Although a roaring fire burned in the depths of the Slytherin common room beneath the lake, the damp stone walls of the dungeon still gleamed with beads of moisture and the air remained bitterly cold.
"This is the first time I've stayed at school for Christmas," Abbott said, curling himself up in a chair. He stared at the note attached to the gift box for quite a while before daring to drape the long, fuzzy thing around his neck. It was a Puffskein scarf, Pandora's Christmas present to him.
The Puffskein was covered in soft, fiery-colored fur that felt as smooth as silk to the touch. At the moment, it was especially docile, lying obediently around Abbott's neck like a long, miniature kneazle.
"Ohhh," Abbott moaned contentedly, his face melting into pleasure. "Merlin, it even gives off heat, this is incredible! Maybe I can breed a few and sell them at my shop, they'd sell like mad..."
The Puffskein seemed to sense Abbott's satisfaction and began to hum a strange little tune.
But then, quite suddenly, the quiet Puffskein lifted its head and flicked out a long, thin pink tongue that darted like a snake, straight up into Abbott's nostril.
"Ugh, !" Abbott almost couldn't breathe. He instinctively yanked the creature off himself, staring at it in shock and confusion. "Bloody hell, what is it doing-"
"No, don't, !" Abbott's horrified shout came too late. When he saw what was stuck to the Puffskein's tongue, his stomach turned. "Ughhh, !"
But it was already over. The Puffskein had drawn its tongue back into its mouth and neatly swallowed Abbott's dried nasal mucus.
"It's only supposed to do that while I'm asleep!" Abbott groaned, glaring at the little ball of fluff now curled up innocently on the armchair. "At least then I wouldn't have to see it, right?"
"You seem to have learned quite a bit in Care of Magical Creatures," Snape said lazily, pouring himself a cup of hot tea with a flick of his wand. He took a slow, satisfied sip and looked quite content. "Do you know why I didn't receive one of those?"
"It didn't eat yours too, did it?" Abbott asked, eyes wide in disbelief. "No way!"
"Ugh, don't say it like that," Snape said with a look of disgust. "That one's newly bred!"
"All right, all right," Abbott said helplessly, rubbing his hands together. He picked the Puffskein up again and reluctantly put it back around his neck, muttering, "Anyway, it's my own creation... as long as I don't take you outside... just stay put in the dormitory, little one..."
Before them lay a mountain of gifts waiting to be opened.
Snape had even received a thick, bright green hand-knit sweater from Mrs. Weasley, along with a large box of homemade butter toffee.
Of course, Snape had also prepared thoughtful gifts for the three Weasley boys.
He had sent the Burrow a grand Honeydukes Christmas Sweet Hamper, two toy broomsticks, and, specifically for Percy, a copy of How a Prefect Gains Power.
The day after Christmas, Snape borrowed the Headmaster's fireplace. Though he hadn't gone home for the holiday itself, Eileen had written to say she was waiting eagerly for him to return for his birthday.
Stepping into the emerald flames, Snape called out, "Ottery St. Catchpole!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the fire swallowed him whole. As he spun rapidly, he caught fleeting glimpses of wizards' rooms, each image blurring past before he could make it out. Then the spinning slowed, and he landed squarely in the fireplace of the village post office.
The houses of Ottery St. Catchpole stood scattered across snow-blanketed hills, their rooftops frosted white. Thin plumes of smoke rose lazily from chimneys into the cold winter air.
Snape gazed in the direction of his home and saw that the garden hedge had grown thick and lush, forming a solid green barrier.
Good, he thought. The garden gnomes won't be able to sneak in so easily anymore.
Eileen had known in advance that he was coming. At that very moment, she was in the kitchen wearing an apron, busy preparing an elaborate dinner.
On the morning of January ninth, just at dawn, Snape was woken by the noisy flutter and chatter of owls delivering a pile of birthday presents.
"Happy seventeenth birthday, Severus," Eileen said warmly from beside the stove, busy with a frying pan but smiling at him all the same.
Her gift sat waiting on the table. When he unwrapped it, he found a beautifully crafted silver watch. On the dial was a small white cloud, with several tiny birds flying in and out of it.
It was a wizarding tradition for one's relatives to give a watch upon reaching adulthood.
Abbott's massive package contained a full twelve-volume set of The Witch-Entrancing Series. In a world where even lighting a fire and using the loo could be done by magic, Snape honestly couldn't fathom what possible use such books could have.
As for Pandora's gift, a handmade magical razor, Snape had no intention of using it. After all, no sensible person would ever think it wise to put something that looked that unstable against their own face and throat.
And so, Snape spent a few idle, comfortable days at home, where meals appeared without effort and he could laze about without care.
During that time, he even amused himself by waving his wand to plough the garden thoroughly, tossing every last pesky garden gnome down the hillside.
Of course, under Eileen's stern orders, he had to obediently transform all the chairs he'd turned into hunting dogs back to their original state.
Time flew quickly, and soon it was time to return to school. The new term was about to begin, and Snape had no choice but to leave the cozy little house, braving the freezing cold as he made his way down the mountain toward the post office to travel back to Hogwarts.
"Good evening, Professor," Snape said as he stepped steadily out of the flames.
Dumbledore was seated at his desk, which was covered with balls of yarn. He held two slender knitting needles in his hands and was deeply absorbed in several open Muggle magazines before him.
Hearing Snape's voice, Dumbledore looked up with his familiar kind smile. "Good evening, Severus, and happy birthday."
"Thank you, Professor," Snape replied, brushing the soot from his robes. With a wave of his wand, he cleaned the carpet until it was spotless. "About the matter I mentioned before I left, have you given it some thought?"
Dumbledore regarded him seriously for a long moment before finally speaking in a solemn tone. "I believe we can, Severus. You've earned that right, or perhaps I should say, that responsibility."
"Very well, Professor. It's a deal," Snape said calmly. "I'll be ready, whenever you decide to leave the school and go searching for them."
After leaving the Headmaster's office, Snape found himself walking unconsciously toward the window. He stood there, gazing out into the distance.
The sun was sinking slowly below the horizon, staining the sky a deep orange-red. The snow on the grounds was even thicker than on the hills of Ottery St. Catchpole.
Far off, Hagrid stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, carefully feeding a group of Hippogriffs.