Ashes of Armageddon

Chapter 39: Gifts of the Magi



Christmas season came, and St. Mungo\'s research department closed down for an extended holiday.

This time around, Severus had resolved to spend the holiday alone. He ignored the numerous owls and the invitations, and marooned himself in Spinner\'s End, to spend the Christmas eve with a book, and a cup of tea, now that his liking for alcohol was gone, perhaps permanently.

Early enough on Christmas day, loud banging on his door alerted him to Hermione\'s and Hugo\'s presence. Hugo\'s knocking was unmistakable, but Severus sat stubbornly on his couch, not moving, even after the knocking subsided.

“Mum,” Hugo\'s plaintive voice begged behind the door. “May I borrow my wand for a minute?”

“And just how stupid do you think I am?” Hermione asked reasonably.

“Well, you are> still trying to convince me there\'s a Santa Claus. This tells me you aren\'t very bright.”

Hermione laughed softly. “Well, you aren\'t going to break into his place on Christmas day. That would be just plain wrong. Let\'s leave the gifts by the door and go. We\'ll see him later.”

“You said one night he gave you his port-key to come and save me. Is this why he spends Christmas by himself now? Is he angry with me?” ”

“Hugo, please. That\'s not what it\'s about. He\'s not angry with you. He loves you.”

Hugo sniffled loudly and banged on the door again.

“Stop that at once,” Hermione cautioned him. “Do you understand the word privacy?”

“Yes,” Hugo said confidently. “That\'s when you rob people and take away something that belongs to them.”

“No, that\'s piracy,” Hermione said, appearing to be only slightly amused. “Privacy, among other things, is needing to be alone, after doing something difficult.”

“If he knew he\'d need to be alone on Christmas day after doing it, then why did he do anything for me?” Hugo demanded.

“Maybe because he loves you more than he loves Christmas,” Hermione murmured. “Let\'s go, honey.”

Their footsteps faded away, and eventually silence followed. Severus shook his head sadly, and finally, stood up to open the door.

He found two packages, wrapped in Muggle glittering paper – green, with silver bows and angel wings. He brought them in, and unwrapped the first one. It was a picture, a simple one, but breathtaking in its stark, dreadful beauty: a surreal twilit scenery, with a dark building that looked devastated and ravaged by some kind of cataclysm. In the distance, another building, resembling a chapel, was showing; it was more brightly colored, and whole. And in between, separating them, was an enormous rock, dark grey, obscured by either cloud or smoke. He glanced at the print at the bottom of the reproduction – it said, “Hermitage Rock upon Imaginary Landscape: by Victor Hugo.” He smiled wryly and set it aside.

He opened the other gift, packed in a small box, and the contents of it sent a chill down his spine.

It was a silver hair-comb, rather expensive and elegant; accompanied by a fine silver chain with a clasp on each end – and for some reason, seeing those items unnerved him to such extent that his hands shook, and he dropped both items on the floor.

That was by far, the strangest and most unsettling gift he had ever received, not that he could name many, in his entire life.

The comb, of course, reminded him instantly of the fact that he hadn\'t cut his hair after leaving Godric\'s Hollow – not that he needed a reminder of that. And the chain... he shook his head disdainfully, deciding not to dwell on the significance of it; but of course, he could not banish the damned thing from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

And then, after hours of obsessing and wondering, Severus finally decided that there must be more to to those items than met the eye. After all, Hermione Granger, who was proficient in the language of subtlety, would not settle on a secret message without imbuing it with multiple layers of meaning.

Once the holiday was over and the Muggle world resumed its functioning, Severus finally went out. He dropped by Gringotts and acquired some Muggle currency – two Galleons worth, and then, made his way into the Muggle London.

He entered a small book shop, belatedly realizing how ridiculously out of place he looked, in his black robe, and his long hair, tied into a ponytail. The few customers in the store were casting odd glances at him, and he scowled back, in a less than amicable manner.

“And what are you looking for today? A belated Christmas gift for someone?” A voice behind him asked. He spun around, and saw a woman, presumably the shop owner, who was looking at him over her glasses. She would have reminded him of Minerva McGonagall, had she been a foot taller, and a great deal less friendly.

“I want to know if there is a Christmas story that mentions a comb and a chain,” Severus said uncomfortably, beginning to question his own sanity.

“Of course there is,” she said instantly, looking at him with a smile. “Such a sad story,” she mused, leading him to the book shelf at the other end of the store, while chatting away: “One of the saddest stories in the world, no matter how you tell it. Now, be honest: do you want the book, or do you just want the summary?”

“The summary,” he said tersely.

“The story is about two people who live in dire poverty, but who love each other greatly. The man\'s most prized possession is his pocket watch; and the woman he loves has exceptionally beautiful long hair. For Christmas, the man sells his pocket watch, to purchase a beautiful comb for her lovely hair. Alas, he finds out that she had cut off her hair and sold it, only to buy him a chain for the pocket watch that he no longer has.”

“Very amusing,” Severus said dryly. “I do not suppose it occurred to them to communicate before doing something so drastic?”

She shook her head. “You see, that is the true sadness of the story, in my opinion. They both thought they knew each other so well, that they felt there was no need for words. And so, they ended up each sacrificing something deeply treasured for each other, thus rendering each other\'s sacrifice meaningless; for neither could enjoy the outcome.”

“Hmm,” he issued a disgruntled snort. “I\'ll buy the book then.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out all the Muggle currency he had on him, placing it in her hand. “Is this enough?”

“More than,” she assured him. “Shall I wrap it?”

“You may as well.”

He departed from the shop, shaking his head incredulously, and carrying the gift-wrapped book under his arm.

Hermione Granger could have easily fit into Slytherin, if this experience was any indication, he thought wryly. She managed to comply with his demand, and not say anything at all about Harry, and yet, she also managed to convey her belief that they were both keeping the distance each for the sake of the other, and no other reason.

He couldn\'t quite bring himself to believe that Harry actually wanted to reconnect with him; but the lonely nights had taken their toll on him, and he was ready to venture into the unknown and see for himself.

He made it to Hermione\'s place later that morning, and the door of their house unlocked itself instantly, as soon as he knocked. He entered the house that appeared to be strangely silent.

“Hello?” he said hesitantly.

“Hello,” Hugo\'s voice answered him from the living room. “Happy Christmas.”

“Indeed. Where are your parents?”

“They went shopping. They took grandpa Arthur to Muggle London,” Hugo said.

Severus walked into the living room and glowered at the boy. The boy was sprawled on the couch, paging through a book that looked far too large and complicated for someone his age.

“Who is watching you?” Severus demanded.

“Uncle Percy. He\'s upstairs.”

“Why didn\'t he come downstairs when someone entered the house?” Severus snapped, his usual dislike for Percy Weasley magnified a hundredfold by the man\'s apparent negligence.

“He was downstairs,” Hugo said. “The wards told him you were coming through the gate, and he went upstairs. Then the wards opened the door for you.”

“Oh,” Severus muttered, realizing that this was the first time he had entered Hermione and Ron\'s house, without someone to accompany him, or without the benefit of the Floo Network. “So, I am in the house wards? Since when?”

“Since I can remember,” Hugo said matter-of-factly. “Only four people are in the wards: mum, dad, me and you.”

“Oh.”

Hugo was looking at him expectantly, and Severus sat on a chair across from him.

“Hugo? You aren\'t grounded again, are you?” he asked gently.

“No,” Hugo said. “I hate shopping. I like to read, and practice the wand.”

“The wand,” Severus mused. “Come to think of it, aren\'t you a bit too young to have one?”

Hugo smiled a little. “ It\'s your wand. The one mum brought you that night, but you never wanted it back, because you got yourself a better one.” Hugo looked up at him with curiosity. “Do you want it back now?” he asked.”You can have it back if you want to.”

“No,” Severus said, with a small smile. “I\'m pleased it\'s working for you. It can be a difficult matter to select a wand that will be compatible with the wizard\'s own magic.”

“Compatible,” Hugo repeated the word slowly, as if trying to recall the meaning, and then, asked suddenly: “Are you going to see Harry now?”

Severus frowned instantly. “What makes you think that?”

“Mum said you might. She said to tell you the Floo is set to take you there.”

“Where?” Severus demanded.

“His work. It\'s very very far away.”

“Hmm,” Severus muttered, and dropped the gift-wrapped book on the coffee table. “This is for your mother.”

Hugo smiled cheerfully.

Severus sighed. He should have felt irritated, rather than ridiculously hopeful, but his emotions chose this moment to betray him once more. Severus stood up abruptly and headed towards the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder.

“Tell your mother that I loathe her,” Severus muttered under his breath, although without conviction.

Another bright smile followed form Hugo.

“She knew you were going to say that. She said to tell you she doesn\'t believe you.”

... To Be Continued...