The Elderly Meeting
A/N: I've always wondered, "What if Dumbledore, Gandalf, and Santa knew each other?" Well, I decided to write this based off of my imagination of what would take place between three old men. I couldn't have done this w/o my co-writer, J, and good friend, B. Please R/R.
Dumbledore sat eagerly in his study, waiting for his dear friends to arrive. He had double checked everything to make sure that it was going to be a perfect gathering: the spotless tea cups were sitting on frilly doilies, the scones were hot and buttered, and there was tea boiling in a kettle in the fireplace.
He grinned; he hadn't seen his friends in a very long time. He hoped they got his invitation. It was short notice, but it was the only time he had available; Harry could wait for a couple hours.
Suddenly, the door was blasted off its hinges and fell to the floor with a thud! Standing in the doorway was a very tall, old man with a white beard that was a competition to Dumbledore's. The man was wearing a large brown wizard hat and matching brown robes. He was carrying a large wooden staff.
"You need tighter security, old man! Anyone can just barge in! Fool of a Dumbledore!" The man stared at Dumbledore, who stared calmly back at the man. All of a sudden, they both laughed.
"So good to see you, Gandalf!" Dumbledore stood and strode over to Gandalf, where the two shook hands and hugged each other with one hand.
"It's a pleasure as always! Oh Albus, your beard is crooked again!" Gandalf said, pointing at Dumbledore's beard. Dumbledore looked down to inspect the damage. A moment later Gandalf used his pointed finger to flick Dumbledore's nose. Gandalf boomed with laughter and Dumbledore lightly punched him with an impish grin on his face.
"You always pull that one on me! I should be more careful around you!" The two men roared with contagious laughter again.
"Do sit down, Gandalf. Tell me, how are things in Middle Earth? How is Bobo?"
"Ah, Albus, I see you aren't as sharp as you were, but alas, Frodo is doing perfectly fine. I'm supposed to be battling a balrog, but Frodo can carry around that stupid ring without me for a d-"
"HO, HO- ooh? Do I smell scones?" A wizened, plump man had appeared in front of the fireplace. He had on a red velvet suit with a black belt and a red lopsided hat.
"Really, Nick, there's absolutely no need to call us ho's," Gandalf sneered.
"How nice to see you, Nick," Dumbledore calmly greeted.
"Thank you, Dumbledore. I'm glad at least one of you two is happy to see me," Saint Nick sniffed, licking his lips apprehensively in anticipation of the scones.
Gandalf rolled his eyes and gave an indignant snort.
"Please sit down, make yourself at home! I trust you both had safe travel?"
Before Gandalf even had a chance to open his mouth, Saint Nick said, "I had a little trouble getting away without the Mrs. seeing. She'd be spitting fire if she knew I was here."
Gandalf glared and said, "I was in the middle of battling a balrog, but I hadn't seen you in such a long time; I just had to come."
Santa muttered something that sounded like "Suck-up", but Dumbledore smiled and ignored the tension between the two men. They hated each other into oblivion but were there for each other in dire moments.
"Have a scone and some tea. I'm afraid I ran out of the usual blend, but I salvaged some from the kitchen. Mint leaf, I believe..." He took a quiet sip and beamed.
"Ah, I find it a bit strong, but I think you two should try it."
Gandalf took the kettle first, which caused Santa to grumble. As they drank, their eyes and noses burned because the mint flavor was so overpowering. They pain was so unbearable that Santa couldn't hold back his tears.
"Oh, Nick, Whatever is the matter?" Dumbledore frowned and set down his teacup.
"It's just..." Santa took out a red and white striped handkerchief, momentarily thinking up an excuse, "I-I-I haven't seen you in such a l-l-long time, I just-" He blew his nose, which slowly began to redden, and pretended to sob.
"There, there," Dumbledore reached over to pat his shoulder. Gandalf grumbled and crossed his arms. Santa finally took a final shuddering sigh and gained his composure.
"Is everything quite all right now?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes, thank you," was Santa's reply, wiping the last of his tears from his chubby face.
"Dumbledore, I think the tea is a bit too strong for my liking. Is it possible to get new tea?" Gandalf asked, trying to rub his honesty in Santa's face.
"I'll contact the kitchens," Dumbledore replied with a smile. He took his wand, muttered an incantation, and said, "Weaker tea for the weaker man, please?"
Santa made no attempt to contain his laughter. He rocked back and forth in his chair and yet again, there were tears spilling from his eyes. Dumbledore gave a playful grin and winked at Gandalf, signifying that he was only joking.
Gandalf nodded understandingly in return.
Dumbledore suddenly said, "Speaking of the kitchen, how are your elves, Nick? Any more dentistry interests?"
Santa stopped laughing and said, "No more revolts. Everything is wonderful now; their work is lovelier than ever. They're really quite exceptional, Albus!"
Gandalf muttered, "Not as exceptional as my elves."
Santa's jolliness was wiped away from his face. He squinted his eyes, slowly turned to Gandalf, and said, "What did you say?"
"I said that my elves are better than your elves," Gandalf explained in a matter-of-fact way.
"That... is... a... lie," Santa spat, his whole face turning a burgundy-red color.
"No, it isn't. Your elves are short and odd. My elves are the fairest and most graceful creatures in Middle Earth. Your elves make toys all day. My elves can see far distances, are eternal, have powers beyond your imagination, and make the finest tools in the land. Face it; your elves are nothing compared to mine."
Santa's face was beet red. He spluttered and shook, but before he had a chance to retort, a house elf came in, carrying a packet of tea.
"Weaker tea for the weaker man, sir," the house elf squeaked, bowing so low his crooked nose brushed the floor.
"Thank you, Waffenshmit," Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing for him to stand.
"My elves are better than that elf," Santa finally said, his voice quivering, "No offense, Albus." Dumbledore smiled understandingly, patting Santa on the back comfortingly.
"Heck, I bet my elves are better than that next elf that walks into the room!" Santa furiously said.
The door opened. Santa looked triumphant until he saw that the figure in the doorway was not in fact an elf.
Severus Snape was no elf.
Gandalf couldn't contain his howling laughter. He was doubled over and laughing like a lunatic. Santa tilted his head as if estimating whether Snape could be considered an elf, and finally shook his head sadly, saying, "Well, that's totally different."
Snape raised his eyebrows inquiringly and looked at Dumbledore for an explanation.
"Yes, Severus?" Dumbledore questioned, raising his eyebrows even farther to make it look as if he was suffering from some sort of bad skin disease of head-wrinkles.
"Headmaster, I came to talk to you about your little, erm," Snape cleared his throat, "problem." His eyes quickly darted to Dumbledore's injured and blackened hand.
"Ah, Severus, maybe in a couple hours. I seem to find myself a little busy." Dumbledore motioned to the men in front of him.
Snape nodded. "I see."
While the two were saying this, Santa had gotten up and had angrily strode over toward the fireplace.
"It was nice seeing you, Albus, but I feel the urgent need to go," he said with a sharp edge in his voice.
"Chicken, Nick? Too scared to admit that I'm better than you?" Gandalf taunted.
"I'M LEAVING!" Santa boomed. Gandalf snorted.
Unfortunately for Santa, he had forgotten his Floo Powder. He squatted into the fireplace. The moment his rear touched the white-hot flames, he hollered. His eyes bulged open, close to popping, and he pointed at Gandalf and said, "HOT," pointed at Dumbledore, "HOT," and pointed at Snape, "HOT!"
Dumbledore extinguished the flame on Santa's behind, but said nothing, deciding that no sound would keep in his imminent laughter. Gandalf tittered, clearly having a hard time keeping his laughter in. Snape's lip curled in disgust.
Santa cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Albus? Um...May I use your... your Floo Powder?"
Dumbledore slowly handed over the powder but didn't say a word. Gandalf gaily waved goodbye, and Snape looked like he was going to vomit.
Santa quickly threw the powder into the fireplace, which instantly sported green flames. He cautiously stepped into the flames and said, "Th-The North Pole."
Once he had left, Gandalf and Dumbledore burst out laughing.
"Well, Albus," Gandalf said in between a laugh, "I'm afraid I must also leave. The balrog should have figured out by now that I'm not there."
"It's been great, Gandalf. See you in the near-future?" Dumbledore stood and shook Gandalf's hand.
"I hope so. Good day, Albus' friend," Gandalf returned the shake.
"Ta-ta," Snape shooed Gandalf away.
Gandalf walked out of the door and down the steps. He laughed as he took out Santa's Floo Powder from his pocket.