Chapter 1
‘Really, Albus, something has to be done about that man. He was never the most cheerful person to be around, but lately he has become unbearable. Some of the students in my House are absolutely terrified of the man. Imagine a student who’s boggart turns into a teacher. What sort of institution are we running, where terrorising students is condoned.’
‘It’s coming up to Christmas, Minerva, that is always a difficult time for him.’
‘Don’t give me that baloney, Albus. Christmas is a difficult time for a lot of us, but that does not mean that we stomp around the castle with our cloaks billowing behind us and deduct points at every opportunity.’
Albus couldn’t help smiling at the apt description given by his deputy of their Potions Master.
‘I know his mother was killed around this time of year and that his father is spending the rest of his life locked away in a Muggle prison for it, but that happened a long time ago,’ Minerva continued, ignoring the headmaster’s amused smile.
Dumbledore was only too aware of Professor Snape's tragic youth and blamed himself for being too pre-occupied with his own personal drama to recognise the signs of trauma and the unspoken cry for help from the young Slytherin at the time. It was no wonder this talented but rudderless boy had sought refuge within the Slytherin fraternity that eventually became the Dark Lord's most fervent supporter group. He had not been the first troubled Slytherin to do so. Maybe if he had assigned a different Head to Slytherin house, someone like Minerva, who cared for each of her charges as if they were her own and advocated for them at every opportunity, but alas, teachers like Minerva were one in a million.
The irony that the boy who would have benefited most of a more caring and understanding Head of House in his own school days was now occupying that very position in the same way as his predecessors, had not escaped him. Dumbledore sighed, as usual his second in command was right, something had to be done about that man.
‘Leave it with me, Minerva, I will take care of it,’ Dumbledore said soothingly.
‘Be sure you do, Albus, and soon, before I lose my temper and turn him into a rat,’ Minerva said, as she took her leave.
‘Well, best not let it come to that,’ Dumbledore thought, as he knew only too well how his Deputy dealt with rodent problems.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There was no denying that Professor Snape was grumpier than ever. Even his own house had started to notice, though they didn’t mind points being deducted from the other houses, left, right and centre and their Head of House banging Potter’s and Weasley’s heads together for talking in class, was a most amusing sight. One they did not mind seeing repeated over and over again.
But even Malfoy, who generally managed to get away with murder, was slightly more cautious around his favourite teacher these days.
It also did put a bit of a damper on all the excitement around the upcoming Yule Ball.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
One night, not long after McGonagall’s talk with Dumbledore, when Snape had gone to bed in a particularly foul mood, he was woken by the sound of a woman crying.
It appeared to be his mother, but not like he had last seen her. She was more translucent and her hair hung limply aside her face and her eyes seemed swollen from crying. She looked terribly upset.
‘What happened to you, Severus,’ she lamented, ‘You were supposed to be a Prince among men, my beautiful, talented son. Don’t let your bitterness turn you into a monster, like your father. Please, mend your ways before it is too late. Listen to the spirits that will be visiting you soon. There is still time to choose to be a Prince, my darling son.’
Before Snape could react, the vision of his mother had disappeared and Severus drifted back to sleep.
The ghost of Yule Tide past
Not long after, he was woken again, this time his heart leapt for joy at the sight of his beautiful Lily. Her ghostly shape, as lovely as the day he last saw her, floated over to him and took him by the hand. Before he could speak to her, she lifted her finger up to his lips and transported him back into their past. He had been happy then, at least some of the time. Being thought about spells and potions by his mother, playing Gobstones with her, when his father wasn’t around. He had cherished the time he spent with Lily, talking to her about being a wizard, introducing her to the ways of the wizarding world, so different from the Muggle ones, she had grown up with. Those Summer days, before they went to Hogwarts, were very happy times for him. It had been nice to have someone to talk to and to confide in and he had been looking forward to going to school, away from his abusive father. He had been so optimistic about the future then.
Snape’s face brightened at the memory.
‘You were a great childhood friend to me, Sev,’ Lily’s ghost whispered to him. ‘I know you have it in you to be good and kind. There is still time to change your ways. I will always remember fondly our days together as kids,’ she said, as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Do think of me kindly also,’ she whispered.
‘Always’, he said softly.
When Snape tried to take her in his arms, she dissolved into nothingness and he was back in his bed in the Hogwarts dungeon.
The ghost of Yule Tide present
Snape had barely recovered from his encounter with Lily, when another spirit disturbed his sleep.
‘Black!’ he reeled, but the spirit wasn’t his nemesis, but the younger member of the House of Black, a fellow Slytherin and Death Eater.
Regulus stood before Snape and looked at him with pity.
‘Don’t make the mistakes I made’, Regulus said to Snape, as he took the Potions Master by the hand and led him into a dark cave. They stood at the edge of a lake, looking out at the outlines of what appeared to be a small island in the middle of it. In the dimly lit cave, they could just make out the shape of a man drinking cup after cup from some bowl on a pedestal. When the man was finished, he seemed to be in great distress and they observed him stumbling towards the lake. Snape watched in horror, as the body of the young man was dragged under water by an army of Inferi. His ultimate punishment for defying the Dark Lord.
‘It is not just Gryffindors that can be brave,’ Regulus told the still shocked Snape. ‘We Slytherins need all the bravery we can summon to make this a better world. One of these days you will need to take a stand, Severus,’ Regulus warned. ‘Deep down you have a good heart, you are exceptionally smart and dare I say cunning as befitting a Slytherin, but you don’t show any kindness or compassion. How can you expect to be loved and respected, when you close yourself off to the outside world? I know you despise my brother, and I can’t say I blame you, but there are far greater enemies out there. Those who wish to overthrow the darkness will need to work together and forgive each other for past transgressions. You need friends now more than ever, my Slytherin friend.’
Ghost Regulus showed Severus the way he had rebuffed any attempts of friendship by his colleagues. A cup of tea offered by Sybill Trelawney nearly knocked over in his haste to get away from her. The hurt look in her face, when he deliberately dodged her many attempts at talking to him in the staff room, made him feel ashamed of himself.
‘You do not have to do this alone, Severus,’ the Slytherin spirit said to him. ‘Merlin knows there will be dark times ahead, but you do not have to make it harder on yourself than it needs to be.’
Before Snape could ask Regulus any questions, the spirit had disappeared.
The ghost of Yule Tide yet to come
As if summoned by Regulus’ words, the spirit of Merlin appeared in the dark dungeon room.
Merlin just looked at him intently and wordlessly transported him to a cold and deserted graveyard. Beside the grave of Eileen Snape (née Prince), a coffin was lowered into the grave by two grave diggers. There were no mourners, no flowers, no-one to say goodbye. The grave marker just said Here lies Severus Snape.
Then Merlin showed him another funeral, packed with mourners, many of whom he recognised, a whole gaggle of Weasleys, that insufferable know-it-all Granger, that snivelling Longbottom fellow, the Lovegoods, his colleagues McGonnagall, Trelawney and Flitwick. There were lots of floral tributes and the mourners spoke of the deceased with love and affection, happy to have known the person, feeling better for having known this person.
It wasn’t clear whose funeral it was, but Snape could see the respect and love that the mourners had for the recently departed and felt an innate sadness that none of these mourners had attended his funeral. He felt a tear rolling down his cheek, as Merlin, the ghost of Yule Tide yet to come, brought him back to his bedroom and disappeared from sight.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Snape woke up the next morning, he had to pinch himself a few times to make sure that it had all been a dream. He could still feel Lily’s soft kiss on his cheek and hear Regulus’ warning words in his ear and feel Merlin’s eyes burning in the back of his head. He had never much cared about what others thought of him, and knew he wasn’t well liked, but it still pained him to think that his death would not be mourned by anyone.
After breakfast he paid a visit to the glasshouses and after greeting her most pleasantly, he asked Professor Sprout if he could pick one of her finest orchids. Surprised, Pomona agreed, wondering what Snape would need an orchid for and what had him in such an uncharacteristic good mood.
Snape then proceeded to the staff room, where he knew Professor Trelawney would be brewing a pot of tea for her first Divination class of the day.
‘Good morning, Sybill’, he said, startling the woman from a deep thought.
‘Would you do me the honour of going to the Yule Ball with me?’ he said, bending his head in a slight bow.
If Professor Trelawney’s third eye had seen any of this in her crystal ball before now, she certainly did not show any signs of it. Her look of surprise, however, quickly changed into one of pure delight.
‘Why, Severus, it would be my pleasure to go to the ball with you,’ she exclaimed, letting out a girlish giggle.
Severus smiled at her, as he handed her the exquisite orchid.
‘For your corsage,’ he said, unnecessarily.
While not sure whether this was the path to redemption his nightmare had been hinting at, his heart certainly felt a touch lighter.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The night of the Yule ball Snape’s entrance caused quite a stir.
The Potions Master had swapped his usual black billowing cloak for brand new dress robes, lined with the finest dark green silk. His freshly washed hair cascaded in wavy black curls down his back and a few strands of his luscious hair were clipped back and held in place by a small antique silver clip, one of the few things he had inherited from his mother. His dancing shoes sparkled and he looked like a prince, as he guided his partner to the dance floor.
Sybill, who had exchanged her habitual layers of scarves and skirts for an elegant, body hugging, mauve evening dress with a long split down the side, and had arranged her hair in a neat French knot, looked as if she had just stepped off the fashion pages of Yes Glitter!. The orchid on her wrist completed the simple look of sophistication. As she glided around the dance floor in the arms of her date, a pair of rose gold metallic slingback heels showed off her dainty feet and slender ankles. The dashing pair also looked younger somehow and more carefree than any of their students had ever seen them.
Snape danced the night away with a surprisingly light-footed Sybill, who was actually great company, given half a chance, and not nearly as dim-witted as he had thought her to be.
‘Maybe I should ask her on another date soon,’ he thought, smiling to himself, as the pair waltzed along the dance floor to the Toad Choir’s special rendition of The most magical Yule ball of all, oblivious to the whispers and stares around them.
Not only did his new look shock most people present at the ball, it had also been a very long time since anyone had seen Professor Snape smile.
He even managed to smile benevolently at Neville on their third pass of the Toad Choir, which nearly caused the Gryffindor to drop his toad, Trevor, mid-croak.
The only person who wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to see this remarkable change in the Potions Master was Professor Dumbledore, who silently congratulated himself and his old friend Charles Dickens, on a job well done.
‘He wouldn’t be smiling if he knew how close he had been to becoming catnip’, Dumbledore grinned to himself.
As if reading his thoughts, Minerva sidled up to him.
‘One day you must tell me how you accomplished this over a glass of hot mead in front of the fire,’ she whispered in his ear, ‘but first we must show that young Potions Master how it is really done,’ as she held out her hand for a dance. ‘You know as well as I do, that it would not do to have the House of Godric Gryffindor be upstaged on the dance floor, especially not by a Slytherin.’