Voldemort's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Riddle mansion, not a creature was stirring, not even Peter Pettigrew. The stockings were thrown up by the chimney without much care, in hopes that Father Christmas soon would be there.

All the Death Eaters were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of Crucio's danced in their heads. And Nagini in her snake skin, and I in my robes, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to Crucio the trespasser. Away to the window I sent out a zap, tore open the shutter, and yelled out some crap.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below, when, what to my wondering snake-like eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I panicked for a moment that it was really Albus Percival Wulfric (Brian Dumbledore). More rapid than Basilisks, his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Harry! Now Hermione! Now, Remus and Albus! On, Sirius! On, Ronald! On, Fawkes and Buckbeak! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky so up to the mansion-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and that oaf Father Christmas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each of their stupid little hooves. As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney Father Christmas' arse came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,and he looked as bad as Mundungus just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they watched moi! His dimples, oh please spare me! His cheeks were like dead roses, his nose like a sunburnt cherry! His droll little mouth when he saw me was drawn like an "Oh," and the beard on his chin was as white as an Inferius torso. The stump of a pipe he held very loose, and the smoke it encircled his head like a noose. He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like when I tried to strangle Harry.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old house-elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had a lot to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And giving me the finger before he froze, he gave me a sardonic little nod, then up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like a shot of a missile. But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Except for you Tom Riddle... You've been a very bad Dark Lord..."

The End