Snapetober 2021, Day 3: Pumpkin Carving (from sxvxrxssnape’s prompt list)
The seasons turned irrevocably on their slow wheel, Summer giving way to Autumn, bringing with it all the familiar sights and sounds of the season. The air turned crisp and smelled of wood smoke. The trees changed their rainments, donning festive shades of crimson, cinnamon, and saffron. And, inevitable as the rest, Hagrid could be seen in his pumpkin patch, cutting the great gourds from the vines to make them ready for collection by the house elves.
Students watched from across the grounds as the patch transformed from a great untidy bramble, to neat piles of pumpkins (some so big that Professor Flitwick would disappear if he stood behind one), to an empty, ravaged patch of wilting vines. And it was only then, when it appeared empty, that the pumpkin patch received its annual visit from the Potions Master. Hagrid saw him coming through the window of his hut, little more than a tall, inky spot on the hillside as he wended his way down the path.
“Here you are, then, Professor Snape,” Hagrid said, emerging from his hut as Snape approached. “I’ve held back the usual for ya. Though I was hard pressed to give them up.”
“By whom?” Snape asked.
“Well, the house elves, Professor,” Hagrid said with a jovial smile. “By the sounds of it, I reckon they think you’re muscling in on their territory! They take great pride in their work, the house elves. Especially around the holidays.”
“As well they should,” Snape replied cooly. “But you can assure them that I have no interest in taking over the cleaning, scullery work, or interior decorating. How many did you hold back?”
“Eleven, Professor.” Hagrid turned, leading the way to the back of the hut where eleven small pumpkins waited in a pile.
“I shall only need five.”
“Pick the ones that suit you, then,” Hagrid said, “and I’ll cut up the last of them for the Porlocks. It’ll make a nice treat for ‘em.”
Without comment on the presumed delight of the Porlocks, Snape crouched to examine the humble crop of pumpkins. He picked the ones that pleased him best, separated them from the others, and cast a simple shrinking charm on them so they would fit in the pockets of his robe.
“Will ya be needing’ anything else, Professor?”
“No,” Snape replied, turning his back on Hagrid, “That will do.”
Without a word of thanks, he swept away, covering ground quickly on his long legs until he was once again nothing more than an inky blot in the distance.
* * *
“Oh, you’re here, Severus.”
Professor McGonagall pushed the dungeon door wide enough to admit her slim form.
“There’s a matter of a certain Jacob Waters of Slytherin house that I need to speak to you about. I’ve had no fewer than 8 reports…”
McGonagall paused when she registered the unusual tableau before her. Snape stood behind his desk, the sleeves of his coat and dress shirt rolled unceremoniously to the mid forearm. He held a knife, the blade of which was buried deep in the flesh of a pumpkin.
“…Are you… Are you carving a Jack O’ Lantern, Severus?”
“Several, as you can see,” he said, resuming his work.
“Whatever for?” McGonagall asked.
“This one,” He said, flicking the knife to remove the chunk from the eyehole he had just cut, “is for the Great Hall. Those two,” He gestured with the handle of the knife, “are for the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms.”
“…But…” McGonagall blinked at the finished Jack O’ Lanterns, “… But the House Elves do all the pumpkin carving for the castle …?”
“Obviously not all,” He muttered, prying out the last chunk of the toothy mouth to complete the third Jack O’ Lantern. He set the knife down and took up a rag instead to wipe his hands clean.
“Jacob Waters,” he prompted.
“Y-yes,” McGonagall said, wrenching her eyes from his pumpkin covered hands back to his face. “Waters - I’ve had multiple reports of harassment from female students in my house. Normally I would rely on the heads of houses to sort out their own students without interfering, but considering the nature of these reported incidents - “
“I’ll look into it immediately,” Snape assured her cooly. “If you receive any other such reports after this evening, let me know, and Mr. Waters will find himself promptly removed from school grounds.”
“Thank you, Severus,” McGonagall said, trying hard to keep her eyes from flicking back to the pumpkins. “… Sorry to interrupt.”
“Not at all, Minerva,” he replied with a crooked smirk, rucking up his sleeves a little farther and taking the knife in hand again. “Head of Gryffindor house is always welcome in the dungeons.”
McGonagall let out a little sniff of a laugh before she slipped back out through the creaky dungeon door.
* * *
“Terrento Malus … Protego Horribilis … Custos Ad Vitam …”
Snape murmured in a low voice as his wand swept in precise movements over the row of finished Jack O’ Lanterns before him, concentrating on weaving the multilayered spell.
“Terrento Malus … Protego Horribilis … Custos Ad Vitam …”
A flicker of orange light flared up in the mouth of one pumpkin, then another.
“Terrento Malus … Tutela Spiritus!”
Fiery light bloomed from within all five pumpkins. The otherworldly blaze crackled and hissed, embers flying from the jagged mouths to dance around him, sending his lank hair flying, singing his robes. But after only a moment the light guttered down to a candle-flame flicker.
“Particularly fierce this year, aren’t they?”
Snape turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway. His fingers fidgeted around his wand as he studied his face, trying to determine if the observation hid criticism or not.
“With the return of the Dark Lord, I thought a little extra potency might not go amiss. In the past, he held many malignant spirits under his sway.”
“Just so,” Dumbledore said gently, looking over Snape’s work with an approving eye. Snape tucked his wand back into his robes and stepped aside to allow him to inspect them.
“ … Well done, Severus, The castle will, I think, endure another All Hallow’s Eve without molestation by spirts, ghouls, or other dark creatures. I’ll see that these are safely hidden among the other decorative Jack O’ Lanterns.”
Snape acknowledged the praise with a curt nod, turning on his heel. He swept from the room, leaving Dumbledore to arrange for the placement of the Castle’s Halloween protectors, and stalked towards the Great Hall to have a word with one Jacob Waters before the evening feast began.
Snapetober 2021, Day 7: Potions (from sxvxrxssnape’s prompt list)
Only one student besides Harry had ever made a draught of Living Death worthy of the prize, Professor Slughorn said. Think we can guess who that other student was? Did he use it? I wonder if he didn’t hoard it, instead, waiting for just the right moment... until whatever moment that was had passed. Even long after he’d perfected the difficult recipe, and could make as much liquid luck as his stock of ingredients allowed, still that golden brew might twinkle in its tiny vial on one of his shelves - proof of his skill, his ingenuity, and his patience.
