Fic/Art: "The Secret Christmas Plan" for xkeijukainenx
Title: The Secret Christmas Plan
Author: peskywhistpaw
Recipient: xkeijukainenx
Rating: light PG-13?
Highlight for Warnings: *mild swearing*
Word Count: ~2,000
Summary: Excerpts from the CAPTAIN'S LOG of one James Potter, December 1975.
Author's notes: This came out a bit more fluffy and silly than I'd have liked, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Original prompt here.
The Secret Christmas Plan
(Plain Text Version)
and we will never, ever use Knotgrass again. Putting it in a bit of Firewhiskey does NOT turn it into that mead from the Hog’s Head. Wormtail’s extra head still hasn’t shrunk down. We think he’s allergic.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
12:27
Work on the Secret Christmas Plan is well underway. Sent Moony and Padfoot out in disguise to gather information. They now look like two freakishly tall first years bundled up. Moony even has an ickle blush from the cold. Padfoot seemed keen on dressing Moony as a girl, so they could pretend they were a couple and hold hands, but Moony wasn’t having it. You don’t have to be a couple to explore the hidden recesses of the castle. Obviously. And besides, first years are too young to date.
Moony is our Instigator this year. Wormtail was it last year, which was actually only mildly disastrous. Padfoot was it the year before, and I was the year before that. Padfoot’s and mine were good, although his involved sneaking into the kitchens and baking tarts. (They exploded later, right on schedule. Dumbledore winked at us, even though he had jam all down his beard, so we consider that year a right success.) Mine had nothing to do with tarts (except Alicia Gibbons). See CAPTAIN’S LOG December 1972 for further details.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
13:39
Disaster strikes! Padfoot has been taken in for questioning by McGonagall. Wormtail and I are going on Operation Rescue Mission 113. Moony will stand guar
Ah, wait. Moony insists on coming, too, even though his skills would be better put to use by
Right. We’ve got to get going.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
15:04
McGonagall has dealt us two fatal blows in a single afternoon, as only she, destroyer of pranks, can. Not even the batting of our long, lustrous lashes could melt her icy heart. Oh, woe! Oh, anguish!
Padfoot has been released from custody, battered, but not broken. Our brave soldier always carries on, though he may have been squeezed ruthlessly in the hands of the enemy like a helpless Puffskein, held captive in
SHUT UP, Prongs!
Padfoot you are defiling the Captain’s Log!
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
15:30
Essentially, McG is keeping Padfoot under close surveillance until the Christmas hols. Padfoot rendered impotent. BUT WE WILL RISE LIKE DUMBLEDORE’S AWESOME PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES AND RECLAIM OUR SUCCESSES LIKE MEN OF GRYFFINDOORRRRR!!!!!
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
18:46
Padfoot miserable about being put on guard duty (though he admits the irony is classy). Moony has taken it upon himself to keep Padfoot company, or entertained, or whatever wonders only Moony can do. But with Padfoot monopolizing our Instigator, the Secret Christmas Plan is progressing at an alarmingly slow rate.
At least Wormtail says the cultivation is going well.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
23:11
Came back from checking on locations to find Moony and Padfoot asleep. Ickle things, they were all curled up together outside the hidden cupboard where we’re keeping our supplies. Honestly. It’s like they think I don’t know they fancy eac
ABORT ABORT EVANS IS COMING
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
23:20
Wormtail’s gone missing.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
23:22
I suspect something’s gone wrong with the cultivation. Preparing for Operation Rescue Mission 114.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 17, 1975
00:00
Wormtail’s extra head is actually dead useful.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 17, 1975
06:14
Moony insists it’s necessary to the Secret Christmas Plan to wake up at such a forsaken hour. We must trust him, as he is the Instigator. Padfoot’s forlorn about being left out. We can’t tell him anything in case he’s being followed.
Here’s as much of the Secret Christmas Plan as I can show:
We used to think it’d be better to wait till the Christmas Feast, but almost everyone but us goes home, usually. It’d be a bit stupid to prank ourselves.
Although... McGonagall probably wouldn’t shout at us as much.
(So then, really, where’s the fun?)
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 17, 1975
22:59
Everything’s ready for tomorrow. McGonagall’s possibly suspicious, since we sent Padfoot to the library all day on the pretense of studying, but it keeps him far away from us, the poor blighter.
Moony says I’m now allowed to officially unveil the plan, but I reckon it’ll spoil the surprise, even if it’s just written down. Besides, Padfoot might snoop later, and he’s not allowed.
GET YOUR DEVASTATINGLY HANDSOME FACE OUT OF THIS BOOK, YOU GREAT BERK. YES, YOU, PADFOOT. IT’S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 18, 1975
18:00 (Dinner)
Time to rally the troops. Let it begin. LET IT BEGIN!
Hopefully Wormtail remembers the signal.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 18, 1975
19:12
Miserable defeat. Moony never to be Instigator again. There are no words.
PADFOOT’S LOG
December 18, 1975
23:42
Oh, there are words. And you’re thick, Prongs, if you thought I’d forget what the prank was going to be.
So here it is, for the record and future generations, what will henceforth be known as The Great Hall Incident of 1975: Why Sirius Black is Never Allowed Within Five Feet of Mistletoe Ever Again. (Also, How Remus Lupin is a Sneaky Bastard and Never Gets Blamed for Anything, Ever. It’s Not Fair! It Really Isn’t!)
See, I knew what the prank was going to be. No way in hell I’d forget it, it’s brilliant! Moony’s brilliant! Isn’t he? I think so. And anyway, we’d been growing mistletoe under Wormtail’s bed for a month. It’s a bit difficult to stop noticing that, especially when it kept sneaking feelers out to strangle Wormtail in his sleep. We’ve never had that many ORMs in one week. Of course, it didn’t help that we’d been feeding it this dodgy stuff to make it slightly bloodthirsty. (All part of the process. We enchanted it later to fix that up a bit. Nevermind Moony enchanted it again when Prongs and Wormtail weren’t watching. Moony’s sneaky, have I mentioned?)
The semi-bloodthirsty mistletoe was supposed to be placed strategically round the Great Hall, which I assume was done easily enough. I wasn’t there. It isn’t my fault. (It’s still not fair.) Moony was supposed to put a Cloaking Spell and a Freezing Charm on everything until the middle of dinner, when we’d all be sitting innocently at Gryffindor table. Then Moony would remove the spells, all mayhem would break loose, and it would be the best early Christmas gift to ourselves ever.
That was what was supposed to happen. We all thought it a bit violent of Moony, who normally doesn’t condone violence, but it was a spiffing plan, so we went through with it anyway. We didn’t fully understand how brilliant Moony is, see. (Although I started to get an idea of it after I was banned from the project.)
What actually happened was this:
Everything was set up properly. (YES PRONGS, I read it beforehand, I KNOW, I saw the DIAGRAM.) Everyone was in place. Prongs was giving me covert glances like he always does when we’re about to pull a prank. He can’t help it. He just gets too excited. (You’d be surprised how few people actually notice this, though, so it’s only ever got us caught once, and we were first-years. We didn’t know any better.) Then, after everyone was starting to dig into a second helping of roast beef, Wormtail gave the signal. (Wormtail gives the signal because no one expects him to. I wasn’t privy to this information, but I suspect, due to the timing, the signal was Wormtail stabbing his mashed potatoes three times with a fork. Wormtail always eats his mashed potatoes with a spoon, see.)
Right on schedule (I expect), Moony held his wand under the table and angled it up at the ceiling. I could see it, because he was sitting right next to me. I did my part and shifted a bit closer to hide it, just in case. So Moony did his Moony thing to reveal the man-eating mistletoe.
But nobody screamed, which was odd. We usually get a lot of screaming. I glanced around the Great Hall. No bloodthirsty mistletoe. Nobody screaming. They were all staring at us, which was a bit disconcerting, since Prongs is usually clever and covers our tracks, so to speak.
Then I heard this gurgling noise coming from beside me. I turned to look, and found that there was, in fact, one bunch of mistletoe. It was above us, and it was strangling Moony. Prongs and Wormtail stared at him in horror.
“GLARGH!” cried Moony.
“GLARGH!” cried Peter’s second head.
“Shit!” cried James.
I leapt onto the stuff without a thought. I would wrestle it off of Moony, pinning it to the ground, successful ORM 115. But as soon as I touched the evil greenery, a thin arm of it snaked out and grabbed my wrist. It yanked me off the bench and into the air above the Gryffindor table. Moony too, though thankfully not by the neck. (Some of it got under his feet.) And then we just sort of hung there, a few inches apart.
By this time, people had started screaming. At least one person had fainted. (Hopefully it was a Slytherin.) I tried shooting a quick Incendio at the mistletoe, but we’d bred it to be impervious, and therefore, had created a monster. The thing even had the gall to take away my wand. But it hadn’t eaten us yet, which was lucky.
Moony looked calm, which is what Moony does. I shouted something like, “HOW THE HELL DO WE DEFEAT THIS THING?” And Moony said, “Hm,” which is also something Moony does.
“Hm?” I asked.
“Hm,” he affirmed. Then he added, all casual-like, “Perhaps we overlooked something in the cultivation process. It may have retained some of its original properties.”
“Like what?” said I, innocent as I was. Because then I remembered what the original properties of enchanted mistletoe are: You can’t move unless you snog.
“Are you serious?” I demanded.
Moony looked at me pointedly.
“Oh, shut up, Moony,” I said. I licked my lips. I was a bit nervous, to be honest, and this was Moony. Moony, who is brilliant and sneaky and wonderful and Moony-like.
But I snogged him anyway. His lips were chapped, just like I’d expected, and tasted like the chocolate I’d
Erm. But of course, Prongs and Wormtail are going to read this later. It was a nice kiss. You know. As far as kissing one of your best mates goes. Ahem.
As soon as we’d snogged, the demon plant let us drop, and we plummeted right into a large boat of gravy. Moony got it all spattered over his face and his worn out robes and I wanted to lick it. We just stared at each other for a bit, and I suspect everyone was staring at us, and then:
“MR. BLACK!” There was Minnie McG, swooping down upon us from above. “What on earth did you think you were going?”
“I was rescuing him, Professor!” I said, because I was.
“By setting one of your dangerous experiments on poor Mr. Lupin and performing lewd acts upon him in front of the entire Great Hall? I think NOT!”
How Prongs, at the very least, didn’t get blamed for this, I’ll never know. What I do know is that when McG was dragging me out by the ear, I glanced back, waving at various students in a resigned sort of manner, Moony was looking positively smug. Full of smirks, and all that.
And then I knew.
Perhaps we overlooooked something in the cultivation process. It MAYYY have retained some of its original properties, ooohhhh, even though I’m Moooony and I’m a genius so I’d never actually bollocks something like this up unless I were doing it on purpose, ooooohhhh, maybe we should SNOG in front of the whole SCHOOL, Padfoot!
There are words, all right:
That. Sneaky. Bastard.
MOONY’S LOG
December 19, 1975
01:57
In all fairness, Padfoot, you weren’t exactly taking a hint.
Author: peskywhistpaw
Recipient: xkeijukainenx
Rating: light PG-13?
Highlight for Warnings: *mild swearing*
Word Count: ~2,000
Summary: Excerpts from the CAPTAIN'S LOG of one James Potter, December 1975.
Author's notes: This came out a bit more fluffy and silly than I'd have liked, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Original prompt here.
The Secret Christmas Plan
(Plain Text Version)
and we will never, ever use Knotgrass again. Putting it in a bit of Firewhiskey does NOT turn it into that mead from the Hog’s Head. Wormtail’s extra head still hasn’t shrunk down. We think he’s allergic.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
12:27
Work on the Secret Christmas Plan is well underway. Sent Moony and Padfoot out in disguise to gather information. They now look like two freakishly tall first years bundled up. Moony even has an ickle blush from the cold. Padfoot seemed keen on dressing Moony as a girl, so they could pretend they were a couple and hold hands, but Moony wasn’t having it. You don’t have to be a couple to explore the hidden recesses of the castle. Obviously. And besides, first years are too young to date.
Moony is our Instigator this year. Wormtail was it last year, which was actually only mildly disastrous. Padfoot was it the year before, and I was the year before that. Padfoot’s and mine were good, although his involved sneaking into the kitchens and baking tarts. (They exploded later, right on schedule. Dumbledore winked at us, even though he had jam all down his beard, so we consider that year a right success.) Mine had nothing to do with tarts (except Alicia Gibbons). See CAPTAIN’S LOG December 1972 for further details.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
13:39
Disaster strikes! Padfoot has been taken in for questioning by McGonagall. Wormtail and I are going on Operation Rescue Mission 113. Moony will stand guar
Ah, wait. Moony insists on coming, too, even though his skills would be better put to use by
Right. We’ve got to get going.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
15:04
McGonagall has dealt us two fatal blows in a single afternoon, as only she, destroyer of pranks, can. Not even the batting of our long, lustrous lashes could melt her icy heart. Oh, woe! Oh, anguish!
Padfoot has been released from custody, battered, but not broken. Our brave soldier always carries on, though he may have been squeezed ruthlessly in the hands of the enemy like a helpless Puffskein, held captive in
SHUT UP, Prongs!
Padfoot you are defiling the Captain’s Log!
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 15, 1975
15:30
Essentially, McG is keeping Padfoot under close surveillance until the Christmas hols. Padfoot rendered impotent. BUT WE WILL RISE LIKE DUMBLEDORE’S AWESOME PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES AND RECLAIM OUR SUCCESSES LIKE MEN OF GRYFFINDOORRRRR!!!!!
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
18:46
Padfoot miserable about being put on guard duty (though he admits the irony is classy). Moony has taken it upon himself to keep Padfoot company, or entertained, or whatever wonders only Moony can do. But with Padfoot monopolizing our Instigator, the Secret Christmas Plan is progressing at an alarmingly slow rate.
At least Wormtail says the cultivation is going well.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
23:11
Came back from checking on locations to find Moony and Padfoot asleep. Ickle things, they were all curled up together outside the hidden cupboard where we’re keeping our supplies. Honestly. It’s like they think I don’t know they fancy eac
ABORT ABORT EVANS IS COMING
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
23:20
Wormtail’s gone missing.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 16, 1975
23:22
I suspect something’s gone wrong with the cultivation. Preparing for Operation Rescue Mission 114.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 17, 1975
00:00
Wormtail’s extra head is actually dead useful.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 17, 1975
06:14
Moony insists it’s necessary to the Secret Christmas Plan to wake up at such a forsaken hour. We must trust him, as he is the Instigator. Padfoot’s forlorn about being left out. We can’t tell him anything in case he’s being followed.
Here’s as much of the Secret Christmas Plan as I can show:
We used to think it’d be better to wait till the Christmas Feast, but almost everyone but us goes home, usually. It’d be a bit stupid to prank ourselves.
Although... McGonagall probably wouldn’t shout at us as much.
(So then, really, where’s the fun?)
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 17, 1975
22:59
Everything’s ready for tomorrow. McGonagall’s possibly suspicious, since we sent Padfoot to the library all day on the pretense of studying, but it keeps him far away from us, the poor blighter.
Moony says I’m now allowed to officially unveil the plan, but I reckon it’ll spoil the surprise, even if it’s just written down. Besides, Padfoot might snoop later, and he’s not allowed.
GET YOUR DEVASTATINGLY HANDSOME FACE OUT OF THIS BOOK, YOU GREAT BERK. YES, YOU, PADFOOT. IT’S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 18, 1975
18:00 (Dinner)
Time to rally the troops. Let it begin. LET IT BEGIN!
Hopefully Wormtail remembers the signal.
CAPTAIN’S LOG
December 18, 1975
19:12
Miserable defeat. Moony never to be Instigator again. There are no words.
PADFOOT’S LOG
December 18, 1975
23:42
Oh, there are words. And you’re thick, Prongs, if you thought I’d forget what the prank was going to be.
So here it is, for the record and future generations, what will henceforth be known as The Great Hall Incident of 1975: Why Sirius Black is Never Allowed Within Five Feet of Mistletoe Ever Again. (Also, How Remus Lupin is a Sneaky Bastard and Never Gets Blamed for Anything, Ever. It’s Not Fair! It Really Isn’t!)
See, I knew what the prank was going to be. No way in hell I’d forget it, it’s brilliant! Moony’s brilliant! Isn’t he? I think so. And anyway, we’d been growing mistletoe under Wormtail’s bed for a month. It’s a bit difficult to stop noticing that, especially when it kept sneaking feelers out to strangle Wormtail in his sleep. We’ve never had that many ORMs in one week. Of course, it didn’t help that we’d been feeding it this dodgy stuff to make it slightly bloodthirsty. (All part of the process. We enchanted it later to fix that up a bit. Nevermind Moony enchanted it again when Prongs and Wormtail weren’t watching. Moony’s sneaky, have I mentioned?)
The semi-bloodthirsty mistletoe was supposed to be placed strategically round the Great Hall, which I assume was done easily enough. I wasn’t there. It isn’t my fault. (It’s still not fair.) Moony was supposed to put a Cloaking Spell and a Freezing Charm on everything until the middle of dinner, when we’d all be sitting innocently at Gryffindor table. Then Moony would remove the spells, all mayhem would break loose, and it would be the best early Christmas gift to ourselves ever.
That was what was supposed to happen. We all thought it a bit violent of Moony, who normally doesn’t condone violence, but it was a spiffing plan, so we went through with it anyway. We didn’t fully understand how brilliant Moony is, see. (Although I started to get an idea of it after I was banned from the project.)
What actually happened was this:
Everything was set up properly. (YES PRONGS, I read it beforehand, I KNOW, I saw the DIAGRAM.) Everyone was in place. Prongs was giving me covert glances like he always does when we’re about to pull a prank. He can’t help it. He just gets too excited. (You’d be surprised how few people actually notice this, though, so it’s only ever got us caught once, and we were first-years. We didn’t know any better.) Then, after everyone was starting to dig into a second helping of roast beef, Wormtail gave the signal. (Wormtail gives the signal because no one expects him to. I wasn’t privy to this information, but I suspect, due to the timing, the signal was Wormtail stabbing his mashed potatoes three times with a fork. Wormtail always eats his mashed potatoes with a spoon, see.)
Right on schedule (I expect), Moony held his wand under the table and angled it up at the ceiling. I could see it, because he was sitting right next to me. I did my part and shifted a bit closer to hide it, just in case. So Moony did his Moony thing to reveal the man-eating mistletoe.
But nobody screamed, which was odd. We usually get a lot of screaming. I glanced around the Great Hall. No bloodthirsty mistletoe. Nobody screaming. They were all staring at us, which was a bit disconcerting, since Prongs is usually clever and covers our tracks, so to speak.
Then I heard this gurgling noise coming from beside me. I turned to look, and found that there was, in fact, one bunch of mistletoe. It was above us, and it was strangling Moony. Prongs and Wormtail stared at him in horror.
“GLARGH!” cried Moony.
“GLARGH!” cried Peter’s second head.
“Shit!” cried James.
I leapt onto the stuff without a thought. I would wrestle it off of Moony, pinning it to the ground, successful ORM 115. But as soon as I touched the evil greenery, a thin arm of it snaked out and grabbed my wrist. It yanked me off the bench and into the air above the Gryffindor table. Moony too, though thankfully not by the neck. (Some of it got under his feet.) And then we just sort of hung there, a few inches apart.
By this time, people had started screaming. At least one person had fainted. (Hopefully it was a Slytherin.) I tried shooting a quick Incendio at the mistletoe, but we’d bred it to be impervious, and therefore, had created a monster. The thing even had the gall to take away my wand. But it hadn’t eaten us yet, which was lucky.
Moony looked calm, which is what Moony does. I shouted something like, “HOW THE HELL DO WE DEFEAT THIS THING?” And Moony said, “Hm,” which is also something Moony does.
“Hm?” I asked.
“Hm,” he affirmed. Then he added, all casual-like, “Perhaps we overlooked something in the cultivation process. It may have retained some of its original properties.”
“Like what?” said I, innocent as I was. Because then I remembered what the original properties of enchanted mistletoe are: You can’t move unless you snog.
“Are you serious?” I demanded.
Moony looked at me pointedly.
“Oh, shut up, Moony,” I said. I licked my lips. I was a bit nervous, to be honest, and this was Moony. Moony, who is brilliant and sneaky and wonderful and Moony-like.
But I snogged him anyway. His lips were chapped, just like I’d expected, and tasted like the chocolate I’d
Erm. But of course, Prongs and Wormtail are going to read this later. It was a nice kiss. You know. As far as kissing one of your best mates goes. Ahem.
As soon as we’d snogged, the demon plant let us drop, and we plummeted right into a large boat of gravy. Moony got it all spattered over his face and his worn out robes and I wanted to lick it. We just stared at each other for a bit, and I suspect everyone was staring at us, and then:
“MR. BLACK!” There was Minnie McG, swooping down upon us from above. “What on earth did you think you were going?”
“I was rescuing him, Professor!” I said, because I was.
“By setting one of your dangerous experiments on poor Mr. Lupin and performing lewd acts upon him in front of the entire Great Hall? I think NOT!”
How Prongs, at the very least, didn’t get blamed for this, I’ll never know. What I do know is that when McG was dragging me out by the ear, I glanced back, waving at various students in a resigned sort of manner, Moony was looking positively smug. Full of smirks, and all that.
And then I knew.
Perhaps we overlooooked something in the cultivation process. It MAYYY have retained some of its original properties, ooohhhh, even though I’m Moooony and I’m a genius so I’d never actually bollocks something like this up unless I were doing it on purpose, ooooohhhh, maybe we should SNOG in front of the whole SCHOOL, Padfoot!
There are words, all right:
That. Sneaky. Bastard.
MOONY’S LOG
December 19, 1975
01:57
In all fairness, Padfoot, you weren’t exactly taking a hint.