Ok, this is the weirdest most nonsensical thing I have ever written, it just popped into my head while I was trying to come up with a something to fit the holiday 'spirit'. Ah well, you people get this instead. Not terrific I'm afraid. In fact, quite dreadful, still. Review pls.
I may do more with The Council in future.
Ciao, Salut, Au Revoir, Saichen (Look, I know how to pronounce it but spelling in English is another matter), adeus, adiós, arrivederci. By!!
-Renee, erstwhile-Nia
p.s.: My bday on Wednesday! Oh and I'll probably take this off after Christmas and try to forget about it, so if you have any suggestions, wild, changes in plot line, just email me.
8:15 Slytherin Tower. Hogwarts Castle. Scotland. U.K. Europe. World 13525
It was the night before Christmas and the Council sat around by the fire, the embers were burning down by now and the Official Stoker of the fire was sick in the Hospital Wing after an unfortunate encounter with the Gryffies.
Unfortunately this meant that toasting the marshmallows was like trying to get a tan on Mount. Everest.
And although marshmallows definitely figured in the scheme of the Universe all the others were far too arrogant to stoop to building up the fire; even if it was 20 degrees below zero. They were The Council. They.
The shadowy people.
The people who sat in a dark room smoking and deciding the fate of mortals.
In reality only Draco smoked; Blaise thought it was a filthy habit, Crabbe and Goyle burnt their fingers when they tried to light the matches, and Pansy said it damaged her complexion.
Every little Slytherin dreamed of growing up to sit their unworthy arses on the royal thrones (armchairs)of their court; every wiser Slytherin feared them, and in the end they ruled the school.
They were a guarded secret, their secret weapon in times of war; in truth not the entire House of Salazaar is completely twisted; just twisted enough not to be sorted into other houses.
Which is quite twisted enough thank you very much.
It was a snake eat snake world out there, and these were the crème de la crème of the crop.
Very.
Very Very.
Very Twisted.
The Chief: Draco Malfoy
The Assasin/Spymaster: Blaise Zabini
The (Well…to be quite accurate no one knew quite what she did except keep Draco from throwing temper tantrums…call her The Nanny) : Pansy Parkinson
The Lawyer: Theodore Nott
The Guards: Vincent Crabbe & Gregory Goyle
The Torturer: Milicent Bulstrode
It was generally agreed that the one that you really didn't want to cross was Theo.
Lawyers.
Synonmous with Bastards.
Which of course for Slytherins is the highest compliment you can pay them.
Even Draco tread lightly in the white haired boy's presence.
They had gathered in the dark Slytherin Common room; lit only by the moon, a pentagon of candles, and several 1000 watts of electricity.
One of the Guards was afraid of the dark, said he couldn't hit people over the head with his teddy bear properly without light to make sure that the boogie wasn't hiding under the bed like on April 1st.
They had gathered these 7, soon to be 6, for a noble cause.
'We have gathered here for a most noble cause' intoned The Chief solemnly passing around the holy box of chocolates.
'You rats, who ate all the cherry liquors.' whined The Torturer dispassionately.
'We have gathered here for a most noble cause' repeated The Chief
'I hate nuts!'
'Shut up!'
'They make me break out in hives'
'A great improvement let me assure you' muttered the Nanny mixing the cauldron of Hot Chocolate gingerly.
Hot chocolate being a relative term of course; no one was quite sure how much milk actually went into the mixture and no one dared ask.
Ssssssssss…. 'Damn. Does anyone have another spoon?' asked Pansy holding the stub of iron cautiously.
The Chief glared around at them. 'We have gathered here today to disprove the most ridiculous theory of all time. We have been shocked to learn that there are still some Slytherins who participate in this degrading display. This must be stopped Whats-His-Name must not be allowed to continue his reign of terror upon the world. Forcing innocent children to do his callous building'
'Santa Clause' said Theodore Nott helpfully.
'Did I ask for your opinion Theodore Ignacious Nott!'
'T.I.N!' shouted Crabbe happily; the tell tale wrappers of the cherry liquor chocolates scattered around him.
Evidently the Dark Lament chocolates from Zabini's Confectionary is not meant to be had by those who are not 200 sober.
It's a balance thing. Yin and Yang.
Blaise Zabini rolled his dark blue eyes at their childishness and took charge. As usual.
'OK YOU BASTARDS!!'
'Are you being sexist Blaise Uthergard Zabini?' asked Pansy brandishing her glass of hot chocolate threateningly.
The Spymaster leaned back eyeing the drink in some trepidation.
Used by the proper hands anything can be a weapon. In this case the liquid was dangerous enough on it's own.
'Ok. Right. Right. Sorry Pansy'
'You better be' the girl in question muttered angrily spearing her marshmallow with a vengeance.
'OK LISTEN UP YOU BASTARDS/BITCHES!!'
'Thank you! Bastards indeed. I like that.' Pansy sniffed haughtily.
'Look will everyone just shut up?' he asked desperately.
Surprisingly everyone fell silent.
'B.U.Z.zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!' said Crabbe making little flapping noises in the air.
The Spymaster nearly left right there and then.
'If you'll excuse us a minute' he said and hoisted Crabbe up by the collar.
''Cmon Crabbe'
'Mummy?'
'Yes you son of a bitch, now come on'
'I tell you' said the Torturer chomping down on a carmel. 'Blaise is really cut out for this parent thing'
There was a shriek of anguish and the sound of a window slammed.
Blaise came back into the room lightly dusting snow off his hands and settled down in his holy armchair.
He raised his eyebrow 'Go on'
Millie shook her head in awe 'I told you… bloody mother material'
The Chief cleared his throat and looked around at his fellow…er…fellow.
His head wasn't feeling too clear right now.
Fellow…
'BUNNIES!!'
Blaise Zabini began knocking his head on the giant book of Nursery Rhymes.
Their sacrifice of course.
Not because Goyle couldn't get to sleep without them.
Of course not.
The Chief breathed deeply and took a swig of whatever was in his drink. Surprising how the world always looked clearer through the bottom of a bottle.
'Blaise, read the victims identification'
Blaise carefully removed his head from the book and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his pocket and unfolded them.
'Nicholas Clause.
Age: Unknown
Place of Residence: Christmas Town, North Pole
Hobbies: Giving people gifts
'Never did an honest day of work in his life' sniffed Pansy smoothing down her silk night gown.
'Sooooo…' said Millie finally. 'What are we going to do?'
'We' said Draco Malfoy impressively 'Are going to prove that there is no such person as Santa Clause'
'But if he doesn't exist then why did Blaise just read out his biography?'
'It's his theoretical biography' said Draco sighing, running his hands through his hair and wondering for the fifth time where all his gel had gone.
'Okkkkk…' said Goyle looking confused.
'Look, it's politics' said Draco desperately in a last ditch attempt.
In the end, anything that goes wrong can always be left up to politics.
'Ah…politics' said Goyle tapping the bridge of his nose conspiratorially.
'Excuse me another moment' said Blaise and picked up the box of chocolate.
Several moments later there was the bang of a window and the sound of scrabbling in the snow several hundred feet below.
'As I was saying' said Draco as Blaise returned.
'This man is very bad influence on our malleable first years. He enforces a Law called Naughty or Nice. If you're nice you get presents, if your bad you get nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada.' Said Draco angrily.
'Oh' said Theo an expression of comprehension dawning on his face.
'I wondered why we'd never heard of him before.'
'Exactly!' said Draco triumphantly 'This 'Santa Clause' is distracting our Slytherins from their more important roles in life. Jennifer Crabbe actually forgot to change my sheets yesterday!'
'Shocking!' muttered Blaise grinning.
'It's not a laughing matter!' snapped Draco 'I nearly developed a near fatal skin condition!'
'Of course; NotSilkSheetsItis; I should have known' said Blaise mockingly.
'Shut up!'
'In short he's luring children with the promise of presents; which he has no intention of fulfilling' said Draco pompously.
'Extortion!' said Theo grimly the expression on his face clearly said 'I Take A Grim View Of This Mr. Clause'
'Drake, please save us the trouble of dying your hair and stop acting like Percy The Prat Weasley.' said Blaise
'It is our duty as law abiding citizens of England' continued Draco
Blaise coughed discreetly.
Draco ignored him 'To rid the world of this nuisance!! Are you with me fellow…er…fellow…'
'Wizards?' suggested Blaise.
'Wizards'
The hot chocolate mug in Pansy's hand disappeared.
'And Witches' said Draco wincing slightly.
'Er…Pans?' he said after a moment.
'What do you actually put in that stuff'
'…………………………………………………..'
'Ah…I see' said Draco dismally.
'So what's the plan?' asked Millie suddenly.
'Plan….plan…'
'You know; schemes' said Blaise. 'Ah…' said Draco again. 'Schemes'
'Er…Blaise?' 'Yes?'
'What is the plan?'
Blaise sighed, once again it fell on him as the only sober-mostly sober member of the group to explain.
'Our plan is to sit here until/if Santa Clause comes. If he doesn't come Draco's theory is proved correct. If he does we jump him; strip him down to his boxers and dangle him off the North Tower in a high wind by his ankles as an example to us all and roast his reindeer slowly over a fire on Boxing Day'
'Mwhahhahahahaha!!!!' said Draco the insane one.
'And take the presents' said Goyle the materialistic one.
'What if there isn't a high wind?' asked Pansy.
There always is at least one.
Blaise could be heard tearing out his hair.
'Look…that's not the point. There will be. We can make one. We're wizards…and witches'
'Weather magic gives me acne'
'SHUT UP!!!!!!'
'So we're just going to sit here?'
'Yes'
'I don't like this game' said Goyle finally.
'Do YOU WANT to play Graveyards!?!?!' asked Blaise threateningly.
'I dunno, is it fun'
'I'm dead. Dead. Buried. And gone to hell.' Muttered Blaise.
Poor Blaise; it is hard being the only sane one in your house.
12:00 (Midnight)
Twas the Night Before Christmas and Nothing Stirred Not Even A Mouse
Which was a lie of course.
Goyle was up; his head lolling to one side as he regarded the sleeping form of Pansy Parkinson cuddling up to Draco Malfoy in her sleep as he tried to wriggle away from her.
Blaise appeared to be having a dream about parsley, and Theo, well he was off in Theoland.
jingle, jingle, jingle
Contrary to popular belief Goyle was not stupid; he was just not quite intelligent.
He existed in that happy world occupied by 6 years old, viewing the world through rose tinted glasses. Had anyone asked him what went on in a harem he would probably have said 'Chess!'
That was why when he hear the thump thump of feet on the roof and the jingle of a far off rein he froze.
He had that child like faith in magic. Well.
Er…
Fairies.
Er…
Elves…
Er…
Look, just things that 16 yearold wizards usually didn't believe in ok.
Like the tooth fairy, like the sandman, like Santa Clause…
Nicholas Clause fell through the chimney of the Slytherin Tower swearing silently.
Damn people. They could have cleaned out the cobwebs at least. He rarely made visits to the Slytherin area of the Castle.
In fact the last time had been…hmm…ages ago 1945.
The year of the fruit cake. He shuddered.
He never let Mrs. Clause anywhere near an oven anymore.
On his rare visits to the old North tower he usually just pottered around, visiting old friends.
But tonight it was different. Tonight, there were believers.
Of a sort anyway.
Back in the good old days…
He sighed.
He was only 532 and he was already thinking about the good old days, he had got to have Poppy whip him up a pepperup potion when he dropped by the Hospital Wing.
Believers…
They believed in him. He grinned. There wasn't much of that around these days, truth be told most of his night on the 24th included dropping parcels of chocolates down old widows chimneys.
Today's youths were far too cynical for their own goods he speculated in exasperation.
To busy thinking about things that were better left up to birds in Springtime.
Sure, people thought it was nice being able to understand animals.
Until you understood that there seemed to be one underlying theme in the whole business. From reindeer to Slytherin's finest.
He shook his head.
Dancer had gone off with Prancer yesterday, he'd been so sure that one of them had been male.
Good job about the believers too, it was remarkable how potent it was, he had felt it all the way from Boston.
They had believed in him enough to write him up a biography, of a sort. He flicked away a tear. Even if they had been up to no good.
It was really a case of the Ends vs. The means.
No cookies though.
Damn.
The floor was coming sharp up beneath him, whoah.
Splat.
Shit.
At least the false stomach came in handy for rough landings. He clambered out awkwardly.
Ah…The Council.
Back in his day they had been known and feared.
They still were, feared that is, just not known.
The Chief. The Nurse? The Spymaster or Assasin. The Lawyer (he shuddered). And the Guards.
Yes…the guards.
Goyle was it.
Vincent Goyle.
Nice lad as far as things went.
Not bright.
Not bright at all.
A damn good trait that.
Kids these days were far too smart he thought gloomily looking at the piece of paper in Blaise's hands.
Stripping him down to his boxers indeed. He liked that.
Well.
Time for a little mischief of his own. Eh? What?
He deserved it after all.
Incendio!
Several hours later Santa sat back on his haunches, an expression of glee on his face.
The evidence of him had been erased.
Their thoughts of him had been erased.
And…now for the present. Ah…the presents.
He reached down into his bag and took out 6 neatly wrapped gifts.
One he balanced precariously on Draco Malfoy's head. One next to Pansy Parkinson…
He did so hope they liked their gifts.
Christmas was a time to be thankful after all.
Heh Heh heh :sneer:
Oh lord. Severus Snape was obviously rubbing off on him…
One more present to deliver
Jingle, Jingle, Jingle
Plop.
Down below snoring could be heard…
It was often wondered afterward how the members of The Council came to be dangling off the North Tower on Boxing Day wearing elf suits.
And why they ended up in front of Gryffindor Tower singing Christmas Carols; or why each of them could be seen munching on fruit cake in the following days…
That is all with the exception of Goyle.
He never said anything.
Really the boy showed signs of developing a brain sometimes reflected Dumbledore.
'Tea Nick?'
'With sugar, thanks Albus' said Nicholas Flamel grinning.