“I personally like it. It adds a sort of ‘Happy Christmas, but remember that we’re still in charge and will make your life miserable if you even THINK about it’ feeling...” said Meir Brin, surveying the Generic Holiday Tree that Hagrid and Aragog had set up in the Great Hall with approval.

“An’ th’ little Mini-h’Aragogs decorated it themselves, bless them,” added Hagrid, pointing out the cobweb ornaments dotting the giant pine.

“It’s charming,” said Meir Brin, looking at Belphegor and Morchaint, who were both trussed up by their ankles and hanging from some of the higher branches. “They have nice taste in colors.”

“I must be leaving now, I am afraid,” said Aragog, walking slowly towards the doorway, and feeling ahead of him with his front legs. “Mosag is still not happy about Shelob and Ungoliant. I must think about my commitments...”

Hagrid leaned over to Meir Brin and whispered: “Quite nasty littl’ break-up he’s goin’ through, Aragog. Mosag’s none too ’appy ’bout ’im cheatin’ on ’er wi’ Shelob.”

Meir Brin nodded. An arachnid love triangle was a scary thing indeed.

*********

Ally shivered and rubbed her hands together briskly, trying to bring a little warmth into her chilled frame. She felt as if her blood had frozen into little ice cubes. Why, oh why did “Quidditch Is Not for Everyone” have to start up as soon as the weather went below freezing? Dumb question.

Most of the students were wearing heavy wool and their cloaks, except for the Harry- and Oliver-lusters, who were trying to impress their lust-object with tube tops and short-beyond-reason shorts. They were all a nice shade of blue from the cold.

Ally grimaced. She had more sense than to glomp Harry, especially when he was on his Firebolt and several feet above her. Also, the Fodfather was nearby, and she didn’t want him after her.

Ah, yes, the Fodfather. He had recently gone through his “Italian Cuisine Phase,” and was sporting a fresh coat of spaghetti and meatballs. The baguette that served as a tail was thumping on the ground happily, and the Caesar salad that decorated his neck had been spiced up with a few croutons. The twin martini glasses that protruded from his head as ears chinked together as he paced in front of the fanwriters, causing the little olives on toothpicks floating in the glasses to bob up and down.

“All right, all of you are here,” said Oliver Wood, sitting on his broomstick and holding the attendance list. “Welcome to ‘Quidditch Is Not for Everyone’. Too many times have you written about coming to Hogwarts, jumping on a broomstick, and being an expert flier. Even though Harry over here,” he gestured to the other lecturer, who was zooming around the Quidditch pitch, chasing snowflakes, “is a natural Quidditch player and fantastic Seeker, you do not necessarily have the talent. Now, do we have any volunteers?”

Hermione8meg was jumping up and down on the balls of her feet, waving her hand wildly above her head. A drop of drool was running down her chin. “Pick me! Pick me! I love you, Oliver!”

Oliver Wood looked quite stunned. But he was not stupid. No one wanted an airborne luster after himself or herself, even if there was only a 2.63% chance that said luster would be able to actually stay on the broomstick. “Ah... How about you?”

Europa, Marina the Huntress, Mika Sei, Nathonea Dewstan, Amber, and Alanna Roseguard all pointed to themselves and mouthed “Me?” while getting cloudy eyes at the thought of zooming around Hogwarts and impressing their various lust-objects and Canon-idols.

“No,” said Oliver, maneuvering his broom a little lower, “you.”

He was pointing directly at Ally. Hermione8meg looked to be about to have a breakdown. Ally felt sick. Sure, her Original Character was a good flier, but the broomsticks were so high up, and the ground looked so hard...

“Now, here’s the broom. Call it to your hand,” said Oliver, tossing a broomstick to the ground at Ally’s feet.

“Up?” she said, remembering the scene in the movie.

The broom twitched slightly, and then stood up in a scene reminiscent of “The Magician’s Apprentice” from Fantasia. It started to trace letters in the snow.

“T... R... Y... A... G... A... I... N... S... U... C... K... E... R,” spelled Ally, blushing crimson as she understood the message.

Oliver Wood grinned. “Not as easy, is it?”

“Meeee!” wailed Hermione8meg.

Harry flew over to the assembly, and looked to see what the broom had wrought. “Err, why don’t we let them all try? I’d like to get at least some of them off the ground this lesson.”

And thus it all began. Penelope Ross was the next to attempt flight. She had the broom hovering a couple feet above the ground before Eibbor Nakrus distracted her by throwing a snowball. Ally narrowed her eyes. Eibbor Nakrus had been recruited by Peeves to join his Fellowship, along with Rex Natos. They were now going around and painting the walls yellow, in an effort to “dignify the forgotten virtues of Hufflepuff House.” Ally suspected that it was actually a ploy to bring the Fat Friar out of hiding, so that Peeves could prank him.

The Fat Friar, Dudley, and Vernon Dursley had all formed the Obese Character Union, in an effort to end all fat jokes in fanfiction. They had been all right with the Canon taunting, but the fanwriters had taken it to a new level, or as Dudley put it, “I’m only known for my weight! I’m a mean, spiteful bully, but this doesn’t matter because I’m chubby! Why can’t these fanwriters see me for the spoiled brat that I truly am? I’m more than just an overweight slob!”

Terra actually made a bit of progress on the Broomstick From Hell. She had the broom in her hands, and had actually managed to get on it and hover a bit, but then her muscles gave way. Not surprisingly, considering that Professor Trelawney had kidnapped her to work on the Textitus Rock Garden. Terra was so exhausted after moving “O.o”s and “ne way”s around in circles, it was a miracle that she was still standing.

“Pick meeeee...” moaned Hermione8meg, sinking into the snow. “I want to flyyyyy...”

Oliver sighed. “Fine, Miss 8meg. Your turn.”

“Goodygoodygoody!” she squealed, nearly knocking into the Fodfather, who lost one of his olives as he stepped out of the way. Grandmomma Longlegs picked it up out of the snow and dropped it back into his martini for him.

Ally had a very bad feeling. This was not going to be pretty.

Surprisingly, Hermione8meg started out well enough. The broom floated into her hands, though Ally expected that it was resisting all the way. Behold, the power of hormones, Ally thought.

In a few minutes, Hermione8meg was airborne, though the broomstick was bucking and jiggling around in an annoyed fashion. Oliver looked as if he was torn between conjuring a mattress or a stockade between himself and the luster. She was about four meters off the ground when hormones interfered with her better senses.

“Oliver! I love you!” screamed Hermione8meg, speeding towards him and—in a very stupid action—taking her arms off the broomstick.

She fell eight meters and landed on Hayre and Jaems, who dragged her off to the Forbidden Forest to be “decorated.” Ally had a suspicious feeling that she would probably turn up later.

... Tied up by her ankles and dangling from the Generic Holiday Tree, that is.

---

Author’s Note: Once again I would like to thank you all for reading, and would like to wish you all “Happy Holidays.” If there are certain characters that you would like to hear more about, please leave a review. I’m always open to suggestions.

I suppose I must clarify. This does not mean “More Draco! More Draco! I LUUUUVVV HIM!111” Trust me: your lust-objects will be well covered. I’m thinking more along the lines of the secondary characters that we either love because they are lots of fun (i.e. Gilderoy Lockhart) or love to hate (i.e. Rita Skeeter).

So once again, if you have any suggestions, comments, or thoughts, please let me know. Tell me what you want more of (i.e. “The Fellowship of the Peeves,” “The Fodfather,” etc.), or what just doesn’t do it for you. Your comments are all appreciated.

Cheers,
Meir Brin