Snape sat waiting on the bench for some moments. The chill air was making him shiver, but his mind was elsewhere and he did not notice. A thick mist floated in over Grimmauld Place and surrounded him, so that he could no longer see more than a few feet into the murk. From out of the mist, a figure approached him. It wore long, sweeping robes that were stained with silver. Its translucent face was haggard and gaunt, and its dark eyes stared out blankly.
“Good evening, Baron,” said Snape solemnly, standing up to greet the figure. “I’ve been expecting you. It was inevitable you would be the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.”
The Bloody Baron nodded, but did not speak, and his eyes remained unfocussed. “Lead on, ghost of my house,” said Snape. “I am ready.”
The Baron turned, and pointed into the mist. Snape walked forward as he was directed. The mist swirled about him, and then dissolved to reveal a courtyard covered in a thick layer of snow. Snape instantly recognised it as belonging to Hogwarts. “We are seeing the future?” Snape asked. The Baron nodded silently. “But how is that possible. No known magic can see into the future. How is this being done?” The Baron did not answer, but instead raised his blood-stained arm and pointed to two figures greeting each other in one corner of the courtyard.
Snape approached them, and saw that they were Professors Longbottom and Sinistra. “Have you heard?” Longbottom was saying. “Is it true?”
“Yes,” Sinistra replied. “It is true. Died in his bed a week ago, by all accounts. No one found out until today. The Ministry is making arrangements for his funeral.”
“We’re not going to be expected to go, are we?” said Longbottom anxiously. “I mean, it’s not going to be a public funeral?”
“Oh no,” said Sinistra. “Frankly, I doubt anyone will go. It’s not like he had any friends, is it? No family that I know of, either. Anyway, why should anyone care that he’s gone? It’s not like he wanted anyone to care about him when he was alive.”
“It’s a terrible thing to say,” admitted Longbottom, “but I’m not sad that he’s dead. I’ve had little but abuse and condescension from him ever since I’ve known him. For twenty years. I’m not going to miss him now that he’s gone.”
“I wonder who’ll get his job?” pondered Sinistra. “I hope I’m not put on the selection panel. Those things bore me to death.”
“Thanks. You were on mine,” said Longbottom with a smile.
They walked off, and Snape turned back to the Bloody Baron. “Why have you shown me that?” he asked. “What was that about?” The Baron did not reply, but began to walk towards a corridor, and indicated that Snape should follow.
The Baron led Snape through the corridors of Hogwarts, and down into the dungeons. At first, Snape assumed they were going to his office, to see what he himself was up to, but the Baron turned a corner and they arrived instead at the Slytherin common room. The Baron indicated that Snape should enter.
Inside, Snape found the common room tastefully decorated for the season, with rows of Christmas lights and a small tree in one corner. The only students in the room, a group of about half a dozen were sitting around in front of the fireplace and talking intently.
“I heard that it was Muggles who found him,” said one. “A neighbour noticed a smell and they broke in to find him. Frankly, I’m amazed there was any meat on him left to rot.”
“Eurgh, that’s gross, Duncan,” said another. “Hey, I wonder who gets his things. He collected some pretty valuable stuff in his time, you know.”
“It’ll become property of the Ministry, unless he made a will,” said Duncan. “I doubt he did, though. He wouldn’t want anyone getting their hands on his precious stuff. He’d have preferred if it was all burnt with him. Say, Marcus, your dad works in the legal department at the Ministry. See if you can get him find out what’ll become of his collections. I’d like to get hold of… I mean, there’s a few books he had which it’d be good to have as the property of Slytherin House.”
“I’m sad he’s dead,” interrupted a young girl, provoking strange looks from the others. “I’d already made a start on his coursework.” The rest of the group laughed.
“Who’ll replace him, do you think?” enquired another girl.
“Who cares?” said Duncan. “Anyone would be better than him. A Merry Christmas and good riddance, I say.” There was hearty agreement from the other students.
Snape’s pale face was ashen as he listened to the grim conversation. “Tell me, Baron,” he said desperately, “of whom are these people speaking? What poor man do they so condemn upon his death?” The Baron again did not reply. “Please,” begged Snape, “show me no more talk about this man. Show me something different, I implore you.”
At once, the scene in front of him faded. When it resolved itself again, Snape found himself once more standing in the hallway of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The Bloody Baron raised his hand and pointed down the stairs towards the kitchen.
Snape descended the stairs as he was bidden. The kitchen, he found, was not as well-decorated as before, but there were stacks and stacks of cards everywhere. Ginny Potter was at the stove again, stirring aimlessly at a pot, whilst James and Lily sat at the table near her in silence. Snape was shocked to see the usually energetic and lively James sitting almost motionless, his head bowed.
“I…I cannot think why your dad isn’t home yet,” stammered Ginny. Her normally strong voice was weak and broken, and when she glanced over to look at her children, Snape saw her eyes were heavy with tears.
“He’ll be here, Mum,” said James, trying to sound strong himself. Lily suddenly burst out crying herself, and Ginny rushed over and hugged her tightly. Snape looked on the scene with horror, for he understood what it meant. Tiny Albus… he could hardly bring himself to think it.
He heard the slam of the door from above. The footsteps along the hall and down the stairs were slower than before. Harry Potter entered the kitchen with a look on his face that made Snape suddenly recall an image he had seen long before. It was the image of Harry sitting in the Great Hall at the end of his fifth year, following Sirius Black’s death. The look he saw now was similar, only much, much worse.
He walked over to James and Lily and hugged them tightly, before embracing his wife. “Do you know,” he said quietly, “I ran into Zacharias Smith outside the Ministry today. I mean, Zacharias Smith of all people; we’ve never liked each other. But he saw me and actually rushed over to talk to me and offer me his condolences. He was so heartfelt, I almost broke down then and there.”
The family sat down around the table. Ginny began to serve the meal in silence. “I’ve been up to the graveyard,” said Harry. “It is beautiful, Ginny. I want to take James and Lily up there tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” asked Ginny.
“They must understand, Ginny. Believe me, I know about these things. It’s for the best, trust me.” When the meal was served, Harry raised his glass. “To those we have lost,” he said. “To Al.”
Snape could bear no more. “Take me away,” he pleaded. He turned, and found himself standing in the snow on a path on the edge of Hogsmeade. Dusk was fast approaching. The Baron raised his hand once more and pointed to a gate at the end of the path.
Snape approached the gate. “I recognise this place,” he said. “This is the Hogsmeade graveyard.” Many members of the wizarding community were buried in this graveyard, the only all-wizard cemetery in Britain. “Oh, Baron, please do not make me go in there.” But the Baron remained implacable.
With dread, Snape entered. “We are to discover who that man was those at Hogwarts were talking about, aren’t we?” he asked. “Please, Baron, I cannot bear to learn the truth.” The Baron pointed to a particular grave. “I will look if I must, but I promise I can change. The future is not fixed. Our choices determine the future. We write our destiny ourselves.”
Snape turned to look upon the grave. But, to his surprise, it was a small grave, not large enough for a full grown man. He bent down to read the name on the headstone.
Snape was stunned into silence for some time. Eventually, he stammered, “He... he gave him my name. My God, he gave his son my name. Why would he do such a thing? I thought he despised me. Have I misjudged him so much? I never looked for his gratitude. Is he the one man in all Britain who actually thinks highly of me? He knows everything I have done. Can it be that he sees something in me that I cannot see myself? What should I do now?”
Snape remained lost and adrift in a maelstrom of his own thoughts for some minutes, and only when he eventually looked up did he see that the Bloody Baron was pointing to another grave, some distance away. Snape stood up and walked over to the second grave. He knew what would be inscribed there even before he read it.
Snape turned upon the Baron. “Hear me!” he cried. “I am not the man I was. These visions have changed me, I promise. I cannot be beyond hope, or you would not have shown me these things. I promise to take heed of your message. I will honour Christmas and keep its spirit in my heart. I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future. Tell me I may yet remove the names from both of these graves!”
The Baron remained impassive. “Tell me!” yelled Snape desperately. “What must I do? Or at least tell me this: who sent you to me? Who sent you?” With that, he seized the Baron’s blood-stained tunic, but it gave way in his hands, and he found that it had become his bedsheets, and that he was kneeling on his bed in his own home once more.