Disclaimer: I know this is a rather sensitive topic, especially when it comes to fan fictions...but it was one that I really felt I should write. I hope you do not think harshly of it, but if you do, well...then you do. A.N.: I've corrected some things, changed some wording around, you know, a standard editing. Also, I figured I'd mention that this is also posted on MuggleNet Interactive and is currently pending publishment as far as I know.
The Darkness was like a veil, disfiguring and hiding the beautiful kingdom from the eyes of its gentle people. No light could overcome it, no spoken incantation could shatter it; it was powerful, it ruled, it was unbreakable. It curled into the very atmosphere, taking with it the very essence of life, the happy cloak enveloping each and every soul. The once happy kingdom was forever doused in mythical misery, and the people, crying and shrieking as they felt their joyous lives ripped from their beings, begged the Lord and Lady to help.
The enormous castle of which the Queen and King resided was the only structure throughout the lands that had the power to resist the Darkness. A single flicker of a candle possessed the ecstatic presence of Light, the nemesis of the Dark, and the one thing that could destroy it; only within this castle, its womb, could the Light be contained without fading away into nothingness, overtaken by its enemy. It was safe there, and the King and Queen knew this.
Even while the Darkness raged outside the many-windowed palace like a ferocious storm, the King and Queen retained their happiness and their perfect love for one another. They sat quietly in the dining hall, waiting for their son, who was to return from battling the demons in the land of Darkness; he was ever so brave. Utterly peaceful in their magnificent thrones, which had been gifts to them from the gracious maiden Miriam Strout, whom they had rescued from the grasp of a demonic lord many years ago, they waited, though not for long.
The door on the far end of the dining hall swung open, and Miriam Strout herself came prancing in, looking rather anxious. She was a kindly woman, intent only on assisting her Lord and Lady with their needs.
Now, you must know, the Queen and King were very kind people, not the stuck up type you find in fairy tales. They were the ones who harnessed the Light, after all, and they were not selfish about it at all; if ever a need arouse within the Kingdom, they would gladly give the necessary Light needed to defeat it, one only needed to ask. So when Strout spoke her concern, there was none of that, "What about me?" pish-posh.
"Your son, he arrives!" gasped Strout, beaming at the couple as she sped toward them. The King made to rise, but in no time at all, their son, looking handsome and brave, pranced into the dining hall. He was closely followed by an old woman, who was wrapped in an old cloak that hid her person, though it was noticed that she had a rather bony nose. The royalty pair wondered who she was, but decided she must be a tutor of their son's brought back from the many lands he had rescued so far.
"Mum, Dad," the young man declared in that wondrously deep voice of his, "these new lands are once more in need of the Light; as you are the only ones who may harness it without being scalded by its wonderful energy, I ask of you, please allow me, your only son, a torch bearing its flame, so I may free these poor people as I was meant to do."
Strout beamed brightly, directed at the son this time, before exiting the dining hall silently. After all, she had no intention whatsoever of disrupting this happy, happy moment of reunion. It had been many months since the son had visited.
"Of course, of course!" said the King in his jolly voice. He stood, allowing his brilliant scarlet cape to sweep around his shoulders elegantly, before turning a truly happy grin (and very young-looking, at that) at his wife, who smiled beautifully back; her face was that of true joy, and her hair which framed it was full of life. The King bowed to the newcomers, and took his seat once more.
"As you know, son, the Flame will take a while to procure, but please, have yourself a seat as you wait!" cried the Queen, gesturing to the comfortable chairs across from them. The son obliged, as did the old woman, both of them sitting down and gazing about.
"Yes," said this old woman loudly, and both the Queen and King noted that there was something rather familiar about her voice, though neither of them could place quite what it was. "Yes, well, a very Happy Christmas to you both!"
The King and Queen were rather confused for a moment; it was not Christmas, not for quite a month, yet --- it was still November, after all. But it was easy for them to both come to the conclusion that this woman was mad, and as they were very friendly and understanding people, they did not mention anything, not even when their son echoed it quietly, "Happy Christmas," taking it as an expression of politeness.
"Your son ---" the old woman said, her voice rising even louder, as she gestured toward the Queen and King's only child seated in the chair beside her, "has been doing quite well in school, very well indeed! Though I'm afraid he's not doing as wonderful as you did, Frank!" She stared intently at the King, who stared back, confused. Their son had been out of school for a long while, and he had been the best the school had ever encountered, a legend, in fact. But once again, he reminded himself that this woman was mad, and tried to act normally.
"Yes," he muttered, "yes..."
The son peered at his father, then at his mother in turn. There was a curious expression on his face --- was it a sheepish expression, an expression of embarrassment? --- but no, it must have been a trick of the light, the King told himself, for the next moment, the young man was looking as he always had: like a hero.
"The Flame, dear!" exclaimed the Queen, suddenly sitting up straighter. "Yes, it should be ready by now!"
And she got off her throne with grace only she could pull off, and walked over the the raging fireplace on the side of the room opposite the door, which housed the legendary Light. She lowered herself onto her knees for a better view. It was very carefully that she reached a hand within the Fire, carefully plucked out a small, burning Flame, which she cradled tenderly in the palm of her hand, and stood straight once more. The Fire did not burn her flesh, for it was the essence of Light, and she herself was crafted from it, as was the King. She pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her gown and wrapped it gently around the Flame; the cloth had been bewitched to resist the heat, making it so someone other than the Queen or her husband could wield it without burning themselves.
"Well, we must go!" declared the old woman suddenly, watching the Queen carefully, and she stood, pulling the prince along with her.
"But ---," said the boy, rather nervously, quite uncharacteristic of him, his parents were sure, though he allowed himself to be pulled from the room as the Queen and King watched, puzzled.
"That woman is very odd," said the Queen, the Flame still wrapped in her palm, as the door swung closed behind them.
"Yes," agreed the King.
"Well, I'd better go give our son what he needs to rescue those poor people, bless his soul."
"Our son, a hero!"
They cherished this for a few moments, then the Queen sighed heavily and walked quickly from the room, as to catch up with the mad woman and her son. The King relaxed in his throne. This place, this kingdom, was the most wonderful thing that could happen, despite the Darkness; for their son would defeat the Darkness, as was his destiny, and they would all be able to live happily ever after again.
A few minutes later, the Queen ambled back into the room, smiling.
"I've given it to him! Now our son can go help those poor people!"
The King grinned, as this made him very happy; nothing made him feel more cheerful than to know he was assisting in ridding the world of the Darkness.
He stood, sweeping back the scarlet cape. "Dance, love?" he asked, holding out an arm.
The Queen blushed, her smile widening. "Yes, of course," she said, moving to take his arm, and they waltzed across the dining hall, past the large table that they would eat at during meals, past their thrones, past the fireplace.
"I'm ever so glad," whispered the Queen into the King's ear. "We're together forever, Frank."
"And no one can ever take that away from us, Alice," he whispered back, tenderly kissing her cheek. They held each other for a long time, thinking of times past and those to come. And they knew that whatever came, whether good or bad, their son, the wonderful Prince, would be able to handle it, always helping people along the way.
"Again?" said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well --- Neville, take it, whatever it is..."
But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.
"Very nice, dear," said Neville's grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. But Neville said quietly, "Thanks Mum."
Alice Longbottom tottered back up the ward, humming to herself. Neville looked around at Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, but Harry did not think he'd ever found anything less funny in his life.
"Well, we'd better get back," sighed Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough to paper your bedroom by now..."
But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.
The door of the long-term resident ward for Spell Damage closed behind them.
A.N.: This last bit, that which isn't in italics, is of course from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, from the chapter called "Christmas On the Closed Ward". You'll notice that the wording is almost identical; I thought about changing it, but then I figured that I'd ruin it by doing that. So naturally all credit for the last bit, and for the characters and such, goes to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.