Halloween
As a child, Harry had loved Halloween. At the time, he hadn’t known that his parents were murdered that night. Harry wasn’t allowed to dress up or go trick or treating, but he was used to the Dursleys not letting him do anything fun. What Harry loved about Halloween was that it was the one day a year that the Dursleys didn’t let Dudley have his way. Halloween was simply not celebrated at Number 4, Privet Drive. It was unnatural. One year Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon caught Dudley with a plastic vampire mask and they threw it away, regardless of the tantrum that had ensued.
Now that Harry knew the truth and had experienced several less than desirable Halloweens, he was not as fond of the holiday. The castle smelt of baked pumpkin and the student body was eagerly awaiting the feast, unaware that Quirrell’s distraction would ruin it.
Though today was an important day that he had convinced Snape needed to proceed normally, today’s Charms class was uncomfortable for Harry to relive. It was hard not to come to Hermione’s defense when Ron lashed out at her, but he reminded himself that it would be worth it. He pretended not to notice Ron watching the doorway of the dungeons to see if Hermione would come to Potions, after Lavender informed them she had been crying in the bathroom.
At the start of class, Snape handed back their essays. Harry stared uncomprehendingly at the E at the top of his paper. He had never received such a high grade on a potions essay before. Well, he supposed, the subject matter was quite simple for a wizard who had managed an O.W.L in Potions. Below the grade, Snape had requested Harry stay after class.
Harry sat through the lesson in a daze, barely listening as Snape explained some theory or another and its importance to the potion they’d be brewing in the next class. He blinked owlishly and looked around as his classmates began packing away their things to leave. He sent Ron on ahead and approached the professor as the last Slytherin slunk out of the room. “You wanted to see me, sir?” he said.
Snape spelled the door closed and activated the silencing charm in the wards. “How long will the three of you be bonding in your common room after the battle with the troll this evening?”
Harry considered the question. “I think we were only awake for another hour or so. I can still make it to the chamber at our normal time. Why?”
“It has been about 3 months since we arrived in this time.” He began, determinedly avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I thought you might like to celebrate your birthday this evening.”
This was not what Harry was expecting. His birthday is in July!
However, they had arrived in this time from May 2, 1998 which had been 2 months and 29 days before Harry’s Birthday. Snape was right. Logically, technically, he was 18 today.
“Come to my office once everyone is asleep.” He said, and then lifted the wards.
Harry took that as his cue to leave and hurried off to his next class. Who would have thought that Snape, of all people, would want to celebrate Harry’s birthday?
******
“Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.” Quirrell gasped before collapsing in the center of the Great Hall.
Harry rolled his eyes at Quirrell’s dramatics. The student body descended into chaos and the teachers struggled to regain control and provide direction.
As the prefects were leading them to their dormitories, Harry grabbed Ron’s robes to stop him and reminded him that Hermione had been crying in the bathroom because of his comments and didn’t know about the troll. Despite his best efforts, Ron and Harry still saw Snape rushing off to the third floor, but Harry convinced Ron it was more important to continue searching for Hermione. They quickly located the troll and followed it into the bathroom.
The fight was imminent.
Harry realized just how lucky they had truly been to defeat the troll all on their own. Ron could easily have not managed the levitating charm, Hermione had been too terrified to do any magic, and Harry had courageously, but foolishly jumped on the troll’s back to try to subdue it.
As the troll destroyed the bathroom stalls, Harry subtly cast a softening charm on the sinks Hermione would soon be hiding under and a Confundus charm on the troll to give them a bigger advantage. Ron managed the spell, and the troll collapsed to the ground, knocked unconscious by its own club, as McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell burst through the bathroom door. After the lecturing ceased, the trio returned to their dormitory and joined the others in the common room to enjoy the feast together as friends, because there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
******
Though the first years had gone to bed an hour after Harry returned, many of the older students were still celebrating in the common room. Harry disillusioned himself and snuck out of Gryffindor tower to meet Snape in his office.
Snape was not wearing his teaching robes. It was strange to see the man dressed in slacks, a neutral jumper, and a navy sport coat.
“Drink this.” he said, handing Harry a vial with a familiar brew.
“Polyjuice Potion?” he asked. “Whose...?”
Snape smiled wryly. “A muggle. No one of consequence.”
“When did you have time to leave the school?” Harry wondered aloud.
“Potter, I was a spy during the height of the first Wizarding War. Moody was not the only paranoid bastard to teach at Hogwarts during your time. I had it, and the potion on hand.” He explained.
Harry slipped off his shoes and downed the periwinkle potion in one shot, grimacing at the taste. The taste and effects of Polyjuice were always awful, but luckily the muggle was nowhere near as bad as Goyle had been (or Bellatrix, according to Hermione.) His face began to bubble like hot wax and his legs stretched upwards as he grew taller and taller. Light ginger waves sprouted out of his head and settled about his face. Harry transfigured his shoes into a larger size while Snape made quick work with the rest of his clothing.
“Grab my arm, Potter. We will be disapparating to our destination.”
He placed his hand on Snape’s arm without hesitation. He felt the sickening pull of side-along apparition in his stomach as the world swirled around them. Suddenly, they were standing in an alley beside a pub. Harry looked around at the stone and brick buildings on the dimly lit street, trying to regain his sense of direction and figure out where they were. This certainly wasn't Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.
“We are still in Scotland.” Snape said, leading them to the front of the pub.
“Why are we here?” Harry asked.
“In the muggle world, as I am sure you know, eighteen is the year of majority. I thought it best to celebrate the occasion at a muggle pub, so you could get your first legal drink.” Snape explained.
Harry found himself touched by the gesture. “It’s not really my birthday, though.” he protested as he followed Snape inside.
They sat at a small wooden table. The pub was rather deserted, but Harry didn’t mind the quiet after the raucous celebration in the Gryffindor common room earlier that evening.
Snape waved down the bartender, who barely batted an eye at Harry. “Whyte & Mackay, neat and a Rusty Nail.”
When the bartender returned with two drinks, Snape slid the one with ice in front of Harry.
“Is this the White or the Mackay?” he asked.
Snape raised his glass and took a sip of his drink. “This is the Whyte & Mackay Whisky. You have the Rusty Nail – a blend of whisky and Drambuie.” He explained. “Given your taste for Butterbeer over Firewhisky, I assumed a sweeter beverage would be a proper first drink.”
Harry took a small, experimental sip of his cocktail. It still warmed his throat like the Firewhisky had, but the honey-like taste soothed the burn and eliminated much of the smokiness he had expected. Not comparable to Butterbeer, but a smooth, strong drink. Harry took a larger sip and smiled. He could get used to this.
When their cups had emptied, Snape ordered a second round. The two men sat in silent companionship, sipping their respective drinks. After some time, Snape reached into his sport coat pocket - which clearly contained an undetectable extension charm - and pulled out a neatly wrapped parcel, tied with a twine bow.
“Happy Birthday.” he said, handing it to Harry.
Harry unwrapped it gingerly and stared at the book it contained in disbelief. It was a textured, royal blue, hardcover book. Gold writing on the spine declared it to be Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. He opened it and saw that Snape had written an inscription on the first page.
Happy Un-birthday, Harry.
This was one of your mother’s favorite books when we were young.
I hope you will enjoy it as much as we did.
-Severus Snape
“I thought it made a perfect present for your first Un-birthday celebration.” Snape said with the echo of a fond smile. “It will make more sense once you read the book.”
Harry leafed through the pages looking at the illustrations scattered periodically throughout. “Thank you, Professor.” he said, when he was sure he would not sound choked up with emotion by the thoughtful and personal gift.
“You are an adult, now. When we are alone you may call me Severus, if you would like.” he said before immediately rising from the table. “I will go settle our tab.” he said as he departed, leaving Harry to his thoughts.
Severus. It felt weird even in his head. He brushed a ginger wave out of his eyes to help clear his head.
He supposed it was another part of growing older. After all, Snape – Severus? – had once been a student, but referred to his former professors by their first names. The man was trying. So, Harry decided he would try too. But maybe he’d avoid using any type of direct address for the time being and work up to using the name.