is still jus' a lad," the spirit said simply.

"He is not jus' a anything!" Severus snapped, ignoring the spirit's low chuckle. Then he returned his attention to see that the youngest male Weasley had procured a cloak from somewhere and draped it around his shoulders.

He was swooping about the room in a somewhat passable imitation of Severus himself. He stopped in the middle of the room and rapped out, "Forty thousand points from Gryffindor!"

Strangely, Potter was the only one among them who didn't laugh. Instead he gave his friend a rather reproving look. "Really now, Ron. He's not that bad."

Ronald Weasley stopped dead. "Not that bad? Not that bad? Oh come on Harry!" He flung out an arm. "This is Snape! Mister I-hate-all-things-Gryffindor! Mister I-shall-humiliate-Harry Potter"!" He put a fist on his hip and stared at him. "What, did he mess with your brain in those 'Private' lessons or something?"

Any trace of mirth that had been on the boy's face vanished in a heartbeat. "I beg your pardon?" It sounded innocent, but Severus could tell it was anything but.

Ronald Weasley, however, apparently could not. Drawing himself up and imitating the potion master's voice, he said. "And make sure to stay under the desk, Potter!"

Severus felt a moment of white hot fury. Then an audible crackle made him look at Potter.

The boy's eyes seemed to be covered by a blue white sheen. Then they appeared to pulse. As one, Granger and the twins dived behind furniture. Ronald Weasley did not have this luxury. Nor did he seem to realize what was happening. There was a noise like a box of firecrackers going off and an explosion of magic from Potter.

When the fallout finally cleared away, Ronald Weasley's mouth had changed to look very like that of the standard American clown, gaudy red and large in the cheek. Unlike a clown mouth however, this was obviously not paint. "Wha' fa' Bloddy ell?" The words were badly mangled by the overinflated lips.

"As if he would ever do that to a student!" Potter hissed, eyes still glowing and sounding very like a snake about to strike. His hands clenched the sides of his armchair, and a bolt of pure magic singed a furrow in the carpet. He looked like some kind of avenging angel in his fury. "Professor Snape actually has class and decorum for one thing, which is more than I can say for some!" Another bolt of magic let loose, burning through a sofa cushion, and forcing a large clock on the mantel to scuttle out of its way as it charred a hole in the wall.

If this was Potter in a true temper, and it clearly was, then Severus thought that perhaps his godson had absolutely no idea what he was dealing with in his petty little feuds with the boy. Having seen this, he had to say that even Potter's worst tempers he had seen paled by a large margin in comparison.

Potter leaned forward, glowing eyes narrowed. "And besides," he said in a chilly whisper that sent a shiver down even Severus spine, "you may have the right idea, but the wrong Slytherin. Think blonder."

With that he stalked out of the room and slammed the door.

Severus watched the doorknob melt as the boy stood in front of him taking several deep breaths. Then Potter leaned against the door, obviously waiting for something.

He was not disappointed. "Wha?" This was followed by a series of loud and severely mangled words.

Severus had wondered if Potter's last statement was made simply as a spite strike at Weasley, or if it was actually truthful. The sight of the rather vicious smile on Potter's face however, had him betting rather strongly on the former. Nevertheless, he decided a chat with his godson would be in order regardless. The boy had to be warned of how much danger he would be in if he ever really managed to strike a nerve.

He turned to the spirit, who was looking at him with rheumy eyes. He blinked. "Spirit, do you grow old?"

It nodded. "I do indeed."

"Are all spirit's lives so short?"

It shook its great snowy head. "My time on this earth is very brief. I believe it shall end upon the stroke of twelve, and I shall leave you in the good hands of the ghost of Christmas yet to come."

Ignoring the sudden unmistakable sounds of Molly Weasley, Severus turned to examine the still panting boy. "You said that his chair would soon be gone. Why?"

The spirit smiled at him, a thing that was less one of mirth and more of true gentle kindness. It reminded him painfully of Lily. Then it tapped the umbrella to the ground. As the house began to dissolve, the spirit sighed.

"The boy faces adversaries in even the safest of places, from the well-meaning, but wrong, to the dark intentioned." He motioned towards Potter. The boy was staring at his clenched fist, and Severus could see something etched into it, standing out in a stark white. Severus just managed to get close enough to make out the words, 'I must not tell lies' written in what was unmistakably Potter's own handwriting.

As the boy faded away with everything else, Severus attempted to process what he'd just seen. He knew the boy wasn't crazy enough to mutilate himself like that, or he thought he wasn't. Then he remembered how the boy had ducked his hands under the table at breakfast after the firework incident. "Dolores Umbridge," he said softly.

The spirit nodded slowly as Severus's own bedroom re-appeared around them. "Against unchecked adversity such as that, what hope for survival can he have?" It sighed. "My time is nearly at its end. I shall give this one last thing." It tapped the umbrella against the ground three times. A strange sparkling veil of magic spread out from it, washing through the room and them. Behind them, the clock started moving backwards. "With this gift from the Spirit of Christmas Past, you may make your final walk with the Spirit of Christmas Future."

It started laughing, sounding more like its younger self. "Go and know him better, man!"

And with that it faded away into swirling trails of sparkling light, its laughter the last thing to disappear.

In the silence that followed, the clock began to chime again.

***

As the clock began to chime again, Severus couldn't help the shudder. The last spirit had been eye opening enough, what could this final spirit have to show him?

As the clock struck the final note, he became certain that he would soon get his answer. A strange thick, wet fog rolled into the room. Severus shuddered again as the temperature dropped. The fog billowed throughout the room, soaking fabrics and leaving a wet sheen on any solid surface.

Then came a noise that the potions master never wanted to hear again. It started as a low hum, then scaled up into a horrid hissing that sounded eerily like the disgusting version of the Parseltounge he had heard come from the Dark Lord on occasion. Though he was loath to admit it, Severus much preferred to hear Potter speak it, the boy's version sounded far less sinister and more natural.

The fog humped dramatically in the center of the room, then exploded apart before swirling back down to wrap around the dark figure that had appeared inside of it.

Severus swallowed, examining it. While most of it was obscured by the fog, what little he could see was clothed in a flowing gray robe. In the total silence it left in the wake of its appearance he could hear a low rattling breath coming from it. It was rather akin to facing a dementor, although Severus found this to be infinitely more terrifying.

"Are you-" he swallowed. "Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"

The floating specter inclined its head in assent.

The Potions master steeled himself and rose from his bed. "I am ready then. Lead me where you will."

The spirit nodded again and made a wide sweeping motion with one arm. The fog parted beneath their feet, sending them tumbling into the black abyss below it.

***

Severus landed heavily on cold, wet ground, the ghost of the future silently dropping to hover beside him. He looked around warily.

Rain poured over everything, slicking every surface, causing it to almost glow in the wan light that was streaming down. Everything he could see was rubble, plants growing wild over every surface.

After moment of looking, he turned back to the spirit. "Spirit, what is this place?"

In lieu of a verbal answer, the spirit simply pointed at something off to the man's left.

Severus turned, and bit back a gasp as the clouds rolled away to let the light shine down on the shattered statues of winged boars. "This- this is Hogwarts?"

Shrouded under the clouds, the spirit nodded, head cloaked in shadow. It made a wider gesture, causing more of the cloud cover to come apart in front of it.

Severus gaped at the mountainous ruins that were slowly revealed. A short ways off he could see the remains of what must have been Hagrid's cabin, the frame work warped and twisted, and the ground charred black.

Further on were the greenhouses, windows shattered and wild plants growing out of every available opening, the Venomous Tentacula running rampant across the grounds.

Then his eyes landed on the castle itself, or rather, what was left of it. Wordlessly he strode towards the ruins, the spirit trailing behind him.

They arrived at a small clearing of sorts, or at least, an area that was devoid of most of the plants. It was littered with strange sticks here and there, and the occasional lump of something that looked too large to be simple rock.

Turning to the spirit, Severus swallowed. "Spirit, please! What has happened here?"

In answer, the spirit made a sweeping gesture with both arms. The man had a brief glimpse of withered and greying hands before they were covered by the sleeves again.

The normally stoic man was forced to bite back a cry of horror as the cloud cover parted, allowing sunlight to shine weakly down on the many skeletons littering the clearing.

He realized that this was more than the ruins of Hogwarts. It was the ruins of a battlefield.

He whirled to face the spirit again. "Spirit, please! Speak to me; tell me what has happened to this place!"

The spirit remained impossibly quiet in the shadows for a long while. Then at another plea from the Potion's Master, it seemed to nod. There was a horrid creaking sound as its jaw opened, as if the very muscles themselves were screaming in protest. In a voice that sounded part whisper, part raspy hiss it said, "This is a land that has met its end. It has been left with none for it to tend. Darkness and evil now reign; this land bereft of any goodness to act as its bane."

Severus felt a chill run down his spine. "But the prophecy…Albus…Potter!"

The spirit let loose a terrible rustling hiss. After a moment Severus realized it must have been a laugh. "The words of man are not always words of truth, when all are not said. And not all men hold truth, no matter how well read."

It gave a horrid hissing rattle of a sigh. "In this land, this time, this world, my end has nearly come. Of those who remember Christmas, or any holiday indeed, there will soon be none."

"How can this be possible?"

The spirit sighed again and drifted towards a spot off in the distance. As they moved forwards, Severus found himself stepping on the shattered remains of the giant hourglasses that had once kept track of the house points.

The spirit paused briefly in front of what appeared to be a large stone. Severus was horrified to discover the Sword of Gryffindor embedded in it, the old sorting hat neatly skewered by the blade.

This had evidently not been enough to end whatever spells were powering it, as the hat was muttering wildly to itself. What it was saying Severus could not tell, it was too quiet and too disjointed.

The spirit waved an arm over it, causing it to go silent and still at last. "The voice of tolerance has been brought to naught; its sound silenced by the dangers of the world whose end it sought. Silenced by one whose darkness went to the core, by one wielding an instrument of peace for war." Then it waved a hand over the hat and said, "Sleep my friend, sleep and find yourself a peaceful end." Very slowly, the hat, which had been twitching rather strongly, seemed to relax and go limp. With that, the spirit turned, leading Severus away from one of the most disturbing sights he had ever seen.

It led him to small clearing, or at least a space in the rubble that was devoid of any excess plants or rubble. There was a single skeleton laying here, the ground around it badly charred, though the bones themselves were stark white. The skeleton itself was smallish, and unlike most of the others Severus had seen, this one's wand was not in its hand. Instead it was lodged in the ribcage. It was, Severus realized, the precise spot a living person's heart would be.

The spirit came to halt directly over the ghastly remains. Then it waved an arm, bringing sunlight to the clearing. Severus bit back a near scream. Evidently Potter's scar went far deeper than just his skin. He could see it etched upon the bleached white skull.

The spirit appeared to ignore his reaction. "This land is at an end. There are none left who can tend." The sunlight rippled over the spirit, slowly but surely making it visible, or what little could be seen of it outside the robe anyway.

Only the head remained in shadow now. "There is no savior for this realm, not now that evil has taken the helm."

"Is there really no hope for this future? For mine?"

The spirit went stock still. "That is not for me to say." It was the first time it had not spoken in verse. The sunlight at least reached its head, and Severus really did let out a cry of horror this time.

The face of Harry Potter was staring back at him.

Well, perhaps not the face. This one was most certainly a face of death, in all but the eyes. Graying and strained skin was what covered the head before him, the skin that was not charred black as coal anyway. His hair seemed brittle and limp now, strangely tame. Only his eyes remained strong. As vivid as the day he'd first seen them, the emerald gaze seemed to burn into his.

Pott-the spirit gazed at him impassively as a light drizzle began to fall. Severus shook his head, feeling frantic. "This can't be the future! There must be a way to change it!"

The drizzle scaled into a light rain. "The future is at the mercy of the present. The actions one takes will decide the future."

As the rain grew heavier, and the sunlight strangely stronger, Severus latched onto the statement. "You mean then, that that there's still time? That this is not a future thatwill be, but rather one that might be?"

The downpour became a veritable ocean of water. The sound was so loud that the spirit of the future could barely be heard. "It is not for me to say," the voice sounded very far off. "Only you can find your way."

Then the sunlight scaled into a blinding burst of color and brightness, seeming to pierce through the rain and Severus himself, filing the man with a strange rushing sensation.

Severus Snape sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily.

***

As the last of the spirits faded, still smiling, Severus glanced at the clock and saw that it was still midnight. He thought. Having them rewind it twice made for a little confusion. A quick check of the other time-pieces in his quarters revealed that it was in fact still midnight.

This in mind, He had plenty of time to do what was needed.

First order of business, Dolores Umbridge.

With a most unusual grin on his face, Severus went to his closet and started hunting around through his old photographs, before finally surfacing with one of Lupin's Werewolf form that he had taken for research purposes.

Next was to find an image of the High Inquisitor herself. This only necessitated a brief visit to the Slytherin Common Room. (Which also ended up scaring several students back to their beds.) "Honestly." he muttered. "Staying up late to shower each other with affection in the common room of all places?"

The next half an hour was spent messing about with spells he hadn't used since he had been a student. Finally, a credible creation made, it was duplicated and then dispatched to the owlery.

Then turned to decidedly less childish matters

A quill, ink and a sheet of Parchment was pulled towards him. Thinking for a moment, he began to write, speaking out loud as he did so. "Courage and bravery come in many forms..."

Despite the small number of students in the Great Hall Christmas day, the noise level was utterly astounding

Much farther away however, Hermione Granger was indelicately spitting her tea across the table as she read the headline for the morning's Daily Prophet.

On it was a large photograph of a rather familiar looking werewolf and...

"Is that Umbridge?" Ron asked incredulously, his face twisting in a kind of muted horror.

Harry and Hermione just nodded dumbly as the picture continued its activities.

After a moment, Harry removed the paper from Hermione's unresisting grip and tossed it on the table. Ignoring the glaring headline of "CAUGHT!" he said, "Well, any port in a storm for her I guess."

Ron seemed to take this as a cue, something he had been doing a lot lately. Harry still refused to undo whatever spell he had used, and his mother had only said it served him right, though she had at least deflated him enough that he sounded somewhat normal. Ron was actually beginning to suspect that Harry didn't know how to undo it. "C'mon mates. Let's go open our presents!"

Harry shook his head at him, but followed.

***

Out in the hall, Severus listened as they opened their presents.

"Who's that one from, Harry?" asked Granger.

"Dunno. There's no name." There was a rustling as the note was unfolded. "This spell was a creation of your mother's. Use it well."

Severus turned away as the chatter from the other two started, smiling slightly.

As he headed to the door, the portrait of Mrs. Black snapped awake. She eyed him rather beadily for a moment before rasping, "So! Which time are you here now?"

Severus blinked. "The last time I suppose. This is Christmas day."

Walburga Black was not deterred by his tone. "So I won't have to worry about Mister Big and Jolly mucking about with the flow of time, then." She gave him a rather hawkish look. "I don't suppose you learned anything?"

Severus felt his lips twist in a rather sardonic smile. "I have learned that there is a time and place for anger and hatred, but very rarely is it placed in the right light, or upon the right people. More often it is better to have understanding for your fellows, something you should take to heart, Madame."

Mrs. Black made a gagging sound. "Merciful Merlin," she deadpanned, "you've gotten yourself all mixed up haven't you."

"I beg your pardon?"

Walburga Black sighed and turned to face him properly. "Look, you bloody nit, you're a half blood, so I wouldn't expect you to know this, but those three are part of an ancient spell. They exist to remind everyone of the meaning of their holiday. Their goal is to restore the true feelings of generosity, goodwill, and peace that everyone is born with."

When Severus stared at her, she snorted. "Don't look at me like that. I may be Madame Mcgrumpy, but that doesn't mean I don't know my history."

Severus laughed softly. "Very well Madame, I shall keep that in mind."

She sniffed haughtily. "See that you do. I don't want them traipsing around through here again, mucking with time. One was enough, though Future is usually the one you really don't want to see." She waved a hand dismissively. "Off with you now, you great halfblooded fool!" The curtains shut with a snap.

Severus shook his head and headed towards the door.

He had a hand on the knob when a voice spoke. "Severus?"

Severus turned to find the voice's owner staring at him from a hallway, a mug of something steaming in his hand. "Lupin," he greeted neutrally.

"Severus, why on earth are you here?"

Severus snorted. "That's none of your concern wolf."

Lupin flinched slightly. "Oh, well, um . . . Happy Christmas all the same."

"Happy Christmas to you as well," Severus responded and ignoring the wolf's startled look, he stepped out onto the front step and apparated away.

***

It was on the first day after the end of the holidays that Severus sat down to eat breakfast and promptly thought he was going to have a heart attack. Fortunately, his brain kicked in just in time and reminded him that Potter would be unlikely to fly out in the open area of the Great Hall, and he was also sitting at the lion house table with his friends.

It was the Spirit of Christmas Future, though decidedly less corpselike in appearance. It was also smiling, though it had a distinctly concerned air about it. Standing next to it, and looking entirely too tall, was the Spirit of Christmas Present. It too was smiling, a jovial thing that was full of mirth. Next to the Hagrid doppleganger was Lily. She winked at him before smiling approvingly. All three of the spirits gave him a bow before vanishing into thin air.

A brief glance at the Gryffindor table told him that Potter had either not deigned to cancel the spell on his friend, or couldn't. He sighed and upon finishing his meal, headed towards his laboratory to concoct an antidote.

Halfway there, his godson passed him in the hallway, Severus promptly grabbed him and dragged him inside the laboratory.

Wrenching himself free, Draco watched as his Godfather locked the door. "What the Bloody hell?"

Severus forced a ladle into his hand. "Language!" he snapped, pointing at a stool. "Sit. You are going to brew the Esuna Draft. While doing so, you will tell me exactly what is going on between you and Potter."

To his surprise, his godson went pink to his ears. Turning away to set up, he muttered something incomprehensible.

"I am not fluent in Mumbletonion Draco."

"No just Potionese!" the boy snapped back. "I said I'm on his side, not yours!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not on Vol-Voldemort's side," he blurted. "Harry showed me some memories of him. No way am I going to be pledging myself to that!" He stopped stirring and turned around. "There, I've said it. When are you going to turn me in to the nutter?"

"Don't be absurd! And keep stirring," he snapped. "Now that you've finally sorted out your priorities, we need to figure out how to keep you and your parents safe. Though we should first inform them that you're all finally of the same mind," he said as the potion had ceased its ominous spitting.

A short while later there was a knock at the door. Shoving Draco into a corner, Severus opened the door to find Potter floating several inches above the floor.

"Potter."

"Hi, Professor. Thanks for the spell."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

The brat had the audacity to grin. "Like I don't recognize your handwriting after all those essays." Then he sobered a little. "Actually I'm here about Ron." He turned and dragged the resisting Weasley into view. "You dug yourself into this!" he snapped in a loud whisper. "You can get yourself out." Harry then glided down the hall.

Deciding he'd explain the concept of subtlety to Potter later, he turned his attention to Weasley.

He allowed the boy no more than a mumbled greeting before he shoved the completed draft into his hand. "You may tell Potter that his detentions have been canceled," he said curtly.

Shutting the door on him, he waited approximately five minutes before an almighty bang erupted from outside. He nodded to Draco, who started setting up again grumbling, "How many of these are we going to need?"

Severus only smiled.