FicWad

Working Title - The Darkness Howls
Act 3 - Tree Lighting



The old traditional wrought iron gaslamps provided a constant light source reflecting off the now mushy snow. The streets were heavily tramplet by the hordes of Christmas shoppers. Families of dads, mums and children all wrapped up against the cold like Egyptian mummies gone wrong, braved the elements conquering the crowds for that all important gift. Those special gifts that were deftly wrapped by boutique and department store alike, looking magnificent in a multitude of reds and greens topped by perfect bows that no silly mortal hand could have accomplished.

Alain, one of the heavy set Auror's on duty, waved the last car through a road lining Hogsmeade central square huffing out a plume of breathe. The heavy street sign he lugged across after the car proclaimed to one and all that the Tree Lighting ceremony was the reason the road was pedestrianised tongith.

He leant against the barrier, his think Auror cloak protected him from the elements as he listened to the muffled sounds of the crowds, the squeals of childlike awe and wonder and the cries of the paper boys desperate to sell their last copies and go home. Cohen, a paper boy from the Quibbler, seemed to have the upperhand on his arch rival Damon, from the Prophet, tonight. They were invariably shouting their headlines at each passer by with much the same content.

"Two Moons Gang Strikes Again!" proclaimed the Prophet, as the Quibbler proudly announced, "Wolves of the Red Moon Attack Hogsmeade!".

'Blasted werewolves,' thought Alain as he rubbed his hands together. 'Time we had another purge like the old days, that should sort them out!'.

Alain's view of the road ahead was distracted, now that his job was done, multiple camera flashes signalled that not only were the press here in force, but Miss Hogsmeade had taken center stage. Before the Tree Lighting could be done with the simple button push giving the activation to the charms currently holding the fairies, tame pixies and other herbological adornments dark; Lavender Brown was addressing her public.

"Citizens of Hogsmeade," she said with a beatific plastered on smile, "another wonderful Christmas is here and I, Miss Hogsmeade, Lavender Brown, am honoured to present the tree to you with some further ado."

Alain loved this bit, her white fur cloak shown out among all the other drab colours drawing his eye to her. Up close last year he noted that while it was a winter coat and was accessorised neatly with a matching hat, not so artfully cut to proclaim that she couldn't possibly have anything on underneath the short winter coat. He remembered being there with his wife last year and shouting and crying with all the other guys while their wives and girlfriends all pursed their lips and shrugged their heads in unison. Any connected male that took it further than this was given the eyebrow. The eyebrow curve that meant 'you've had your fun now, be a good boy and shut up or you'll have to get reacquainted with the couch again tonight'. He chuckled at a few younger females who not having learnt this art yet settled for the not so subtle art of digging their elbows viciously into the ribs of their beaus.

Lavender took all this in her stride and secretly loved the way some females in the audience were at the same time proclaiming their distaste with her antics of bare long leg and a crevasse of cleavage on show; while wishing that they looked that good later on. She now felt that all of Sleekeazy's Potions for the Vane and Glorious had been worth every knut.

"I now pernounce this lighting of the Hogsmeade Tree open!" she crowed, unaware of both her errors and of the malicious female smiles and claps in her direction feeling a little better about themselves now.

Despite all this a great good hearted cheer rang up from the crowd all other thoughts suspended in the rush of Christmas spirit. Every resident of Hogsmeade surely must of heard this commotion letting all and sundry know that Christmas was officially here.

One tall malevolent shadow tucked away across the square barely in viewing range laid two furry ham sized fists gripping the protesting iron bars of the fence. A brutal grimace adorned his face, not a fairy light in sight. The grimace was not at all impressed, amused or even slightly touched at all of Hogsmeade's parochial little Yuletide. Large claws scraped down the bars issuing the sound into the air around the fence as an unconscious warning. No one was there to heed the warning, but the black shadow had gone without sound or trace.

A much more pleasant inhabitant now walked down the light walkover from the 7th floor of the newly opened Harvey Knickerbockers boutique for the Rich and Tasteful, down to street level past more smiling shoppers.

Dobert, a unique house elf at six foot, walked with confidence in each stride carrying proudly some token packages in his hands as a guilty pleasure. Perfectly outfitted as an aristocratic butler he enjoyed the feel of his black satin top hat and the clack that his shiny shoes made on the cobbles. The swish of his morning tails mistook the fact that his coat held enough miniaturised packages so everyone under twelve in St Mungo's would have a great Christmas.

Cohen, the Quibblers newspaper pusher for central Hogsmeade, looked at his girlfriend mischievously winking at him sipping his bloody coffee with way too much pink tongue to be practical. 'Right Cohen old boy,' he thought, 'you're cold but very horny, sell these newspapers and then you can go home and see how loud you can make Jessica. Good plan. Here's just the bloke.' With that he set upon Dobert.

"Sir, sir.. what do you think about the werewolves in the sewer? Read all about it for a knut?!" he said loudly with pride.
"No, thank you," said Dobert kindly in his superbly groomed soto voce, as he tried to manoever past him.
"Story for your kids tonight? Paper for your missus? Come on sir, only a knut. My poor hands are bitterly cold and its my last one have a heart?!" Jessica loved it when he bantered on and convinced total strangers of anything he wanted to.
"You have a stackful of papers over there by your warm girlfriend and your cup of coffee." Dobert smiled, flicking him a coin and took the opportunity to move past him rebalancing his stack of parcels. Cohen realised he had gotten a galleon instead of a knut as he palmed the bigger coin. Stilled into a moment of inaction he looked at Jessica who batted her eyelashes, blew seductively across the coffee and tasted it with the tip of her tongue. Cohen was instantly thrown into a selling frenzy as Dobert made his escape across the square into the night.