Three days after Christmas, Ally found herself sitting in the Library with Redfire, Danica Maupoissant, Michelle Solo, and Bre, bemoaning the fact that the Christmas holidays would soon be over and they would have to go back to classes.

Ally pulled a book off the shelves and flipped through the pages lightly. Christmas had come and gone, and she still wasn’t any closer to Harry Potter than when she had first arrived.

Danica Maupoissant was holding a bottle of Elven wine, looking at the label dejectedly. “I wanted Elven wine! From Lord of the Rings! Not house-elf wine.” House-elf wine—brewed from socks and laundry detergent. Eww.

Andtauriel Longwood hobbled by on her stilts. “Can I have it?” she asked. Miss Cam had come and gone on the Crossover trip, and left the hobbit/house-elf student as she was. Lessons this good about the dangers of mixing continuums were hard to come by.

Danica Maupoissant tossed the Andtauriel Longwood the bottle, and looked longingly at Bre’s firewhisky. Bre passed her the beverage. It wasn’t very good anyway, as HFA policy was generally a “No Alcohol or We’ll See How You Like It Washing Dishes at The Whinging Scab” rule, and therefore the firewhisky had been watered down considerably into a kind of smoky broth. The students of HFA had now posted a reward for capture and disposal of the HFA Customs Crew (Crabbe and Goyle).

Ally looked up suddenly as the sound of many footsteps pounded past the entrance to the library. Her first thought was “Remus-/Draco-Stampede,” followed closely by “Mini-Aragog Massacre.” But it was neither of the two. Instead, it was something that none of the fanwriters had hoped for in their wildest dreams.

“All fanwriters please report to the Entrance Hall. All fanwriters, to the Entrance Hall. Now, or Klose will be taking you with her on her next visit to the Isle of Drear,” came the voice of Professor McGonagall over the loud-speaker type system that had been used in Chamber of Secrets.

“What do they want now?” asked Michelle Solo, gathering up her books.

“More Christmas presents?” suggested Redfire, remembering the towel that each of them had received from the HFA staff. Apparently, the towel (embroidered with small spiders) was for excess drool.

“Dunno. We should be going, anyway,” replied Ally, leading the party down the corridor to the Entrance Hall. She did not want to be anywhere near the Isle of Drear, whatever that was.

There was quite a crowd. Ally pushed past GwendolynMorgan and Mercuria Stardust (both of Slashering) and found some of the Canonlaws. Houses at HFA generally got along well, with the possible exception of Lusterbuff and Slashering, who were constantly at each other’s throats. (“Harry and Draco are, too, gay!” “My Draco would never! I love him!”)

“What’s up?” asked Ally, when she recognized Catherine Dark Wolf as looking a bit more knowledgeable than the rest of the group.

“I heard that Fred and George have a gift for us!” she said excitedly.

“And this is good, how?” Ally had little faith that there were “good gifts” for the fanwriters at HFA. Or at least that those gifts would come from Fred and George Weasley

The crowd quieted down. Ally looked at the up at the big stairway and instantly saw why. Her heart skipped. This couldn’t be real, could it?

Descending the stairs was Mr. Ollivander, accompanied by Fred, George, and Ludo Bagman. They were all carrying a great deal of small boxes, stacked like a Jenga game. Mr. Ollivander leaned over and deposited the boxes on a step. A hush fell over the crowd.

Fred Weasley pulled out a long roll of parchment. “Selena Luna. Ash wood and unicorn hair, twelve inches.”

Selena Luna rushed up the steps, and grabbed the box that Ludo Bagman offered to her. She opened the box, and took out—a wand! It’s real, not some sick joke of the Canon Characters! thought Ally excitedly. Selena Luna gave the stick a wave, and several sparks shot out. Whispers among the fanwriters grew. A few of the students that had put down “Muggle” as their lineages were fidgeting with jealousy. Magic, they would be doing magic at Hogwarts!

“KazraGirl,” said Fred. “Birch wood and unicorn hair, eleven inches.” KazraGirl got her wand and skipped out of the hallway, making a beeline for the library and all the Silencing Spells she could get her hands on.

Thirty wands later, Fred got to a name that created a bit of a stir. “Nasha Potter,” said Fred. The Muggle fanwriters whispered excitedly. Nasha Potter was a Muggle. Now they would see if they could get wands as well. The Muggle populace held their breath...

“Oak and unicorn hair, thirteen inches, Ipiopius coated.”

Cheers from the Muggle fanwriters! They didn’t know what Ipiopius was (probably some FCS; sounded like one), but they didn’t care. They were getting wands, too!

“Ipiopius is something we have recently discovered Lurking in the plumbing. Type of mold, it seems. Through much experimentation, we have found a way to impart temporary powers onto the Muggle portion of HFA. Enjoy it, while you can,” laughed Mr. Ollivander. Harry had been right. He was creepy.

And so that night, three days after Christmas, Ally and all the fanwriters of went to sleep clutching their new treasures. In a few weeks they would realize what exactly their wands could do, but until that time came they were content to sleep, with visions of lust-objects dancing in their heads.

*********

Meanwhile, in Aerobics Lair, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape were opening the last of their presents under the Generic Holiday Tree.

“Another pair!” groaned Draco, tossing the garment into a pile. “This has got to be the seventh pair of black silk boxers they’ve gotten me!”

“The ninth,” corrected Meir Brin, who was watching the process with some amusement. “I’ve been keeping a tally.”

Severus Snape looked up through his curtain of greasy hair. “I have lost count of my total.”

Meir Brin glanced at her list. “You have eleven pairs of black silk boxers, four pairs of green silk boxers, ten bottles of Herbal Essences shampoo, and one kitten.”

“Riaow,” said Salazar the kitten, a gift from Grandmomma Longlegs.

“This is so demeaning,” sighed Professor Snape.

“Cheer up, Sevvie!” said Gilderoy Lockhart from the sofa. “I only got a muzzle from the fanwriters! You’re famous! Did I ever tell you that fame is a fickle friend?”

“Tell me how fame is a fickle friend,” said Rita Skeeter, who was curled up on the sofa next to Lockhart. Meir Brin turned around quickly. Skeeter had met Lockhart about five days ago, and the two were now in love. Meir Brin didn’t know how this had happened, but, for reasons to preserve her own sanity, really didn’t want to know.

Hermione walked by the Generic Holiday Tree, carrying her embossed version of Hogwarts: A History. Severus Snape looked up from his eleventh bottle of shampoo. “Granger, do you have your notes written up yet?” he asked in one of his more pleasant tones.

“Oh, yes,” she said, pulling a sheaf of parchment out from between the pages of her book. “Here it is. ‘Seven thousand reasons why Severus Snape and I would never “get it on”’.”

Meir Brin snorted into her Butterbeer.

Draco looked up from his fifth “Slytherin Bad Boy” muscle shirt. “Do you have our list written up?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Hermione, pulling out another stack of papers. “Seven thousand reasons why I’m not a...” She coughed loudly. “Why do they think I breed with every male at this school? Until the next book comes out, they should at least keep to plausible speculation!”

Viktor Krum hurried over to where Hermione was on the verge of having a major rant-fest. “It’s all right, Hermy-own-ninny,” he said in his thick Bulgarian accent.

Hermione took a few deep breaths and walked off hand-in-hand with Viktor. Victor, Krum’s personal Mini-Aragog, followed behind them.

Meir Brin surveyed the large room, and smiled in spite of herself. Lord Voldemort Senior, Tom Riddle, and Lord Voldemort Junior (LVJ) were removing snow-encrusted scarves after taking LVJ for a ride in his baby-buggy, all the time arguing enthusiastically. Remus and Sirius were poking Peter Pettigrew in the back of the head with an elongated candy cane while the turncoat wrote a formal apology to Bertha Jorkins. Stan Shunpike was teaching Fleur Delacour how to “spit like a man.”

And near the fireplace, Harry Potter was spending time with Lily and James. No one was disturbing them, under threat of Mini-Aragog Yo-Yo Duty. Christmas was a time for family and friends, and even HFA wouldn’t go against that.

---

Happy Holidays, everyone. See? HFA isn’t such a rotten place after all. ^_^

Oh, and yes, I do think Gilderoy/Rita is plausible (to some extent). He wants publicity; she wants dirt on a celebrity. Anyone who writes a Gilderoy/Rita romance will receive both my respect (for going where no fanwriter has gone before {well, after my suggestion, anyway}) and The HFA Award for Originality.

Cheers to you all,
Meir Brin