Holiday Pointlessness by the nutty imp
Summary: A collection of fun and pointless Holiday fics.

1st Story: It's Christmas. Kreacher had to deal with an uninvited guest.

2nd Story: It's Christmas Eve and the Weasley twins has decided to leave some special gifts.

Categories: Humor Fics Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 2 Completed: Yes Word count: 1835 Read: 4429 Published: 12/21/05 Updated: 04/30/06

1. Kreacher, not like a Christmas Song by the nutty imp

2. The Night Before Christmas - A Parody by the nutty imp

Kreacher, not like a Christmas Song by the nutty imp
Kreacher, not like a Christmas Song!



Marianne always did have a sunny disposition. She was an Asian girl - small for her age, but what people noticed about this particular little girl, was neither her size, nor her exotic features. Marianne was born blind. She cannot see, yet she was never one to complain. This little girl was never seen without her loyal dog, Chester.


Now, it's common knowledge that blind people always did have keener senses than us normal folks. This was to compensate for their lack of sight. Marianne was no different.


There was this one particular street that she usually pass; people said that there’s nothing there, just an empty alley. Yet, each time Marianne walked past that alley, she felt a shadow, as if a tall house stood on that narrow alley. Whenever she brought this up, everyone would dismiss it as a child’s wild imaginings. However, this child never wavered from her belief.


One cold day in December, she chose to visit the strange house; the house that those with sight cannot see. She wondered if she was crazy, yet she had to try. Should there truly be an invisible house - she was sure that the occupant or occupants would be lonely. It was after all Christmas, she could at least try to reach out and give a bit of Christmas cheer.


She stood alone on that empty street. It was strange how this particular area felt colder than any part of the street. She closed her eyes and sang:


“Said the night wind to the little lamb,
Do you see what I see? …”


The single occupant inside 12 Grimmauld Place was not happy. He had checked the wards and was sure that everything was in place. No one was supposed to see the house, most especially this Mudblood child. Kreacher checked his mistress’s portrait; relieved was the elf that the irritable painting remained asleep. An elf’s hearing was obviously keener than that of a magical portrait.


Kreacher would not like for his mistress to wake up. She would be displeased. Kreacher had watched over the house and her portrait ever since she passed away. Kreacher was most loyal to his mistress. Kreacher would not want her to be upset.


“Do you know what I know?...”


Kreacher has had enough of the filthy Mudblood. He marched up front and flung the door open.


“Go away filthy Mudblood! Mistress does not like Mudblood near her beautiful house.”


She blinked and then smiled; because now, she knew that she was right. There was indeed a house in this so called empty alley. She could tell that the shrilly voice in front of her, came not from a large man.


“In this alley, some felt an unnatural fear,
However, most said that there’s no house here.
But I always knew that this place held more,
And here you come, to open that door.

This is the season for giving,
So to those forgotten, I offer my singing.
Songs help spread the Christmas cheer.
I thought, this gift, those lonely would hold dear.

Merry Christmas! I’m Marianne, Marianne Fong.
I thought you’d enjoy a little Christmas song.”


Kreacher was surprised. Most Mudbloods would have ran away. This strange and filthy Mudblood child just stood there with her equally filthy dog. Kreacher does not like this at all, his eyes narrowed towards the lewd pair in front of him, and shouted:

“Kreacher, not like a Christmas song,
Kreacher, not like you, Marianne Fong.”


Marianne was unused to such hostility, yet she remained undeterred. She gave Kreacher her best smile and chatted amicably:

“My, you’re awfully crabby.
Perhaps it’s because you’re lonely.
Would you like me to sing inside the house?
Perhaps a song about Santa Claus.”


The one who fiercely guarded the door, remained hostile; his shrilly voice echoed through the empty street.


“Not in the house.
Especially no Santa Claus!
Kreacher, not like a Christmas song
Kreacher, not like you, Marianne Fong.”


Marianne blinked in surprise. She had thought that the occupant would be lonely and would appreciate this little gift, but obviously the occupant was grouchier than anyone she had ever encountered. Because it was Christmas, she once again tried:


“If you don’t want me to sing for you in there,
I don’t mind singing for you out here.”


Kreacher had no patience left for this filthy Mudblood. He once again screamed at her.


“Kreacher, not like you here or there.
Kreacher, not like you anywhere!
Not in the house.
Especially no Santa Claus!
Kreacher, not like a Christmas song
Kreacher, not like you, Marianne Fong.”


The door slammed shut with such a force in front of Marianne’s face, beside her Chester whimpered. She patted her dog and allowed him to lead her away. Maybe she’ll try again next year, or maybe not. She turned around the corner and decided not to give the odd man named Kreacher another thought. She was sure that there would be plenty of other people in this street who would better appreciate her songs.


Inside 12 Grimmauld Place, Kreacher was almost smiling. The demented House Elf was glad that he had gotten rid of the Mudblood; moreover his mistress’s portrait remained asleep, none the wiser of the recent event.


As he walked towards the more shadowy corner of the house, he muttered to himself. “Kreacher watches over the house well; Kreacher keeps Mudbloods and Blood Traitors away from mistress’s house.”


-The End-


A/N - ^_^ If the rhyme sounds somewhat familiar, its because I patterned it from Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs and Ham".

Originally a submission for Challenge # 6 (The Angel Challenge) for the Winter Snows Holiday Challenge of 2005.

The Night Before Christmas - A Parody by the nutty imp
Author's Notes:
Written for lunafish for the SECRET SPEW activity.
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

A parody of the work of Clement Clarke Moore





'Twas the night before Christmas, inside Hogwart’s hallowed walls

Not a soul was stirring ... but wait “ Whence come these strange foot falls?

No, it was not Peeves, the poltergeist floated by without a care,

Far greater mischief awaits in the shadows, somewhere out there;

These children ought to be nestled in their beds,

But visions of pranks danced in their naughty little heads;




“Coast is clear, Gred.”



“Onwards we go then Forge.”



“Hold on, someone’s heading this way “”




The Headmaster walked by, he was wearing a purple nightcap,

Unaware that these mischievous twosome had set a trap.

He walked past the barrier and disappeared from sight.

At this, those pranksters’ eyes twinkled with delight.

The invisible Headmaster continued to whistle merrily,

Only his purple socks could be seen, it moved about eerily.




“Christmas socks, down from the list.”



“On to the next?”



“Brother, you know me too well.”



“As I should.”




Their footsteps left marks upon the freshly fallen snow

Despite the darkness; they dared not set their wands a-glow.

Hence who should suddenly appear...

The half-giant that Hogwarts hold dear,

With only a single spell or maybe two,

Upon his forehead was a bright reindeer tattoo.

Into the shadows, they slipped away.

Into one of their secret passageway




“That’s a pretty lame reindeer, Gred.”



“Well Forge, I don’t see you doing anything. That’s all I could think for the last minute.



“Then dear brother of mine, we ought to plan our next prank well.”




Into his private quarters, the twosome came,

To him, they performed this deed without a name;

With him, they shared neither admiration nor respect

All feared this man, even those know-it-all prefects.

On this night however, they felt neither fear nor remorse,

For they have plans and bigger thing to set to course.

His ears they lengthened, his skin they turned wrinkly green,

Without a doubt, Severus Snape was the ugliest goblin they had ever seen.




“I think he looks a lot better, now.”



“Brother you astound me and I wonder where you placed your head.”



“Why do you say that, my stalwart partner-in-crime?”



“It’s the Christmas season not Halloween, my slow one.”



“Have you not heard of Santa’s elves, sibling-of-mine?”



“Elf? He does not look like one.”



“It’s not my fault that Snape’s one ugly git.”



“Truer words were never spoken; I apologize for being too critical.”



“Never apologize my friend; I always value your opinion.”




The night was young for Gred and Forge.

Who should they see next, but Filch of course.

A flick of a wand was all that they needed,

A angry chipmunk was the result of this deed.




“A chipmunk? You transfigured Filch into a chipmunk?”



“Have you not heard of that Christmas song: Chipmunks roasting on an open fire...”



“That’s chestnuts, you mule-eared moron.”



“Oh ... All these years, I had wondered why Muggles would eat chipmunks for Christmas.”



“Hey, where did Filch go?”



“I think Mrs. Norris got him.”



“What?!? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”



“Don’t blame me, you only asked - now.”



“Why me?”



“Because someone has to?”



“Good come back, brother.”



“But of course.”




Where once there stood a scrawny cat,

A funny-looking nut cracker now sat.




“Any reason for that choice, Gred?”



“I always do believe those two belong to the nuthouse, Forge.”




Silently they ran towards a hidden wall,

They sought a professor who was not so tall.

He who taught them to make feathers fly,

Flitwick was indeed a very small guy.

On their brooms they noiselessly flew,

Soaring into the clouds and down a chimney too.

They surveyed one another from head to foot,

Their clothes all tarnished with ashes and soot;

Their eyes twinkled, the brothers snickered merrily

They whispered and plot, ever so quietly




“What now?”



“Turn him into a bunny and surround him with colourful eggs?”



“That’s Easter you bloody git. Our theme is Christmas.”




Their mouths slowly drew up, so like a bow,

Brothers contemplated on the trouble they had sowed;

They’ve decided to give him a little round belly,

It was made from mounds and mounds of jelly.

Red jelly, they set aside and made him a suit,

And black ones for sticky and gooey black boots.




“Great work Forge!”



”But of course Gred. Now that the list is complete. Let’s head back to our humble retreat.”




Great restraint they had, so not laugh off their heads.

On their way back, the brothers met a sight they dread.

The Deputy Headmistress stood by the door,

To these two prankster, she would be settling a score.




“What have you two got to say for yourselves?”



“Professor McGonagall “ It’s Christmas.”




A rare smile lit upon her usually stern face,

Gestured for them to go on up the staircase.

Both blinked, unable to believe this rare treat;

This made tonight’s activities all the more sweet.

Caught they were, yet left unpunished.

This will be a memory that they would cherish.

Their voices echoed as they ran out of sight,



"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."


This story archived at http://www.mugglenetfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=40236