A/N: Hi! I haven't written for awhile. AP Biology has been crushing my soul…slowly. But now it's that time of the year where people, even wizards, make holiday themed cookies! So here is my holiday story, inspired by my own family making our cookies! Also, Happy [insert holiday you celebrate here]!
It was a beautiful winter night at 12 Grimauld Place as Harry and his vagabond group of friends sat in front of a fire. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care and Ron was desperately trying to stop the tinsel he had accidentally jinxed from choking Fred.
"Finite!" Hermione called from her big cozy chair. The tinsel fell to the ground, inanimate once again, as it should be. "Ronald, why didn't you just set it on the tree like your mother asked? It would have saved so much trouble."
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." He replied, a cheeky grin on his face.
At that moment, Mrs. Weasley strode in with her trademark smile and clapped her hands together.
"Everyone! I need to pop back to the Burrow to get a few things. While I'm gone, I need you all to start mixing the cookie batter together so we can decorate them later." In response, George lifted his wand and flicked it.
"Sure you don't want me to decorate them now, Mum?" He asked with a smile. She glared at him and flicked her own wand.
"Now, you get to do it by hand. No magic. If that bothers you, thank George's cheekiness." She said.
"Thank you, George's cheekiness." Fred answered, sticking his tongue out.
"Now, go to the kitchen. All of you. Make cookies. Go," She shouted, pushing everyone into the tiny kitchen. "And they better be done when I get back." With that, she swept from the house, past the anti-apparition wards. With a loud crack she was gone.
The group stood there staring at each other for a long moment before Ron finally became flustered with the silence.
"How are we supposed to make cookies without magic?" He asked. They all turned to stare at Harry and Hermione, the only two in the group who had ever lived with muggles.
"Don't look at me," Harry said, "I lived in a cupboard under the stairs. They didn't let me out for 'family time'."
"Hermione?" Fred asked, hoping someone in the house knew how to make a damn cookie.
"My dad is allergic to vanilla extract. We never got to make cookies." She replied. A collective moan swept through the room as everyone realized this would have to be one of those "learning experiences" they'd only read about in books.
"I vote we make cookies with magic, have Hermione put some sort of charm on them so Mum won't know, then have a flour fight to make it look like we did make the cookies we zapped in. Who's with me?" Fred said, raising his hand. Everyone had a look of apprehension on their faces as they all, one by one, raised their hands in agreement. "Then let's get started. George, cookies. Hermione, figure out a charm. Harry, we need two pounds of flour. Go!"
A flurry of motion erupted as each person jumped to their task. In the middle of it all stood Ron and Fred, one with a look of pride, the other…confusion. I'll let you figure out which was which on your own.
It only took a few minutes for the rag-tag group of teens to gather up their supplies. George stood at the ready with two plates of warm, unfrosted sugar cookies in Christmas-y shapes. Hermione was running about the room, performing an incantation that made the room smell like burnt dough. Harry was at the counter, pouring flour into five bowls, setting aside the remaining ammunition for later use.
"Troops assemble!" Fred called. Everyone turned to look at him as he hopped off of the table. "Harry, if you could pass out the flour. Tonight, my friends, we are fighting for freedom, freedom from pretending we're muggles. Freedom from Mum telling us to make cookies. Freedom from George's cheekiness getting us into trouble. Freedom from baking cookies so that they can be decorated. Freedom from….other stuff! FIGHT!"
The kitchen exploded into a cloud of white. Not a person could be seen through the floury fog that enveloped the room and all of the young wizards in it. When the "dust" finally settled, the young hooligans were sitting on the now white floor, laughing without a care in the world…ya know, besides the whole Voldy-shorts thing…
"FRED! GEORGE! WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU DO?" Everyone turned their snow white heads to see a red faced Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway, Ginny behind her, trying not to laugh.
"Harry did it!" The twins replied, pointing at the young chosen one who was trying to hide behind Hermione.
"We made the cookies, Mum!" Ron said, jumping up and lifting them off the table to show her.
"You are all in so much tro-"
"Oh come on, Molly. Let the kids have their fun!" Sirius said as he poked his head through the other door. "It's just a bit of flour. Nothing to worry about."
"Fine. But this is not the last you'll hear of this!" She said, before trouncing out of the room.
The kids all jumped up and clapped Sirius on the back, each giving him a vote of either thanks or congratulations.
"How did you know we would need assistance?" Harry asked.
"Where do you think Hermione got that charm?" Sirius replied, a wry smile inching across his face.
Remember those stockings I mentioned earlier? Well, as they hung by the chimney with care, the young witches and wizards slept in their beds with thoughts of ugly sweaters and broomsticks in their heads.
And while Dobby sat by the window with a smile upon his wrinkly elf face, he said with a laugh,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, kick Bellatrix in the face."
The End