DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE POEM "T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS" NOR ANYONE FROM THE HP VERSE
'T was the Night before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
It was the 24th of December, Christmas Eve.
The ticking of the antique grandfather clock was the only thing that disturbed the stillness in the Longbottom residence.
Silence.
A very rare occurrence in the large Victorian building, that housed a stern witch, a clumsy wizard in training, an adventurous toad, four owls, eight house-elves and an ever changing, but never waning supply of eccentric visiting relatives.
Neville was lying upstairs in his room, cuddling a pillow to his chest and a gum wrapper held closely in his fist.
Two rooms further down the hall, Neville's Great Aunt Enid was sleeping peacefully, moaning from time to time, a smile on her face. Her dreams seemed to be of the most pleasant sort.
Meanwhile, Neville's grandmother had fallen asleep in her armchair. She was snoring happily away, dressed in an old-fashioned, frilly nightdress and a matching night-cap.
Downstairs, the living room had been already prepared in anticipation of tomorrows festivities.
A huge tree had been brought in and Augusta and her grandson had decorated it together, as was their tradition.
Only two Christmas baubles had lost their lives.
The house-elves, not allowed near the tree, had in exchange gone overboard with the decoration of the rest of the room. Wherever one looked holly, garlands, candy-canes, fir twigs, tinsel and Veela hair could be seen.
And above the fireplace the Longbottoms had hung their wizard hats.
Another dear family tradition, as Algie had once remarked that a lot more presents would fit into a hat than did into a stocking.
In one of those hats, Trevor the Toad had found a comfortable bed for the night.
All was quite and peaceful and ...
Crash.
The toad jerked awake.
Being the ever curious creature he was, he jumped out of his sleeping quarters without hesitation to see what the racket was about.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Hurriedly Trevor hobbled to the window and dogged under the curtains to get a clear view of the park and blinked owlishly out into the night.
Though usually England lacked new-fallen snow around Christmas time, the Longbottoms always made sure to conjure some for their property. Though not at all a sentimental woman, Augusta claimed that there was just something lacking, if one didn't have snow for Christmas.
The sky was clear; the moon at its fullest and its pale light was reflected by the snow. Anyone who happened to look out of the windows of Longbottom residence had no trouble to see what was going on outside.
It was a most curious sight that was presented to any observer.
Because, what else should have crashed to the Longbottom lawn, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny ... reindeer?
The driver was a little, thin man, who was laughing in delight and called out:
Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!
One of the creatures turned around and said: „Master got it wrong. Its not our names. Our names is Itsy, Bitsie, Teenie, Weeny; Dotty, Motty, Potie and Crock."
The driver laughed and straightened the fake antlers on the creatures head: "Yes, I know. But I have to call you differently tonight. That is very important for role-playing.
Now, let's get onto the roof."
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
The masked house-elves did a bit of their special magic and rose up into the sky. The sleigh, which they were hauling along, was dangling precariously underneath them, while the little man was hanging on, feet in the air and laughing in a rather maniac way.
Moments later there was a dull thump on the roof and the scrambling of little feet, trying to gain footing, could be heard.
Trevor quickly dodged back under the curtains, turning expectantly around to the fireplace. His feeling telling them that the story would most likely continue there.
Sure enough a second later the little sleigh-driver came bounding down the chimney.
"Ow." The man said and tried to turn-out the embers that caught on his boots. "I forget to put out the fire first every year."
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The man's red robe with fur collar was mucked with ashes, but it did not seem to bother him.
His eyes twinkled as he noticed the toad sitting in front of the grate, watching him curiously.
"Hey, Trevor." The man greeted "Neville has been looking for you all over the place. Again."
Trevor tilted his head, observing the curious red colour of the man's nose, which was dribbling and the false white beard that had come partially undone.
"Ups." The man said as he noticed the direction of the toads gaze and quickly put the beard back to its proper state, grinning foolishly.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
The man winked drolly at the toad and Trevor croaked in amusement.
Great uncle Algie was weird.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Diligently the (poorly) disguised Algie opened his bag and started to pull wondrous things out of it, which he then stuffed into the wizard hats hung over the fireplace.
When he had finished his work he walked back to the chimney, pulled his wand out of his robes and with a quick levitation charm rose back up the sooty pipe.
And as the house-elves/reindeers pulled the sleigh once more into the air, Trevor could hear Algie's magnified voice crying joyously: "Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to all!"
As Trevor once more got comfortable in Neville's hat, now filled with presents, he thought sleepily that Augusta Longbottom should not wonder why her grandson still believed in Santa Claus.
