~ by Severitus
Harry was frustrated. There was only one day left ‘til Christmas, and he still had no idea of how to get Snape in the Christmas spirit. A gift was the most obvious idea, but that left the question of what to give. Snape really didn’t seem the type that would enjoy a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, and he definitely wouldn’t appreciate a bag of the Weasley’s recently commercialized Ton Tongue Taffy. In fact, candy in general seemed out of the question. Snape already had the top of the line in potions equipment, and Harry really didn’t think he’d appreciate a pair of Christmas socks, either. In short, Snape was the worst possible person for whom to try and get a gift.
Harry had run through all the options over and over again in his head, struggling to find at least something that wouldn’t make Snape furious. In the end, he’d given up on brainstorming and trudged down to the library. Maybe he could get an idea from one of the books there. He might even be lucky enough to find a biography on him, though considering Snape’s shady past, such a thing probably didn’t exist.
An hour later, Harry discovered that he’d been correct. Aside from McGonagall and the librarian, Harry had been completely alone in the library and thus gained the benefit of the librarian’s aid. Together they’d pulled down every book that had any information on the teachers at Hogwarts. Not a single one had more than two sentences referring to Snape, neither revealing anything useful.
“Okay…,” Harry said to himself, raising his head from a pile of dusty tomes. “What do I know about Snape?” He mulled the list over in his head. Potions Master. Head of Slytherin House. A pet snake perhaps? No, that wouldn’t work, and Snape would probably take it as some sort of insult.
“Well, he’s mean, unfair, and undeniably the darkest person I’ve ever met,” Harry muttered. The man was a former Death Eater, though that presented no ideas whatsoever. He hated Harry and Harry’s father something fierce… and though a few unusual ideas surfaced with that thought, Harry didn’t think that they’d go over too well, either. Besides, Harry wasn’t desperate enough to give Snape a dartboard with the message “Die, Potter!” engraved on its surface, complete with “Avada Kedavra” inscribed darts, of course. The only other thing that Harry knew about Snape was that he’d been a student at Hogwarts, though that produced no bolts of inspiration, either.
“Wait…” Harry thought, glancing at a seated figure across the library “If he was a student at Hogwarts, then McGonagall would probably know something more about him….”
He broke into a grin. How better to find out about someone, than to simply ask? McGonagall would have an idea; Harry had complete faith that she would. Without another thought on the matter, he stood and walked across the room to where the Transfiguration professor sat in a cushioned chair, perusing a muggle romance novel.
“Professor McGonagall?” he asked after a quiet moment, loathe to disrupt her if she turned out to be in one of her less-appealing moods. Slowly she looked up, and to Harry’s relief gave a bright smile.
“Harry! What are you doing spending your vacation in the library?” she asked with a hint of amusement, folding the book shut across her lap. She appeared to be very much in the holiday spirit; her robes were a rich holly green, with Christmas trees and silver bells embroidered on the trim.
“I was just looking for some information, and I was hoping that you could help me…,” he began, but then McGonagall’s expression began to falter.
“If this is for another one of your adventures, Harry…,” she began, scolding slightly.
Harry shook his head vigorously and waved his hands. “Oh no, it’s nothing of the sort, Professor. I’m trying to figure out what to get someone as a Christmas gift, and I was hoping you could help me get an idea,” he said, and the teacher’s expression immediately softened.
“Well, that’s an entirely different story! I’d be delighted to help you, Harry, but I’m not sure why you’d need my help for such a thing. Surely you know your friends better than I do…,” she began.
“I’ve already gotten gifts for Ron and Hermione. I wanted to get a gift for…,” Harry paused, and McGonagall watched him expectantly.
“For who, dear?” she asked after a moment, leaning forward in her chair.
“For Professor Snape, Ma’am,” he said quickly. He wasn’t quite sure what type of reaction to expect. It was obvious that no one but Dumbledore was especially fond of Snape; everyone respected him enough, there was no doubt about that, but as to giving him a gift?
At first McGonagall just looked surprised. After all, it was the very last name she’d expected Harry to say. Then her expression softened into a genuine smile as she gazed at her student. He never ceased to surprise her, and she couldn’t help the faint flutter of pride in her chest. That one of her students, Harry especially, could have a heart large enough (and brave enough) to want to give his least favorite person a Christmas gift—why, it pleased her to no end.
“Well, that’s definitely not who I expected,” she laughed, and Harry visibly relaxed. “Of course, I’ll help you, Harry, though he’s a difficult one indeed…,” she continued, scratching her chin thoughtfully.
“Did you know him when he was a student here, Professor?” he asked, and her attention shifted back from her thoughts.
“Oh yes, of course, dear. I’d just started teaching here when he was a student.”
“Maybe, could you tell me a bit about him? Maybe I could get some ideas from that…,” he said, and McGonagall nodded.
“Certainly, that’s a good idea.” She paused a moment to gather her thoughts, setting her book on a nearby table. Harry settled himself in the chair next to her own, and turned to face her.
“Alright… I can’t tell you about him before he came to the school; it wouldn’t be polite, for one matter, and I don’t know much about it, for the other. But when he was here, he was very different from the way he is now in many ways. He was a brilliant student; I remember that well enough, and he hated your father, of which I’m sure you’re aware,” she said with a smile. “Now, I know he used to like Quidditch; he was the Slytherin Seeker, which was another sour point between him and your father. And he loved to read; he was always sneaking into the ‘Restricted Section’ of the library, though I don’t think he realized we knew about it.”
She paused again; her eyes lost in distant memories as she searched for her next thought. “He had a pet the first two years he was here, a scrawny black cat that got into more trouble than your father and his friends combined. It disappeared his third year, probably wandered into the forbidden forest. I remember him being especially bitter that year… his grades dropped too.” She smiled at Harry. “You know… you and he have quite a bit in common. He always stayed here for the winter holidays, too, you know… I imagine he would have stayed for the summer, also, if he could have managed it.” She stopped to stifle a yawn, and Harry leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly. He did not like the idea of having anything in common with the Potions Master.
“Pardon,” she muttered with a smile, then continued, “Let’s see… he was a loner, definitely… and he had a fascination with Wizard’s Chess, I remember that quite clearly. He never turned down a challenge… I had to deduct so many points from people for placing bets on the chess matches. I don’t think I’ve seen him play a game since, now that I think about it. I think your father cursed Severus’ chess set during their seventh year; it probably ruined the fun of the game for him. A shame, really,” she said with a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s about all there is, Harry. Do you think it will help you any?” she asked, her expression hopeful.
Harry nodded, smiling. “Oh yes, I think I know just the thing,” he said, rising from his chair, “Thank you very much, Professor McGonagall.”
“What are you going to get him, dear?” she asked, retrieving her book from the tabletop.
“You’ll find out on Christmas, Professor. Bye, and thank you!” he said, turning to dash toward the exit.
The librarian scowled at him from her desk, but he was out the door before she could say a word. His next stop — Hogsmeade – for the perfect Christmas gift
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