Severus Snape sat back on the sofa and watched as the Potter brat carefully unwrapped each of the presents from his friends, that had somehow found their way into his quarters just in time for Christmas morning.

A hideous-looking knitted jumper from Molly Weasley, numerous bits of junk from the other Gryffindor boys, and a thick hardcover book from the Granger girl entitled ‘Quidditch: A Lengthy History’. Too lengthy for his liking.

From Dumbledore, a huge box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, which would no doubt have the child bouncing off the walls for the rest of the winter break.

Of course, he had felt he had no choice but to purchase a gift for the boy himself, though it was much more practical than the others, and likely paled in comparison to the numerous Zonko’s products sent by the Weasley clan.

The small, neatly-wrapped gift was at the bottom of the pile and was the final one Potter picked up.

Harry examined the gift for a moment.

 “It doesn’t say who it’s from,” he stated.

 “That… is… merely a small token,” Severus said, stiffly.

The boy looked at him with huge eyes. “It’s from you, sir?”

The potions master inclined his head and Harry unwrapped the present as carefully as he had the others.

Opening the wooden box inside, the child’s mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape as he looked at its contents: a gold-plated quill adorned with a beautiful peacock feather.

 “Your penmanship has improved greatly over the last 3 months, and I believe you have therefore earnt it,” Snape explained, feeling as though the boy might be wondering why he had been gifted a pen.

But Harry’s eyes were filling up now.

What was wrong with the child? Was he disappointed with the gift? The ungrateful little–

 “Sir… this is… it’s beautiful,” Harry told him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I deserve this.”

 “It is not down to the recipient to determine on whether they do or do not ‘deserve’ the gift, Potter. That is down to the gift’s giver,” Snape told him.

With that, Harry jumped up from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor,  and threw himself at the professor, who let out a soft grunt as he was pushed further back into the sofa’s cushions.

 “Thank you, sir. It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” he whispered, sniffling.

 Grimacing, Snape patted the child’s back reassuringly. “Yes, alright, Potter, no need to turn into a blubbering wreck…”

 “Oh! I almost forgot!” Harry cried suddenly, pushing himself back into an upright position.

Snape watched in confusion as the boy scurried off into his bedroom, wondering what on earth the rush was, and when on earth he had begun to think of it as Potter’s bedroom.

Harry reappeared moments later, clutching something in his hand.

 “It’s… it’s not much sir…” he began, handing the poorly wrapped object to the potions master. “But I didn’t know what to get you… and Professor Dumbledore said… well, anyway… it’s for you.”

Unaccustomed to receiving gifts aside from the annual bottle of cheer from Albus, Snape unwrapped the item stiffly.

Inside, was a snow globe. Yet, instead of the usual winter scene at the back of the dome, a rather curious image presented itself.

At first, the image appeared to be one of a lion, crossing over from one side of a mountain to another using a bridge. But upon closer inspection, Snape realised, the bridge was in fact a snake – the magnificent serpent uncoiled to help the lion across to the other side.

 “It reminded me of you, sir,” Harry told him softly. “And how much you’ve helped me, even though I’m not in your house.”

 “This is very… thoughtful, Harry. Thank you,” Snape told him.

The boy smiled, watching him with big eyes as he sat down beside him.

 “What?” the professor asked, mildly irritated by the child’s undulating emotions.

 “You called me Harry,” he pointed out.

 “Yes,” Snape sighed. “I suppose I did.”

With that, he shook the snow globe gently to awaken the flurry of white within, vaguely aware of the small body which had come to rest against him and the head of dark hair leaning against his arm.

Silence followed between the two of them as they watched the snow swirling within the dome, both fully aware that the image symbolised much more than the union of Hogwarts’ two rival houses.

OOOOOOO

Harry didn’t think he’d ever had a better Christmas.

After presents and breakfast, Professor Snape had allowed him to play outside in the snow, and had even humoured him with several games of Exploding Snap before a fantastic dinner in the Great Hall with the other teachers and students who had remained at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t the most eventful of days, but it certainly beat peeling vegetables at the Dursleys and spending the rest of the day in his cupboard, listening to his so-called family having fun.

When he finally returned to his dormitory the following day, Harry was surprised to find another gift had been left there for him, with a small piece of parchment attached.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.
Use it well.

Harry wasn’t sure where the gift had come from, on account of the fact the mystery benefactor had neglected to sign their name.

Upon opening the gift, the boy pulled out what he initially thought to be one of Mrs Figg’s old curtains, however on closer inspection he realised that it was a cloak. It was only several seconds after throwing it on that he realised the cloak was a little unusual.

He was invisible.

That ruled Snape out then – there was no way the potions master would ever approve of this cloak, let alone be the one to gift it. Besides, Snape didn’t know his father, did he?

Harry’s thoughts did not dwell upon the gift giver for long – he was eager to try the cloak out.

There was still another hour until curfew, perhaps he could go for a wander around the castle.

The boy slipped on his shoes, and his eyes fell upon the book lying at the foot of his bed - ‘A History of Magic: Volume IV.’

Hermione’s words echoed in his mind. 

  ‘Not in the restricted section.’

Pulling the cloak over his head, Harry headed for the door.

OOOOOOO

By the light of a lantern, Harry searched the restricted section for several minutes with no joy before he seriously began to wonder whether this was worth the risk.

There were hundreds of books in the section – there was no way he’d be able to check them all, and every moment he stayed there, he was a another moment closer to being caught.

His thoughts were on exactly that when he opened the book he currently held in his hand, only to be met by a hideous face and an ear-piercing scream.

Startled, Harry slammed the book shut and put it back onto the shelf.

 “Who’s there?” a voice from the main library.

Filch.  

Harry grabbed at his cloak and in his hurry, sent the lantern crashing to the floor.

 “I know you’re in there! You can’t hide!”

As if reminded of the exact opposite, Harry flung the cloak over himself again, just before Filch’s silhouette appeared at the other end of the library.

 “Who is it? Show yerself!” the caretaker called.

Met with silence, the man began to sidle in his direction.

Holding his breath, Harry moved in the opposite direction, slipping past Filch easily.

Somehow, he made it back out into the corridor, and after a brief moment during which he thought he was about to be exposed by Mrs Norris, Harry made it past the cat unscathed.

He was just about to round the corner and head back towards the Gryffindor common room when he realised there were two figures just in front of him.

Harry stopped dead, watching as Professor Snape pushed Professor Quirrell against the wall.

 “S-Severus… I…” the DADA teacher stuttered, nervously.

 “You don’t want me as your enemy Quirrell,” Snape told him, testily.

 “W…what d’you mean?” the other man asked.

 “You know perfectly well what I mean,” Snape was saying, as Harry tried to skirt round the two of them silently.

Suddenly, Snape turned to look in his direction.

Harry held his breath again, wondering for a moment if the potions master could see him.

Snape reached out a hand, and Harry managed to back up just in time to dodge it. The professor continued to stare suspiciously in his direction for a moment, before spinning back to face Quirrell again.

 “We’ll have another little chat soon,” he told him. “When you’ve had time to decide where your loyalties lie.”

Hearing the hurried footsteps of the caretaker at the other end of the corridor, Harry took his opportunity to slip away before the situation got any worse.

 “I found this, in the restricted section. It’s still hot…” Filch was telling the two men.

Turning the corner, Harry made for the nearest door and slipped into a room, deciding it was likely best to lay low until the three men had moved on.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he shrugged off his cloak and scanned the seemingly empty room. Something caught his eye in the far corner.

Venturing further into the room, Harry squinted into the darkness.

It was a large, free standing mirror.

Harry moved forward for a closer look.

OOOOOOO