By Marie Noire
Chapter Six : O Come All Ye Faithful
Just a
few more hours and he would be able to relax for a change. All of his students’ papers were graded and
the marks sent off to Dumbledore, he had no family to worry about over the
holidays… he could have three weeks with nothing he absolutely had to
do. He was free to work on his potions
as he saw fit, with only the minimal exception of having to mix up Remus’
“anti-monster” potion, as he had uncharitably taken to calling it. It was very nearly time for the last and
most festive dinner before the holiday proper.
Most of the students would be leaving for home bright and early the next
morning, and so the meal promised to be special.
Not to mention
the continual buzz about some event that had been planned for the supper. Duquesne’s little bit of tripe, he had no
doubt. Probably some sickeningly sweet
Nativity play or some other such nonsense.
Peace on Earth, indeed… there was no such thing. Not with the Dark Lord still roaming about
in his frighteningly reptilian form, strengthened by the blood of a murdered
unicorn and by the spell he had used Harry in.
Severus
hoped against hope that the slight itch on his left arm was his imagination as
he stalked into the great hall, trying desperately to focus on something
mundane, like the near-overwhelming scent of evergreen in the air.
All of
his Slytherins were lined up at their long table and he nodded curtly at them
as he passed on his way to the staff table.
Funny, he wasn’t late… but the hall was just about to its full capacity
already, as though everyone were anxiously awaiting something. Apparently, Duquesne had something a bit
more in-depth than a trite Christmas play in mind.
He sat,
noticing that the seat next to his, normally occupied by Duquesne, was vacant…
as was Lupin’s. He growled under his
breath, his underfed imagination creating all sorts of scenarios that made him
bitterly jealous of the flea-bitten DADA professor. He almost didn’t realize Dumbledore had stood up to make an
announcement until he was already halfway through his first sentence.
“Good
evening, all… and Happy Christmas!” he greeted the students and faculty
alike. “We have a special treat for you
all this year. As some of you may know,
Professor Duquesne and several of your fellow students have been working very
hard on a presentation for you. So
before our supper makes its way to our tables I would like all of you to turn
your full attention to Professor Duquesne.”
Snape
chided himself for not noticing the stage-like contraption to the right of the
faculty table and directly in line with the students’ tables so that no one had
a blocked view. Chantal stood on the
centre of it, wearing a bright crimson robe and smiling gently at the smaller
Hufflepuffs directly in front of her.
“Good evening, everyone, and, as they say in my country, joyeux noel. Your classmates, as well as a few of your
teachers, have prepared a performance for you that promises to lift the Christmas
spirit in every one of you. So, sit
back, relax, and picture this…”
In a
voice usually reserved only for hypnotists and the greatest of storytellers,
Chantal began to tell a story. The
smallest angel in all of the heavens was given a task… to find a gift for his
Lord that properly expressed all of the good things that mortals had done since
the first Christmas morning over 2000 years ago in Israel. The little angel searched everywhere, looked
under pine trees and in stockings, in the generous donations of the fortunate
and the festively decorated front lawns, and even in the countless
churches. But he could not find the
perfect gift for his Lord and the dawn was drawing near.
“And so
the angel flew through the skies, trying urgently to think of something…
anything… where he could look… what he could bring. When suddenly a sound reached his ears… it was the sound of
church bells ringing out in the still night…”
As she
had spoken, the flames from the various torches and lights on the trees had
dimmed until only the ones that illuminated the “stage” remained. The heavy curtains of emerald green velvet
behind her parted to reveal the students in a choir formation as she turned
around slowly to assume the position of the conductor. The very first thing that Snape, and
everyone else noticed, was the fact that not one student wore his House robes…
each wore mundane clothing… jumpers and trousers for the boys and skirts for
the girls. For all intents and purposes,
they might have been students from any Muggle boarding school.
Four
notes sounded lightly from the piano and Chantal’s hands waved in and out
gracefully, guiding her singers in their timing. First the high voices, sweet and twinkling like the stars… then
the lower register of the altos, dark and rich… the dulcet tones of the tenors
and the booming undercurrent of the baritones completed the tapestry of
sound. Carol of the Bells, a
carol he had heard several times before… but never like this. Every barely glowing flame in the hall swayed
slowly in time with the music like a million tiny bells ringing with the voices
of the choir members. The music quickly
gained intensity as each voice was added, then slowly settled back into the
chiming tones of bell-like quality.
Snape’s heart was suddenly thudding in his chest, matching the cadence
of the music and rising to his throat.
He swore that the floor shook gently as the baritones, including Hagrid,
hit their last and lowest note.
After a
brief pause, the hall burst into applause.
The students on stage smiled widely and appeared to be whispering to
each other furtively, congratulating each other on doing so well. Chantal slowly let her arms relax and
Severus found himself clapping less and admiring the fact that instead of the
loose, billowy sleeves that most robes boasted, she had chosen one with sleeves
that clung to the subtle curves of her arms.
A mental shake did little to tear his attention away from either the
music or its lovely advocate. He had
always had a bit of a soft spot for music… true music, not the grating,
pounding trite that his students regularly listened to… he preferred classics,
wizard and Muggle alike, although he would never admit it. Some of those “non-magical” composers had
created supernatural sounds that even a former pureblood activist couldn’t
deny.
And then
there were certain pureblood witches who seemed to possess the very same gift,
he thought distantly as his eyes settled on Chantal’s profile, admiring the way
her hair caught the light in gleaming strands.
The second Chantal turned back around to address the audience he snapped
his eyes away guiltily.
“Simple
church bells… and they called the angel down, pulling at him as certainly as
any wizard summoning spell. And so the
angel followed the sound of music through the world… stopping to listen to the
carols that spoke to him in their soft and universal language. Some were ancient carols, ones that no
living person could recall who wrote and were simply referred to as
‘traditional’ carols. Others were
modern in lyric and tempo. But all held
the same message, that the day that was soon to dawn was a day of celebration
and reverence both.” She explained before turning back around to her choir,
which had shifted slightly to push Fred Weasley and a Slytherin girl named
Patricia to the front, directly behind her.
Snape furrowed his brow slightly at the notion of putting a Gryffindor
and a Slytherin with such close proximity, crests or no.
The
piano came to life under Sprout’s hands, this time playing accompaniment for
the carol instead of merely the starting notes. Patricia opened up in a surprisingly mellow alto, singing of the
vastness of the skies and paralleling them to the vastness of love and hope. Almost at once, he felt himself settling in
his chair, leaning back slightly and enjoying the placid tones of this quiet
carol. The entire choir joining in on the refrain… candlelight, angel light,
fire light, and star glow… shine on His cradle ‘til breaking of dawn… Gloria,
Gloria in excelsis Deo… angels are singing… the Christ child is born. A startlingly serious-faced Fred then took
the melody, his tenor voice ringing out in something other than raucous
laughter for once. He sang of the first
Christmas night, of the angels and shepherds that came to see the baby,
comparing the grandeur of the child’s purpose to the simplicity of his
birth. The choir again, this time
stronger and in further harmony, adding in the adults to darker and strengthen
the sound. They continued into the last
verse, completing the tale of that night and reminded every soul present that
despite what lay ahead for this child, at that moment he was only a baby being
cradled by his mother.
Further
applause, this time more prompt in coming.
Severus found himself leaning forward in his chair, awaiting the next
piece with baited breath. What could
his insolent little witch have cooked up next?
He paused… his witch?
Since when? At what point had he
become possessive? She was not his
little witch! And quite frankly he
couldn’t comprehend of such an unlikely occurrence ever happening. He caught Dumbledore’s gaze, watching him
with that damnably knowing expression and he quickly sat back, very nearly
giving himself whiplash in the process of trying to look innocent.
Chantal didn’t
bother with an introduction to the next piece and merely nodded at Sprout once
the applause died down a bit. Only a
mere half-dozen of singers stepped forward this time, each one Severus
recognized as being a seventh-year student; sitting, standing, or kneeling
variously on the stage and preparing to sing.
Six notes this time… and Chantal moved her hands back and forth to give
her handful of singers the tempo. A
very cheerful rendition of Angels We Have Heard On High, which had once
been a childhood favourite of Severus’.
He found himself mouthing the words to it discreetly, secretly enjoying
this new twist on the harmonies. No
longer repetitious in its parts, each chorus was different from the preceding
one although the theme remained the same… the movement of the voices shifted in
new patterns. The singers no longer
stared out at the audience, but moved and looked at each other and out of the
audience, picking out people to look directly at, as though they were having a
conversation… an element that added significant charm to the piece… as though
the audience was a part of an intimate party rather than in a hall full of over
one thousand students. Immediately this
became his favourite piece thus far… once that he knew he would be humming
before the night was out if he wasn’t careful.
During
the applause, the six each took a bow and then returned to their former spots
on the stage. Three of the youngest
singers approached, their faces a little pale, but their smiles willing enough. Chantal spoke briefly with them sotto voce
and then prompted Sprout for a single note.
The three first-years broke into a jaunty Here We Come A-Wassailing,
the tempo quicker than normal, but evenly matched by each child even when they
divided into two-part harmony. The
choir came in once they were done their first verse, the baritones creating a
vocal undercurrent of accompaniment and each proceeding part coming in with a
different part of Joy To The World.
The highest sopranos joined the three children in their song so that the
two songs complimented each other lavishly… and to an almost jazzy effect. Snape found himself trying to follow each of
the parts at once to little success. The
lyrics that he knew so well were an impenetrable chaos… but the sound, the sound
was a joyful noise that spoke without needing the lyric.
Another
hit, by the sound of the clapping. The
now blushing first-years retreated back to their places with flustered but
pleased grins as Chantal indicated for of the choir to sit. Severus, his own applause diminishing, noted
with narrowed eyes that Remus remained standing and slowly came to join her
side. Luckily, for the sake of his
grumbling jealousy, the two did not join hands or even look at each other
yet. Sprout’s piano started up again,
this time a determinedly more modern sounding song.
Remus
began, his borderline baritone voice telling of the carpenter Joseph and what
he must have thought seeing an angel’s prophecy come to life. “Why me?
I’m just a simple man of trade.
Why him? With all the rulers in
world? Why here? Inside this stable
filled with hay? Why her? She’s just an ordinary girl. Now, I’m not one to second guess what angels
have to say… but this is such a strange way to save the world.”
Ordinary
girl indeed, Severus scoffed under his breath… the first hint of displeasure
he’d felt since this concert had started.
But all irritation was erased when Chantal began to sing her part, the
thoughts of Mary. He abruptly recalled
her voice all too well from that late night in the kitchen when she’d shown him
how she could levitate a rubber ball with the power of her voice. But now it was that of a woman; richer,
darker… more sensual. God, how had he
forgotten that sinfully striking voice?
For several months of his angst-ridden adolescence he had dreamed of it…
dreamed of the dazzling witch in front of him… a girl then, but a woman
now. He swallowed over the lump in his
throat, his eyes never leaving her face.
Although he had contrived to be as cold as a blizzard to her, lest she
get any ideas about further betraying him… he could not deny that time had only
added to the beauty that had so completely enchanted him as a youth.
The two
of them sang the last chorus together, with Remus keeping the melody and
Chantal singing a gentle harmony behind him… the effect was warm and tender, as
though they truly were the loving couple.
They had finally approached each other, Remus standing behind her with
his hands placed affectionately on her shoulders. Funny, she seemed smaller even next to the usually sickly-looking
Lupin. Hell, the creature even had the
nerve to look vaguely protective. Snape
thought spitefully that it would be a completely different picture if it were
just a week later. However, he mentally
checked himself from gritting his teeth as applause followed their last
notes. Remus thankfully returned to his
spot next to Hagrid while Chantal returned to deliver her speech to the now
utterly captivated audience.
“And
now… the angel had his gift… for, as a Muggle writer once noticed… ‘Music
expresses that which cannot be said and upon which it is impossible to remain
silent’F.
Every carol that greeted the angel’s spellbound ear was a gift in and of
itself. And so, the angel reached up
and plucked each song from the air, for angels are able to do such things. Dawn was nearly upon him, so he raced back
to the Heavens to present his Lord with his hard-won gift. His Lord looked upon his smallest angel and
smiled… pleased with this expression of all of the good that had been done on
this day. On Christmas, wars
temporarily cease, cathedrals are built, and hearts are at their most hopeful…
and the music encompasses all of this.
And so our story ends with the hope that every one of you here has
rekindled that Christmas spirit. That
each of you now realizes that Christmas is not about gifts under a tree, or a
jolly elf in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, or about turkey and puddings…
it is about faith, hope, and love. And
so we leave you with a vocal rendition of our Christmas present to you.”
The
lights dimmed to near extinction once more and after a brief moment of
near-darkness, one by one, sparkling lights appeared on the stage. Small glass spheres, no bigger than a
Snitch… each containing a single white flame and resting comfortably in the
clasped hands of the singers. In front
of Chantal was a similar globe, but this one was enormous by contrast and
contained no flames at all. Severus
swallowed as a sense of déjà vu washed over him, sending a fine tremble through
him that he quickly squashed… what she trying to make him insane?
The
choir started in its entirety, singing a song in Latin that sounded vaguely
operatic, and as the stronger voices faded the younger children took up a new,
repetitive melody. Then Ginny Weasley
stepped forward timidly, the glass ball shaking slightly in her hands as she
began to sing about the shepherds in the fields. Slowly, that ball lifted itself from her hands and floated up
over the audience, floating to join the twinkling stars in the enchanted
ceiling. Then Draco came in, singing O
Little Town of Bethlehem, the younger voices still chanting behind
him. With a surprisingly peaceful
expression on his usually pinched face, his sphere floated up to join Ginny’s in
the same fashion. The choir shifted to
another song, several more small, glass-enclosed flames leaving their owners’
hands to join their predecessors twinkling above, a constant stream of tiny
shooting stars in slow motion. Then
Harry stepped forward, his little globe already hovering above his hand as he
sang Once In Royal David’s City, the choir behind him joining in as it
soared to the ceiling. Hermione was
next singing an old English song in a gentle voice, her sphere floating around
Harry’s teasingly on the way up. Remus
took over Hermione with an exceedingly gentle What Child Is This? as the
students continued her Coventry Carol under him. His own sphere virtually danced up to join
the others. Suddenly Hagrid broke in
with a heavy We Three Kings… Remus, Crabbe, and Goyle joining him as
they did for the first piece, almost making the floor vibrate as their globes
flew up. The choir returned as the
three baritones sang, softening the roughness with I Saw Three Ships. In ones, twos, and threes, crystal and flame
ascended up over the crowd, magnifying the enchanted ceiling by leaps and
bounds, each light twinkling in time with its owner’s voice. A brief pause in the music settled only to
return with the men singing O Come To Bethlehem and the women singing The
First Noel. Then Dumbledore came
in… Away In A Manger… he sang while looking directly at the audience,
his usually calm and kindly expression accented by the merry light in his
eyes. The choir’s chant behind him grew
more intense, but his voice remained gentle as ever… sending his own crystal
above the crowds and over enchanted faces.
The women joined his carol as the choir gained momentum, every singing
something different.
He
breath had virtually stopped as he watched the stream of tiny stars float, fly,
and dance up to the ceiling… circling over students’ heads, illuminating each
bedazzled face. It had been years since
he had experienced anything like this… even as a child he had rarely been affected
by the mood of the Christmas season.
Like many children, his main purpose of the season was to please his
parents in hopes of earning himself a bigger pile under the fir tree. This sensation of warmth and well-being was
practically forgotten in his long-cold heart.
He had grown used to a heart of stone, had almost come to enjoy the fact
that emotions had little effect on him… in made him stronger, more
capable. The awareness of a beating
heart of flesh and blood bordered on painful.
He
almost didn’t notice the large orb of Chantal’s rising as the voices grew,
slowly soaring to the centre of the ceiling and the smaller ones circling
around it in a flash of shooting stars, closing in so that he began to expect
and dread the smash of broken glass. But
no… the large globe let the smaller ones pass through it taking each tiny flame
inside of it, the light growing intense.
The voices reached fever pitch and suddenly everyone stopped.
A brief
second of anticipating silence and then a hundred voices joined together is the
traditional Latin of the carol commonly known as O Come All Ye Faithful,
Chantal singing above them all in a sweet, angelically beautiful voice. Her crystal had engulfed all of the others
and now shown above the hall as intensely as a tiny sun, lighting everything a
brilliant white and sending shivers of almost divine presence down Snape’s
spine. The Star of Bethlehem… she had
created the Star of Bethlehem for them all.
His heart was pounding as warmth spread through him, even as some small
part of him scowled at his own weakness, being affected so by mere tunes and a
few fancy parlour tricks.
Slowly,
imperceptibly, the choir calmed their once thunderous voices decreasing down
into melodious whispers. The Star
dimmed gradually, just enough so that it would not hurt the eyes of those it
passed as it descended from the ceiling to float over the choir, shedding its
light only on its precious singers.
Soon, only the mild chanting of “Unto us a child is born today, in
Bethlehem on Christmas Day” by the youngest singers remained. Then that faded out as well, the finale
marked by a sudden flash from the Star and a subsequent eclipse as it burnt out
entirely.
To say
that the following applause was deafening would have been a gross
understatement. Never in the history of
Hogwarts has such a spectacle ever been staged. Students were teary-eyed and climbing over each other to
congratulate their friends and fellow classmates. The Christmas spirit had certainly invaded Hogwarts now…
Snape found
he had to escape it before he did or said anything he would live to regret
later with fierce embarrassment.
Without bothering to wait until after the feast or even for the
commotion to settle down, he slipped away from the faculty table and took off
for his chambers, fighting the urge to run there.