FIC: "The Orb" (Hagrid/Olympe; Surprise Pairings)
This year, as a way to spit in the face of Covid and Trump, I got a little bit of my HP writing mojo back -- enough to participate in four holiday fests.
Here's my entry for "Festive Fun" at rarepair_shorts -- a self-posting, non-anonymous fest that was low-pressure and fun.
I though we all needed a giant dose of good cheer this year, and no one is better equipped to provide it than Hagrid.
Title: The Orb
Author: kellychambliss
Pairing: Hagrid/Olympe and three surprise pairings
Rating: G
Prompts: Ornaments, gala/ball
Word Count: ~2150
Summary: On the day of the Christmas Feast, Hagrid worries that Hogwarts is not festive enough. But he has plans to fix things. Set during HPB.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hogwarts castle was dead quiet when Hagrid, a large bag over his shoulder, and his boarhound Fang slipped through the front doors in the pre-dawn darkness. The two did nothing to disturb the silence: Hagrid prided himself on his ability to move soundlessly, and Fang was perfectly well-behaved when he had no one to jump and slobber on.
Course, it didn't hurt that Hagrid had used his pink umbrella to cast a silencing charm before they came in. He tried always to be prepared. To have a plan, like, the way Dumbledore did. Great man, Dumbledore.
Hagrid and Fang were on a secret mission. Well, o' sorts. Not a life-or-death mission like last year, when he'd gone with Olympe to try to recruit the giants for Dumbledore. No, this mission was more. . .domestic, you might say. But no less important, mebbe, in the long run.
A mission to bring happiness.
Tonight was the Yuletide Feast, see, and then tomorrow all the students would be on the Hogwarts Express heading home. For some of 'em, probably, they'd be heading to a happy Christmas, but for too many kids -- and adults, too, thought Hagrid, remembering the concerned looks on Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall's faces when they were talking together at the High Table yesterday -- it would be an anxious and even sad Christmas, what with worrying about the coming war and You-Know-Who and all. And then there was the mysterious business of Dumbledore's blackened hand, which cast a bit of cloud over everything, truth be told.
Tonight was the last chance to guarantee everyone some happiness and good cheer, and Hagrid wanted to make sure that the Great Hall looked its absolute best. It was easier to feel festive if you were surrounded by sparkling lights and soft falling snow and brilliant towering Christmas trees hung with dozens of glittering orbs and fairies and tinsel.
Normally, with Professor Flitwick in charge, the Great Hall was a dreamy fairyland at the yuletide, but this year, just like a lot o' people, the poor feller was that anxious and depressed that his decorations lacked. . .summat. Hagrid wasn't sure what, exactly, was missing. But the fairies seemed less cheerful, and the shining ornaments somehow didn't seem as shiny as usual, and that pitiful little tree in the corner was positively drooping.
Or that's how it all seemed to Hagrid. So he thought he'd just spruce things up a bit. Add a little more cheer with some pretty goodies he'd brought from the Forest: bright red berries and snowdrops and holly and evergreen boughs. He'd tried to sprinkle silver and gold glitter on some bowtruckles, but they hadn't got into the spirit o' the thing. Too bad. They'd a-looked nice, jumping around on the branches all sparkly.
Hagrid opened his bag and draped his forest décor on the trees and tables and torch brackets -- wherever he saw an empty space.
The results were . . .fine. They were fine. Very . . .fine.
But they didn't set his soul afire. He looked around the Great Hall for a moment and made his decision.
"C'mon, Fang," he said, shouldering his bag and heading towards the entry hall. "We got a Requirement."
Hagrid tried not to use the Room of Requirement except in emergencies; he didn't want to abuse the Castle's good will, and besides, he thought a bloke ought to try to figure things out for himself when he could.
But sometimes the Room of Requirement was. . .well, a Requirement.
"If happiness inn't a Requirement, Fang, I dunno what is," he said as they climbed the stairs to the upper floors.
The Room opened for him easily, which just went to prove what a real Requirement Hagrid was facing.
As soon as he found himself standing amidst the towering piles of centuries' worth of people's needs, Hagrid began his speech.
"Well, an' I need summat what will bring a little yuletide happiness and good spirits, if ye follow me," he said. "Summat to add to the Christmas trees in the Great Hall to make people's hearts feel better. These are tough times, and. . .well. I need summat to bring a little happiness. Thank you."
He finished and waited. Nothing happened. He waited some more. And more.
Finally, off in the dusty distance, he saw a small object floating through the air in his direction. Hagrid frowned.
"Seems a bit puny, eh, Fang?" he said. "To perk up all those trees, I mean."
The object, when it arrived, could not have been more disappointing.
It was a small, round glass Christmas ornament, of no discernable colour. It might have been red once, or green, but now it was faded and spotted. The wire hanger at the top was rusty.
"Aw," muttered Hagrid. "This can't be right. Mebbe the Room didn't understand me."
Clearing his throat, he prepared to begin his speech again. But the ornament suddenly glowed bright and hot in his hand. "Ouch!" he yelled, nearly dropping it, but just as fast as the heat had started, it stopped.
"Huh," Hagrid said after a moment. "Reckon that's the Room's way of tellin' us this little ball really is the thing we Require. Right, then, Fangie. Let's go."
Back in the Great Hall, he hung the sad little ball on the sad little drooping tree in the corner.
"Can't say it does anything to improve the place," he said to Fang. "But if the Room says it's what we need, it's what we need."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Christmas Feast was in full swing. Chatter and savory scents filled the air as students, staff, and ghosts milled around the Great Hall. People seemed to be in mostly good moods, but here and there a downcast face or an overheard conversation made clear that the strain of this difficult year was wearing down many.
"How are you, Hagrid?" It was the headmaster, appearing suddenly at Hagrid's side, his normal twinkle a bit subdued. His blackened hand was hidden in his sleeve. "You seemed rather off your food at dinner."
"I'm all right, Perfessor. A little down, mebbe. I hate seeing kids unhappy at Christmas." He tipped his head towards a fifth-year Hufflepuff girl who was dabbing at her eyes with a paper handkerchief, a gaggle of sympathetic friends surrounding her.
"Ah, Miss Bolling," Dumbledore nodded. "I understand that her paramour, Mr Dinwiddy of Ravenclaw, has decided that Christmas was a good time to, as the young people say, 'break up.'"
"It's a rotten shame," Hagrid said, fishing out his own tablecloth-sized hankie.
Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "Yes, indeed, Hagrid. Broken hearts are always painful. But we will hope there are happier days ahead for Miss Bolling. And perhaps for many of us, if we're lucky. I see that the Orb of Christmas Pleasure has reappeared." He gestured at the little tree on which Hagrid had hung his faded prize from the Room of Requirement.
But the ball was faded no longer. It was now at least twice its previous size, its colour changed from dun to shiny green-and-silver stripes. The stripes glowed softly, and Hagrid would have sworn he could feel warmth emanating from the ball like a welcome fire on a cold night.
"Wha -- ? What is it, Perfessor?"
"The Orb of Christmas Pleasure," repeated Dumbledore. "Powerful magic of happiness that surfaces periodically when our world has most need of it. I had heard of it for many years, but I didn't actually see it until 1944, during the darkest days of Grindelwald. It appeared on a Hogwarts Christmas tree then. And again during the first war against Voldemort."
"The Orb of. . .? How does it work?"
"Watch," said Dumbledore, twinkling.
Hagrid watched.
A girl he recognised as Millicent Bulstrode came scuffing along the edge of the room. Her nervous habit of tugging on nearby objects had pulled her Slytherin tie askew, leaving her looking disheveled and morose. As she approached the small tree where the Orb hung, she stopped and looked wistfully towards the Slytherin table, where her housemates were making merry over pudding. Absently, she tugged the tree's branches, her hand brushing the orb.
It glowed brightly, its silver-and-green stripes flashing. "Ow!" said Millicent, snatching her hand away as if burned. Then suddenly she pulled her shoulders straight and retied her tie.
"All right, I will!" she said to no one in particular. Putting her hands on her hips, she called out to a passing Slytherin, "Oy, Daph! Daphne Greengrass! Want to sit with me on the Express tomorrow?"
Daphne stopped and considered. "Yeah, okay. Sounds fun."
She walked on, leaving Millicent standing tall, a broad smile on her face.
"That's how it works," said Dumbledore to Hagrid. "If a person has a romantic interest in another person but is too shy to express it, the Orb gives them the courage to speak up."
"An' then it's happy-ever-after?" Hagrid asked dubiously. In his experience, life was a good deal more complicated than that.
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, of course not. Well, not automatically. What happens next is up to each couple. But the Orb provides the start. That's about as much happiness as we can expect to be just given to us, I'd say."
Right as usual, Hagrid realised. Brilliant man, Dumbledore.
With a cheerful "Happy Christmas, Hagrid," the headmaster moved away. As he walked, his robes brushed the little tree, knocking the Orb -- now reverted to its original hue -- to the floor. Before Hagrid could retrieve it, it changed colour again, this time to red-and-gold stripes, as it was picked up Harry's Gryffindor friend Seamus Finnegan.
"Hey!" yelled Seamus as the Orb flared brightly. "Damn, that thing is hot!" He hung it quickly on the tree and headed towards the entryway, shaking his hand.
His steps slowed, though, as he approached the doorway, and instead of leaving the Great Hall, he turned, casual-like, and strolled over to the Ravenclaw table where Luna Lovegood sat, using her wand to animate a family of gingerbread people.
"Can I sit here?" Hagrid saw Seamus ask. In answer, Luna handed him some gingerbread people of his own, and soon Seamus was happily making one of his gingermen dance with one of Luna's ladies.
Hagrid grinned. This was turning out to be a grand Christmas Feast after all! He looked back at the small tree with its Orb, eager to see who would approach next. He was just in time to see the little ball swell and turn Hufflepuff yellow and black.
"Oooh, isn't this pretty, Hagrid?" said Pomona Sprout, as she caught sight of the Orb. "I didn't know Filius was doing House-specific ornaments this year; I wish he'd told us Heads. I'll have to ask him to teach me the charm -- ouch!"
She jerked her fingers back and sucked on the tips. "It's very hot. Must be too close to the candles. I'll ask the elves to check the fireproofing charms."
"I'll talk to 'em, Perfessor," Hagrid offered, wanting to remove any distractions. He couldn't wait to see who she'd approach.
"Oh, that's so kind of you, Hagrid. Well, happy Christmas, my dear."
And off she went, straight to the head table. . .where Minerva McGonagall was just finishing a slice of chocolate gâteau.
Well, well, well! Professor McGonagall! Who would have thought?
"Good on you, Pomona," Hagrid murmured to himself. He was so chuffed, he felt like jumping up and down in glee. But maybe that would be unseemly for a teacher? He wasn't sure. So he contented himself with lifting a few mince pies from the nearby Hufflepuff table. They'd go down a treat with some ale as a midnight snack.
When he turned again to the little tree, somehow he was not surprised to see that the Orb of Christmas Pleasure had disappeared from the branches. Gone. And rightly so: Its work was done; it had granted its Christmas wishes. The Orb had created three -- no, six -- chances for happiness. That was enough to be going on with.
Stuffing his mince pies in his pocket, Hagrid left the Great Hall. Time to go home; Fang would be wanting his dinner.
As he trudged through the snow to his cabin, he thought about the Orb, and happiness, and romance. Not all folks wanted romance, but for them as did, it could be wonderful.
Wonderful.
"You know, Fang," Hagrid said as he poured out some hound chow. "It's been a while since I talked with Olympe. Mebbe tomorrow, I'll send her an owl. To wish her the joys of the season, like."
And to see if she was going to be free on New Year's Eve.
Here's my entry for "Festive Fun" at rarepair_shorts -- a self-posting, non-anonymous fest that was low-pressure and fun.
I though we all needed a giant dose of good cheer this year, and no one is better equipped to provide it than Hagrid.
Title: The Orb
Author: kellychambliss
Pairing: Hagrid/Olympe and three surprise pairings
Rating: G
Prompts: Ornaments, gala/ball
Word Count: ~2150
Summary: On the day of the Christmas Feast, Hagrid worries that Hogwarts is not festive enough. But he has plans to fix things. Set during HPB.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hogwarts castle was dead quiet when Hagrid, a large bag over his shoulder, and his boarhound Fang slipped through the front doors in the pre-dawn darkness. The two did nothing to disturb the silence: Hagrid prided himself on his ability to move soundlessly, and Fang was perfectly well-behaved when he had no one to jump and slobber on.
Course, it didn't hurt that Hagrid had used his pink umbrella to cast a silencing charm before they came in. He tried always to be prepared. To have a plan, like, the way Dumbledore did. Great man, Dumbledore.
Hagrid and Fang were on a secret mission. Well, o' sorts. Not a life-or-death mission like last year, when he'd gone with Olympe to try to recruit the giants for Dumbledore. No, this mission was more. . .domestic, you might say. But no less important, mebbe, in the long run.
A mission to bring happiness.
Tonight was the Yuletide Feast, see, and then tomorrow all the students would be on the Hogwarts Express heading home. For some of 'em, probably, they'd be heading to a happy Christmas, but for too many kids -- and adults, too, thought Hagrid, remembering the concerned looks on Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall's faces when they were talking together at the High Table yesterday -- it would be an anxious and even sad Christmas, what with worrying about the coming war and You-Know-Who and all. And then there was the mysterious business of Dumbledore's blackened hand, which cast a bit of cloud over everything, truth be told.
Tonight was the last chance to guarantee everyone some happiness and good cheer, and Hagrid wanted to make sure that the Great Hall looked its absolute best. It was easier to feel festive if you were surrounded by sparkling lights and soft falling snow and brilliant towering Christmas trees hung with dozens of glittering orbs and fairies and tinsel.
Normally, with Professor Flitwick in charge, the Great Hall was a dreamy fairyland at the yuletide, but this year, just like a lot o' people, the poor feller was that anxious and depressed that his decorations lacked. . .summat. Hagrid wasn't sure what, exactly, was missing. But the fairies seemed less cheerful, and the shining ornaments somehow didn't seem as shiny as usual, and that pitiful little tree in the corner was positively drooping.
Or that's how it all seemed to Hagrid. So he thought he'd just spruce things up a bit. Add a little more cheer with some pretty goodies he'd brought from the Forest: bright red berries and snowdrops and holly and evergreen boughs. He'd tried to sprinkle silver and gold glitter on some bowtruckles, but they hadn't got into the spirit o' the thing. Too bad. They'd a-looked nice, jumping around on the branches all sparkly.
Hagrid opened his bag and draped his forest décor on the trees and tables and torch brackets -- wherever he saw an empty space.
The results were . . .fine. They were fine. Very . . .fine.
But they didn't set his soul afire. He looked around the Great Hall for a moment and made his decision.
"C'mon, Fang," he said, shouldering his bag and heading towards the entry hall. "We got a Requirement."
Hagrid tried not to use the Room of Requirement except in emergencies; he didn't want to abuse the Castle's good will, and besides, he thought a bloke ought to try to figure things out for himself when he could.
But sometimes the Room of Requirement was. . .well, a Requirement.
"If happiness inn't a Requirement, Fang, I dunno what is," he said as they climbed the stairs to the upper floors.
The Room opened for him easily, which just went to prove what a real Requirement Hagrid was facing.
As soon as he found himself standing amidst the towering piles of centuries' worth of people's needs, Hagrid began his speech.
"Well, an' I need summat what will bring a little yuletide happiness and good spirits, if ye follow me," he said. "Summat to add to the Christmas trees in the Great Hall to make people's hearts feel better. These are tough times, and. . .well. I need summat to bring a little happiness. Thank you."
He finished and waited. Nothing happened. He waited some more. And more.
Finally, off in the dusty distance, he saw a small object floating through the air in his direction. Hagrid frowned.
"Seems a bit puny, eh, Fang?" he said. "To perk up all those trees, I mean."
The object, when it arrived, could not have been more disappointing.
It was a small, round glass Christmas ornament, of no discernable colour. It might have been red once, or green, but now it was faded and spotted. The wire hanger at the top was rusty.
"Aw," muttered Hagrid. "This can't be right. Mebbe the Room didn't understand me."
Clearing his throat, he prepared to begin his speech again. But the ornament suddenly glowed bright and hot in his hand. "Ouch!" he yelled, nearly dropping it, but just as fast as the heat had started, it stopped.
"Huh," Hagrid said after a moment. "Reckon that's the Room's way of tellin' us this little ball really is the thing we Require. Right, then, Fangie. Let's go."
Back in the Great Hall, he hung the sad little ball on the sad little drooping tree in the corner.
"Can't say it does anything to improve the place," he said to Fang. "But if the Room says it's what we need, it's what we need."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Christmas Feast was in full swing. Chatter and savory scents filled the air as students, staff, and ghosts milled around the Great Hall. People seemed to be in mostly good moods, but here and there a downcast face or an overheard conversation made clear that the strain of this difficult year was wearing down many.
"How are you, Hagrid?" It was the headmaster, appearing suddenly at Hagrid's side, his normal twinkle a bit subdued. His blackened hand was hidden in his sleeve. "You seemed rather off your food at dinner."
"I'm all right, Perfessor. A little down, mebbe. I hate seeing kids unhappy at Christmas." He tipped his head towards a fifth-year Hufflepuff girl who was dabbing at her eyes with a paper handkerchief, a gaggle of sympathetic friends surrounding her.
"Ah, Miss Bolling," Dumbledore nodded. "I understand that her paramour, Mr Dinwiddy of Ravenclaw, has decided that Christmas was a good time to, as the young people say, 'break up.'"
"It's a rotten shame," Hagrid said, fishing out his own tablecloth-sized hankie.
Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "Yes, indeed, Hagrid. Broken hearts are always painful. But we will hope there are happier days ahead for Miss Bolling. And perhaps for many of us, if we're lucky. I see that the Orb of Christmas Pleasure has reappeared." He gestured at the little tree on which Hagrid had hung his faded prize from the Room of Requirement.
But the ball was faded no longer. It was now at least twice its previous size, its colour changed from dun to shiny green-and-silver stripes. The stripes glowed softly, and Hagrid would have sworn he could feel warmth emanating from the ball like a welcome fire on a cold night.
"Wha -- ? What is it, Perfessor?"
"The Orb of Christmas Pleasure," repeated Dumbledore. "Powerful magic of happiness that surfaces periodically when our world has most need of it. I had heard of it for many years, but I didn't actually see it until 1944, during the darkest days of Grindelwald. It appeared on a Hogwarts Christmas tree then. And again during the first war against Voldemort."
"The Orb of. . .? How does it work?"
"Watch," said Dumbledore, twinkling.
Hagrid watched.
A girl he recognised as Millicent Bulstrode came scuffing along the edge of the room. Her nervous habit of tugging on nearby objects had pulled her Slytherin tie askew, leaving her looking disheveled and morose. As she approached the small tree where the Orb hung, she stopped and looked wistfully towards the Slytherin table, where her housemates were making merry over pudding. Absently, she tugged the tree's branches, her hand brushing the orb.
It glowed brightly, its silver-and-green stripes flashing. "Ow!" said Millicent, snatching her hand away as if burned. Then suddenly she pulled her shoulders straight and retied her tie.
"All right, I will!" she said to no one in particular. Putting her hands on her hips, she called out to a passing Slytherin, "Oy, Daph! Daphne Greengrass! Want to sit with me on the Express tomorrow?"
Daphne stopped and considered. "Yeah, okay. Sounds fun."
She walked on, leaving Millicent standing tall, a broad smile on her face.
"That's how it works," said Dumbledore to Hagrid. "If a person has a romantic interest in another person but is too shy to express it, the Orb gives them the courage to speak up."
"An' then it's happy-ever-after?" Hagrid asked dubiously. In his experience, life was a good deal more complicated than that.
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, of course not. Well, not automatically. What happens next is up to each couple. But the Orb provides the start. That's about as much happiness as we can expect to be just given to us, I'd say."
Right as usual, Hagrid realised. Brilliant man, Dumbledore.
With a cheerful "Happy Christmas, Hagrid," the headmaster moved away. As he walked, his robes brushed the little tree, knocking the Orb -- now reverted to its original hue -- to the floor. Before Hagrid could retrieve it, it changed colour again, this time to red-and-gold stripes, as it was picked up Harry's Gryffindor friend Seamus Finnegan.
"Hey!" yelled Seamus as the Orb flared brightly. "Damn, that thing is hot!" He hung it quickly on the tree and headed towards the entryway, shaking his hand.
His steps slowed, though, as he approached the doorway, and instead of leaving the Great Hall, he turned, casual-like, and strolled over to the Ravenclaw table where Luna Lovegood sat, using her wand to animate a family of gingerbread people.
"Can I sit here?" Hagrid saw Seamus ask. In answer, Luna handed him some gingerbread people of his own, and soon Seamus was happily making one of his gingermen dance with one of Luna's ladies.
Hagrid grinned. This was turning out to be a grand Christmas Feast after all! He looked back at the small tree with its Orb, eager to see who would approach next. He was just in time to see the little ball swell and turn Hufflepuff yellow and black.
"Oooh, isn't this pretty, Hagrid?" said Pomona Sprout, as she caught sight of the Orb. "I didn't know Filius was doing House-specific ornaments this year; I wish he'd told us Heads. I'll have to ask him to teach me the charm -- ouch!"
She jerked her fingers back and sucked on the tips. "It's very hot. Must be too close to the candles. I'll ask the elves to check the fireproofing charms."
"I'll talk to 'em, Perfessor," Hagrid offered, wanting to remove any distractions. He couldn't wait to see who she'd approach.
"Oh, that's so kind of you, Hagrid. Well, happy Christmas, my dear."
And off she went, straight to the head table. . .where Minerva McGonagall was just finishing a slice of chocolate gâteau.
Well, well, well! Professor McGonagall! Who would have thought?
"Good on you, Pomona," Hagrid murmured to himself. He was so chuffed, he felt like jumping up and down in glee. But maybe that would be unseemly for a teacher? He wasn't sure. So he contented himself with lifting a few mince pies from the nearby Hufflepuff table. They'd go down a treat with some ale as a midnight snack.
When he turned again to the little tree, somehow he was not surprised to see that the Orb of Christmas Pleasure had disappeared from the branches. Gone. And rightly so: Its work was done; it had granted its Christmas wishes. The Orb had created three -- no, six -- chances for happiness. That was enough to be going on with.
Stuffing his mince pies in his pocket, Hagrid left the Great Hall. Time to go home; Fang would be wanting his dinner.
As he trudged through the snow to his cabin, he thought about the Orb, and happiness, and romance. Not all folks wanted romance, but for them as did, it could be wonderful.
Wonderful.
"You know, Fang," Hagrid said as he poured out some hound chow. "It's been a while since I talked with Olympe. Mebbe tomorrow, I'll send her an owl. To wish her the joys of the season, like."
And to see if she was going to be free on New Year's Eve.