A Voldemort Christmas Carol
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.
Chapter 3 – Christmas Present (uploaded 12/15/03)
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! "Get up, it's two o'clock. I haven't got all night."
Voldemort jumped out of bed cursing. He stubbed his toe when he fell out of bed tangled in curtains. No matter, his foot was asleep, anyway. But it made it difficult to hobble to the door without stumbling in the dark. He grabbed his wand off the nightstand, ready to hex whoever it was that woke him out of an already miserable sleep. Bright light seeped from between the door and its frame, while behind the door he could hear a deep, deep voice singing a Christmas carol—off key. "God rest ye merry hippogriffs—"
The bedroom door flew off its hinges as Voldemort spelled it open in anger. He was hit immediately by the bright glow that the Ghost of Christmas Present was giving off. The grumpy bad guy shielded his eyes, "Dim the lights, dammit, I can't see."
After a few hearty ha-ha's, "Err, sorry 'bout that, Tom." The huge man hopped off of a thestral and smacked its hind quarters. The black horse with wings galloped out into the shadows and disappeared.
"Rubeus Hagrid, you old bastard. You died protecting your precious headmaster. I suppose you're the Ghost of Christmas Present and you will show me what every body is doing tomorrow."
"Yep, ya know it. I guess seven years 'o Dumbly reading the same story got t' ya. I listened to it another 50 Christmases since you graduated."
"What is the point of all this? Does he really expect that in one night of the year he can change my attitude toward Christmas? Does anyone really think I'm going to go all giddy with the Christmas spirit and pass out toys and turkey dinners to orphans and starving families? Face it, this is pointless."
Hagrid laughed for a good two minutes and swilled a flagon of ale before answering, "Yer an evil git, Tom Riddle. There's no hope for ye. Peeves was s'posed ta tell ya, this is a charm ol' Dumblydore left on th' ol' castle. It's Dumbly's way of retelling his favorite Christmas story every year, even tho 'he's no longer 'round ta read it outta th' book."
"Is there no way out of it?"
"Don' ye worry 'bout it, Tom. The spell is harmless unless there's an inkling of love and caring still in ye. Otherwise yer heart may s'plode outta yer chest an' you'll weep like an ickle baby. No chance of that happening, eh? Nope, the worst you'll suffer is a bad night's sleep and maybe a nasty headache in the mornin'. Let's get started." Hagrid lifted his pink umbrella and whacked Voldemort upside his head.
"OW! Was that really necessary?" Voldemort hissed.
"Nope, I jes' thought I owed it t' ye." Hagrid chuckled. Voldemort glared at the half-giant. They apparated to Malfoy Mansion and followed Severus Snape through the front door as he was greeted by Lucius Malfoy. It was a richly furnished manor, tastefully done, except for all the pictures of Narcissa which covered every wall.
Draco ran down the stairs to the entry hall and shook the Professor's hand. He didn't say anything because the adults continued to talk amongst themselves but Draco bounced from one foot to the other as if he had to go to the bathroom. Lucius held his hand out to show Snape to the dining room. Before leaving Draco's company, Snape roughly shoved a large package, covered with black tissue wrapper, into Draco's chest without saying a word to him. Draco clutched the box to his body and ran half way up the stairs before turning around and yelling his thanks.
Lucius announce, "Now that we're all here, how about a game of Hex the Troll?"
"Excuse me while I go mix the eggnog," Snape joined Bellatrix and Narcissa behind the punchbowl.
"You are not excused, Severus. I've put everybody's name in a hat. Okay, this is how it works. In one hat, I have slips of parchment with the name of each guest here. I'll start by pulling one name out of the hat, then I'll pull a second parchment from the other hat. The second hat contains parchments with the names of hexes on it. The name that's pulled becomes the troll and I'll hex the troll with what I pull from the second hat."
"Oy," Gregory Goyle's father asked, "what if you don't know the hex?"
"Then you miss your turn. Plain and simple." Malfoy replied.
Voldemort snarled, "Death Eater, you had better know the hex."
Peter Pettigrew raised his silver hand, "How long is the hex going to last on the troll?"
"As long as it says on the slip of paper," Malfoy stated. "Is everybody ready?" He got a mediocre response among shrugs and rolled eyes. "Is that the best you can muster? Perhaps I should tell you the catch."
"You'd better, Malfoy!" came several responses in unison.
"Lord Voldemort's name is in here. If you pull his name, you can hex any body you wish, with what ever spell you wish, for how ever long you wish. Indefinitely, if you dare live with the consequences."
"Wait," Snape called out, "get your eggnog first." Wands were whipped out and glasses of eggnog started flying toward those who summoned them. In another bowl, Snape stirred a green milky liquid, his Crème de Noël.
"Thank you, Severus, cheers," Lucius declared. He raised his punch glass and everyone else followed, "CHEERS!"
Lucius moved the levitating hats to the potion master, "You go first." Snape scowled and put his hand in the hat. "Macnair." Then he reached into the second hat, "must sit under the mistletoe all evening." Snape waved his wand and the mistletoe hovered over Macnair's head. He moved and tried to get away, but it followed him. Pettigrew, feeling the effects after only one cup of eggnog, climbed up on Macnair's lap and started snogging as he was egged on by the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape face wrinkled at his nose at the sight and took a swig of rum straight from the bottle. He grimaced as the burn traveled down the back of his throat.
The hats floated to Macnair, "Dolohov ." He pulled another piece of parchment, "must sing a Christmas carol."
The named Death Eater stood out of his seat yelling, "I will not! You can't make me!" Snape tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a cup of the green milky refreshment. Taking it, he downed it in one gulp.
Macnair pushed Pettigrew off his lap to stand, "Imperio!" He cursed Dolohov. "You will sing 'Wizard Got Run Over by a Reindeer.'" Snape rolled his eyes and stepped away.
"Wizard got run over by a reindeer, flying home from our house Christmas eve. Oh you may say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Merlin, we believe."
"Finite Incantatum," Macnair ended the spell, "I think that's about all we can stand." After the obscenities and laughter fell, Dolohov picked Pettigrew out of the hat.
"Pettigrew will, let's see, top the Christmas tree for a half hour." Everyone laughed. Snape kept everyone's punch glasses full, constantly shifting his eyes for the next one to empty his glass.
Lucius interrupted, "Okay, but first he must pick his troll and task out of the hat."
The rat animagus picked his parchments out of the hats, "Severus must wear a red Santa costume until he goes home tonight!" This had everyone rolling on the floor with laughter. With a crack from Peter's wand, Snape was dressed head to toe in red, with white trim and a fluffy white beard that would not come off. Snape sneered and cussed as he put the bottle of rum to his lips and half-emptied it down his throat. He wiped his mouth on his red sleeve.
Dolohov lazily charmed Pettigrew into a white robe with wings and stuck the top of the tree up his—um, robe. Pettigrew squealed at the impalement, crossed his arms and glared at everyone as he waited for his time to end.
"Well, Severus, since you've already pulled a name, I'll go next." Lucius bounced over and took Snape's bottle from him. Lowering his voice, he warned his friend, "I think that's enough, you shouldn't drink and apparate lest ye get splinched." Snape dropped himself on a barstool with a scowl and sat in an unfocused daze.
Lucius pulled his parchments, but before Voldemort could hear the next troll, Hagrid put his arm around his old schoolmate. "I've got more t' show ye."
Hagrid waved his pink umbrella and they apparated to the front porch of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius's house.
Hagrid opened the door and they stepped inside. Turning into the sitting room, the portrait of the late Mrs. Black, Sirius's mother, had been touched up. A gag had been painted over her mouth and a white straight jacket had been painted over her black robes. Sirius had draped holly and tinsel over the frame to get her to look more Christmassy. Her eyes burned with anger as she overlooked a dozen orphans playing with their toys next to the Christmas tree. Several adults looked on and quietly sipped their tea, happy for their children, but with a certain sadness in their eyes. Two young mothers rocked their infants on their lap and wiggled little plushy toys in front of their baby's eyes.
Sirius gathered the kids and their mothers into the room from other parts of the house. The kids arranged themselves in front of the Christmas tree. Sirius said, "Okay, just like we rehearsed." He waved his wand like an orchestra baton and they sang their rendition of 'Silent Night.'
The scene faded as Hagrid waved his umbrella again, and appeared inside the dungeons of small castle. Several barred cells lined the hallway as wolves, no, werewolves bayed as if their pain could be relieved verbally. They quieted down as their keeper, Charlie Weasley paced the hallway playing an accordion to accompany him as he sung 'Silent Night.' Music does tame the savage beast. Outside the castle hung a sign "Werewolves of London Sanctuary." They were only kept behind bars during the full moon, otherwise they lived in the castle. If they found paying work, they were expected to contribute to the Society fund.
Hagrid waved his pink umbrella again and they apparated to another castle in the Scottish Highlands. By the pictures on the walls, it had once belonged to Albus Dumbledore. His life-size portrait hung on the wall of the entrance hallway, waving to all who passed. As the two new guests appeared, the portrait subject bowed silently and his eyes twinkled brightly.
"I thought we couldn't be seen nor heard," Voldemort inquired.
"That's Dumbly fer ye. But yer right, we can't be seen by thems who are still alive."
Voldemort wiggled his finger in his ear, "Damn, I'm still hearing 'Silent Night.'"
"That'd be in 'ere," Hagrid walked through a set of double doors, where the school choir sang 'Silent Night' as part of their performance for Christmas feast. Voldemort scowled as he watched Headmistress McGonagall wipe a tear from her eye.
A tired looking Minerva McGonagall sat at the head of the long table and called everyone's attention. She stood up, "Before we tuck in, I'd like to say a few words. Please raise your goblets to the founder of Albus Dumbledore's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He gave his life and his house so that our knowledge, traditions and history may be passed on to future generations. To Albus Dumbledore."
"To Dumbledore," everyone repeated as goblets clinked around the dining room. As they did, a half dozen house elves marched in and set food on the table.
Just then, Harry Potter, stood up and steadied himself with a pair of crutches. He wore the badge of Head Boy. "To Voldemort," he held up his goblet, "founder of this feast."
McGonagall slammed her hand down on the table, "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?"
Voldemort pointed at the skinny teen at the end of the table with a mess of black hair, "He's alive! How can that be? I swear that boy has more lives than a dozen black cats. Tell me o' spirit of Christmas present, do you see an empty seat at this table next year? Is his crutch leaning by the fireplace without an owner?"
Hagrid laughed heartily at the words, "Memorized th' story 'ave ye?" He cleared his throat, "The crutch will be disposed of, as Harry will get stronger and have no need for it. As fer th' empty seat, Harry's graduating in 'bout six months." Voldemort growled at the news.
Potter and his friends busted out laughing. "Professor, I'm sorry. We, the school, I mean, would be eating porridge for Christmas dinner if we hadn't raided the Hogwarts pantry earlier today. It seems Voldemort had a rather bad headache due to an ancient curse that Professor Dumbledore left on the castle."
Everyone stood up and raised their goblets, "To He-who-must-not-be-named," and collapsed back in their seats with a fit of giggles. Harry had his arms around his friends and theirs were around him. They rocked back and forth singing "Jingle Bells."
"See there, Tom?" Hagrid summed up, "No matter how bad th' conditions, people wh' good hearts will always manage to enjoy the season."
Before he could comment, Hagrid waved his pink umbrella for the last time, and Voldemort found himself back in his chambers looking up at the jolly half-giant. "Hagrid, you're looking old. And what is that you have under your robes? Is it a foot or a claw?"
"Yes, Tom, my time on this earth is finished fer th' evenin'. This 'ere boy," Hagrid opened his robes, "is Ron Weasley. Ye know 'im as Ignorance. This 'ere girl is Moaning Myrtle. Ye know 'er as Want. She's always whinin' 'bout sumthin' or 'nuther. Since they are conditions which ye promote through yer actions all year 'round, I'm gonna leave 'em with ye for the rest of the night." He patted the kids on their heads and gave them a gentle shove toward Voldemort, "There ye go, kiddies, there's yer daddy."
Ron and Myrtle ran to Voldemort and started jumping and competing for his attention. He grabbed his head, to cover his ears, "Arrrggghhh, go away!"
Ron snorted, "No way! You killed me in the last battle. Because of you, and your Death Eaters influence, the Ministry continues to ignore the fact that you work to destroy the wizarding world. Between that and your disruption of the education of those who attended Hogwarts, I continue to grow in power and strength. Ignorance is bliss."
Moaning Myrtle laughed a little girly laugh, "Tom, you killed me over 50 years ago with your basilisk. I've been growing moldy in that old bathroom until you took over Hogwarts. Now I'm growing in power and strength too, thanks to you. All those poor children and families on the street, all those poor werewolves, they all want for basic food and shelter. When they get desperate enough, they'll come after you, just as Harry Potter did."
Voldemort sneered, "Fine, you're my children. This is a big castle, Peeve's is hiding somewhere. Why don't you seek him out and tie him up with his own chains." Ron and Myrtle clapped and screeched with glee as they disappeared through the stone wall in search of a new playmate.
Just then the grand clock rang three times. Voldemort rolled his eyes, "I've got another spirit coming that I must see to."
To be continued...
o
Author's Note: Happy Holidays. I'm changing the category to Humor because I've gone over the edge. Yesterday, several versions of 'A Christmas Carol' was shown on TV and I'm now bordering on insane. If there's a Santa out there, please review my stories.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.
Chapter 3 – Christmas Present (uploaded 12/15/03)
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! "Get up, it's two o'clock. I haven't got all night."
Voldemort jumped out of bed cursing. He stubbed his toe when he fell out of bed tangled in curtains. No matter, his foot was asleep, anyway. But it made it difficult to hobble to the door without stumbling in the dark. He grabbed his wand off the nightstand, ready to hex whoever it was that woke him out of an already miserable sleep. Bright light seeped from between the door and its frame, while behind the door he could hear a deep, deep voice singing a Christmas carol—off key. "God rest ye merry hippogriffs—"
The bedroom door flew off its hinges as Voldemort spelled it open in anger. He was hit immediately by the bright glow that the Ghost of Christmas Present was giving off. The grumpy bad guy shielded his eyes, "Dim the lights, dammit, I can't see."
After a few hearty ha-ha's, "Err, sorry 'bout that, Tom." The huge man hopped off of a thestral and smacked its hind quarters. The black horse with wings galloped out into the shadows and disappeared.
"Rubeus Hagrid, you old bastard. You died protecting your precious headmaster. I suppose you're the Ghost of Christmas Present and you will show me what every body is doing tomorrow."
"Yep, ya know it. I guess seven years 'o Dumbly reading the same story got t' ya. I listened to it another 50 Christmases since you graduated."
"What is the point of all this? Does he really expect that in one night of the year he can change my attitude toward Christmas? Does anyone really think I'm going to go all giddy with the Christmas spirit and pass out toys and turkey dinners to orphans and starving families? Face it, this is pointless."
Hagrid laughed for a good two minutes and swilled a flagon of ale before answering, "Yer an evil git, Tom Riddle. There's no hope for ye. Peeves was s'posed ta tell ya, this is a charm ol' Dumblydore left on th' ol' castle. It's Dumbly's way of retelling his favorite Christmas story every year, even tho 'he's no longer 'round ta read it outta th' book."
"Is there no way out of it?"
"Don' ye worry 'bout it, Tom. The spell is harmless unless there's an inkling of love and caring still in ye. Otherwise yer heart may s'plode outta yer chest an' you'll weep like an ickle baby. No chance of that happening, eh? Nope, the worst you'll suffer is a bad night's sleep and maybe a nasty headache in the mornin'. Let's get started." Hagrid lifted his pink umbrella and whacked Voldemort upside his head.
"OW! Was that really necessary?" Voldemort hissed.
"Nope, I jes' thought I owed it t' ye." Hagrid chuckled. Voldemort glared at the half-giant. They apparated to Malfoy Mansion and followed Severus Snape through the front door as he was greeted by Lucius Malfoy. It was a richly furnished manor, tastefully done, except for all the pictures of Narcissa which covered every wall.
Draco ran down the stairs to the entry hall and shook the Professor's hand. He didn't say anything because the adults continued to talk amongst themselves but Draco bounced from one foot to the other as if he had to go to the bathroom. Lucius held his hand out to show Snape to the dining room. Before leaving Draco's company, Snape roughly shoved a large package, covered with black tissue wrapper, into Draco's chest without saying a word to him. Draco clutched the box to his body and ran half way up the stairs before turning around and yelling his thanks.
Lucius announce, "Now that we're all here, how about a game of Hex the Troll?"
"Excuse me while I go mix the eggnog," Snape joined Bellatrix and Narcissa behind the punchbowl.
"You are not excused, Severus. I've put everybody's name in a hat. Okay, this is how it works. In one hat, I have slips of parchment with the name of each guest here. I'll start by pulling one name out of the hat, then I'll pull a second parchment from the other hat. The second hat contains parchments with the names of hexes on it. The name that's pulled becomes the troll and I'll hex the troll with what I pull from the second hat."
"Oy," Gregory Goyle's father asked, "what if you don't know the hex?"
"Then you miss your turn. Plain and simple." Malfoy replied.
Voldemort snarled, "Death Eater, you had better know the hex."
Peter Pettigrew raised his silver hand, "How long is the hex going to last on the troll?"
"As long as it says on the slip of paper," Malfoy stated. "Is everybody ready?" He got a mediocre response among shrugs and rolled eyes. "Is that the best you can muster? Perhaps I should tell you the catch."
"You'd better, Malfoy!" came several responses in unison.
"Lord Voldemort's name is in here. If you pull his name, you can hex any body you wish, with what ever spell you wish, for how ever long you wish. Indefinitely, if you dare live with the consequences."
"Wait," Snape called out, "get your eggnog first." Wands were whipped out and glasses of eggnog started flying toward those who summoned them. In another bowl, Snape stirred a green milky liquid, his Crème de Noël.
"Thank you, Severus, cheers," Lucius declared. He raised his punch glass and everyone else followed, "CHEERS!"
Lucius moved the levitating hats to the potion master, "You go first." Snape scowled and put his hand in the hat. "Macnair." Then he reached into the second hat, "must sit under the mistletoe all evening." Snape waved his wand and the mistletoe hovered over Macnair's head. He moved and tried to get away, but it followed him. Pettigrew, feeling the effects after only one cup of eggnog, climbed up on Macnair's lap and started snogging as he was egged on by the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape face wrinkled at his nose at the sight and took a swig of rum straight from the bottle. He grimaced as the burn traveled down the back of his throat.
The hats floated to Macnair, "Dolohov ." He pulled another piece of parchment, "must sing a Christmas carol."
The named Death Eater stood out of his seat yelling, "I will not! You can't make me!" Snape tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a cup of the green milky refreshment. Taking it, he downed it in one gulp.
Macnair pushed Pettigrew off his lap to stand, "Imperio!" He cursed Dolohov. "You will sing 'Wizard Got Run Over by a Reindeer.'" Snape rolled his eyes and stepped away.
"Wizard got run over by a reindeer, flying home from our house Christmas eve. Oh you may say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Merlin, we believe."
"Finite Incantatum," Macnair ended the spell, "I think that's about all we can stand." After the obscenities and laughter fell, Dolohov picked Pettigrew out of the hat.
"Pettigrew will, let's see, top the Christmas tree for a half hour." Everyone laughed. Snape kept everyone's punch glasses full, constantly shifting his eyes for the next one to empty his glass.
Lucius interrupted, "Okay, but first he must pick his troll and task out of the hat."
The rat animagus picked his parchments out of the hats, "Severus must wear a red Santa costume until he goes home tonight!" This had everyone rolling on the floor with laughter. With a crack from Peter's wand, Snape was dressed head to toe in red, with white trim and a fluffy white beard that would not come off. Snape sneered and cussed as he put the bottle of rum to his lips and half-emptied it down his throat. He wiped his mouth on his red sleeve.
Dolohov lazily charmed Pettigrew into a white robe with wings and stuck the top of the tree up his—um, robe. Pettigrew squealed at the impalement, crossed his arms and glared at everyone as he waited for his time to end.
"Well, Severus, since you've already pulled a name, I'll go next." Lucius bounced over and took Snape's bottle from him. Lowering his voice, he warned his friend, "I think that's enough, you shouldn't drink and apparate lest ye get splinched." Snape dropped himself on a barstool with a scowl and sat in an unfocused daze.
Lucius pulled his parchments, but before Voldemort could hear the next troll, Hagrid put his arm around his old schoolmate. "I've got more t' show ye."
Hagrid waved his pink umbrella and they apparated to the front porch of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius's house.
Hagrid opened the door and they stepped inside. Turning into the sitting room, the portrait of the late Mrs. Black, Sirius's mother, had been touched up. A gag had been painted over her mouth and a white straight jacket had been painted over her black robes. Sirius had draped holly and tinsel over the frame to get her to look more Christmassy. Her eyes burned with anger as she overlooked a dozen orphans playing with their toys next to the Christmas tree. Several adults looked on and quietly sipped their tea, happy for their children, but with a certain sadness in their eyes. Two young mothers rocked their infants on their lap and wiggled little plushy toys in front of their baby's eyes.
Sirius gathered the kids and their mothers into the room from other parts of the house. The kids arranged themselves in front of the Christmas tree. Sirius said, "Okay, just like we rehearsed." He waved his wand like an orchestra baton and they sang their rendition of 'Silent Night.'
The scene faded as Hagrid waved his umbrella again, and appeared inside the dungeons of small castle. Several barred cells lined the hallway as wolves, no, werewolves bayed as if their pain could be relieved verbally. They quieted down as their keeper, Charlie Weasley paced the hallway playing an accordion to accompany him as he sung 'Silent Night.' Music does tame the savage beast. Outside the castle hung a sign "Werewolves of London Sanctuary." They were only kept behind bars during the full moon, otherwise they lived in the castle. If they found paying work, they were expected to contribute to the Society fund.
Hagrid waved his pink umbrella again and they apparated to another castle in the Scottish Highlands. By the pictures on the walls, it had once belonged to Albus Dumbledore. His life-size portrait hung on the wall of the entrance hallway, waving to all who passed. As the two new guests appeared, the portrait subject bowed silently and his eyes twinkled brightly.
"I thought we couldn't be seen nor heard," Voldemort inquired.
"That's Dumbly fer ye. But yer right, we can't be seen by thems who are still alive."
Voldemort wiggled his finger in his ear, "Damn, I'm still hearing 'Silent Night.'"
"That'd be in 'ere," Hagrid walked through a set of double doors, where the school choir sang 'Silent Night' as part of their performance for Christmas feast. Voldemort scowled as he watched Headmistress McGonagall wipe a tear from her eye.
A tired looking Minerva McGonagall sat at the head of the long table and called everyone's attention. She stood up, "Before we tuck in, I'd like to say a few words. Please raise your goblets to the founder of Albus Dumbledore's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He gave his life and his house so that our knowledge, traditions and history may be passed on to future generations. To Albus Dumbledore."
"To Dumbledore," everyone repeated as goblets clinked around the dining room. As they did, a half dozen house elves marched in and set food on the table.
Just then, Harry Potter, stood up and steadied himself with a pair of crutches. He wore the badge of Head Boy. "To Voldemort," he held up his goblet, "founder of this feast."
McGonagall slammed her hand down on the table, "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?"
Voldemort pointed at the skinny teen at the end of the table with a mess of black hair, "He's alive! How can that be? I swear that boy has more lives than a dozen black cats. Tell me o' spirit of Christmas present, do you see an empty seat at this table next year? Is his crutch leaning by the fireplace without an owner?"
Hagrid laughed heartily at the words, "Memorized th' story 'ave ye?" He cleared his throat, "The crutch will be disposed of, as Harry will get stronger and have no need for it. As fer th' empty seat, Harry's graduating in 'bout six months." Voldemort growled at the news.
Potter and his friends busted out laughing. "Professor, I'm sorry. We, the school, I mean, would be eating porridge for Christmas dinner if we hadn't raided the Hogwarts pantry earlier today. It seems Voldemort had a rather bad headache due to an ancient curse that Professor Dumbledore left on the castle."
Everyone stood up and raised their goblets, "To He-who-must-not-be-named," and collapsed back in their seats with a fit of giggles. Harry had his arms around his friends and theirs were around him. They rocked back and forth singing "Jingle Bells."
"See there, Tom?" Hagrid summed up, "No matter how bad th' conditions, people wh' good hearts will always manage to enjoy the season."
Before he could comment, Hagrid waved his pink umbrella for the last time, and Voldemort found himself back in his chambers looking up at the jolly half-giant. "Hagrid, you're looking old. And what is that you have under your robes? Is it a foot or a claw?"
"Yes, Tom, my time on this earth is finished fer th' evenin'. This 'ere boy," Hagrid opened his robes, "is Ron Weasley. Ye know 'im as Ignorance. This 'ere girl is Moaning Myrtle. Ye know 'er as Want. She's always whinin' 'bout sumthin' or 'nuther. Since they are conditions which ye promote through yer actions all year 'round, I'm gonna leave 'em with ye for the rest of the night." He patted the kids on their heads and gave them a gentle shove toward Voldemort, "There ye go, kiddies, there's yer daddy."
Ron and Myrtle ran to Voldemort and started jumping and competing for his attention. He grabbed his head, to cover his ears, "Arrrggghhh, go away!"
Ron snorted, "No way! You killed me in the last battle. Because of you, and your Death Eaters influence, the Ministry continues to ignore the fact that you work to destroy the wizarding world. Between that and your disruption of the education of those who attended Hogwarts, I continue to grow in power and strength. Ignorance is bliss."
Moaning Myrtle laughed a little girly laugh, "Tom, you killed me over 50 years ago with your basilisk. I've been growing moldy in that old bathroom until you took over Hogwarts. Now I'm growing in power and strength too, thanks to you. All those poor children and families on the street, all those poor werewolves, they all want for basic food and shelter. When they get desperate enough, they'll come after you, just as Harry Potter did."
Voldemort sneered, "Fine, you're my children. This is a big castle, Peeve's is hiding somewhere. Why don't you seek him out and tie him up with his own chains." Ron and Myrtle clapped and screeched with glee as they disappeared through the stone wall in search of a new playmate.
Just then the grand clock rang three times. Voldemort rolled his eyes, "I've got another spirit coming that I must see to."
To be continued...
o
Author's Note: Happy Holidays. I'm changing the category to Humor because I've gone over the edge. Yesterday, several versions of 'A Christmas Carol' was shown on TV and I'm now bordering on insane. If there's a Santa out there, please review my stories.