Harry yawned and stretched, feeling much better that morning than he had the previous. He flexed his fingers and toes, immensely grateful for Snape’s quick thinking and Dobby’s help as he’d managed to avoid any permanent tissue damage due to frostbite from his bout with hypothermia the day before.
Snape wasn’t in bed, so Harry made his way down to the kitchen where Snape sat with a mug of coffee in one hand, the Daily Prophet in the other.
“Morning.” Harry took a clean plate out of the drying rack and scooped up some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast that Dobby had left under a warming charm for their breakfast. Then he sat opposite Snape at the table.
Snape lowered the paper and Harry had to bite his lips and divert his eyes to keep himself from laughing out loud.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Snape asked, his voice a low grumble.
“Fine.” Harry forked eggs into his mouth and tried not to look at his Potions master.
“Is something the matter, Harry?”
Harry glanced up and then promptly looked away. “No, sir,” he said, but he knew his voice betrayed him as it quavered.
Seeming annoyed, Snape laid the paper flat on the table. “You are a terrible liar. Spit it out.”
Harry burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, sir. The snake… it’s around your eye,” Harry said, using his index finger to draw a large circle around his own eye socket. Still giggling, he said. “Go look in the mirror.”
Snape gave him an odd look and pushed himself to his feet.
A moment later, he returned from the water closet. “As amusing as you find this,” Snape said, “I would appreciate it if you could ask it to relocate itself.”
Harry bit his tongue to keep from making a cheeky comment. Glancing at the stoic man, he couldn’t stop from guffawing. Snape looked absolutely ridiculous, which didn’t it at all with his personality. Harry dropped his head into his hands, trying to control himself.
“When you are finished amusing yourself at my expense…”
Harry coughed and cleared his throat, trying to gain control of himself. “I am sorry, sir. Honest.”
Snape grunted, but looked slightly amused himself. “Anytime now.”
“All right, all right,” Harry said, waving his hand and fighting a grin. “Why don’t I teach you the word for “move”. Then you won’t need me if this happens again.”
It took several tries for Snape to correctly mimic the hissing sound that Harry made, but finally Snape managed to say it correctly. Hissing the word for move, Snape prodded the snake with his finger until it slithered off his face, down his neck, and somewhere out of sight beneath the his collar.
“At least it didn’t happen in the middle of Potion class,” Harry murmured, his lips still quirked up at the corners.
“Or over dinner in the Great Hall,” Snape said.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “They’d be calling you Snake Eye after that.”
Snape groaned and Harry went back to eating his breakfast.
“There are two times of day this can be done. Right before sunrise and at twilight.”
Harry walked beside Snape, their wands extended in their right hands, spray bottles in their left. Each spray bottle was filled with the “secret” potion that Snape had given Harry instructions to brew a few days earlier. Brewing it had been the easier part; figuring out what its properties were based on the ingredients, and what it was to be used for, had been the hard part. But now that Harry knew, he was eager to test it out.
The spell they’d enchanted was a strain of soothing musical notes that whispered on the wind, drawing them ever closer to their destination. Harry knew they were searching for something rare and wonderful; something few witches or wizards had the skill to find. Yet Snape seemed perfectly confident in his ability to locate the source of their adventure.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m still not sure what we are looking for. If the magic barrier is invisible, how will we find it?” Harry asked, cringing in anticipation of the insult to his intelligence that was likely to come his way.
Instead, Snape seemed pensive for a moment. “Did you ever blow soap bubbles when you were a child?”
“My cousin did.”
“They are colorless, are they not?” Snape said, not waiting for an answer. “Yet you can still see them. Why is that?”
Harry thought about that. “I suspect it’s because they are a bit oily and the light reflects off of them, so you can see colors. Like oil on the surface of a puddle,” Harry replied.
“There is your answer. The magic will shimmer, and if you catch the light just right, you will be able to see the interplay of prismatic colors on the surface of the magical barrier.”
Nodding, Harry squinted into the dusk. It was nearing full darkness and if they didn’t find the grotto soon, they’d have to try the next morning.
Suddenly, Snape stopped beside him, throwing out an arm to halt Harry as well. “Just there,” Snape said quietly. “Do you see it?”
Harry cocked his head, searching for any signs of magical disturbance.
Snape slipped behind him and put his hands on Harry’s shoulder, turning him slightly.
“Straight ahead about 7 paces,” he said.
And then Harry saw it. It was a very faint shimmer with just a touch of color glinting in the fading light. “I’d have never found that on my own.”
Snape smirked. “Spray bottles at the ready. And remember what I told you. Keep your mind clear of negative thoughts, your body stance open and non-threatening. If talking is required, I will do so as I am the elder. It is a sign of respect for the young to remain quiet in the presence of their elders.”
Harry nodded, holding his breath in anticipation. Hermione would be beside herself right now if she were here.
Carefully, Snape spoke the spell to open a portal between the Muggle and Magical realms of the forest. Then he slipped through the enchanted barrier, Harry close on his heels.
Once inside, Harry gasped in awe. Snape had told him what it was like, but mere words could not describe the wonder he felt. Pure magic embraced him, untouched and unsullied by other humans. It wrapped around his senses, making everything glow with life. He found himself grinning, his eyes wide as they took in his incredible surroundings.
All around him, lights danced in the trees, a testament to the magical creatures that called this place home. The temperature was at least 30 degrees warmer, around 50 degrees, and there was a touch of humidity in the air. Harry drew in a breath, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh earth and flower blossoms. A sound that he’d thought was a staticky hum when he’d entered the magical grotto transformed into a softly sung melody, the notes of music swirling around him in the glistening air.
Corkscrew hazelnut trees reached toward the sky, their upper branches covered in soft green leaves. Colorful blossoming vines wended their way up the curvy trunks, twining together in a symbiotic serenade. Colors reined here, mostly of the pastel variety, but they were stunning nonetheless.
Harry turned in a slow circle, careful not to touch. Instead, as Snape had instructed, he sought out the various cup-shaped blossoms that the delicate creatures slept and rested in when they weren’t flying around or gathered together socializing.
He recognized the soft blue Canterbury bells that the mature male fairies favored, the soft pink calla lilies that the young fertile females preened upon, and the lavender cup and saucer vines that the young fertile males used to prance and posture. He swung his head around to locate the white-tipped magenta Addison’s clematises that housed the mature females.
Climbing the hazelnut trees were bright yellow and orange flowers on trumpet vines that vibrated with the endless energy of young fairies. The only fairies that weren’t present at this time of year were the infants. Snape had informed him that fairylets were born in the early spring and lived the first few weeks of their lives in the virginal white blossoms of the Lily of the Valley plant.
It was a sight to behold.
Snape had spent half the day explaining fairy genetics to Harry, as well as the various ways to identify their sex and age. He’d also described their mating behaviors. The mature males and females glowed a solid royal blue and deep magenta, respectively, and were past their reproductive prime. They were considered the wise elders and made all decisions regarding the tribe as a whole.
The fertile females shown pink and signaled their readiness to reproduce by blinking a unique individual pattern, called an aria, to potential mates. In response, fertile males would mimic the aria by flashing light blue to show their interest and availability. It was up to the female to choose a mate amongst the swaggering sires.
The premature fairies blazed yellow and peach for males and females, respectively, and the cadence to their blinking was completely random and often rambunctious. Meanwhile, fairylets glowed pure white, and they, as well as their nursing mothers, were considered untouchable by the tribe.
Harry turned to Snape who was crouching on the ground, gathering hellebore blossoms and various colorful mushrooms and fungi into a pouch around his waist. When he caught Harry gazing at him, he nodded and got to his feet. Snape had told him that all fairies this time of year were safe to collect for a period of up to ten days, after which time, they would need to be returned to their grotto. As Christmas was only five days away, their timing was perfect.
Snape gestured to a shallow rock basin filled with sparkling clear water where sprite-flies swam across the surface. Fairies of all ages were reaching out their tiny hands and snapping up the flies, popping them into their mouths with delight. Snape squatted down a little ways away and held his breath. Harry did the same. Together they waited as the fairies gazed suspiciously at them. When the fairy elders finally accepted their presence and returned to feeding, Snape and Harry let out their breaths.
Slowly, Snape reached out his left arm, laying his hand palm up on the ground, mere inches from the fairies. A young one approached, her peach light flashing merrily as she sniffed at Snape’s broad, potion-stained thumb. Then, she scampered up onto Snape’s palm and trotted right up his arm as if strolling along a tree branch. Snape turned the nozzle of the spray bottle in his other hand toward her and squeezed, releasing a puff of mist into her face. The fairy breathed in the scented vapor, smiled, and then fainted. Carefully, Snape picked up the sedated fairy and placed it in his basket.
Harry repeated Snape’s actions. Together, they let the inquisitive fairies promenade trustingly up their arms, spraying them gently and tucking them away in the baskets they had brought. They settled the sleeping fairies on the soft fleece lining added for just that purpose. When Snape had deemed they had gathered enough, he cast warming and humidifying charms on the baskets and led Harry to the edge of the grotto where they slipped from the magical realm back into the cold, barren landscape of winter.
“That was amazing!” Harry said. “I never thought I’d see something like that. I didn’t even know places like that existed.”
Snape nodded as he removed another fairy from the basket and settled it on the tree.
Harry was eagerly doing the same. He couldn’t wait to see it all lit up with fairy lights.
“What will keep them on the tree? Why won’t they just fly away?” Harry had images of finding them all over the house and trying to coax them back to the Christmas tree.
“The potion,” Snape replied. “It must be applied twice a day, morning and evening. In addition to acting as a light sedative and a nutrient potion, it also masks their sense of direction. Without that, they won’t venture from the tree, afraid they wouldn’t be able to find their way back.”
Harry placed a blinking pink fairy on an upper branch. She winked at him and blew him a kiss.
“In addition,” Snape said, “they release pheromones that help them to know what tribe they belong to. That helps the family clans stick together and recognize one another if accidentally separated.”
“Ouch!” Harry shouted, shoving a flashing yellow fairy onto a lower branch. “It bit me!”
Snape laughed. “The young ones can be quite cheeky.”
Harry glanced up to see a light blue fairy strutting back and forth on its branch, his hands on his narrow hips. It reminded Harry of Victor Crum, what with the disgruntled scowl on its tiny face.
The royal blue and magenta fairies—the mature males and females—were much more relaxed, lounging back on their fir perches with a sigh, as if relieved to have a break from trying to keep up with the younger ones.
“You might want to separate those,” Snape said, placing a peach fairy delicately near the top of the tree.
Harry glanced to where Snape was pointing to find a light blue and a pink fairy holding hands and trying to sneak deeper into the tree.
“Oh no you don’t,” Harry said, picking up the couple and gently pulling them apart. The female pouted while the male made a lewd gesture. Harry laughed as he placed them in different parts of the tree.
“Thanks for this,” Harry said, looking up to meet Snape’s gaze.
“You’re very welcome, Harry.” Snape placed his last set of fairies on the tree—a yellow one and a royal blue one. “Finish up with yours and I’ll try my hand at that spiced tea I mentioned.”
Harry nodded, humming as he placed his last three fairies. He had to do a few adjustments to break up a couple of squabbling younger fairies and to separate another amorous couple. Then he took a step back to admire their work.
Snape returned ten minutes later and handed Harry a mug of tea before settling himself on the sofa.
Harry inhaled the scent of cinnamon and cloves, as well as a hint of citrus. Then he took a tentative a sip. “This is really good.”
Snape Nox’d the candlelit sconces with his wand, leaving only the fairy lights and the fire to light the room. Harry took a seat on the sofa next to Snape and together they stared at the tree. The fairy lights twinkled mesmerizingly, and the homemade ornaments and garland took on an orange hue from the light of the blazing fire.
“I believe it is quite adequate,” Snape proclaimed.
Harry titled his head and studied their crooked Christmas tree, a small smile on his face. He felt warm and content. This is what home feels like, he thought. “I think it’s perfect.”