Yes Ginerva, there is a Santa Clause
Summary: Ginny is questioning her belief in one of the last and most sacred magical characters...Santa Clause. In this short, spunky, and holiday oriented one-shot she tries to figure out what exactly should she believe with a little help from a familiar friend.
Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's other counterparts and/or merchandise, not that I haven't tried. As a result of my non-ownership of said iteams that should be a realitively good indicaton of my identity, which at this point should register in your mind as not being J.K. Rowling, the true and real owner of said iteams. If for some reason you still insist that I am J.K. Rowling then you are an idiot and therefore should not be allowed to even cross the street without a "special helper" present
It was cold. So cold that it you placed your bare pinky-toe upon the white blanket that had covered the ground and was still sprinkling itself throughout the air, that it'd freeze up to little more then a cock-tail pumpkin and fall off leaving nothing more then a stump of what was.
She sat there, cold, with a crimson blanket covering her arms. Letting the dark night cover her with it's shadow she closed her eyes and allowed the glow from the neighbouring Christmas tree to guide her through her thoughts.
She thought about life and why we believe the things we believe and why we dismiss the things we don't. She thought about the myths, legends, and tall tales of her child-hood and how at one point they brought a smile and an adrenaline rush to not only her, but to those around her aswell. She thought about her rosy cheeks and how they matched those of a man so old and yet so unhardened by age that every year for one night he shares those cheeks with the world.
She thought about how they said his cheeks weren't real and how his hearty laugh was merely a smile towards a child's false belief in fairy-tales. She thought about how that made her cry. She thought about that as she still cried.
The snow continuing to fall from the heavens as it did the night before and the night before that landed upon her foot and she opened her eyes. She looked out of the frozen window and in a sudden decision pulled her crimson blanket closer towards her frame and stepped off of the pane in which she had seated herself on hours beforehand.
She walked past the fire and the tree, and the presents, and the golden curtains. She drifted beyond the couches and chairs, and not to mention the old, tattered desk that was in desperate need of repair. Walking towards the door she laid her pale hand upon the handle and tugged it open.
She wafted throughout the corridors without a thought or care of what would of happened to her if she'd gotten caught out of house after curfew. Frankly, even if she had gotten caught I doubt that she would of worried about it in the slightest. Too many things on the brain to be bothered with such things as detentions and clearing through potions cupboards.
She watched the sleeping portraits as she traveled the halls and stairs. She looked at them and admired their perseverance and final admittance to the land of sleep which she hadn't herself been able to make a successful voyage to that evening.
She heard a noise. A small noise, but still it was a sound that was uncharacteristict at that time at night. It sounded something like a creak. 'Probably Mrs. Norris' she thought to herself.
She continued to walk, but yet again she heard the noise. It most certainly couldn't of been Mrs. Norris if the noises kept occuring at the rate they had been. The dirty feline would of gone to fetch Filtch to squeal (or in her case 'meow') on a student out of bed.
She turned around, but saw nothing but darkness. She walked a bit more, but yet turned to be face with little but the air in front of her. 'I must be going mad.' she said to herself. But there it was again! That noise...She turned once again and this time was not faced with nothing but instead a man. A very tall and very shiny man.
"Oh...P-professor Dumbeldore, sir. I-I didn't see you there. I c-can explain, really I can. I was-" she started nervously, sputtering and spattering at every right turn, but was cut iff.
"It's quite alright, dear. You're not the first student to find themselves out of bed after curfew...I believe your friend, Mr. Potter, as actually taken it up as a form of hobby." he chuckled to himself as he sat down on a neighbouring step.
Albus motioned his head towards the step. The girl walked slowly towards him and took a seat on the step.
"So what is keeping you up on this fine Christmas Eve night, Ginny?" he asked sincerely.
Ginny looked down at her hands, twidling in her lap, and looked back up at the old man in front of her, his silver buttons glimmering on his robes.
"I can't sleep, professor...I have too much on my mind." she replied.
"Ahh. I see. It is not unusual for our vices to keep us restless. It's natural for us to mull things over, especially at night, when things are quite and there is no one to contradict us." he assured.
"Well is it normal to believe in Santa Clause?" Ginny asked sarcastically.
"Why do you ask?" Albus questioned.
"Because none of my friends do...They say I'm foolish for believing in him and I'm starting to think they're right." she said in a defeated tone of voice.
Albus looked at the girl carefully. Her head down and her rosy cheeks dimming. He too remembered a time when his faith in such things had started to deminish.
"Ginerva, your friends are wrong. They have been affected by the scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds... All minds, Ginerva, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge" he spoke gently.
"But are you sure." she asked intensely.
"Yes, Ginerva, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Ginerva's..." he said as he rose came back to her cheeks and she look up at him with stars in her eyes.
"There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished." he concluded.
And with that the night ended. Not in the literal meaning of the word, rather the figurative meaning. Ginerva Weasley had finally ended her anguish over the meaning of Santa Clause and the question of his existance...It all ended with the simple phrase; "Yes Ginerva, there is a Santa Clause." And with that I bid you goodbye, just as Ginerva had bid goodbye the shadows of doubt.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.
So what did you think? Was it good? Was it bad? Do I deserve a metal or a quick blow to the head? You decide. Please review and let me know what you think...I promise that it won't go unnoticed. I mention all of my reviewers at the end of my chapters. Thanks.
-Hallowed Halls of Written Woes