The Week Before Christmas
Butterbeer, pixies and pranks
November 2nd 1992 – Hogwarts’ staff room 7:00am
Dumbledore entered the staff room with Professor McGonagall to an array of separate conversations and hushed whispering.
“Quiet please. I understand that you must all be wondering why I’ve called this urgent staff meeting,” he began.
“Not really, when you consider what happened at Halloween,” Professor Kettleburn replied. “I kind of feel sorry for that poor troll. Didn’t stand a chance against that giant chicken.”
“Or the hellhound,” Kendra deadpanned.
“And let’s not forget that werewolf. Is anybody else astounded that a second-year student has nearly perfected in a month what potions masters, wizards and witches have failed to do for hundreds of years?” Professor Sinistra commented.
“I didn’t consider the werewolf due to the fact the potion was clearly still in a developmental stage and we were very lucky not to end up Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, Wizardry and Werewolves,” Kendra responded as Snape’s smug grin quickly turned sour once more.
“That werewolf,” Professor McGonagall growled looking across at her fellow staff members, “has a name.”
Professor Sinistra gulped as she saw the look of condemnation slowly spread across the vice principal’s face. “I-I am sorry, Minerva; I did not mean to offend you in anyway. Miss Granger continues to be an exceptional student, in spite of her ailment, and I shall not make the same mistake again,” she hurriedly corrected herself, lowering her head in submission as she did so.
Kendra simply shrugged her shoulders and retorted cheekily, “Correction, Mittens the luminous pink werewolf would have infected a significant percentage of the school’s students if not for her favourite chew toy, her draconequus girlfriend. This school is fucking nuts.”
As a number of the professors attempted to hide sniggers of laughter, Madam Pomfrey grumbled, “Can you ever keep that mouth of yours shut. I hope you enjoy cleaning bedpans because that is what you’re going to be doing in the infirmary for the next fortnight and might I remind you this is a staff meeting not quidditch practice, swearing is not appropriate.”
Kendra groaned and looked skyward as a devilish smile crossed Minerva’s face. A sudden loud cough then brought everyone’s attention back to Hogwarts’ headmaster
“Order, please. Yes, we shall come back to the Halloween incident shortly but first there is a more pressing matter for us to address.”
“The amount of Hufflepuffs ending up in the infirmary?” Madam Pomfrey interrupted to yet another round of laughter. “I’ve at least two of the quidditch team every week coming in right now because of one ailment or another.”
Kendra simply whistled and looked away with a guilty look across her face as her mentor glanced in her direction. Almost all those injuries were caused by either her or Susan and the bludgers. What the other girl lacked in physical strength she sure did make up for in being a complete and utter ruthless nutcase. The word ‘mercy’ was most definitely one that wasn’t in that girl’s dictionary and more than one of the team had found that out the hard way.
“If that is something you would like to discuss matron, then there will be time at the end of the meeting for other matters but first and foremost we need to discuss and decide upon this year’s Christmas Competition task!”
More groans erupted around the classroom, the previous few years' events fresh in their memories. These groans though abruptly stopped as Snape raised his hand, even though everyone already knew what the potions master was going to say. The only suggestion that Severus ever made in these situations was to request that such a charade and pointless exercise be axed from the Hogwarts calendar.
“Severus, if this is another attempt to get the Christmas competition…,” Headmaster Dumbledore began.
“No, Albus dear friend. Actually, I’ve a suggestion for this year’s competition,” Severus started only to be halted by gasps of shock and surprise by the other professors.
“Okay, who are you and where’s the real Severus Scrooge? Been visited by four ghosts, have we?” Professor Sprout teased referencing the famous muggle book each of the houses had had to act out one previous year for the Christmas competition.
“More like four annoying second-years. I may have made an error of judgement and now have a debt to pay to one Miss Prewett,” Snape explained.
The smile on Professor Sprout’s face immediately fell away. “What have you done?” she said in a deliberately slow tone that clearly highlighted the sudden feelings of panic, dread and fear that had sprung out of nowhere in the depths of her being.
“I awoke her in the car ride here just as she was about to discover Ginny Weasley’s Hogwarts’ house in her dream. After a swift discussion, I may have declared that the day a Weasley is placed into any house aside from Gryffindor is the day I start teaching you how to brew butterbeer,” Snape explained some more.
One of Professor Sprout’s eyes twitched and, in that moment, she wanted to do nothing more than strangle her idiotic colleague with Devil’s Snare until he was blue in the face. And then, as expected, that inevitable sense of dread that had been bubbling inside her exploded like a jack in the box.
“Splendid idea Severus. Anyone oppose having the students attempt to brew butterbeer for this year’s Christmas competition?” Professor Dumbledore asked.
In reality the staff knew he wasn’t asking and that he had already made his mind up. Stunned silence engulfed the staff room.
*
Tuesday 8th December 1992
Deep in the dungeons, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…until a horde of second-years came barrelling down the steps in a hurry.
“C’mon, Snape will have our heads if we’re late!” Scootaloo yelled at the top of her lungs at the front of her posse. Mist hung in front of her mouth after every word she spoke, showing just how cold the dungeons were at this time of year.
“Personally, I’m in no rush. He’ll find one way or another to punish us anyway, especially since the whole Ravenclaw quidditch match incident,” Susan stated bluntly hugging her shoulders in a vain attempt to get warm.
“Well, you did nearly take his head off with a rogue bludger,” Apple Bloom growled sourly.
“Hey, we were playing in a fucking blizzard!” Susan retorted indignantly, “I could barely see an inch in front of my face!”
“Yet, you and Kendra somehow managed to wipe out six of the Ravenclaw team,” Apple Bloom said calmly yet with the look of a condescending mother.
Apple Bloom may, or may not, have also already made it clear to Snape that Susan’s actions had, one hundred percent, not been an accident. She had watched over the past few weeks as the Potions professor had utilised his new test subject. If having to literally drink liquid fire before the game to minimise the effect of Hypothermia during it hadn’t been enough, poor Susan had then had to suffer drinking liquid ice as Snape threw fireballs at her before then being coated in boils and made to test her own and fellow peers' attempts as they revised the cure for boils all for doing nothing but looking at Snape the wrong way. Unfortunately for her it had also been near a full moon as well, meaning Scootaloo had had control over her and Hermione’s attempt.
“Sheer luck,” Susan blatantly lied as just the memory of the lesson brought a shiver to her spine. She swiftly repressed it and focused on a more amusing image. “The look on the Ravenclaw seekers face after she caught the snitch only to find out her team were already six hundred and twenty to forty points behind as the rest of her team had been sent to the infirmary long before. She was a crafty wench though. No matter how much we tried, she just kept slipping away from me and Kendra in that blizzard.”
Scootaloo tittered. “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of rumours about their new seeker and her performance in those extremely trying conditions only cemented those rumours. Even I, with my Pegasus enhanced eyesight, was struggling to find the snitch in that storm. She’s going to be a tricky one to deal with in future games, that’s for certain. Now, buck up we’re…”
She stopped mid-sentence as she entered the classroom and saw the new layout. Most the tables now lay spread out in a line at the front of the classroom topped with all manner of ingredients, from herbs and spices to cream soda, chocolate, ice cream and so on and so forth.
Only four tables had survived the long line and these now sat clumped in two sets of two on either side of the room.
“What in Equestria?” Scootaloo queried.
“Ah, glad to see you all finally made it, just in time to. I would hate for you all to have to be in detention in the final week of term,” Snape sneered unsympathetically. “Hufflepuffs to the tables on the right, Gryffindors to the left and I’ll explain what we shall be doing in a moment.”
A wide grin had slowly crossed Scootaloo’s face as she rushed over to the Hufflepuff table. The boys were already there looking over a sheet of paper with looks of astonishment across their faces.
Scootaloo immediately snatched it out of Wayne’s hand as she arrived and barely kept her voice down as she exclaimed “Butterbeer: A basic recipe!!!”
“Yes, Miss Prewett. A promise is a promise,” Snape addressed from the front of the classroom with a resigned sigh. “This year’s Christmas competition shall pit each of the four houses against each other on Friday afternoon in the Great Hall to see which can brew the best variant of non-alcoholic butterbeer. And I will repeat myself, NON-alcoholic butterbeer,” he added directing a stern gaze at Scootaloo.
“Hey, why are you looking at me like that,” Scootaloo retorted indignantly before she could stop herself.
“Would you like me to show everyone your prior record, including several visits to the hospital for alcohol…”
“Never mind, I’ll be quiet,” Scootaloo swiftly interrupted looking suddenly quite alarmed.
“Good. Now, in preparation for the task, each class this week shall be separated into houses and provided with nothing more than a basic recipe. From here you must spend what little time you have wisely testing and brewing different combinations of ingredients that have been provided for you to find your perfect mix. This, you can then share with the rest of your house Friday afternoon. Meanwhile, for homework, over the holidays I want you to each write me up a piece of parchment on the origins and development of butterbeer over the centuries,” Snape continued heartlessly.
Groans erupted around the classroom. Only Snape could give them homework over the holidays.
“As like last year the rules are simple. No sabotage and you’ll have three hours on Friday with your fellow housemates to discuss and brew your chosen concoction which can be absolutely anything as long as it doesn’t poison me, Dumbledore or the other heads of house. This year we shall also have a record number of house points to give away, twenty from each head of house and forty from Dumbledore, along with eighty to the house that receives the most votes. So that’s two hundred house points available in total, with a sole house able to win one hundred and eighty in total. And let us not forget the extra special house Christmas party in the Great Hall for the winning house. Any questions?” Snape finished directing the final question as more of a statement than a question to empathise that any student who did ask a question did so at their own peril.
Every student got the message and didn’t dare irritate the Potions professor further. It was clear to everyone present this was already humiliating enough for him and any silly questions would likely incur a heavy price for their impudence.
“As I expected. You may begin.” Snape droned returning to his desk to do some marking over a cup of steaming hot coffee to rid him of the chill in the air this morning. He may or may not have also slipped in a drop of firewhiskey to make these final few lessons of the year just a little more bearable.
At the same time, everyone on the Hufflepuff table had turned their attention toward Apple Bloom.
“Why are y’all looking at me for?” The girl retorted indignantly. “I’m a Potions protégé, not a backstreet booze brewer.”
“Nice alliteration Bloom, but still, you’re not getting out of it. Our whole house is counting on you to win that party for them!” Scootaloo pleaded.
“Still not buying it,” Apple Bloom deadpanned defiantly crossing her arms across her chest and giving Scootaloo a flat look of refusal.
“You’ll make Professor Sprout happy. I don’t think Hufflepuff has ever won the Christmas competition under her tenure before,” Scootaloo tried desperately knowing her words were falling on deaf ears.
Apple Bloom simply raised an eyebrow and continued giving Scootaloo a stubborn look of refusal.
“I’ll tickle you into submission,” Scootaloo blurted attempting anything to make her friend cooperate.
“You even try and…”
“Oh, and I forgot to add, all of Hufflepuffs creations are to be tried by Miss Bones,” Snape’s voice suddenly interrupted from the front of the class where he had taken a second to look up from the stack of papers he was scrutinising.
“I’ll poison Susan again and tell Kendra it was your fault,” Scootaloo exclaimed.
“Yeah Bloom, she’ll…wait, what,” Susan began only to suddenly turn and stare at Scootaloo with a look of terror as the whole cure for boils episode played over in her mind once more. “So many eyes,” the girl whimpered hugging herself and shaking uncontrollably.
“See, do you really want to see me accidentally, I don’t know, give Susan a tail, acid breath or something similar?
“Give me that recipe,” Apple Bloom sighed snatching said recipe from Scootaloo’s hand.
*
“Give me mooooooore!” Susan roared half an hour later as Apple Bloom used every last ounce of her Earth pony strength to restrain the other girl.
“Huh, what?” Scootaloo said awakening with a jerk in the chair she had been napping in. “Okay Bloom, I think you might have made the Butterbeer just a little to good,” she chuckled nervously looking over at the wild eyes, foaming rabid mouth and desperate struggling of Susan in Apple Bloom’s grip like some kind of butterbeer addicted zombie.
“You think dodo brain? Why don’t you YOW,” Apple Bloom chastised before yelping in pain as Susan bit her. “Ouch Susan that…moreeeeeeeee,” Apple Bloom suddenly repeated dropping the other girl and likewise adopting wild eyes and a foaming mouth as they both started to head Scootaloo’s way.
“Oh crap,” Scootaloo whimpered closing her eyes before the snap of Apple Bloom’s camera was followed by something wet and creamy hitting her face. Wait what? She slowly opened her eyes to find her entire face covered in whipped cream and all her housemates doubling over with laughter.
“Oh, my word, we got her good!” Apple Bloom wheezed wiping the whipped cream from her own face while barely able to control her sides from splitting with laughter. “That’ll teach you for sleeping through the majority of the lesson. These photos are going straight on our house and second-year noticeboards.”
“Wait, what?” Scootaloo replied looking totally befuddled. “Did you two just prank me? Me, the Goddess of Chaos!” Scootaloo exclaimed in astonishment.
“Yep, we pranked the goddess of pranks and got her good. Seriously cap, how stupid must you be to think that non-alcoholic butterbeer can cause such a reaction, even if I will admit it was exquisite. We’re a shoo-in to win on Friday,” Susan chipped in slowly recovering herself until she caught a glimpse of the slowly developing photos in Apple Bloom’s hands and dropped to the floor unable to control herself she was laughing that much. “Stop, stop, I can’t take anymore, that’s priceless.”
Scotaloo’s nose started to twitch.
“Thanks Susan. It still needs some minor tweaks on Thursday but then we’ll be good to go on Friday,” Apple Bloom replied trying desperately, and failing badly, at hiding her own amusement at the incriminating photos.
Scootaloo attempted diplomacy. “Come on now Bloom, you’ve had your fun and taught me a lesson, there’s no need for…”
“The whole school to see me and Neville sharing an intimate moment?” Apple Bloom interrupted as Professor Snape approached. “Oh, my, word, this is priceless!” she giggled staring at the mortified Scootaloo once more within one of the magical photos.
Scootaloo’s face dropped. Ah fuck, she was screwed. And Snape almost certainly wouldn’t take her corner over Apple Bloom’s. She was contemplating making a desperate lunge for the photos when Snape spoke.
“Effingo,” the Potions master cast causing an exact duplicate of the photos to appear and flutter into his hand. A wicked sneer crossed his lips as he took in the photos. “I’m sure the teachers’ lounge noticeboard will enjoy these copies, your father in particular at how his daughter was so easily tricked.”
Scootaloo’s face somehow dropped even more with shame at being so easily pranked as Snape went on.
“Although I usually frown upon pranks in class, it is Christmas and you weren’t exactly helping your fellow housemates from what I saw Miss Prewett,” Snape growled causing Scootaloo to wish she could just dig and bury herself in her own grave then and there. “As such, five points each to Miss Bloom and Miss Bones for their ingenuity. Now, it is time for you all to pack away your equipment. The lesson is over and just be grateful Miss Prewett that it is Christmas and I am as such feeling lenient. Any further sleeping in class though will result in severe punishment. I make myself clear.”
Scootaloo gulped nervously. “Yes sir.”
“Good,” was all Snape said in reply already heading back to his desk with the two duplicate photos.
Meanwhile Scootaloo’s mind had begun to whir and tick. In an instant it had come to a conclusion:
WAR
*
“SCOOTALOO I’M GOING TO…” Apple Bloom never finished as for the umpteenth time Wally shot through her sending yet another frightening chill coursing through her body as she was caked in even more ectoplasm.
“YOU JUST GOT FUCKING SLIMED FOR THE TWENTY THIRD FUCKING TIME BITCH!” Wally cawed in response.
“What, I’m only practicing the Skurgecharm as Professor Flitwick instructed,” Scootaloo replied with feigned innocence. “Although, if you wouldn’t mind handing over some photos I believe that are in your poss…”
“NEVER!” Apple Bloom exploded. “And anyway, its already to late,” she added with a devilish smirk.
The girl had a mushroom sticking out the top of her head while her nose would now not have been out of place on a hag with the number of warts it possessed. And that was only the start of Scootaloo’s so-called failed attempts. A horse’s hoof instead of her right hand was another and why she couldn’t currently retaliate to the hexes and jinxes Scootaloo was currently casting on her while feebly attempting to cover them up as Skurgecharm attempts. She didn't dare risk casting such spells with her weaker hand in case they backfired whilst it didn’t help Scootaloo’s defence that the name of the charm was the same as the required incantation either.
Apple Bloom had been on her guard ever since they had left Potions for lunch where she had slyly slipped both the photos onto the second-year noticeboard after making a copy herself. It was only after lunch though as she and her friends were just about to enter the Charms classroom to continue their rather relaxed practice of the Skurgecharm that Scootaloo’s plan had become obvious as Wally darted out of a wall and straight through Apple Bloom, leaving the poor girl covered head to toe in ectoplasmic residue. Scootaloo had then immediately pulled her into the classroom so that she could attempt to clean her up, or rather feign she was practicing the spell to enact her revenge.
“I know,” Scootaloo replied with a wicked smirk of her own. “I actually perfected this spell with Hermione yesterday.”
Apple Bloom’s temper was just about to snap when her head was suddenly encased by a pumpkin.
“Oops, seems the spell isn’t Melofors either. Dearie me my memory is atrocious today!” Scootaloo lied.
Inside the pumpkin Apple Bloom took a deep breath and attempted to quell the raging beast that lurked deep inside of her and that was right now breaking a number of the chains that bound it.
“No, you silly idiot. That’s just what Scootaloo wants you to do and you are well aware from prior experience you’ll only end up pranking one another over and over again until someone else intervenes and you end up in a whole heap of trouble. This needs to stop now!” Apple Bloom muttered to herself under her breath.
“Hey Bloom, you’ll need to do more than pray for a saviour,” Scootaloo mocked only for her confident grin to turn to a look of confusion as Apple Bloom let out a shrill whistle from within the pumpkin.
“What…” Scootaloo began before a hefty black lump sent her sprawling to the floor.
“Mercy, mercy,” Scootaloo screamed in between slobbery, smelly wet doggy licks to her face as Wallace pinned her to the floor.
“Truce?” Apple Bloom enquired walking over to Scootaloo whilst lifting the pumpkin of her head.
“Yes, yes, anything, just call him off, he stinks!” Scootaloo practically screamed.
Before Apple Bloom could even say a word, Wallace rose, turned, farted in Scootaloo’s face and then, with a huff of indignation, sat down on the girl’s chest with his back to Scootaloo.
“ACK,” Scootaloo coughed and sputtered. “No fair, chemical warfare,” the girl wheezed desperately trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes as Wallace’s tail began to slap her face.
“Serves you right for being so mean and inconsiderate to poor Wallace,” Apple Bloom scolded.
“Mean? What do you… oh dear god, I can actually taste it in my mouth. What in Celestia’s name have you eaten? It smells like raw sewage, fish, rotten eggs and body odour mixed all into one and then left in a box to mature for a whole year,” Scootaloo pressed urgently.
“That’s oddly specific,” Apple Bloom replied with a quizzical look across her face.
“WHAT DOES THAT MATTER. JUST TELL THIS DAMN MUTT TO… hey, what are you doing now. No, don’t you…”
Scootaloo screamed as Wallace rose, did a ginormous shit on her chest, kicked it all over her and then in a huff walked over to Apple Bloom’s side with the look of a dog who’s just had their favourite bone confiscated.
“Did he just?” Susan queried in disbelief
“Yes,” Sweetie Belle said with an air of resignation next to Susan, face palming her right hand as she did so.
“Oh, sweet Celestia, it somehow smells even worse than the fart,” Scootaloo gagged trying desperately to hold her breath and failing miserably.
It was at that point that Apple Bloom couldn’t hold it in anymore and doubled over with laughter. “Serves you right for hurting his feelings and casting all those jinxes and hexes on me,” she finally managed to wheeze as she gave Wallace’s head a stroke, the dog whining pitifully as she did so.
Reading that book of Lockhearts was finally paying off for Apple Bloom as she realised that maybe sometimes it does pay to not rush head first into a situation.
*
After catching a waft of Scootaloo, Professor Flitwick had immediately ended the lesson ten minutes early under the guise of a Christmas reward for everyone’s hard work this term. In truth he had simply wanted to get rid of the source of the foul odour that was beginning to infiltrate the entire classroom as far away from him as possible before he brought his lunch back up. To add insult to injury for poor Scootaloo, Professor Sprout had then proceeded to “accidentally” drop a bag of dragon manure compost on her in an attempt to cover the smell. It hadn’t worked and the Herbology professor had swiftly conceded defeat, written a note explaining their absence, and then let Hermione cart her girlfriend off to the prefect’s bathroom.
“Incendio,” Hermione cast whilst pointing her wand at the foul-smelling robes Scootaloo had just taken off.
Said robes immediately went up in flames. Scootaloo looked on absolutely flabbergasted.
“Hermione,” Scootaloo eventually whined. “They were my good robes. Couldn’t you have just sent them to be washed or used scourgify on them?”
“They were far beyond saving and it’s not like you haven’t the galleons to pay Rarity or Madam Malkin to make you some more. Besides, they were getting too small on you anyway,” Hermione argued.
A wry grin slunk across Scootaloo’s face. “I see. Is that why your eyes are looking at my chest rather than my own eyes?”
Hermione’s face went scarlet as she abruptly pushed Scootaloo into the giant bathtub. “Whoops, my hands slipped. Sorry! Now, let me help scrub that odour of you.”
“Glub, blub, falub.” Scootaloo spluttered desperately trying to keep her head above water as Hermione pushed her under and began to vigorously scrub her back.
*
Scootaloo’s evening hadn’t proved to be much better. After nearly being scrubbed too death by Hermione she had headed to dinner red in the face dressed as a snowman, a costume kindly provided by her father; If the constant sniggers of her friends and housemates hadn’t been enough, she had then been once more been dragged along by Hermione, this time to the library to get as much done on their butterbeer essay as possible despite her protestations that it wasn’t due for a month and they had the whole Christmas holidays to do it! After collapsing into bed that night with a sorely aching wrist and still in the snowman costume, Scootaloo’s sole thought before promptly drifting off to sleep was that surely Wednesday would be better.
It wasn’t. In Herbology, due mostly to Apple Bloom’s advanced knowledge, their mandrake was way ahead in maturity of their classmates’ and very nearly ready for cultivation. Unfortunately, despite Apple Bloom’s best efforts, their mandrake still refused to move on from its rebellious teenage phase and as such spent the whole double period fighting all four of them as they desperately tried to put clothes on it to keep it warm and prevent it from getting frostbite.
As if that wasn’t exhausting enough, Professor McGonagall was unsurprisingly unsympathetic in Transfiguration. Even though it was the last week off term she drilled them relentlessly on Avifors to ensure they were adequately prepared for subject swap week the first week back after the Christmas holidays. She was particularly less than pleased with Scootaloo over the fact that by the end of the lesson the transfiguration classroom now had a whole family of bats living up in the rafters. Scootaloo had hastily departed for lunch before the Transfiguration professor momentarily forgot that it wasn’t her fault her magic was so chaotic.
Now, as she navigated the treacherous halls of the Discord tower with her friends on their way to Classroom 104, she was hoping for a Christmas miracle. Considering they had already had to deal with a Christmas pudding canon, sentient wrapping paper, a trapdoor that led to a swimming pool filled with gravy and a number of other Christmas-themed obstacles just to get to the classroom, she wasn’t very hopeful.
As they entered the classroom and didn’t immediately float up to the ceiling Scootaloo let out a resigned sigh wondering just what her father was going to throw at them next. She didn’t have long to wait to receive an answer.
“Welcome, welcome. I see everyone eventually made it,” Discord’s voice echoed mischievously from everywhere yet nowhere particular at the same time.
“Cut to the chase. What’s next? Are we going to have to fight a giant robotic Santa Claus with laser eyes and a chainsaw or something equally ridiculous?” Apple Bloom deadpanned rudely, soaked head to toe after being one of three unfortunate souls to fall into the gravy pool alongside Neville and Ron.
Scootaloo’s forehead hit her metallic hand. “Bloom, please don’t give him ideas,” she muttered through her hand.
“Hmm, although that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Discord’s voice replied. “I’m actually going to let you have the entire rest of the lesson off as a reward for all your hard work this term.”
“BULLSHIT!” Scootaloo exclaimed knowing her father to well for it to be that simple. “Cut the fucking… YOW! What the fuck?” she yelled rubbing her now sore head as she looked up to see what looked like an electric blue fairy hovering above her.
Said fairy had just dropped a rather heavy tome atop her head and was now giggling over what they had done.
“What the fuck?” Scootaloo exclaimed for the second time.
“Cornish pixies,” Hermione stated, now sporting a black eye from where a Christmas pudding had caught her by surprise. “This could be interesting. They are devilish little things.”
“That they are Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor,” Discord chortled. “There are ten of them hiding in the classroom. One has the key to the door. Find that one and retrieve the key and you are all free to go. Good luck.”
And with those brief instructions he was gone.
Scootaloo sighed once more still rubbing her aching head. She would so be getting her father back for this one. Right now though she needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Right, listen up pixies. How about we come to some sort of agreement? You give us the key and HEY, just what do you think your…” Scootaloo began, only to be cut of as two of the pixies started tying her up with rainbow coloured Christmas lights while a third shoved a red bauble into her mouth. As she fell in a heap to the floor, a fourth pixie superglued a star to her head.
The rest of the students broke out in raucous laughter at Scootaloo’s failed attempt at diplomacy and her current predicament of becoming the pixie’s Christmas tree.
“Oh geez, do I have to do everything myself?” Hermione wheezed attempting valiantly not to collapse into a laughing fit alongside the rest of her classmates as she pulled out her wand from her robes.
Before she could cast a spell though she felt something behind her. Turning she saw a guilty looking pixie with a pair of scissors. Slowly her gaze moved to the floor where a large portion of her hair now sat.
“Oh fuck. You really shouldn’t have…” Scootaloo started to say spitting out the bauble in the process.
She never finished as Hermione’s brown eyes turned gold and in a flash the Cornish pixie's head was ripped clean off and discarded. The room immediately fell silent.
“Hmm, well that saved us some time," Hermione commented holding up the key to the classroom as she turned and faced Scootaloo with a crazed grin, covered in pixie blood and her eyes still sporting the golden hue of her werewolf form.
“And that’s why. It’s one of the few rules I’ve learnt as a draconequus. Never fuck with a werewolf unless you want to end up dead or as her chew toy,” Scootaloo explained.
The remaining pixies made a shot for the windows and, upon realising they were magically enchanted to prevent their escape, then retreated to the cage Scootaloo presumed her father had released them from. After locking the entrance from the inside they retreated to a corner, staring at Hermione absolutely terrified.
“Miss Granger,” Discord’s voice boomed angrily as he appeared out of a portal. “Thirty points from Gryffindor for your actions.”
Hermione snarled angrily and flashed her enlarged canines at the DADA professor much to everyone’s astonishment.
“One more snarl out of you and your remaining evenings this term shall be spent with me,” Discord said flatly looking at Hermione with a raised eyebrow before tapping her head with a rolled up newspaper.
Hermione took a deep breath, wiped the blood of her face and then said coldly, “Yes sir. I apologise for my actions but never did you state in your frankly brief instructions that we couldn’t kill the pixies to retrieve the key, especially when antagonised as I was. You are also well aware that when agitated my lycanthropy often flares up.” She paused for a moment and slammed her hands against her head. “Aaaaahhh, out, out, out,” she repeated several times as tears started to form in her eyes. And that was when she found a pair of arms wrapping themselves around her.
“There, there, let it all out. I understand, scrap the points deduction. Just promise me you’ll keep on fighting for control and never let the lycanthropy win,” Discord whispered into Hermione’s left ear as the tears began to fall down the girl’s cheeks.
“I pr-promise,” Hermione stuttered in reply, gripping Discord tightly as she did so.
“Thatta girl. Want to prop Scootaloo up on one of the outside walls and pelt snowballs at her?” the draconequus asked.
“You know it,” Hermione sniffled forcing a smile across her lips as she nodded her head in reply. “Thanks, sir, for understanding.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, come on, before she finds a way out of those Christmas lights,” Discord replied with a heartwarming smile as he returned to his feet.
*
The snowball fight proved to be an absolute blast, except for poor Scootaloo who found herself going from being a human Christmas tree to a live snowman as she was used for target practice by her peers. Sweetie especially was only too happy to gain some revenge after Scootaloo had turned her into a living snowman during last year’s mass snowball fight during the Christmas holidays. Hermione had even had the audacity to stick a carrot on Scootaloo’s nose to add to the star that still adorned the girl’s head.
In the end, Scootaloo didn’t mind to much as it brought a smile back to her girlfriend’s face and, for the time being at least, quelled the beast inside Hermione that was just itching to get out at every possible opportunity. Afterward, Sweetie had restyled Hermione’s hair, cutting it short and causing Scootaloo a great deal of embarrassment, the draconequus going red in the face and being utterly speechless upon seeing her girlfriend’s new look much to Sweetie and Apple Bloom’s amusement.
It wasn’t long until Friday afternoon arrived. Thursday flew by. The second-years perfected their butterbeer recipe in Potions, took a nap in History, then spent most of their three free periods chatting about the upcoming holidays whilst playing games, that was, after Hermione had gotten Scootaloo to finish her piece of parchment on butterbeer for Professor Snape. Scootaloo had to admit that, despite her protestations, it did now mean she had no homework over the holidays aside practicing Avifors and that was only if she was able to. Then, on Friday morning, they had a theoretical lesson on Cornish Pixies (Discord setting them their homework as simply to have fun and enjoy themselves over the holidays) before a Cultural Diversity lesson where Professor Pompernickle let them try out a variety of Equestrian pastimes and games gratefully provided by Princess Twilight. It was a total riot.
After lunch the tables were cleared and an array of ingredients magically appeared on each. It immediately became clear to the Hufflepuffs who was in charge as Apple Bloom laid out her closely guarded secret butterbeer recipe on the table and started barking orders, sometimes quite literally. For the Gryffindors, Percy actually managed to take control as Fred and George peculiarly were nowhere to be seen. The Ravenclaws were led by the current head boy, Trevor Treacleton III, whilst three Slytherins were deviously plotting their path to victory once again…
“Hmm, I still think a little bit of sabotage wouldn’t hurt our chances. Even in spite of our superior potions’ skills that Hufflepuff girl worries me,” Mathias Bulstrode commented.
“Not going to happen,” Damien Travers retorted. “For one, Snape forbid me from doing so. Secondly, if I was to go against his word and then add insult to injury by targeting his prize pupil, I’d be out of this school faster than you can say Salazar Slytherin. Third, too many witnesses. Finally, and most importantly, there’s that.” He pointed across at where Wallace was laying on the floor next to Apple Bloom chewing on a very large bone. “Say what you will but that is no normal dog and I most definitely don’t want to be ripped to shreds and have my soul sent to fight in a never-ending war!”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,” Jonathan Avery the seventh-year prefect commented. “We should be fine with the recipe Snape provided us with anyway and knowing those twins they’ll mess up the Gryffindors’ entry somehow. And despite their superior theoretical intellect, practical application is often where the Ravenclaws’ come unstuck.”
“Clever, real clever,” Damien cut in with a sinister smile. “Snape’s played us.”
“Huh, what do you mean?” Jonathan responded looking at the sixth-year quizzically.
“Simple. How do you think it would look on the Potions Master if his house lost a challenge that was basically brewing a potion?” Damien questioned.
“A travesty, an outrage, that’s what it would be!” Jonathan exclaimed exasperated.
“Exactly, but what if they were bested by a particular student with a natural affinity for potions chosen personally by Snape to be his successor?” Damien asked for a second time.
Jonathan’s mouth dropped in realisation. “That sneaky bastard. He’s played us. He’s done this purely to show everyone just how talented his precious little bitch is, hasn’t he?”
“Precisely and as I stated previously there is very little we can do to even the playing field. I bet you he’s even provided us with a sub-standard recipe to make her attempt look even better,” Damien stated coldly.
Mathias and Avery stared at Damien slack-jawed.
“He wouldn’t,” Avery stated in total shock.
“Oh, he would. And as none of us really bothered to try in lessons this week seeing as we believed we already had the perfect recipe, even if we try to best Hufflepuff’s attempt we’ve likely nowhere near enough time to perfect a recipe that could match what they’ve spent a fair portion of the week perfecting,” Damien stated matter-of-factly.
“So, I’m guessing you’ve a plan? Please tell me you’ve a plan,” Mathias asked unable to hide the desperation in his voice.
“Of course. It’s simple really. We sabotage our own entry, blame it on the other houses when the teachers test it and cause such a massive commotion the whole competition is forced to be cancelled,” Damien said slyly.
“You mean life size wizard’s chess version two?” Avery stated with a smug smile.
“Precisely. And if that’s not enough, if we can get the teachers to test ours first this year, I’ll try to get close enough to sabotage Hufflepuff’s attempt,” Damien continued, a malevolent smirk crossing his face. “That’ll teach our traitorous head of house a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry.”
“I’m liking this idea even more,” Avery replied, his own smile growing ever wider.
*
Several hours later the heads of the four houses were gathered around the Slytherin table trying to put on a brave face as they looked at the bubbling snot green liquid that had just been poured into four goblets for them to try. Professor Snape in particular did not look at all pleased.
“Well, that’s certainly,” Dumbledore paused for a moment unsure how to describe the so-called beverage which he could clearly see looked nothing like Butterbeer. “Unusual,” he finally decided to go with.
“Oh, I can assure it tastes a lot better than it looks,” Avery said stoically doing a marvellous job at keeping a straight face and not giving the game away, so to speak.
“All in favour of making Professor Snape try this abomination first, say aye,” Professor McGonagall entered the conversation not believing the boy’s words in the least.
“Aye,” Dumbledore, Flitwick and Sprout all chorused as one.
“Neigh,” Snape growled.
“Four to one. Go ahead Severus,” Minerva cackled.
Snape gave his colleague a glare and then, reluctantly, grabbed one of the goblets and downed the contents.
The stern glower on his face never faltered as he droned, “That was vile. I would have expected a lot better from my own house, especially you Avery. Maybe I need to have a rethink about you being a prefect.”
“What, that can’t be so. We followed your recipe to the letter,” the younger man deliberately let slip.
“Your recipe Severus?” Professor McGonagall stated giving Snape a scrutinising look.
Avery didn’t give his head of house a chance to reply. “We’ve been sabotaged I do declare. I bet it was those no-good badgers.”
“How dare you!” Professor Sprout exclaimed indignantly.
“Probably in cahoots with those Weasley twins in Gryffindor,” Mathias added to roars of agreement behind him.
“And don’t forget those Ravenclaws. They couldn’t brew a potion to save their lives!” Marcus Flint added to further roars of unrest from the Slytherins behind him.
“What, we’ve been nowhere near your table you bunch of conniving liars and toads,” one of the Ravenclaws bellowed angrily remembering the injustice of being robbed of victory a few years before due to the Slytherins arguing about a certain wizard chess move and how it had then escalated from there. “If you think we’re falling for your tricks…” They never finished as a ball of ice cream spattered into their face.
“Oh no, not again,” Minerva sighed as items of food and liquid started flying between the two tables whilst many students started grappling with one another.
Unfortunately, for the Slytherins at least, everything did not go according to plan. Percy swiftly took charge and mobilised the rest of the Gryffindor prefects. This prevented any of the Gryffindors from entering the fracas and. without Fred and George to lead a rebellion, Percy actually succeeded in keeping his fellow housemates in line.
Similarly, for the Hufflepuffs, their so-called biggest troublemaker seemed uninterested in the petty squabble going on between the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins. Without Scootaloo to drive them on, the rest of the Hufflepuffs seemed quite happy to just sit back and watch the carnage unfold whilst sampling some of Apple Bloom’s butterbeer.
“Damn Bloom, this is some good stuff. You know, if you ever want to sell it commercially, just give me a holler and I’ll use my connections at Gringotts to make it happen,” Scootaloo commented taking a sip from her own goblet of butterbeer. “How long do you think this will last?” she added, pointing with her goblet at the miniature war that had broken out between Ravenclaw and Slytherin before ducking as a loose bolt of magic nearly took her head off.
“Thanks, I’ll think about it but as stated previously, I’m a Potions protégé, not some backstreet booze brewer. As for this kerfuffle, not long. The rest of the teachers just arrived to help. What worries me a little is firstly why you didn’t want to get involved and secondly just what those Slytherins were scheming this time?”
Scootaloo finished taking another swig of her drink and, with a raised eyebrow, then proceeded to say, “How many times do I have to tell you, as a goddess of chaos enough chaos finds me without me looking for more. Besides, I promised Arthur I’d at least try to stay out of trouble. As for your other question, they probably realised they had no chance of winning against you so were trying to get the whole competition cancelled or at the very least take us down with them. Don’t worry though, I’ve made…”
She stopped mid-sentence as Wallace suddenly shot across her vision flying through the air before landing with a loud crash on the Gryffindors’ table. It was so loud that the fighting between the Ravenclaws, the Slytherins and the teachers came to an immediate halt.
“Ah, shit,” Scootaloo murmured under her breath
“Let me guess, that was your safeguard,” Apple Bloom deadpanned.
“Eeyup. Come on, Sweetie might need our help,” Scootaloo stated as she rapidly rose from the bench they were sitting on.
*
A rather dishevelled Sweetie awaited everyone by the keg.
“Miss Belle, explain yourself immediately,” Professor McGonagall demanded.
“Scootaloo thought someone might try to tamper with our Butterbeer during the kerfuffle so me and Wallace stood guard. She was right. Wallace went for them and they sent him flying with the wind charm. I turned my attention away from them for just a moment as Wallace flew through the air and they vanished,” Sweetie explained scratching her head. “Most peculiar thing is I can’t even remember what they looked like, not even if they were male or female, just that there was definitely someone trying to tamper with our Butterbeer.”
“A likely story,” Professor McGonagall replied disbelievingly. “I guess it’s just pure coincidence then that your dog totally destroyed my houses attempt? I think this year’s Christmas competition will have to be null and…”
“Ahem,” Professor Kettleburn interrupted picking something up from the floor next to the keg.
A small, almost innocuous part, of the Slytherin crest that had clearly been torn from a uniform.
“The Slytherin sniper,” someone gasped in the crowd of students as many others began talking in hushed whispers with their friends about the school’s boogey man.
Professor Sprout meanwhile had turned and was now scowling at Professor Snape. “How did you so graciously put it to my house last year? Disqualified. Oh, that felt good. Let me say it again. Disqualified, disqualified, disqualified,” she repeated several times before cackling like a deranged lunatic.
“On this occasion I will have to side with Professor Sprout,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “Along with a fifty-house point deduction for inciting a riot and attempting to sabotage the competition.”
Snape’s face had gone bright red in fury and he looked like he was about to explode. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced himself to acknowledge his house’s defeat on this occasion.
“Of course, sir. And I can promise you there shall be no Christmas party of any sorts for my students this year because of their actions. They shall all be sent back to their dorms immediately where, if they are lucky, they shall receive bread and water for dinner.”
Groans erupted from the Slytherins but none of them dared to argue with their head of house.
“I’m afraid I shall also have to sadly disqualify the Ravenclaws for their part in the riot also,” Dumbledore announced regretfully.
“Of course. That’s understandable headmaster,” Professor Flitwick graciously acknowledged.
“And it looks like the Gryffindors no longer have an entry so it seems the Hufflepuffs win by…”
“WAIT!” A voice Professor McGonagall knew only to well shouted out from the crowd
And that was when, to top of everything that had already transpired, the Weasley twins pushed through the throng of students with a crate of butterbeer.
Professor McGonagall looked like she was about to have a heart attack.
Percy looked like he was already having one.
“Just in the nick of time boys,” Dumbledore chortled as Fred handed out a bottle to him and then the four heads of house.
“Our own special brew sir. Hope you like it,” Fred tittered.
“Seeing as it’s your house Minerva, I suggest you do us the honour of taking the first drink,” Professor Snape said with a wicked sneer.
Minerva glowered at Snape but before she could reply Dumbledore had already popped the cork on his bottle and taken a swig.
“Not bad,” he commented with a jolly smile as the other four professors reluctantly followed suit. “There is a little bit of an aftertaste that I just can’t put my finger on though. Nothing bad, just different is all.”
“Oh no,” Professor McGonagall commented as Snape pulled out a vial from his robes and downed it in one.
“Detention, for the entire Christmas holidays,” the head of Slytherin snarled. “And disqualified for attempting to poison your teachers.”
“Oh well, totally worth it,” Fred chuckled as white hair started sprouting on the back of Dumbledore’s hands.
“What, what’s wrong?” Dumbledore remarked with just a hint of concern.
“It’s our take on butterbeer sir, we call it butterjoke. We had the idea to infuse Poison Joke into butterbeer and have spent the majority of the week perfecting the recipe,” George revealed as white hair started to grow on Dumbledore’s face as well.
The elderly headmaster let out a hearty chuckle himself. “Oh, how intuitive. You are overruled on this occasion Severus.”
Snape muttered mutinously under his breath but knew it would be futile to argue. And anyway, there were more pressing matters to attend to, like the fact that Professor Minerva McDogonagall was now chasing Professor Purrmona Sprout around the hall, or the mess the riot had caused, or that the Gryffindors table needed to be fixed, or that Flitwick was now ten feet tall.
Snape sighed, headed over to the keg of butterbeer and poured himself a goblet, watching as McDogonagall chased Purrmona up one of the tapestries that adorned one side of the hall. The former had been joined by a badly battered, bleeding, bruised and limping Wallace who had pulled himself from the wreckage of the Gryffindors table. Hmm, Snape thought to himself, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
“Miss Apple, do you have your camera on you?”
“Of course, sir,” Apple Bloom replied instantly understanding what the Potions professor wanted her to do.
“Excellent. And exquisite job on the butterbeer, it is truly divine,” Snape commented turning back to the ongoing spectacle of dogs versus cat.
*
“Damn that bitch and her mutt,” Damien swore to himself as he struggled down the secret passage back toward the Slytherin common room whilst holding his right arm. He hadn’t quite been quick enough with the spell and now one of that damn mutt’s teeth were lodged in his arm. He also sported a rather nasty gash across his chest for his troubles.
Just as he had reached the keg and had been preparing to open it and spoil its contents, she had pounced on him.
“So, Scootaloo was right. Sick him boy,” he remembered hearing her say before a great lump had barrelled into him.
Damn that mutt had hurt him bad before he’d been able to get to his wand and send him flying. Still, on the plus side, he’d managed to escape back into the passageways before anyone else aside that girl had…
“Thought you could get away from me again, did you?”
Damien’s face dropped as Professor Discord appeared out of nowhere in front of him.
“Oops, how careless of me,” Discord said with a malevolent grin as he dropped the cage of Cornish Pixies.
As the cage clattered onto the floor it burst open and twenty pixies gleefully burst into the passageway ready to create chaos and mischief. He then swiftly disappeared with a snap of his fingers.
In the secret passageways of Hogwarts, no one can hear you scream.
*
Scootaloo’s jaw dropped as she entered the Great Hall later that evening. Three of the tables had been pushed to one side and now lay perched upright against one of the walls. The fourth was pushed against them and now had all manner of snacks and buffet style food placed upon it. Meanwhile, a disco ball had been found and hung from the ceiling magically reflecting Christmas themed shapes throughout the hall whilst the lights and candles beamed bright on the four huge trees Hagrid had brought in. Music was blaring from an impromptu stage where the teachers table usually sat and where a band of snowmen were now singing and performing a variety of Christmas songs. Ironically, they were currently in the middle of Frosty the Snowman. For those who didn’t fancy dancing and had eaten their fill of food, a selection of party games were available in one corner, such as pin the beard on the wizard, whilst Fred, George and Apple Bloom had set up a stand selling copies of her photos from earlier in the day. They already had a fair queue of students waiting.
Scootaloo though hadn’t noticed any of these things. Her eyes and attention had solely fallen on one particular person who had been waiting just inside the doorway for her. No matter how many times Hermione dressed up, the other girl always seemed to send her heart into a flutter.
“Care for a dance?” Hermione giggled wearing a beautiful yellow gown as she pulled the star struck Scootaloo into the hall.
This had the desired effect she wanted and brought Scootaloo somewhat out of her stupor. “Y-yeah, sure,” Scootaloo stammered in her tuxedo as the two girls made their way out onto the dance floor.
The competition earlier had surprisingly ended in a draw, with both Dumbledore and Flitwick voting for Gryffindor whilst Snape and McGonagall had voted for Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout had abstained and was right now nursing a rather sore behind in the infirmary thanks to Wallace. Rather than cast the deciding vote, Dumbledore had suggested the houses shared the prize, a decision met with a roar of approval from both houses and what had allowed the two girls to spend the final evening of the first term of their second year together.
Right now, any chance of a truly romantic dance between the two lovers was on hold as both girls jumped, giggled and spun around with no particular rhythm or order to Jingle Bell Rock.
“Sweet Celestia,” Sweetie Belle exclaimed pulling up alongside Scootaloo with Wallace in a wheelchair, the dog looking like a four-year-olds attempt at a mummy he had that many bandages slapped haphazardly all over him. His front right leg was also in a cast and, after a massive struggle, Sweetie had eventually managed to fix him with the cone of shame. “Dancing that bad should be made illegal!”
“Then why don’t you show me how it’s done smarty pants,” Scootaloo retorted sticking out her tongue playfully to Sweetie Belle.
“Oh, I would, but it probably wouldn’t help you and I promised Wallace some pigs in blankets,” Sweetie retorted equally playfully as she stuck out her own tongue before moving off with Wallace as Jingle Belle Rock was replaced by Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
“Okay Sweetie, see you in a little while,” Scootaloo called after her friend before turning her attention back to Hermione only to find the other girl had closed the gap between the two of them.
Scootaloo’s face immediately went red as the other girl leant in, seemingly to give her a kiss, only to then mischievously pull out and poke Scootaloo’s nose.
“You’ll have to catch me first!” Hermione cried slipping off through the crowd.
“Oh, it’s on,” Scootaloo cackled darting off after Hermione as so began yet another memorable Hogwarts night for the two of them and hopefully one of many more still to come.
The End
Author's Note
And to all a good night. Hope you enjoyed it.
Edited 14/12/21