A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to the Americans! Enjoy!
Jamie and Hermione were fidgeting by the empty fireplace in their heaviest winter coats, waiting for Bathilda to arrive. It was the middle of summer in Australia, and they were starting to get rather hot. They weren't sure where they were going, but they were both anxious to settle their argument. Jamie was sure that she was going to take them to Santa's workshop, while Hermione was convinced that she was going to take them to the North Pole and show them that nothing was there.
The fireplace flared, and the already too-warm children backed away as Bathilda stepped out, also dressed in a thick coat. If anyone were to peek in the windows, they'd be very confused as to why everyone was dressed in thick coats during the heat of a very warm Australian summer. They would be even more confused when Bathilda pulled out a piece of rope but would have likely questioned their sanity when the entire group grabbed hold and vanished.
~~~~~~~~~~ Y ~~~~~~~~~~
Just as Hermione was starting to get queasy from the feeling of portkey travel, she felt the world come back into focus as her feet hit the side of a snow drift, and she rolled to the snowy ground. Based on other trips Mrs. Wilkins had taken them on, this had to be the longest portkey she had ever taken. Maybe they really could have gone to the North Pole! Looking around, she didn't see anything except her brother's feet sticking out of a nearby snowdrift. Smiling at his clumsiness, she walked over and pulled him out.
"You need more practice with portkeys, Jamie." Her brother glared at her as she brushed the remaining snow off his hair and face.
"Not everyone can be as coordinated as you, Mia. Anyway, you get hours of practice every week with things like this at gymnastics class." Hermione chuckled to herself as her brother pouted. He was really quite cute when he did that. Not that she would ever admit that to his face, especially when he was being annoying. This time, though, his annoying behavior seemed to have earned them a trip to the North Pole, so maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
Hermione looked over at Mrs. Wilkins, who had pulled out a map from one of her pockets and was consulting it with her wand. Looking around again, all she could see was white in all directions. If Mrs. Wilkins wasn't here with them, it would really be quite scary. Hermione's curiosity got the best of her, and she spoke up, "Where are we? Is this the North Pole?"
Mrs. Wilkins smiled enigmatically and put away the map, casting a quick warming charm at the siblings. Even with their thick coats, it was still too cold for them. "Perhaps. For now, we will walking this way." She gestured in a seemingly random direction and started walking. Hermione grabbed her brother's hand, and the children followed closely beside their escort, not wanting to get separated. As they walked, Mrs. Wilkins started talking, "Let me tell you a story, children."
Hermione and her brother perked up immediately. She was always excited when Mrs. Wilkins would tell them one of her stories. The ex-history professor knew so many, and they were always entertaining. Hermione had also noticed that, in contrast to her normal speech, Mrs. Wilkins spoke in perfect English whenever she was telling a story. She had always wondered why but had never gotten up the courage to ask. Her linguistic difficulties seemed to be a rather delicate subject for the older woman.
As Mrs. Wilkins began to speak, Hermione paid close attention, and she saw her brother perk up beside her as well. "Back in the year 311 AD, there was a man named Nicholas of Myra. He was the bishop of a Christian church in the Middle East. He was a man who did many things, but the thing history has chosen to remember was his predilection for giving people small gifts when he saw them struggling to make ends meet. It was from his kind deeds that the legend of Santa Claus began.
"Though he died in 343, his legend continued to grow until many families in Europe had a legend of a kind old man who would visit during the coldest, most dismal months of the year and bring gifts to brighten their spirits and help them survive the winter. Alas, there was nothing to these legends. Word simply travelled from one person to the next, and when people didn't get any visits, they would assume they had been too 'naughty.' Being somewhat ashamed, many would lie to their friends and say that they too had been visited, thus perpetuating the myth."
Hearing this, Hermione beamed in pride. She was right! Santa didn't exist. It was just a series stories which had grown into a legend. She was about to turn to Jamie to say "I told you so" when Mrs. Wilkins continued speaking.
"The legend continued to spread from person to person until the year 1412, when a wizard heard it and decided that he wanted to honor the man at the root of the legend by making it into reality. He set up a workshop in the deepest, darkest reaches of Siberia and gathered a workforce of magical creatures by offering them protection under his heavy wards. After many hours of research, he devised a method of delivering gifts to people anywhere in the world in a single night. At the same time, his wife created a book that listed every single person in the world. Together, they all began making gifts, and on Christmas day of 1418, he made his first delivery to all of the houses in his home country of England for the first time. Every year afterward, he slowly broadened the number of houses he was delivering gifts to until he was delivering to the whole of Europe!"
At this, Hermione could no longer resist interrupting, "But Mrs. Wilkins, not even children get gifts every year! We'd hear about it if everyone in Europe got free presents that no one could account for every year!"
"Hush, Hermione dear. I'm not done. Now…where was I...ah, yes. Santa could never extend his reach beyond Europe, as he couldn't produce enough toys, but he continued to deliver uninterrupted gifts for nearly three hundred years. Alas, all good things must come to an end. In 1689, the International Statute of Secrecy was signed, and the International Confederation of Wizards forced him to stop delivering gifts to non-magical families. Though he was very disappointed, he decided to use it as an opportunity to broaden his reach. He realized if he only delivered gifts to magical children, he could deliver to all of them, regardless of where they were.
"This state of affairs continued until the great European Magical Depression of 1860. The wizarding economy was falling apart at the seams, and the leaders of the European governments were desperate for a solution. They gathered at a political summit to solve the problem, but after many days of debates, they found themselves no closer to a solution. Eventually, one particularly vacuous politician proposed the erection of wards that would prevent Santa from delivering presents by blocking his delivery spells. He argued that people would have to buy gifts for their own children, and it was hoped that it would increase Christmas spending and thus bolster the economy. The idea was ridiculed by most of those present, but as the summit continued and no other ideas were proposed, the European governments agreed to erect the wards. Sadly, my generation was among the last to receive gifts.
"The economy did recover eventually, though no one knows for sure whether or not the wards had anything to do with it. Regardless, all the politicians involved in the decision were voted out of office. Still, it was to no avail as none of their successors were willing to repeal the law for fear of damaging the still fragile economy. Thus, the anti-Santa wards stood across Europe until people started to believe that Santa was little more than a myth."
"So Santa's real!?" Jamie was nearly buzzing with excitement. As disappointed as Hermione was about being wrong, she couldn't begrudge her brother his happiness, and Mrs. Wilkin's story was quite a fascinating tale.
"In a way, yes. Much of what you've heard about him is wrong, but you'll soon see the truth for yourself. Our destination is just through the gate at the top of this hill."
Hermione had been so wrapped up in the story that she had missed the shining gate atop the next hill. Jamie grabbed her hand and dragged her up with him to see what was on the other side of the hill. Her brother's excitement was contagious, and she was soon running with him. They crested the hill and in the valley beyond lay a sprawling village. They could see hundreds of little bearded men scurrying to and fro with great energy. On the far side of the village, there was an enormous pile of wrapped boxes that could only be presents. It stretched above the hilltops to what seemed to be an impossible height. It had to have hundreds of thousands if not millions of presents! It was unbelievable!
As they stood in shock, they heard a laugh from below them. Looking down the hill, they saw an elderly man wearing a big, jovial smile walking towards them. Hermione's first thought was that the man must be Santa, but on closer inspection, she hesitated. This man was far too thin, and he didn't have the bushy white beard with which Santa was always depicted.
"Bath-Monica! It's good to see you!" the old man ran up and gave Mrs. Wilkins an exuberant hug.
"It's be far too long, old friend." Mrs. Wilkins returned the embrace, before separating, "I has not seen you since our last interview in the 60s. I see Penny will finally convinced you to losing some weight."
"Indeed she has." The man scratched his head and blushed, "I assume these are the children you told me about in your last letter? Jamie and Hermione Granger, right?" At her nod, the man kneeled down to address the children.
"Hello, Jamie. Hello, Hermione. Welcome to my home! My name is Nick, but you might know me better as -."
"SANTA!" Jamie ran up and started poking at the man as though he were real. Hermione internally scoffed a bit at her brother's childish enthusiasm, though she secretly wanted to do the same.
It seemed she had been wrong, and Santa was, in fact, a real person. At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to be terribly disappointed. As soon as her brother finished examining the living legend, she'd see if she could convince Santa to arrange a tour for them. There were bound to be untold new things to learn around every corner, and she had so many questions. How did he deliver presents to so many children? And who were the hairy little men wandering around? And what was their job? Her curiosity demanded satisfaction, and she wwouldsatisfy it or get kicked out trying.
A/N: In honor of the upcoming holiday season, we have started into a Christmas-y ark. If everything goes well, it should finish before Christmas actually comes around.
In other news, Mr. Darcy and I are finally back in the same locale. Besides being awesome for us, we hope it will increase the writing speed. (Eleven time zones really have a way of slowing things down. :P)
Lady Beatrice