Severus moaned slightly, staring up at the sky from where he'd slipped and fell hard onto his back upon landing. He scowled, dusting the snow off his robes as he stood, furious. Of course it was a trick. It had been a portkey - he knew it. But where on earth was he?

Around him was a very flat landscape, snow everywhere. An icy pond lay behind him, and up ahead he thought he saw stables, and an old, rustic log house that seemed to have been added onto over the years. It had two stories and great windows, warm light spilling from them and out into the chill air.

"Great," he muttered to himself, having nowhere else to go. He glanced around, then tried to apparate away. No luck. He would just have to venture forward. It was obvious the house was his destination. He glanced down at the bell in his hand, shaking his head. He slipped it into his pocket. He tried letting go of it then grabbing it again, but it wouldn't activate.

Deciding he might as well do this with some dignity, he marched forward, aware of the bitter cold, his feet freezing. He stepped up the small wood steps and grasped the door knocker. It had a crest on it of some sorts - a reindeer surrounded by holly, and a banner beneath it with three stars, the largest star in the centre of the banner reaching down toward the pointed bottom of the shield. He lifted the knocker up and let it fall three times.

"Ah, Severus, I was hoping you would make it," said a voice as the door opened.

Severus rubbed his eyes, and then pinched himself, and then felt his mouth open slightly.

It was a man, white hair and a white beard, much shorter than Dumbledore's though. He was wearing a red sweater and his cheeks were chapped with cold. And the strangest thing was that Severus was quite sure he had seen him in a dream before - or at least he supposed it had been a dream considering how young he had been at the time.

"Ah, you do remember me!" said the man cheerfully, taking in Severus' shocked expression. "I knew you wouldn't forget Father Christmas."

Severus felt his knees go weak as he was ushered into the warmth of the room.

"B-But, this is … this is a prank," he said, his mouth dry (A prank, he thought to himself, sure, a prank that just so happens to have the man that you remember seeing the night of Christmas eve, 1964, less lined, wearing a red coat and willing to help when nobody else had noticed anything was wrong). As if he was in the memory itself, Severus could feel his heart beating with terror as he remembered that Christmas Eve, the way whisky smelled after dinner, and how a broken arm felt.

"Your arm healed well, I presume?" asked Father Christmas (No, no, a man that looks like him - he isn't … couldn't be …) as though he could read it in Severus' face.

"Yes," said Severus dumbly. "Fine. How can you … This isn't happening."

"I assure you it is, Severus," was the reply, twinkling brown eyes meeting his. "Are you telling me that you deluded yourself into believing that there was no Father Christmas in all these years since? Despite the notes?"

"Yes," Severus said firmly. "Well, not completely - later I figured that it was just someone who knew me and cared enough to … besides, there isn't a real Father Christmas - that's the product of dreams and imagination in children. And besides, if you were Father Christmas you would be able to tell me something only you could know. The arm - I flinched, anyone could guess that. I was young at the time, and was probably hallucinating from pain - clearly someone else healed it."

"Ah, a skeptic," chuckled Father Christmas. "The first time you saw me you interrogated me in much the same way, as I recall. Quite tenacious, even then. Well, let me see … no … no … ah, this one will do: Goodness me, it would have been 1966, I think, something appeared on your side table. It was a picture book about potions, and a note that said Happy Christmas, for the littlest potions -"

"- master …" muttered Severus numbly, feeling his cheeks flush. "I … this isn't … I need to sit down."

"Certainly, come on in," said Father Christmas, leading Severus through into a sitting room.

Severus collapsed into an armchair.

"What on earth is going on?" he said faintly.

"A spot of Christmas magic, I daresay," Father Christmas said cheerfully, sinking down onto an armchair next to Severus' and stoking the fire. "And you certainly could use some."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Severus said with a sniff.

"Really? Yet my Christmas Elves inform me that you have been getting gloomier and gloomier these past few years," he said dryly, waving a thin oak wand through the air and summoning a teapot and cups. "I don't just forget about those that grow up, you know."

"Christmas Elves," Severus stated, an incredulous half-smiling sort of look on his face, unable to take the situation seriously. He was still not ready to let go of the idea that this was some elaborate prank. He wondered vaguely if the Weasley twins were capable of something of this calibre. A hallucinogen in his drink, perhaps?

"House elves, dear boy," said Father Christmas, pouring Severus a cup of tea, which he accepted after a moment of hesitation. "A great many have pledged themselves to the Order of Christmas, you know. I have little friends all over, and a plenty at Hogwarts. They keep an eye on those that I feel need it."

"Order of Christmas?"

"Oh, all in good time. Let us finish our tea first, and then I shall give you a tour. I have a proposition for you, Severus."

Severus shook his head, pinching himself again. He felt pain, but the place looked as solid as ever. Even the Weasley Twins weren't this good.

Yes - no doubt about it, he thought. This must be what a mental break is like.

***

"Mr. Harry Potter sir!" cried a half dozen squeaky voices at various times, tiny hands reaching to pick Harry up out of the snow where he had fallen in an ungraceful heap, the bookmark clenched in his hand tightly, the book in the other.

"Huh?" Harry said, confused and a little dizzy. He slid his glasses back on, which had slipped slightly during the fall, and what he saw nearly made him faint. "Who are you?"

"Father Christmas' Elves, of course, little master," squeaked the one that seemed to be in charge, his gold and silver trimmed toga (with the same crest as the bookmark on it) standing out from the other red and green outfits. "Father Christmas has sent for you, and we is bringing you inside. No fretting, young master. Come, come!"

The tiny hand reached for Harry's, and the gaggle of Christmas elves with their batty ears and big round eyes led a shivering Harry through a small back door of sorts - only just tall enough for him - and into a warm, steaming area. The bells on the ends of some of the elves' outfits rang softly as they led him through a warm kitchen and out into a tiny sitting room, which had chairs that seemed to be the perfect height for elves, and not too bad for Harry. A blanket was draped around him and a hot cup of tea brought to him, with plenty of cream and sugar.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"We saids so," replied the silver and gold clad elf with a laugh. "Father Christmas wants to see you! He has something he wants to asks of you."

"But why me?" Harry said in awe. The way his toes were throbbing with cold this had to be real - there was no way it was a dream.

"Father Christmas didn't say," said the elf sincerely. "Father Christmas just told Merry he wanted Harry Potter's help - he is a very busy man. Merry is happy to help Father Christmas."

"Merry … is that your name?" Harry added curiously.

"Yes, sir, as in Merry Christmas" said Merry, beaming.

"Yeah, I got that," Harry said, grinning. "Thanks for the tea."

"You is very kind," Merry told him so sincerely it made Harry blush.

Harry just shrugged.

"Father Christmas is busy for the moment - but Merry is to give you a tour of the workshop. He says we might run into him on the way."

"A tour - really?" cried Harry, eyes alight with excitement.

"Yes, now we must hurry, because there is lots and lots to see!"

***

"Come, Severus," said Father Christmas, getting up and motioning to a door at the end of the sitting room. It was painted a deep green, and had an ancient looking handle.

Severus got up, and Father Christmas opened the door.

"Go on in," he said. "This is where the magic starts."

Cautiously, Severus stepped inside, and he felt his eyes widen with amazement. It was a vast room. House elves were everywhere, dressed in red and green and chattering away at each other while they stacked and organized, sorted, and typed on tiny typewriters. There were big golden letters painted on the large square tables that held around fifteen elves a piece, all the way from A to Z.

"Of course, they're almost done - another hour and it should all be ready. I'm afraid we're a bit behind schedule this year. Usually all the gifts are sorted two days before I'm ready to hit the skies on Christmas Eve, but things haven't gone entirely smoothly this year. It means we haven't the time to do a second check of the list to make sure every gift is made, but I have faith in the elves."

"This is … this is amazing," Severus said, taking in the scene before him. "Looks very efficient to me - whatever has slowed you down?"

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes upon hearing himself. It was almost as though he was starting to believe it all.

"A very bad sickness went through many of the elves - not deadly of course and only contagious among them, but it had them feeling pretty ill and I absolutely refuse to let them work when they're under the weather, even if they want to. Usually they get through everything at a leisurely pace with time to spare, but it's been quite a hassle this year with so many needing sick time. Took a while to get a potion to properly immunize them too - I had to spend a rather long time developing it."

"Well, looks like things are getting done alright this year," Severus said, impressed.

"Yes, it is a relief," Father Christmas said. "Of course, I am afraid there is one other hitch. That's why I brought you here."

"Hitch, what hitch?" Severus asked as he was led across the large workshop and into a tiny corridor. There were a few doors along the wall, and they entered the middle one. It had a heavy oak door, elaborately carved, but this was nothing to what was inside.

The room was quiet, and dim oil lamps lit the area. The walls were lined with gold and silver embossed books, and a long, sliding ladder went all the way around. There was a sort of alcove that was lit brightly, and on a pedestal was an enormous book that looked to be at least a hundred years old, although extremely well preserved. A beautiful piece of stained glass hung behind it, opaque, white and cream coloured glass forming a Christmas star surrounding by deep hues of purple, blue, and grey.

"It has to do with this," said Father Christmas, opening the big book gently. "This book here is enchanted to record the names of the children who will not be receiving a gift. It's extremely complicated magic, and takes years to understand, and years further to put into practice. Unfortunately, it can only detect wizarding children, for it is able to sense their predicament through their magical core. I suppose that is better than nothing, but that's another matter. To explain how it works in very simple terms: Magical children have a special kind of magic that is lost when they come of age. It works in tandem with emotions, in this case, belief, hope, and the desire for love. This kind of magic can be sensed by the book, and also is able to monitor surroundings to some extent. Through some very complicated spells and arithmancy formulae I can't explain in the time I have, it manages to sense which children will not be receiving gifts, as well as a few other things, among them the reason why."

Father Christmas flipped to the first page.

"It records all of that information in this book," he continued. "The child's name, their situation and precautions to be taken when delivering their gift, and of course, a list of their likes and dislikes. Although, this is only my copy, designed specially for the United Kingdom. There are many of these, in many areas around the world, filled with the names of magical, and otherwise forgotten children, which are looked after by the Order of Christmas so they aren't left out.

"I shall add now that there is a rather new Father Christmas in France. The title gets passed on over the years, and this is only his second year, the poor chap, and his book's gone haywire and has refused to open - which means he can't take it along to refer to it as he's delivering. Such books aren't just decorations, you know, as they're charmed extensively so they can come along on the deliveries. As I am much more knowledgeable in the matter, I will be leaving for France as soon as possible to fix it.

"On top of that, I am afraid the time turner I possess is rather stationary and only works one a year - safer that way, you see. It was agreed by the Order of Christmas a long time ago to allow time turners only if they could not leave the workshop, and couldn't be open to the temptation to use any other time of the year. Should a time turner ever be dropped in an unsuspecting child's home, it would surely end in disaster. Thus, using that to complete both jobs would be quite complicated."

"A time turner?" Severus said, intrigued. He cursed himself, tamping down the eagerness in his voice.

Good lord, insanity is catching, he thought wryly.

Father Christmas nodded, a twinkle in his eye. "Of course, luckily here all the children can be delivered to in one night thanks to a few tricks. Also, there is a surprisingly small number that are given nothing for Christmas for any reason besides them not celebrating it."

Severus frowned for a second, having just paused long enough to consider the weight of the man's previous words.

"Wait, so if you have to leave … who is delivering the gifts?" Severus said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"Ah, I knew you'd get to it eventually. Goodness, don't look at me like that. I have a helper for you - I'll go meet him in a few minutes and bring him by. No doubt he has questions too."

"Absolutely not!" Severus said, aghast. "What on earth makes you think that I'm the man for the job? I'm horrible! I am mean! I make children cry."

"True, true, and I can tell you are pleased about that last part," said Father Christmas, looking disappointed, his gaze making Severus' stomach squirm for some reason. "But you aren't what the others see. Even what you see in yourself, most times. No, I think that you are exactly the man for the job."

"But why?" Severus cried, irritated.

Father Christmas smiled softly, and rested his hand on the big book, which was closed once more. "Simple," he began. "There aren't any Slytherins in here. There haven't been since you started teaching."

"Coincidence. That doesn't mean I -"

"My elves aren't blind, Severus, and I know for a fact you have a few spying for you to give you a hand because they happen to be friendly with me too. And the children in Slytherin that are just like you were haven't any idea that it's their very own Father Christmas who orders them to tuck in their shirts lest they disgrace Slytherin House. Don't think I don't know."

Severus was silent, and while he didn't say it was true, he didn't deny it either. Slytherin wasn't exactly a happy house when it came to families. Someone had to do it, if only to avoid the house becoming divided when students became jealous. Or at least that's what he told himself. Besides, there were only ever a few students, so it wasn't difficult to ensure they had a small gift. Severus remained with his arms crossed, not moving an inch. Father Christmas' eyes met his.

"I really need you this year, Severus," he said quietly. "I helped you long ago, now please, help me to ensure that children like you once were, who are broken and lost and alone, are not forgotten tonight. It's one night, and you'll get every second of your time back with the yuletide time-turner."

"Yuletide Time-Turner," scoffed Severus. "Really, who thought of that one?"

Father Christmas looked at him expectantly. Hopefully even. It was infuriating. Almost like Dumbledore, trying to see the best in him. He had disliked Christmas before, but right at that moment Severus was sure he hated it. And he hated that the man before him had played the "remember when that was you" card. It bloody hurt, and it was hardly fair. And on top of it Lily would have done all this in a heartbeat, if only she'd been asked. He was amazed at how he could still hear her telling him what to do sometimes, in the most absurd of situations.

He couldn't believe he was considering it. He couldn't believe the answer he was thinking of giving.

Although, it wasn't like he had anything else to do. There was that.

"Fine!" he spat, furious, fists clenched. "On one condition!"

"And what is that?" said Father Christmas with that annoyingly cheerful smile.

"That you make your" - he sneered - "yuletide time-turner spit me back out after the staff Christmas party is over."

"It's a deal," said Father Christmas, beaming and shaking Severus' hand. "As long as you can negotiate it with your helper, but I think you two can come to an agreement for what time to return. All I need you to do is sign a small contract - to go in the records. Order of Christmas protocol, in case any substitute needs to be contacted about a journey they made."

Severus looked at Father Christmas suspiciously.

"Go ahead and read all the fine print," said Father Christmas, pulling out a piece of paper from a drawer and a golden quill. "It is magically binding, though, so once you sign you must do as you say and complete the journey."

Severus picked up the paper. He studied the writing. It had the usual sort of information - responsibility for the welfare of passengers in the sleigh, statements to free the Order of Christmas and its members from liability in case of accidental injury, what would happen if you couldn't complete the journey, and so on. It seemed to come without any strings.

"And if I don't complete the journey?" Severus said, looking up from the paper. He wanted to hear it from the man himself, besides what the paper said, so he was sure he understood.

"As it says, you must find someone else to complete it, and file a rather nasty set of paperwork if the time is past Christmas and the Yuletide Time Turner needs to have an override so that it will function on a date other than Christmas to allow for the route to be completed on the right time. It's a complicated process. Then, seeing as this operation is really a secret, you will be obliviated of the whole incident."

"Fair enough," Severus said, keeping eye contact with Father Christmas long enough to determine that he was telling the truth. So Severus shrugged and took the quill, signing it with his spiky signature. It was better than the staff party, anyway. How hard could it be?

"Wonderful - a nuance, for sure, but required by the larger organization."

"So, that's it then?"

"It is indeed, and by now it's almost time to get the operation started. I'd suggest we get you suited up, then I can take you out to meet the reindeer."

"Reindeer," Severus said weakly under his breath when Father Christmas led him into another room off to the side of the book room, which had a mirror and a large wardrobe.

"The traditional Father Christmas suit isn't just for decoration, you know," said Father Christmas as he flung open the wardrobe. Inside was a large selection of jackets and thick trousers, a selection of colours and sizes. All looked very old, and yet in good shape.

"Shouldn't they all be red?" asked Severus curiously, fingering a snow white overcoat with grey fur trimming it.

"That's only a myth," said Father Christmas. "Just as Father Christmas comes in all shapes and sizes, Christmas too comes in many colours, not just red. Pick whichever is most comfortable - they're all charmed to keep you toasty and warm. They have a few other tricks too, but I'll tell you those later. Boots are on a rack in the cupboard. I will be back in a few minutes."

Severus watched him go, and peered into the wardrobe, wondering what on earth he was doing with himself, agreeing to something as absurd as this. He didn't know, exactly, but the one thing he was sure of was that he definitely wasn't wearing red.

***

Harry was in awe after the tour of the workshop, and asked millions of questions as Merry explained the situation, that Father Christmas himself needed Harry to help deliver gifts this year. Harry could hardly sit still as Merry flipped pages in the Big Book, as the elf called it, and told him that he would be the one that had to read out the important details of delivery for each child. The book was so large Harry didn't think he could even fit it on his lap. But Merry assured him that there was a nice, special spot for the book on the sleigh so he wouldn't have to. That way, it stayed stationary and up front, so it wouldn't fall out. It was charmed to stick.

"And here's Mister Potter," said a warm voice from the doorway. Harry stopped mid-sentence, and whirled around.

"Father Christmas!" Harry said, awestruck. "Is it really you?"

"It is indeed. How did you like the Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe?"

"It is you!" Harry cried, remembering the book that had been set carefully beside his bed in the cupboard the previous Christmas. Before he could stop to think he ran forward and hugged Father Christmas, laughing and almost crying at the same time. "I loved it! Thank you - thank you so much for remembering me every year!"

Father Christmas returned the hug, and looked down at Harry fondly.

"You are most welcome."

Harry beamed, and bounded over to the Big Book again, where Father Christmas was now flipping pages.

"Harry, this year something wonderful has happened," Father Christmas said, smiling. "Your name has always been right here, in between these two pages. But this year, it isn't."

Confused, Harry looked at Father Christmas. "Sir?" he asked.

"That means that a gift is awaiting you on Christmas. A friend, perhaps?"

"Really?" Harry said, astounded. "Hagrid, maybe? My friend Ron?"

"I do not know, but as the book has not recorded your name this year, someone has thought of you. And so I will not be there this year to give you a gift. However, I have found that it is I that need your help this year. I thought that giving you a chance to give back might be the best gift for you after all these years. Surely Merry has discussed my dilemma?"

"Yes sir, and I'd love to!" Harry said eagerly. "Who am I going with? Who am I helping?"

"I think he'll be a moment yet, as he's getting suited up," said Father Christmas. "First, a matter of business; the larger organization I am part of requires a simple signature from anyone agreeing to complete the rounds. Yours is simple - as you are just a helper."

He handed it to Harry. It was easily readable to him, opting out of complicated legal terms and instead employing the vocabulary an eleven year old would understand.

"What does obliviated mean?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"It's just a charm that makes you forget a certain thing," said Father Christmas. "It doesn't hurt. If you chose not to help or sign and have to go back on it you would merely be returned to Hogwarts without any memory of coming here. Unfortunately we have to do that, just to protect the operation."

"But I can keep my memory of coming here if I do it?"

"Well, I think I rather owe you that if you give me a hand, so yes," Father Christmas said with a smile. "Anyone who helps gets to remember the experience. You must however keep it a secret."

"Okay," Harry said, grinning as he signed the paper.

"Marvelous," said Father Christmas. "And just in time too, I think I hear the door to the wardrobe room opening, so it is time we meet your companion. It might be a bit interesting, the two of you working together, but I think you two have more in common than you might think. I told him the same - he doesn't know who is helping him yet but he's agreed to give me a hand."

Sure enough, Harry heard the squeaking of hinges. Father Christmas led the way out of the book room and into the corridor. Next to the room was another, which Harry spied a few wardrobes in. The door had just been opened, and a figure stepped out of the room wearing a deep green old-fashioned overcoat, with a pair of trousers of the same fabric. The overcoat was long and had two rows of buttons and a collar lined with a dark brown fur. The hat was in the same colour, trimmed in fur as well. The boots were big and brown, and looked very warm. Harry noticed all of this in a second, and one second later a bolt of shock went through his body.

"SNAPE?"

"POTTER?"

"Ah, you do know each other well then. Good to know my sources are correct."

Harry gaped at Father Christmas, and Snape did the same. It was as though the Christmas cheer had been vaporized by the glares the two were giving each other. Harry really wondered what he'd gotten himself into, and judging by Snape's expression, so was he.