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Despite the roaring fire in the Slytherin common room deep beneath the lake, the stone-walled basement, adorned with delicate beads of water, remained bitterly cold.
"This is my first Christmas not going home. It's a unique experience, I suppose," Patrick Abbott said.
Patrick curled up in an armchair, staring at the note attached to a gift box for a long while before daring to wrap a long, plush creature around his neck. It was a Christmas gift from Pandora.
The creature was covered in vibrant, flame-like fur, soft and silky to the touch. At that moment, it was particularly docile, lying obediently around Patrick's neck like an elongated, miniature kneazle.
"Oh~" Patrick couldn't help but hum in delight, his face beaming with satisfaction. "Good grief, it even radiates heat. This is brilliant! I might stock these in my family's shop—they'd sell like hotcakes…"
As if sensing Patrick's approval, the creature began to hum a peculiar little tune.
But then, the previously calm creature suddenly raised its head, flicked out a long, thin pink tongue like a snake, and dove straight into Patrick's nostril.
"Urgh—" The sudden intrusion nearly choked Patrick. Instinctively, he yanked the creature off, his face a mix of shock and confusion. "What the bloody hell is it doing…?"
"Don't—" Patrick's horrified shout came too late as he saw what was on the creature's tongue. "Ugh!"
It was futile. The creature had already retracted its tongue into its mouth, swiftly swallowing Patrick's dried-up bogey.
"Isn't it supposed to do that only when I'm asleep?" Patrick muttered, eyeing the creature now curled up on the armchair with disgust. "At least then I wouldn't have to see it, right?"
"You've been paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures, haven't you?" Severus Snape drawled, lazily waving his wand to pour himself a cup of hot tea. He took a leisurely sip, looking utterly relaxed. "Guess why I didn't get one of those as a gift?"
"It hasn't… eaten yours too, has it?" Patrick's eyes widened in disbelief, his voice tinged with horror. "No way, right?"
"Ugh, don't make it sound so vile," Snape retorted with a grimace. "This one's a newly bred specimen!"
"Fine, fine." Patrick rubbed his hands together helplessly, picking up the creature and draping it back around his neck. "It's my problem now, isn't it? Just… stay in the dorm, little guy, and don't go wandering outside…"
Piles of unopened gifts sat before both of them, waiting to be unwrapped.
Snape had even received a thick, bright green hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley, along with a large box of homemade fudge.
Naturally, Snape had carefully chosen gifts for the three youngest Weasleys as well. He sent a Honeydukes Christmas candy assortment to The Burrow, two toy broomsticks, and a book specifically for Percy titled How to Wield Power as a Prefect.
The day after Christmas, Snape borrowed the fireplace in Dumbledore's office. Though he hadn't gone home for the holidays, his mother, Eileen, had written to him, expressing her hope that he'd return for his birthday.
Stepping into the emerald flames, Snape called out, "Ottery St. Catchpole!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the flames engulfed him. In the dizzying whirl, he caught fleeting glimpses of other wizards' rooms, but before he could make sense of them, the images vanished. The spinning slowed, and he came to a steady stop in the fireplace of the village post office.
The houses of Ottery St. Catchpole were scattered charmingly, nestled among rolling hills blanketed in pristine snow. Wisps of smoke curled from every chimney.
Snape gazed toward his home, noting that the garden hedge had grown thick and lush, forming a verdant barrier.
That should keep those pesky garden gnomes out, he thought.
Eileen had known he was coming and was already bustling about the kitchen, apron tied on, preparing a lavish dinner.
On January 9th, just as dawn broke, Snape was startled awake by a flock of owls hooting noisily, delivering a heap of birthday gifts.
"Happy seventeenth birthday, Severus," Eileen said warmly, standing over the frying pan, tending to her work with care.
Her gift to him lay on the table. Unwrapping it, Snape found an exquisite silver watch, its face adorned with a white cloud and tiny birds flitting in and out.
It was a wizarding tradition for a relative to gift a watch when one came of age.
Patrick's large parcel contained the complete twelve-book set of Bewitch the Witches. In a world where magic could handle everything from lighting fires to using the loo, Snape couldn't fathom what practical use these books could possibly have.
As for Pandora's gift—a homemade magical razor—Snape had no intention of using it. After all, no one in their right mind would trust such a dubious-looking device near their face or neck.
Thus, Snape spent a few gloriously lazy days at home, spoiled with meals prepared for him.
During this time, he casually waved his wand to thoroughly plow the garden, gleefully tossing bothersome gnomes down the hillside.
Of course, under Eileen's stern orders, he reluctantly transformed the chairs he'd turned into hounds back to their original state.
Time flew, and soon it was time to return to school. The new term was about to begin, and Snape had to leave the warmth of home, braving the bitter cold to head to the post office and travel back to Hogwarts.
"Good evening, Professor," Snape said, emerging steadily from the fireplace.
Dumbledore sat at his desk, surrounded by balls of yarn, clutching two slender knitting needles. He was intently studying a few open Muggle magazines.
At the sound of Snape's voice, he looked up, a kind smile spreading across his face. "Good evening, Severus. Happy birthday."
"Thank you, Professor." Snape brushed the ash from his robes and cast a spell to clean the carpet spotlessly. "Have you considered what I mentioned before I left?"
Dumbledore regarded Snape seriously for a moment before speaking gravely. "I think it's possible, Severus. You've earned that right—or rather, that responsibility."
"Very well, Professor. It's a deal," Snape said calmly. "I'm ready whenever you need to leave the school and search for them."
After leaving the headmaster's office, Snape found himself drawn to a window, gazing out into the distance.
The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The snow on the grounds was even deeper than in Ottery St. Catchpole's hills.
In the distance, Hagrid stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, carefully feeding a group of hippogriffs.
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