A Very Merry Christmas
They were all invited to the burrow for Christmas.
Within a day, they were all evacuated.
If anyone asks, it was Draco’s fault really.
It started off well, of course, as it always does. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley taking pity on the poor family-less individuals, inviting them all to spend christmas break with their own.
“I don’t think this is right.”
Given instructions to decorate the humungous christmas tree freshly plucked from the woods, Harry placed a blue bulb on the tree branch. One bulb is enough to have the tree flying forwards, crash landing right on top of Dobby, nothing to be seen but his dirty feet.
“Harry!”
Hermione runs forward and yells at Ron to help her, determined to make sure Dobby isn’t a marshmallow. Sirius laughs and pats Harry on the back. He pats him with a bit too much eggnog in his system.
Harry goes flying and crashes right into his two friends, all of them becoming one with the Christmas tree.
“Dobby can no longer feel his legs!”
Discreetly, Draco sneaks out the hidden wine from Mrs. Weasley’s cabinet.
Dumbledore is clipping his toenails to the left of the mess, one abnormally long nail flying and disappearing into the tree. His eyes twinkle. Hedwig feels disgusted.
“A little extra decoration!”
Bill Weasley stands at the doorway with an armful of muggle christmas lights, alarm donning his face.
“Ah, I see that our weightless weight charm worked!”
“Indeed it has.”
At the voices of the familiar red-headed duo, Hedwig’s interest is peaked.
Oh no. Harry has worked so hard his entire time at Hogwarts to prevent the interaction of the Weasley twins and Hedwig, knowing that the word will never be the same.
The tree that they’re all toppled on suddenly explodes.
Harry, on top, is sent up flying the highest and ricochets off the ceiling, landing back on top of Dobby with a resounding crack.
Hermione and Ron are thrown across the room, one of Dumbledore’s toenails flying and hitting Ron right in the eye.
“Eugh!”
“Dobby’s arms!”
Hedwig is liking the potential she is seeing. The three of them share a look. The Wizarding Workd is doomed.
Meanwhile, Ginny sneaks up on Draco, poor sod sitting there staring at his dragon tattoo in oblivion, half drunken bottle in his right hand.
“I’m going to tell my mom what you’ve done.”
At this, Draco grows a little panicked. “No, female ginger, don’t- I’m positive we can work something out.”
Ginny hums and exits via doorway, off to go find and tell her mother.
Draco clumsily stands up, only banging his head off the cabinet once, chasing after her.
“Female Weasley, please- hey!”
Within a split second, Ginny turns around with a wicked and ungodly look on her face, eyes twinged with mania.
(Tom Riddle, is that you?)
“You know, Draco. You’re turning into such a… handsome man.”
She slowly stalks toward him and Draco is completely lost by these turn of events.
“Uh, uh…”
Ginny points upwards and it takes Draco a minute, still in his stupor, realizing that he has to look up.
There’s a mistletoe conveniently placed above them.
Draco, unsureness overtaking him because surely this cannot mean what he thinks it means, slowly follows her arm back down, regaining eye contact with the crazy Weasley chick who surely can’t have a crush on him!
“Oh shit, I never would’ve guessed you out of all people…”
Ginny’s eye twitches. She opens up her mouth to reply with sweet nothings but Draco interrupts her.
“I suppose it is about time puberty starts for you-“
“…Huh?” Ginny deadpans at him. What. “I’ve been in puberty since before Hogwarts.”
Draco nods awkwardly. “Are you sure? I don’t think that’s true.”
Draco remembers learning at some point that girls definitely start becoming a woman after Hogwarts age.
“Why… what…”
Is he fighting her on her own hormones? Why would Ginny not know her own-
Never mind.
She plasters a sweet smile back on her face, arms behind her back and slowly leaning up and in towards him, about to make use of this mistletoe situation-
-Harry, honest to god probably having yet another concussion, doesn’t know what to make of the situation he stumbled upon.
“Hey whoa, I feel like a wrong turn was just taken here for some reason.”
Draco uses this opportunity to dip. (Will poor Draco ever have luck with love?)
Ginny is insanely pissed, she was so close to collecting a direct spit dna sample from the Malfoy boy. The Slytherin girls in the year above her promised her big bucks if she managed this! Ginny wanted money dammit!
She turned towards Harry and whips out her wand, ready to make him pay!
“Whoa hey Ginny, Ginny no-“
“If I can’t have him, then I’ll just make use of you!”
Ginny attacks Harry full throttle, dragging the poor boy away screaming. He tries to crawl back to the living room, hand gripping the wall so hard that a crack forms.
“Help-“
Ginny drags him away by his legs cackling. She will make money!
In the main room, summoned rats appear. It’s like something straight out of Ron’s nightmares. A big fire starts from the kitchen, Hedwig was trying to show the twins a unique potion recipe. Ron cowers behind Hermione, his trauma resurfacing in front of him.
In Hedwig’s defense, it technically wasn’t her that started this fire.
“Oh no, my wine!”
A wine fire.
Sirius takes his wand and sends out a jet of water, eager to fix this situation.
“Dirty Blood-traitor master is doing it wrong!”
Kreacher sends out even more water, inches rising on the floor. Dobby, battered and not in the right state of mind, not that he really ever is, sees this as friendly competition.
“Dobby will win!”
One burnt and flooded house later, this is how everyone is relocated to Hogwarts for Christmas.
—
Ollivander has stockholm syndrome.
Voldemort paces around Lucius’ fireplace humming the tune to a childhood christmas song he heard back at the orphanage from the kid who’s friend he killed, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand.
He was a pleasant acquaintance too, until he killed his best friend.
How unfortunate that people just can’t get over some things. It’s not like he killed the boy himself, after all. And he left him all his limbs!
He gets rilled up just thinking about this.
Voldemorts minion comes through the fireplace, on fire. In his panic ridden dance, he knocks up against the bird cage, lighting flame to his shirt.
“No! Ollivander!”
Voldemort throws Barty back into the fireplace where he came from to put all his attention on his burning friend.
“Do not fret, you will not die anytime soon.”
Ollivander nods solemnly.
—
Visible from any Hogwarts window, Albus Dumbledore speeds by on a muggle lawnmower, snow rising around him. Arthur Weasley follows.
“Dad didn’t even open my gift…”
Ron put a lot of effort into saving up money to buy his father his treasured rubber duckies. It’s become a yearly tradition of his.
Sirius and Draco are enjoying… “eggnog.”
Harry has given up, sitting wrapped in his bandages, defeated. He wants to go home, but quite literally does not have one.
He can’t bring himself to open his gift from Dobby, wrapping paper itself dipped in something foreign.
Hedwig is off attending to other business.
Specifically, a tall lanky man who has made it his sole mission to avoid her as of late.
Snape is peacefully residing in his room, away from his usual dealings.
Hearing that familiar creak, he freezes, oxygen that was going to his outer limbs slowing, hands numbing.
His eyes slowly side over to the window thats been left unlocked. How could he have made such a foolish mistake?
Horror movie themed, eyes following a white head peer around the curtain, seering into his very soul. Maybe today would finally be the day his misery would end?
No, he’s never been that lucky.
Instead of pushing the window forward just a little bit more, Hedwig exploded the window and flied right in, nice as you please.
She had a present for him.
Hedwig’s been missing her favorite playtoy.
*Friend, Hedwig’s been missing her favorite friend.
Landing on the middle of his table, directly seated in front of him, she opens her mouth wide, that familiar void taunting him.
A dead rat comes out.
Oops, wrong one.
A small box comes out, slimy fluids and previously swallowed organs accompanying it.
Hedwig stares at Snape, waiting for him to take action.
He takes out a handkerchief and shakily reaches for the box, expecting his hand to go missing just like Dumbledore’s mysteriously did.
He holds the box, eyes squeezed.
…Nothing happens.
Peeking his eyes back open, he stares down at the gross box. Hedwig is still in the same exact position, just staring.
He opens the box. It’s a group of cards, pastel in color and all with positive quotes about letting go of resentment and embracing forgiveness.
He stares back up at her, not knowing what this means, fearing for his own safety.
This is her way of apologizing for what’s yet to come.
She takes her leave, not before she shits on his bed of course.
Snape is left sitting in silence, gooey poo on his freshly washed comforter.
—
Voldemort receives a package, specially delivered by Hedwig.
She flies in stealthily, a package tied to her leg. Harry owes her one.
It seems she’s interrupted something.
Ollivander sits there being coddled by Voldemort himself, both of them covered in soot. Voldemorts identical bird head stares back at her.
The deranged make eye contact with each other.
“How did you break through my wards, you disgusting bird?”
Disgusting?! He dares to call her disgusting after he stole her face and bird shit? She tells him as much.
They get into a nonverbal argument, poor Ollivander watching them have an intense stare down from his place on the couch.
Hedwig whips the package at him, pelting the copycat directly in his overly long beak.
Making a split second decision, angry that she even had to be here and wanting to make that known, Hedwig the hellfire creates a tornado, Lucius’ mansion not standing a chance. His walls, his statues, his carpets… All of it is sent flying along with one peacock that was questionably in the house.
(In Azkaban, Lucius feels a cold front come on, and it’s not just a stray dementor.)
Voldemort brings up his wand, fueling her own chaos and destruction. Ollivander sits there blankly.
“Not the peacock!”
Narcissa comes out in her night clothes, clearly previously sleeping. She has the face of a rightous woman.
“That is Draco’s Peacock!”
Hedwig stops. Voldemort stops.
“I see.”
They watch as the peacock gets up resiliently, striding away with not even a limp.
The package that was tied to Hedwig’s leg sits on the floor. Voldemort picks it up.
Eyeing her down with her own face, he rips the ribbon, unveiling what Harry has sent to his mortal enemy.
Glitter sprays into his face.
Everything turns deadly quiet, glitter decorating his body.
She steals his christmas lights and leaves.