Hello everyone and Merry Christmas!

Not only muggles celebrate Christmas, wizards do too, and the Death Eaters are no exception. So welcome to the first chapter of a multi parter about the Death Eaters' Christmas frolickings!

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The Death Eaters at Christmas: Part 1

"Rodolphus, watch the vase. Lucius, where are the Christmas cookies? Wormtail be careful with that tree! Can someone help him?"

Voldemort was in a rather hassled mood. Not only had his Death Eaters decided to decorate the place without his consent, but they were going about in a very precarious way.

Wormtail was dragging a Christmas tree, (with some difficulty) through the living room door, leaving a trail of pine needles in his wake. Lucius was making a mess with the Christmas cookie mixture, and was wandering about the house, whilst stirring the ingredients in a bowl, looking for raisins. Rodolphus was hanging up paper chains, Dolohov was balanced rather dangerously on a step ladder with some blue tack, and the last Voldemort had heard of Rabastan he had been attaching icicle lights to the roof outside.

Thud.

"I'm all right!" Came a voice from outside.

"You'd think he could levitate them up there," Voldemort said crossly to Rodolphus.

Rodolphus shook his head.

"The last time Rabastan tried to levitate something, he turned a passing old lady into a watermelon." He sighed sadly.

Voldemort raised his eyebrows.

"Well can't you levitate the decorations at least?" He asked.

"My lord," Rodolphus smiled. "Where is your festive spirit? Putting up the decorations is good for family bonding. Surely you of all people can appreciate that?" Voldemort thought he saw a slight smirk cross Rodolphus's face, but he passed it off as a sudden trick of the light.

"Well actually," Voldemort said. "I had had a smashing idea for some bonding."

"Oh no," Dolohov groaned from his step ladder. Voldemort shot him an dark look and he fell silent.

"I thought," continued Voldemort. "That we could perform a Death Eater pantomime!"

"A Death Eater pantomime?" Rodolphus repeated uncertainly. "Who would watch it?"

"We could invite the Order around!" Voldemort replied. "All in the spirit of the season, eh?"

"What were you planning on performing?" Rodolphus asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "How about A Christmas Carol? Or, Peter Pan?"

"Both inspiring ideas," Rodolphus nodded. "Maybe you should call a meeting after we've put up the decorations."

"No, Rodolphus, I've got a better idea," Voldemort said.

"What?"

"I'll call a meeting after you've put up the decorations!"

"You're a real inspiration, sir," Rodolphus said flatly.

"What is that, Rodolphus?" Voldemort asked, looking warily at the sprig of mistletoe above the living room door.

"It's mistletoe, my lord," Rodolphus replied.

"Why is it above my door?"

"I thought it might be a nice little touch."

"It's not very menacing," Voldemort commented.

"Mistletoe berries are poisonous," Rodolphus told him.

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"Well I suppose it can stay there." And the dark lord walked out of the room to gather his minions for the meeting.

As soon as Rodolphus saw Bellatrix coming, he leapt down from his ladder and stood under the door frame.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"Does a man need a reason to casually stand under a door frame?" Rodolphus asked. He looked upwards meaningfully. She followed his gaze.

"You put mistletoe above the door?" She asked him.

He nodded.

"You have got to be kidding me. Call yourself evil and you stick soppy plants on the ceiling." And she walked past him into the room.

Rodolphus sighed, and glared at Dolohov who was trying not to snigger.

The Death Eaters gradually conjugated in the living room, the last to arrive being Lucius and Wormtail.

"Has anyone actually seen them?" Voldemort asked.

"No," came the general reply.

But Voldemort did not have to ponder for much longer, as something short came whizzing into the room, pursued by Lucius.

Wormtail froze in the middle of the room and turned to Voldemort. The others looked at him in mild surprise. Wormtail's body was fairly clean, almost spotless, in fact, apart from a few pine needles. But his head and face certainly weren't. It was with great amusement as the Death Eaters regarded Wormtail, head covered in Christmas cookie mixture, dodge behind Voldemort as Lucius lunged at him.

"Wormtail, get that horrible stuff away from me," Voldemort snapped, stepping away briskly and wrinkling his nose. "What happened?"

"Wormtail succeeded in tipping my mixture over his head," Lucius said, red with anger.

"I didn't mean to!" Wormtail squeaked. "I'm sorry! Just don't hurt me!"

"I will have to make that all over again!" Lucius said in fury. "Do you have any idea how much care and effort went into the making of that?"

His lip trembled, and he started to sob. "It never even became cookies!"

"Pull yourself together," muttered Dolohov. "You didn't even find the raisins."

Lucius gave him a look of hatred, but was prevented from attacking him with the ring of the doorbell.

The Death Eaters did not get many visitors. The postman had already been that day, and the only other people that ever came around were Mrs Mallory and her evil son Stewart. Therefore, the ring of the doorbell never bode well for the Death Eaters.

So it was with a nervous step that Voldemort, flanked by his minions, walked to the door.

the glass in the door was glazed and patterned, so the only thing that the small group could see of the visitors outside was that there were two of them, one was slightly taller than the other, and they had rather strange hats on.

Voldemort's stomach gave a horrible churn. He only knew two people who wore hats of that shape. So it was with a horrible feeling that he opened the door and his fears were recognised, in the form of his two Great Aunts, Constance and Florence.

The Death Eaters behind him gave small gasps of horror, and some had to stop themselves from crying out in terror. They remembered all too well the last time these two apparently innocent old ladies had visited.

There was a horrible pause.

"Aunties!" Voldemort said, forcing a grin. "How... unexpected."

"We thought that we'd pay our great nephew a visit," Constance said. "After all, it is Christmas. We'll be staying until Boxing Day."

"Excellent!" Voldemort said, seriously reprimanding himself as he felt tears come to his eyes.

"Something is missing, here," Florence said, as the two of them stepped over the threshold and regarded the group of terrified looking Death Eaters.

"Oh yes, Barty and Snape aren't here," Voldemort said.

"Good, good," Constance replied. "We will go to our rooms now."

"Yes, you do that," Voldemort said. "Up the stairs and on the-" but they had gone.

As soon as he was sure the two old ladies had gone, Voldemort, face whiter than normal, ushered the Death Eaters into the living room and closed the door.

Once he had done so, Rabastan burst into tears.

"H-how?" Dolohov asked croakily. "How?!"

"I don't know!" Voldemort said desperately. "I didn't get a letter or a warning or anything!"

"They can't just waltz in here whenever they feel like it!" Rodolphus said.

"Do you want to go and tell them that?" Voldemort asked. Rodolphus looked at his shoes. "I thought not."

"Well," Lucius sighed. "Christmas is officially ruined."

"At least it can't get any worse," Rodolphus sighed, comforting his sobbing brother.

Alas, poor Rodolphus, how wrong he was. For at that moment, the doorbell rang again, and Voldemort went to answer it, being optimistic about the fact that no visitor, not even Stewart Mallory could be worse than his Great Aunts.

He pulled open the door with a bit more confidence than before, and, before he could stop himself, slammed it shut again after seeing who was on the other side.

Voldemort leant against the door, breathing heavily. No, it couldn't be. The Great Aunts were bad enough, but his second cousin Albert as well?

There was a rap on the patterned glass behind Voldemort's shaking back.

"Tommy Boy?" Came a muffled voice from the other side. "Aren't you going to let me in old chap?"

Voldemort took a few calming seconds, a deep breath, and opened the door.

"Albert!" He cried. "My favourite second cousin!"

"Your only second cousin," Albert grinned with nudge. "I have to say that it's corking to see you!"

"Yes, it's been a long time," Voldemort smiled.

"Too long," Albert agreed. "How've you been?"

"Oh, you know," Voldemort said, not trusting his face not to crack with the large, fake grin that had spread across a face not accustomed to smiling.

"You're not still trying to take over the world, are you?"

"No! Of course not," Voldemort said quickly. "That was just... a phase. No, now I'm... the manager of... a crockery company..." He mentally kicked himself for the ridiculous choice of occupation.

"Really?" Albert asked. "How you've moved on, eh? Well, congratulations. I managed to win back my estate, thank goodness."

"Oh good," Voldemort said. "So, why aren't you there?"

"Good lord, Tommy," Albert said. "You think I'd leave my favourite second cousin alone at Christmas? No, I've come to stay for a couple of weeks. Keep you company, eh what?"

"Thank you for the thought, Albert," Voldemort said. "But that's really not necessary. You see the workers from my crockery factory live with me now. We're quite the family."

"Oh smashing!" Albert said, bouncing past the mortified Voldemort. "The more the merrier!"

The Death Eaters looked up in surprise and shock as the tall man in tweed walked into the living room and gave them all a beaming grin.

"Hello!" He said. "You must be the workers! I bet you're selling a bundle this time of year!"

"What?" Dolohov asked, but Voldemort swept in.

"Oh yes," he said hastily. "Crockery sales have shot up, haven't they, workers of the crockery factory of which I am the manager." He winked at them meaningfully.

Rabastan looked confused.

"What's your factory called?" He asked.

Voldemort shot him a knife like look.

"It's called 'Shut up or I'll turn you into crockery in co-operated.'" Voldemort replied through gritted teeth, throwing a threatening look at Rabastan.

"You know, I think I've heard of that," said Albert. "Tommy, be a sport and take my suitcases upstairs, would you?"

"Of course!" Voldemort gave him another fake grin, wrenched his suitcases off the floor with a little too much force than was necessary and stomped upstairs.

"I say, Tommy's in a good mood today, isn't he?" Albert said with a grin.

Voldemort stomped across the landing to the spare room. Suddenly, the two GreatAunts walked into view.

"Firstly," Great Aunt Constance said. "Stomping is not good manners," Voldemort tightened the grip on Albert's suitcases. "And secondly, did we hear Albert downstairs?"

"Yes, he's come to stay for Christmas too," Voldemort replied.

The two Great Aunts stiffened, looked at each other with tight lipped expressions, and then back at Voldemort.

"I'm afraid," Florence said darkly. "If that is the case then we will have to leave."

Voldemort's heart soared.

"No, Florence," Constance said. "We must stay.

Voldemort's soaring spirits suddenly plummeted.

"We must retain our dignity," she continued. "And not let that gambling fool spoil our stay. We must endure him for as long as we stay here."

"Yes, we must," agreed her sister. "In that case, we must go back to our room and pack."

The two of them walked off, and, to his horror, they went into Barty's room.

"Aunties!" Voldemort cried, abandoning suitcases and hurrying after them. He walked into Barty's room and saw that Constance was arranging the sheets on Barty's bed, and Florence had unpacked the temporary bed.

"It was an awful mess in here when we first came in," Florence said. "But with a little magic, we tidied it up."

"But this is somebody's room!" Voldemort protested. "What's wrong with the spare room?"

"I'm sure that that will be perfectly fine for Albert," Constance said, the name 'Albert' causing her thin lipped expression to return. "But as two ladies, we need something bigger than that tiny cupboard you call a room. And besides, this room has a much nicer view."

Voldemort sighed. At least Barty wasn't coming back this Christmas.

He dropped Albert's suitcases rather grudgingly on the bed in the spare room, and went back downstairs to find Albert talking to his minions, and, to his surprise, Snape had appeared.

"Hello, my Lord," Snape said.

"Snape!" Voldemort cried. "What are you doing home?"

"Dumbledore insisted that I take a break for Christmas," Snape sighed in reply. "No matter how much I insisted that I would rather stay at Hogwarts and work, he insisted even more that I have a rest. So here I am."

"Well," Voldemort said. "It will be a full house this Christmas."

"Tommy!" Albert said to his second cousin. "They refer to you as 'my lord'? I'm sure you have nothing to do with this?"

Voldemort's mouth twitched. Albert gave him a good natured, knowing grin.

"Oh Tommy boy," he said. "Just because I have a huge estate with over one hundred servants and gamekeepers, and you only have this house and a band of factory workers, doesn't mean you have to be jealous. Been doing a bit of make believe, eh? Pretending that this house is an estate?" He nudged Voldemort with a grin.

Voldemort was saved from strangling his second cousin by the doorbell.

"I'll get that!" He said, perhaps a little too loudly, and bounded towards the door. The Death Eaters followed him, and Voldemort flung open the door, daring it to reveal anyone worse.

"Hello," said Barty Crouch Jr, suitcase in hand, with a smirk around at the Death Eaters. "Did you miss me?"

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Mwa ha ha! Part two coming soon!

Reddy