The true meaning of Christmas
Thanks to a minor Christmas Day disaster (is that the opposite of a Christmas Miracle?), I've spent my entire day sitting and waiting for the plumber to a) show up, b) figure out what's wrong with our plumbing, c) call for reinforcements and d) actually fix the plumbing. This is apparently part of the 'charm' of owning a 110+ year old house.
The downside, of course, is that the dishes from Christmas brunch still aren't done and we've been showering at the gym.
The upside? Well, the gym has a very nice sauna. Also- I'm not sure if I'd totally call it an upside, but I've plowed through most of Session 5 of the Solitude Sessions and 26 pages of Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter. The latter, I'll admit was giving me some initial trouble. It's entirely plausible that I'm just not as funny as I was five years ago.
The more I work on it, though, I think I'm starting to get the yips out. We'll see.
From Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter, Episode 6:
"This could not possibly get any weirder." Ginny took a step back and bumped into the suddenly reassuring bulk of Harry’s chest (which, considering this was Harry, wasn’t especially bulky, nor usually especially reassuring).
"I said it before," a voice said from the back room, "and I have to say it again. This is a terrible, terrible idea."
The door swung open and Neville, also dressed in black leather, came into the reception area.
"Oh, I spoke too soon," Ginny said, this time stepping away from Harry and sitting down on the crimson plush sofa. "It can get much, much weirder."
"Apparently," Harry said softly, sitting down himself on the arm of the sofa.
Percy reached up and unfastened himself from the cables, falling to the floor with a distinct thud.
“This is not,” he said, sitting up and attempting to straighten his glasses, “what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re all about to do some cat burglar-ing...”
“Oh, we are,” Luna said, apparently unconcerned.
*
“So,” he addressed his young charges, “I have your first assignment.”
They all crowded around him eagerly.
“What is it?” Neville asked. “A Death Eater plot?”
“Vampires?” said Harry.
“An infestation of Midlothian Barking Beasties?” Luna suggested.
“Hardly. Background checks on Ministry employees.” There was a very extended silence. Ginny blinked. Percy shook his head. “What were you expecting exactly?”
“Adventure! Excitement! Really wild things...”
“That’s on Tuesdays."
*
The building listed ominously above them, making an eerie moaning noise as supports buckled under the sudden weight of the collapsed roof. They approached the entrance to the basement where Percy had last seen the twins, but all he could see was more debris. Bits of burning parchment floated down from the upper floors, turning to ash and falling like snow around them. There on the sidewalk, finally, was George. He was propped up against the wrought iron railing, ash collecting in his hair, looking for all the world as though he was just taking a bit of a kip.
“George!” Percy hurried over, Celia’s hand still on his arm.
“Percy, if he’s-" she began, but it wasn’t necessary. George was bruised and bloodied, but still very much alive.
“Come on, we have to move him.”
“Percy, no! We don’t know the extent of his injuries. We can’t just move him; we might do more harm than good.”
Percy blinked at her. “We can move him without moving him. We have magic.”
“Oh, of course we do.” She looked down at her wand. “I think I might be a bit hysterical, just so you know.”
“Well,” he said, moving George a safe distance from the building, “you’re managing it rather well, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really, but I’ll take what I can get.” She knelt beside George. “I’ll take care of him. Go find your other brother.”
Celia woke George, who grinned up at her, obviously still a bit disoriented. “Say,” he said. “If this is heaven, I’m not complaining...”
“Hold still,” she said briskly, ignoring him. “I need to make sure you aren’t permanently damaged. You know, I think you’re lucky that you’re rather drunk, otherwise you’d have been hurt much worse...”
Percy, meanwhile, found Fred, dazed and breathing rapidly, at the head of the basement steps. The exterior wall of what had once been the ground floor tilted perilously over the open stairway.
“Move,” Percy said, but Fred didn’t reply. His eyes were still half closed. “We’ve got to move!” Percy repeated, grabbing him by the armpits and hauling him into the street just as the wall collapsed, effectively blocking the only entrance to the basement.
Fred stumbled to his feet, took one look at Percy and socked him in the eye.
“Ow,” Percy said, nonplussed, clutching at his eye.
“You utter bastard.”
“I just saved your life!”
*
Percy let them go and looked around for Celia. She was leaning against the ruined lamppost, scanning the crowd, he assumed, looking for him as well. It had started to drizzle and she was shivering violently in her thin dress.
“Celia?”
“I think I may be sick,” she said, looking very green, sweating despite the cold, and nearly pitched into Percy’s arms. He picked her up and carried her over to where the healers had set up a sort of makeshift triage area.
“She got a nasty knock on the head, but seemed fine until now,” he said, setting her down on one of the cots.
“Hello, dear,” a plump middle-aged witch said, shining the lit tip of her wand in Celia’s right eye and then her left. “Do you know what day it is? And who’s the Minister of Magic?”
“October 12th, and Rufus Scrimgeour - the wanker.”
*
Percy turned and looked out the window, then cursed softly. "What are you thinking, Kingsley? Bringing us here?"
"I thought someone should tell your parents that the twins are all right, and on their way home."
"And you couldn't just have sent a note?"
“No, I couldn’t.” A look passed between the two that Celia couldn’t quite interpret. “Come on, out with you. I’ll be back soon with the others.”
“This is a very bad idea, Kingsley...” Percy said, but climbed out anyway, helping Celia after him.
The carriage took off at a fast clip, leaving them standing in the muddy yard.
“What is it, Percy? What’s wrong?”
"This is The Burrow," he said, sighing. "This is where I grew up."
The house was in slight disrepair, though it looked welcoming enough.
"This is where your family lives?"
"Not at the moment, but they must be here tonight," he said, and refused to elaborate on the subject.
Instead of going to the front door, he headed around back to the kitchen entrance, Celia in his wake, trying to keep up despite the mud and her rather impractical shoes.
“They’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, half to himself, coming to a halt in front a weather-beaten door that didn’t hang quite right on its hinges. He took a deep breath, putting Celia slightly behind him as though he half-expected to have to shield her from curses, and knocked.
Nothing happened.
He knocked again, clearly beginning to lose his nerve. “Maybe Kingsley was mistaken-" he said, and shifted his weight as though to turn and walk away.
The door opened abruptly, held by a boy who looked like a carbon copy of Percy, only a few years younger. The boy’s eyes widened and he uttered an exclamation completely inappropriate for mixed company. He let the door fall open wider, revealing what had to be nearly Percy’s entire family seated around a massive kitchen table, all of them staring, open-mouthed, at the doorway.
“Well,” Percy announced, “I’m home.”
The downside, of course, is that the dishes from Christmas brunch still aren't done and we've been showering at the gym.
The upside? Well, the gym has a very nice sauna. Also- I'm not sure if I'd totally call it an upside, but I've plowed through most of Session 5 of the Solitude Sessions and 26 pages of Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter. The latter, I'll admit was giving me some initial trouble. It's entirely plausible that I'm just not as funny as I was five years ago.
The more I work on it, though, I think I'm starting to get the yips out. We'll see.
From Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter, Episode 6:
"This could not possibly get any weirder." Ginny took a step back and bumped into the suddenly reassuring bulk of Harry’s chest (which, considering this was Harry, wasn’t especially bulky, nor usually especially reassuring).
"I said it before," a voice said from the back room, "and I have to say it again. This is a terrible, terrible idea."
The door swung open and Neville, also dressed in black leather, came into the reception area.
"Oh, I spoke too soon," Ginny said, this time stepping away from Harry and sitting down on the crimson plush sofa. "It can get much, much weirder."
"Apparently," Harry said softly, sitting down himself on the arm of the sofa.
Percy reached up and unfastened himself from the cables, falling to the floor with a distinct thud.
“This is not,” he said, sitting up and attempting to straighten his glasses, “what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re all about to do some cat burglar-ing...”
“Oh, we are,” Luna said, apparently unconcerned.
*
“So,” he addressed his young charges, “I have your first assignment.”
They all crowded around him eagerly.
“What is it?” Neville asked. “A Death Eater plot?”
“Vampires?” said Harry.
“An infestation of Midlothian Barking Beasties?” Luna suggested.
“Hardly. Background checks on Ministry employees.” There was a very extended silence. Ginny blinked. Percy shook his head. “What were you expecting exactly?”
“Adventure! Excitement! Really wild things...”
“That’s on Tuesdays."
*
The building listed ominously above them, making an eerie moaning noise as supports buckled under the sudden weight of the collapsed roof. They approached the entrance to the basement where Percy had last seen the twins, but all he could see was more debris. Bits of burning parchment floated down from the upper floors, turning to ash and falling like snow around them. There on the sidewalk, finally, was George. He was propped up against the wrought iron railing, ash collecting in his hair, looking for all the world as though he was just taking a bit of a kip.
“George!” Percy hurried over, Celia’s hand still on his arm.
“Percy, if he’s-" she began, but it wasn’t necessary. George was bruised and bloodied, but still very much alive.
“Come on, we have to move him.”
“Percy, no! We don’t know the extent of his injuries. We can’t just move him; we might do more harm than good.”
Percy blinked at her. “We can move him without moving him. We have magic.”
“Oh, of course we do.” She looked down at her wand. “I think I might be a bit hysterical, just so you know.”
“Well,” he said, moving George a safe distance from the building, “you’re managing it rather well, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really, but I’ll take what I can get.” She knelt beside George. “I’ll take care of him. Go find your other brother.”
Celia woke George, who grinned up at her, obviously still a bit disoriented. “Say,” he said. “If this is heaven, I’m not complaining...”
“Hold still,” she said briskly, ignoring him. “I need to make sure you aren’t permanently damaged. You know, I think you’re lucky that you’re rather drunk, otherwise you’d have been hurt much worse...”
Percy, meanwhile, found Fred, dazed and breathing rapidly, at the head of the basement steps. The exterior wall of what had once been the ground floor tilted perilously over the open stairway.
“Move,” Percy said, but Fred didn’t reply. His eyes were still half closed. “We’ve got to move!” Percy repeated, grabbing him by the armpits and hauling him into the street just as the wall collapsed, effectively blocking the only entrance to the basement.
Fred stumbled to his feet, took one look at Percy and socked him in the eye.
“Ow,” Percy said, nonplussed, clutching at his eye.
“You utter bastard.”
“I just saved your life!”
*
Percy let them go and looked around for Celia. She was leaning against the ruined lamppost, scanning the crowd, he assumed, looking for him as well. It had started to drizzle and she was shivering violently in her thin dress.
“Celia?”
“I think I may be sick,” she said, looking very green, sweating despite the cold, and nearly pitched into Percy’s arms. He picked her up and carried her over to where the healers had set up a sort of makeshift triage area.
“She got a nasty knock on the head, but seemed fine until now,” he said, setting her down on one of the cots.
“Hello, dear,” a plump middle-aged witch said, shining the lit tip of her wand in Celia’s right eye and then her left. “Do you know what day it is? And who’s the Minister of Magic?”
“October 12th, and Rufus Scrimgeour - the wanker.”
*
Percy turned and looked out the window, then cursed softly. "What are you thinking, Kingsley? Bringing us here?"
"I thought someone should tell your parents that the twins are all right, and on their way home."
"And you couldn't just have sent a note?"
“No, I couldn’t.” A look passed between the two that Celia couldn’t quite interpret. “Come on, out with you. I’ll be back soon with the others.”
“This is a very bad idea, Kingsley...” Percy said, but climbed out anyway, helping Celia after him.
The carriage took off at a fast clip, leaving them standing in the muddy yard.
“What is it, Percy? What’s wrong?”
"This is The Burrow," he said, sighing. "This is where I grew up."
The house was in slight disrepair, though it looked welcoming enough.
"This is where your family lives?"
"Not at the moment, but they must be here tonight," he said, and refused to elaborate on the subject.
Instead of going to the front door, he headed around back to the kitchen entrance, Celia in his wake, trying to keep up despite the mud and her rather impractical shoes.
“They’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, half to himself, coming to a halt in front a weather-beaten door that didn’t hang quite right on its hinges. He took a deep breath, putting Celia slightly behind him as though he half-expected to have to shield her from curses, and knocked.
Nothing happened.
He knocked again, clearly beginning to lose his nerve. “Maybe Kingsley was mistaken-" he said, and shifted his weight as though to turn and walk away.
The door opened abruptly, held by a boy who looked like a carbon copy of Percy, only a few years younger. The boy’s eyes widened and he uttered an exclamation completely inappropriate for mixed company. He let the door fall open wider, revealing what had to be nearly Percy’s entire family seated around a massive kitchen table, all of them staring, open-mouthed, at the doorway.
“Well,” Percy announced, “I’m home.”