The 12 Days of X-Mas

Severus Snape woke up on Thursday morning with a headache that rivaled the Cruciatus. Though there was only one torch that lit the walls of his bedroom, and that dimly, he couldn’t bare to open his eyes. Though he wasn’t moving his head was swimming and he desperately tried to gain some sense of up and down before he even thought about reaching over to this bedside table to fumble about for the hangover remedy he had set there the night before. Once that momentous task had been complete he spent an extra ten minutes in bed, just savoring the absence of bells and white noise.

--//--

Finches were the bird of the day, it would seem, and the only conciliation Severus had was the he was able to identify over thirty different kinds rather than seeing the same species over and over again. They were smaller than the doves of two days ago but they more than make up for that in sheer numbers. They were also comparatively quiet.

Making his way up from the dungeons for breakfast, Severus caught up with a pair of Slytherin boys who were herding a gaggle of the small nucences up a wide staircase. Once the majority of them were up the last steps they cast a simple repulsion spell. A good idea in theory, but now they couldn’t get past for breakfast. The two muttered to each other quietly, trying to come up with a way to alter the barrier. Considering the spell was three years above their level (they were both first year students. Purebloods) it was not surprising to Severus when they couldn’t come up with one.

Snape took matters into his own hands, he wanted to get to breakfast after all. Casting his own spell he keyed the magic for the birds only and walked by, commenting in a low voice as he passed, “A passable attempt, though the consequences should have been foreseen.” His voice was bitter though it carried a note of pride. And he was proud of his students, even if the spell wasn’t a perfect one the both of them showed great promise.

--//--

Oh yes… his classroom. He had forgotten in the strange start of the morning that he would have birds to contend with… again.

As before they came initially in a colorful variety. This he was expecting. And as before he cast various spells to make them go away but only succeeded in altering their colors. What he found somewhat ironic was the number of spells he cast that day to color the birds black, gray, dark green, and silver. Twelve well-placed spells gained him the satisfying color combination and Severus did not believe in coincidence.

Colorful amusement aside, the potions master found that the only thing tolerable about the birds would be their new plumage. They were twitchy and (unlike the thousands of birds in the halls) not very quiet. The chattered and twittered among themselves while constantly moving from the cauldron rim to his shoulders to the desk over to the book case, back to his shoulders, to a student’s book, over a collection of glass vials, and back to his cauldron to start the whole adventure over again.

His first class he found it somewhat irritating, but merely something to be ignored. His second class the movement continually drew his attention away from his cauldron and his potion was completely ruined. That put him in an irritated mood for his third class who couldn’t seem to pay attention if their puny lives depended on it. Lunch gave him somewhat of a reprieve and his fourth and fifth classes were again tolerable but during his sixth class he finally snapped.

He had been working on the potion for the fourth time that day. The finches absolutely refused to keep still, his students would not stop bickering and sniping at each other and someone, somewhere had cast a spell on their text book to play ‘Ode to Joy’ throughout the period. Severus considered himself a tolerant person; but there was only so much one man could take.

With a vicious glare at one of the birds he shouted; “Pick a spot to stand and by Salazar, stand there and don’t move!” The birds were startled into compliance. “You! And you!” He pointed a slightly quivering finger at two Gryffindors. “Twenty points from you both for your inability to keep quiet!” The classroom was silent save for the gentle notes of the music. With an absolutely sadistic grin, Severus waved his wand and muttered a line of Latin. The music rose in volume and morphed into a very ominous version of what use to be a light Christmas song.

The remainder of his day was quiet enjoyable though one of the birds would not be moved from his shoulder even for dinner. It only abandoned its perch when he apologized for snapping at the end of the day, something he did very quickly and only when he was absolutely certain he was alone.

--//--

Snape found an owl waiting for him when he arrived in his chambers that day. It was one of the school owls and the elegant script he read on the front of the envelope he could not recognize though it reminded him somewhat of Draco’s sharp hand. He took a moment to remember the boy, now man, that had once been one of his brighter students. Draco had graduated… what was it? Seven years ago, now? Perhaps it was eight. That would make him twenty-six. The blonde had gone into hiding abroad as soon as he left the castle Hogwarts lest the Dark Lord try and recruit him or his father do something equally detesting. The faculty had seen neither hide nor hair of his since.

He worked his finger under the flap and opened the envelope, sliding out the parchement inside and unfolding the paper to first notice four birds that chased each other around the border. From his admirer then… He looked at the envelope again, studying the script that had transformed his name into something like a snake. He still couldn’t place it. The letter contained was short, more like a note than anything. There was no signature at the bottom, not that he expected one, and the writing was the same unidentifiable script. It read as follows:

Honestly, Severus. Still opening your letters with your fingers?

Tap the parchment twice with your wand.

He tripped over his first name a few times, unexpected as it was. Albus, Minerva, and Lupin were really the only ones that dared refer to him by his first name. He ruled out Albus immediately, this gothic-themed gift giving just wasn’t his style. Minerva, he supposed, could have managed the doves and hens, though the tree was pushing his belief that it was her. Lupin, on the other hand, was a very possible suspect.

Severus drew his wand and did as instructed. New script appeared on the paper.

How you ever got along without one of these I’ll never understand.

There was a thump on his desk. Snape moved the note to find a thin, dull knife roughly eight inches long sitting on the mahogany wood. The handle was worked into the shape of four calling birds, their wings inlayed with silver filigree. Their eyes were small chips of emerald and along the blade were the words ‘Four Calling Birds’ He flipped the ornament over. On the other side of the blade was the same phrase in Latin. Movement caught his eye.

The parchment had materialized another line of script:

The envelope seals itself. Feel free to practice.

Severus smirked and drew the knife along the seal, splitting it open expertly. It was only after he gave a smug glance at the paper did he realize that he was trying to impress something that wasn’t able to think on its own. Not knowing what to think about that, Severus took up the half-empty decanter of scotch in much the same way as he did the night before.