Authors Notes: Christmas fic which I promised people last year, it was started in hospital and then at some point I lost my momentum and it was put on hold. Good news is... I finished it! Does contain a small amount of movie canon here and the characters are slightly OOC. Apologies but it was necessary for it to work.

Basically the spirit of Christmas comes to Hogwarts. That's pretty much all I can say about it.

Disclaimer: Still not JKR. I'm not British enough to be her.

Thanks: Many thanks to everyone who took part in the reading of this such as my darlings Saffy, Karen and beloved Shanilla. grins Thank you so much guys for putting up with me as I kept complaining how nothing was right. Also much thanks to the lovely and beautiful Caed who did a quick beta job for me. Love you long time lady!

Dedication: To my darling sibling in arms Rabia. We've had an interesting end of year you and me, and now we're having fun with it. You're lovely and you do deserve only the best - don't ever forget it. Just remember this - there are plenty more fish in the sea and you'll catch the right one eventually, just don't give up.

Memorandum:

Date: 7 December

To: Kris Kringle

From: Twizzle

Attention Kris Kringle

Due to recent developments in our newly developed union, S.E.L.F. (Snow Elf Liberation Front), our head spokespersons have made it clear that we should outline the following demands for better working conditions, set working days off (including all religious holidays for every single denomination that each Snow Elf follows), a wage with annual raise of ten percent, stock options, proper advertising of products and finally a cafeteria with decent food and proper cleaning facilities.

As you have now realized, S.E.L.F. is a new program within our culture. You can thank the joint efforts of Dobby the House Elf and Hermione Granger for instituting this program of self-actualization and liberation from the oppression you have enslaved us in. For far too long we have lived in the shadows of your delivering and our own great work has been ignored. Standards at the North Pole have fallen since the first agreement was made between yourself and the leaders of our tribe. Do not misread our actions as a threat against all your good work but do heed this as a future warning. If our demands are not met then we will go on strike and production for this years run will not go to schedule as planned.

Yours sincerely

Twizzle

S.E.L.F Co-ordinators:

H. Granger and DoBbY

Christmas at Hogwarts this year was filled with the happy sounds of mocking laughter as snowballs fixed with curses and hexes flew at students staying over and teachers alike. The Medi-Witch was currently holed up in her office desperately running from afflicted to injured and back to afflicted again, dishing out cures like nobody's business as more and more came screaming in with added body parts, minor transformations and various discolorations.

Mostly a mixture of lilac, mauve and sky blue... Those were the "in" colours for this season.

One couldn't help but feel for the over-taxed witch, but she did have that special medicinal remedy of what she liked to call her liquid gold. Whiskey, she had determined after her first few weeks at the school, was good for everything that ailed a person.

The night before Christmas, in all irony, was the busiest time of year for the woman. It didn't matter that time and time again they were warned that jolly old Saint Nick was watching, the students had deemed it to be silly nonsense and carried on with the ritual hell-raising that generation after generation before had purpertrated.

But little did they know that it wasn't the House Elves that filled the stockings that magically appeared by the fireplace in each dorm early every Christmas morn.

That honour belonged solely to the fat man himself. The head honcho of gifts.

Santa.

And it was because of this great legend that one Hermione Granger was walking around with a grin on her face that resembled Crookshanks after a kitchen raid...

Even though the House Elves were more than willing to hand over a giant bowl of cream - there was something more intensely satisfying about thievery. Although it did bring about a whole new level of theft when the guilty culprit had half the kitchen staff running after them asking how they could be of service while the other half left food in easy access.

But that's beside the point.

"Hermione?"

The second half of the trinity received no response from the first so turned to the third for help. Finding only a puzzled shrug the second went back to prodding the first and calling her name. Eventually the sparks from the second wand caught the first's attention as her hair started to singe.

"RON!"

Suddenly the second found himself swimming in an onslaught of verbal abuse while the third sat to the side and tittered until he got caught up in the flow. They took the easy road of tuning out and nodding at the following lecture.

Somehow it seemed safer that way.

After the tirade had finished, the other two found themselves in the difficult position of answering what Ron had originally wanted. Seeing as the whole point had been deviated from, the other two had completely lost the plot and were both mentally scrambling for a believable answer.

"Ron wanted..."

The second, or Ron, sent thanks out to Merlin for the third's, or Harry's, quick thinking before realizing that the vague answer (which inevitably wasn't leading to anywhere) was making the fire breathing dragon, or rather their friend glare that special glare that she only reserved for that particular time of month. And because they made a point of knowing when and where they should avoid their only close female compatriot, they were a bit shocked to be on the receiving end of that glare right now.

"What Harry is trying to say is that we only wanted to know..."

Somewhere a giant sickle dropped which in turn burst the bubble that was shrouding the original point. Unfortunately this coincided with Ron and Harry being in the middle of a long-winded question about the school itself.

Cursing their short attention spans and then congratulating the ineptitude of one of the Creevy brother's as the Christmas tree started to fall, they found Hermione distracted enough to enquire as to why she looked like McGonagall after Hagrid found his birdcage filled with nothing but feathers.

Hermione found herself torn between breaking them for an insensitive reference and congratulating them for their powers of observation. Filing the badly worded question away for future reference when there would inevitably be the call for examples of how they were both failures in the game of "tact", Hermione politely informed them of her latest schemes in the world of Elven liberation.

Needless to say the two young men were totally and utterly gob smacked at the diabolical designs of their friend and the free House Elf.

"You can't be serious." said Ron in a shocked tone. "That's just plain evil!"

Hermione however, saw this as not the evil plan that even Death Eaters would balk at, she saw this as a break through that would capture the world's attention to the injustice that one of their most famous role model's was performing.

"I think," said Harry after a long pause, "That you have even bigger problems than I do."

The three friends argued long into the night, drawing in others to their verbal spat when someone casually asked if they could pass the butter and then much later, when Neville finally couldn't stand it any longer, and demanded that they cease and desist lest they find something nasty growing underneath their beds.

Hermione politely hexed him, thanked him for his input and sent him on his way.

After all, it's not like he was being an active participant in either side of the argument. Accepting this as Neville's own fault, the argument continued until two in the morning when the Head of House stormed up and snarled something about the three disturbing the nightlife and ordered them all to bed this instant or they would face the consequences. The trio nodded, took their parting shots and departed to the warmth of their beds - each not realizing that actions draw consequences and by proxy, these consequences would spread.

Christmas, it has been said, is a magical affair which for one brief instant unites family, friends and occasionally the enemy that clouds the road before us. It's a time that means many different things to many different people, but yet it still holds the same essence no matter what the belief may be.

The question of "What if?" and the answer of "Hold that thought and one day when you're ready, we'll let you know."

It was one of those conspiracies which let everyone in on the punch line.

Tonight it was the same. Twas the night before Christmas and all through Hogwarts - not a creature dare stir. The silent shadow that skulked through the halls and lurked on every level in the school seemed to be everywhere all at once and nowhere all at the same time. It could have been described as the perfect attack if the shadow had been malevolent.

It took its time doing its business. Stopping to nibble on the titbits left lying around, smiling at the traps that seemed to get more and more intricate as the years went by and leaving Christmas cheer in its wake - the only thing that bought a semblance of a frown to its face was when it saw a certain name on a certain stocking.

It pulled out a scroll from thin air, a shower of sparkles hitting the floor while sleigh bells echoed in the background.

"Hmm." it pondered as it searched for the possibility of another match. Finding only the one match, it set about arranging a special gift for the person in question.

With this deed done and many more to do, the figure chuckled and slipped back into the darkness so well it was almost as it had never been there in the first place.

Life was good and as normal as normal could be in a place that taught magic to children with volatile personalities in a system that encouraged separation. But it was peaceful tonight, and who could tell what tomorrow would bring.

Morning was usually a lazy affair in the holidays, but Christmas always bought about a different state of mind. It started with the house elves, which woke early to find their kitchen full of brand new pots and pans and other bits and pieces.

Admittedly this caused them fear, but once they realized two important facts. One, this had happened last year and two, there were no clothes. Their mysterious benefactor had learnt that particular lesson after the Great House Elf Panic of sixteen eighty seven.

That had been a cold, cold day in gift giving and it still bought chills down the spines of those that remembered that horrible day...

Next on the list to face the incoming dawn was a few of the more ambitious of students and all but one of the faculty. The students attacked their stockings with vigour, finding a large stash of sweets, tricks and finally a gift that held a more sentimental representation of their personality and goals.

The faculty, for the most part, ignored the bulging stockings as the novelty that had long since worn off.

Then, in one fluid motion, all were alive and kicking. A chorus of chatter arose and the school seemed more alive than ever. It started in the Slytherin dorm, where the weary-eyed serpent children crawled out to the dark light that the dungeons offered. They dazzled in expensive chocolates only fit for the sons and daughters of the aristocracy, smirked in delight thoughts of mischief as they hid the stash of pranks left in their care. And finally there was that special individual gift that bought tears of delight to their little faces.

There were books on curses and illegal items galore. The sparkle of mischief glinted in their eyes as they offered thanks to several known and unknown deities. This was going to be the most interesting Christmas period yet, claimed Draco Malfoy the unspoken leader of the Slytherin clan. A rousing cheer rang up through the halls of the Dungeon causing their head of house to enter their dorms and snap something vaguely lucid before storming off with one last mumble of "Bah Humbug" to light his path.

A few levels up saw the Hufflepuffs squealing with delight as sugar featured as a large part of their stockings as well as cute fuzzy animated toys for the younger ones and sensible books on how to avoid conflict, death and general pain. For two of the Muggle born students, they found copies of Lemmings inserted into their stockings with a special message of hope written on the front in an old style hand.

The Ravenclaw Commons had more of a sensible outlook on their gifts. They viewed what they were given with a cool demeanour, making casual references to what practicality the books and special kits held for each of them. A few of them had already started to brew what could only be classed as the more special class of potions... Or as the staff liked to call, creating home brew with home made stills which they proceeded to confiscate on the nights they couldn't make it to Madam Rosmerta's.

And finally the Gryffindor's at the top of the school. The Common Room was filled with songs of joy, at least three different carols and one made up tune were being sung by the happy students. All except three were overly ecstatic that Yule was officially here. The triad were separated, two of them embracing the merriment that their comrades offered while the third stood bitter watching the festivities in her nightgown. Her scowls lay not unnoticed by those that were around her; Seamus Finnigan waltzed up with a cracker twixt his teeth and offered it to the maddened young witch.

She took it with a grimace and muttered thanks before turning her attentions to the untouched stockings that lay across the far side of the room. They were garishly coloured she noted, another expression of how the underdogs of their society were oppressed. Another thing she should mention to Twizzle the next time Dobby got in contact with the Snow Elf.

Hermione mentally began to draft a new contract in her head which included a better uniform than the scraps of cloth that they usually wore... Something that was fur lined, she thought to herself. Fake of course, real fur would be highly inappropriate under the circumstances. As Hermione mused her latest scheme to help, she didn't realise that at some point her feet had started to move and she was now descending the stair case. It seemed not all the magic of Christmas was lost upon this young witch.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of a stocking labelled Hermione Granger. Her hands reached out and before she could say "Free the Snow Elves from their Dark Lord!" they were pulling out gifts like they'd never touched anything similar before now!

"We thought you were boycotting Christmas?"

"We thought you said the Snow Elves were oppressed?"

Hermione found her reverie broken as she stared into the pointed looks of Ron and Harry.

"I am and they are."

"Then would you care to explain what exactly you're doing?"

For a single moment Hermione found herself focused. It wasn't about knowledge or freeing the Elves, for once it was about something that was nothing in particular. She looked down at the small pile of gifts and raised an eyebrow at what lay before her. No-one had known that she had wanted these things. She'd not mentioned them to her parents nor had she written them down. She knew Harry and Ron could never thought to get her such practical things; for starters the first edition leather bound copy of Warlocks and Sorcerers was not what she would have classed as a gift that anyone she knew would have got her...

Unless...

"Dumbledore," she announced, "Has very refined tastes."

"You think Dumbledore managed to do all of this?" asked Ron. "You're absolutely mad!"

"And you're going to tell me that a figment of my childhood imagination did all of this? There are some things that not even the laws of magic can defy." replied Hermione. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

Harry and Ron watched their friend walk off with her arms laden with the gifts she had received in her stocking.

"You know," said Harry, "You'd think with everything that we'd seen and done together - you think by now she would believe that anything is possible. Sometimes I get the feeling that magic really is wasted on some people... Especially the smart ones."

"Itr's always the smart ones." agreed Ron.

Hermione had gone to her room to start composing a letter to Dumbledore, thanking him for his generosity and Christmas spirit in what was shaping up to be very dark times indeed. She went over the inventory again, laying each item out carefully on her bed so she could mention how much she appreciated everything and how helpful these were going to be later on in her academic career.

So invested in her writing, she didn't notice the sparkle that was surrounding her gifts.

The air shimmered slightly and somewhere in the background a very discrete glingleglingleglinglei i0 could have been heard if anyone was listening properly.

Hermione Granger was not listening.

Raw magic began to seep into the room, its tendrils seeking out an invisible signature which lay woven into threads of the newly acquired gifts. Silently they twisted around various objects in the room as they sought out what beckoned them so desperately. Hermione scratched her nose as something tickled it. Thinking it was just the quill she was using, she brushed off the light sensation as nothing important.

Little did she know a small transformation was taking place... A transmutation of solids - almost alchemy one could call it, most certainly Hermione would of - and then again in the distance a vague snicker of glingleglingleglingle echoed once more.

The Christmas party was in full swing in the Gryffindor Commons, the Deputy Headmistress had thrice been up with the threat of "Shutting this party down if you lot don't keep the noise to a bare minimum" - or something along those lines. The students found it necessary to embellish on what she had actually said. Somehow the mangled version of Professor McGonagall's exact words made more sense after it had been through the required translation.

At least that is what several of the older students claimed.

Then came the ear splitting shriek which broke three windows and bought poor Neville to his knees as a sudden flashback of the incident with the Mandrake plants from his first year came back to haunt him with a vengeance.

"Hermione!"

Ron and Harry dashed up the stairs ignoring the outraged cries from the rest of the girls as they broke at least seven different rules and regulations to tend to what they presumed to be the worst case scenario when in fact it turned out to be something less than nothing.

There was a brief pause as the two boys hovered for a moment in the doorway before falling through the doorway and landing with a resounding crash on the hard floor.

"You screamed blue murder..." started Harry.

"... For that?" finished Ron.

"You have got to be kidding me." they both said in unison.

Hermione's voice wavered between an ear piercing squeak and a breathless whisper. The part that the two boys could understand was the tears, however deciphering what exactly the tears were for were an entirely different matter...

Ron was the one who spied the problem.

"Oh Hermione..." he said his voice trailing off as his gaze was drawn to the objects of her distress.

Her once pristine white duvet now had several dirty marks on it and sitting in place of the gifts she received in her stocking was a rather large pile of coal. Harry patted his pockets and found an unused handkerchief and handed it to his friend. Neither of the two boys knew what to say to her. It was one of those things where all they could do to console the poor girl was to rub her back gently as she stared at what she had thought to be real.