After Potions Class, the dungeon returned to its cold gloom.
In Snape's office, the air stood still, the dust steeped in the bitter scent of herbs.
This was his kingdom, inviolable.
In theory.
He glided back to his desk like a shadow.
Something new lay on it.
A flattened ginkgo leaf, its veins distinct and its edges golden.
Douglas Holmes's signature.
Snape's face darkened, turning livid.
Another thief with no sense of boundaries.
Beneath the leaf lay a note.
One line of elegant handwriting.
"Midnight tonight, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, beneath the largest willow. Regarding your missing Christmas presents."
Snape snatched up the note, his knuckles whitening as the parchment crumpled in his palm.
The missing presents.
That set of potion ingredients in perfect condition from Holmes had been his pride as a Potions Master-the one source of pride an outsider had precisely understood and satisfied.
Now that pride had become a bargaining chip.
He could not refuse.
The note turned to drifting ash in Snape's palm. His gaze could have poisoned someone.
Late at night, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Moonlight shone deathly pale, and tree shadows swayed.
The weeping willow drooped its branches like a silent giant.
Snape arrived, his black robes merging with the darkness, like a wraith newly crawled out of hell.
He saw him.
Douglas Holmes was already waiting, his back to him, looking up at the willow.
"Good evening, Professor."
Douglas turned, his voice humble, his manner utterly deferential.
"I'm sorry to trouble you so late."
Snape's fury strained against his self-control, ready to erupt at any moment.
"Holmes! Spare me your sanctimonious act!" His voice was hoarse. "What exactly are you trying to do?!"
Douglas wore a perfect, apologetic smile, looking every inch the good student who had