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SIYE Time:11:29 on 29th March 2024
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Merry Secularized Non-descript Winter Holiday?
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Alternate Universe, Holidays
Characters:All
Genres: Fluff, Humor
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 5
Summary: It is one of Harry and Ginny’s first Christmases together as man and wife. Unfortunately, the holiday does not come with an instruction manual, or a suggestion list for the perfect gift. Once again, Harry is called upon to demonstrate that he is far braver than any of us, and in the most frightening of situations. Praise the elves and pass the tinsel!
Hitcount: Story Total: 4097



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
Yes, this is once again a tale from Spenser’s universe. A special thanks to Sir Ollivander for the idea. Merry Christmas everyone! Eric B.




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Merry Secularized Non-descript Winter Holiday!

By Spenser Hemmingway


“Teacher says, ‘Every time a hippogriff burps, a house-elf gets his Buffalo wings,’ or something like that.”–-Six-year-old Soh Soh Bayleaf to her parents in It’s a Wonderful Nervous Breakdown, 1947(?).



“Ginny is absolutely impossible,” Harry began, literally pulling at his unkempt hair with both hands. Bulging eyes and a taunt jaw helped to accentuate his obvious frustration.

“I know what you mean mate,” Ron offered. “Remember, I got to live with her for seventeen years. Crikey, when she would lose her temper, sparks could fly; and no magic there either. Plus, she always insisted that all of us put the bloody toilet seat down. I’m telling you…”

“I meant to buy for Ron. She’s the only Christmas gift I have left, and we’ve been back here to Diagon Alley three times now. I’m at my wits end!”

This was no exaggeration either. In the ten-plus years I had known Harry then, I had seen him in every conceivable mood, from fierce determination in a fight, to pure elation at the birth of his son James, to rolling on the floor, laughing amusement after reading one of my many stories about him. That was…well, more than a bit embarrassing, since The Tale of the Yodeling Blacksmith wasn’t actually supposed to be humorous. Regardless, today I was witnessing a masterful display of pure frustration.

“What did you get Luna Spense?” Ron asked, no doubt trying to momentarily change the subject.

“I renewed the restraining order against that creepy Scamander guy.” Sorry Rolf fans–-alternative universe–-someone else got the girl here. “Luni said she wanted a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus would do. I had a really hard time finding one too.”

“You got her a stuffed or ceramic one you mean.” I noted how Ron’s eyes remained on Harry as he spoke to me.

“Uhm yeah…sure.” Don’t ask–-you’d never believe me if I told you. “Harry, there’s still time to get her that official Red Ryder carbine-action two-hundred-shot range model air wand.” Harry ignored me. Sheesh! It wasn’t like she was going to shoot her eye out or anything. “All right…all right! If the Alley has been picked clean as far as you’re concerned, we still have one option left, but you’re not going to like it.” I placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder before continuing. “Harry, you are absolutely the bravest man I ever met, and you’ll need to be if we do this.” I had his attention now, as well as Ron’s and, for that matter, the ear of every eavesdropping patron within twenty feet there in the Leaky Cauldron.

“What is it?” Harry slowly asked. Curiosity had suddenly replaced annoyance. “Not Knockturn Alley?”

“Worse Harry–-day before Christmas or not, we need to visit…a Muggle shopping mall.”

Ron didn’t understand my meaning, but Harry had clearly been to one before. His face now displayed the closest thing to unqualified terror and absolute defeat I had ever seen with him.

“I suppose…we could borrow Mrs. Figg’s station wagon again,” Harry slowly said. “Mildred, could you bring me a double Scotch.”

Our reality’s Harry Potter rarely, if ever, drank, but I couldn’t blame him just then.


*****



“Why couldn’t I drive? I’ve been taking driving lessons from Mum for three years now. Why does Harry get to drive?” Ron whined. It really was annoying too.

“Because you’ve failed the on-road test thirteen times…”

“Fifteen now Spense,” Harry corrected, drawing an angry/hurt look from Ron.

“Fifteen times then. Sorry good buddy, but everyone is wondering where your mom learned herself. As for me, I’m the American here remember. Even after all this time, I tend to drive on the wrong side of the road. Hey Harry, isn’t that the sign for the exit? This far away and we’re already in bumper-to-bumper? Wow!”

From the back seat, I could see the shoulders of both my friends visibly slump at the sight and Harry’s head shake just a tad. I thought I could hear Ron groan as well. Despite the mall’s being undoubtedly a crowded, unfamiliar spot, I half expected Harry to suggest having Ron and me do a blind Apparation there, while he brought the car up. We were only utilizing the vehicle for its trunk space–-in the event of a large number of last minute purchases.

“Anyway, it looks as if we have plenty of time to talk out what to get my sister,” Ron told him, confirming that he and I were staying put, traffic jam or not. “You’re right about Ginny being hard to shop for. Hermione and I got her a robe.”

“To replace the one Fred gave her last Christmas–-the one that grafted itself to her skin, and then transformed into turkey feathers,” Harry said, and actually laughed for a moment. “I hoped you ensured yours didn’t have a Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes label this time.” He was quiet then for a full five minutes before speaking again, during which time we moved exactly two car lengths. “She says she doesn’t need anything…want anything.”

“How about jewelry?” I asked. “She loved the silver locket you gave her on her birthday?”

“Only because it held James and my pictures. She straight out told me no jewelry for Christmas.” He went silent again for the time it took us to travel ten yards. Clothes are no good; I’m not even certain of her sizes. We don’t need anything in the kitchen. She has things there that even Molly doesn’t know what they’re for. I’ve given her perfume twice this year. The first bottle caused her to break out in pixie pox; the second ended up smelling like Spenser’s bulldog–-wet.”

“Ugh! Luni and I need to bathe him tonight. I almost forgot. Eau de Bow Wow courtesy of the twins?” I could see his self-conscious grin in the rearview mirror. “Slippers?”

“Three pairs already,” Harry countered, “and Percy’s giving her another.”

“A nice family portrait? No wait…Mum and Dad are doing that one. Crum! Bill and Fleur are giving you some kind of artwork; Charlie’s bought you both… Oh, blast it all! I’m sorry Harry. I didn’t mean to give away all your presents. Try to act surprised at the family gift exchange.”

“No worries Ron.” Harry was laughing again, and I found myself sighing with relief. “There must be some sort of accident up ahead there.”

“You mean where those two dudes in the Santa hats are standing on the one car’s hood beating each other senseless with giant candy canes. You British sure seem to have some strange holiday traditions.” I decided then that it was going to be a long, long day.


*****



Long was an understatement. It took us more than two and a half hours to travel those final four miles. Another forty-five minutes of touring the large parking lot left us with no glimmer of hope for an empty space. That is until the moment Harry spotted an old Volkswagen bus backing out halfway down the current aisle. The trouble was…so had the bug-eyed man in the green Mercedes revving his engine at the other far end of the lane. That was when Harry snapped (and I wasn’t at all sure why he had waited that long). The expression he wore then would have scared old Voldemort himself were he still around. The growling sound our friend was making put me in mind of Remus on a bad night, or Ron’s stomach just before lunch.

“Ron, Spenser, do you know what all of this reminds me of suddenly? It’s just like an enormous, unorganized Quidditch match, but with thousands of frenzied players!” It was his turn to gun the engine.

“Frenzied is a good word Harry,” Ron almost whimpered. I couldn’t even do that much, but instead double-checked my seat belt and the life insurance card in my wallet.

Harry hit the gas at the same moment the Mercedes did. The game of chicken was on. Now granted, the other car did have high-priced Bavarian speed and power, but the borrowed thirty-year-old Ford held three Wizards. It took two seconds…twenty feet for Ron to get his wand out of the space. Another three elapsed. The Volkswagen hugged the far side once out. Ron’s passenger window went down. Two more seconds and we were almost to the parking spot–-doing forty miles-per-hour. At the last possible second…

Transfixar Ootowkar!” Ron screamed. German workmanship abruptly transformed itself into a flock of crows, which took off in an easterly direction. The driver, still traveling at a rapid rate of speed, sailed/levitated over the top of our car, and landed hard on the pavement behind us. Out the windows, as we came to a stop in our hard-won space, I could see he was out cold. Before Harry even set the brake, Ron and I were out of the car, and rushing up to check on him. Fortunately, the war had given all of us a very thorough knowledge of first-aid.

“He’ll be fine…I think. You did cushion his landing with your spell, didn’t you?”

“Yeah right…more or less. His car will reassemble itself after a couple hundred yards.”

“Hopefully in a tow away zone,” Harry said. Neither Ron nor I had heard him walk up. He was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself after the race. “We’ll need to Obliviate his memories, and I might be talked into giving him an icepack.”

As Ron and I started to drag the man to a nearby shopping cart stall, I could almost swear I heard Harry muttering something such as “Christmas bah, humbug.” Then began our twenty-five minute hike to the first storefront. I was beginning to agree with Harry’s comment.


*****



“Are we still in England?” Ron asked no one in particular.

He sounded exhausted, and we had only just reached the mall door. Me? I had a splitting headache, and we weren’t even inside yet. I also had a serious ringing in my ears. No wait…it was the Salvation Army kettle at the door. While a wonderful organization from any angle, at the moment its collection methods were less than appreciated.

“Merry Christmas…ho, ho, ho!” the man shouted at us–-no slurred. He obviously had not signed the Army’s Temperance Pledge. “Merry Christmas!” he repeated.

Stepping behind the kettle, it was extremely evident that he wanted some sort of donation. I had to wonder how much of the money made its way to the liquor store or the corner pub. Under the circumstances, none of us were in any mood to part with our hard-earned funds. Yes, we had taken the time to convert our Galleons to British Pounds. We moved to step past the sot, only to have him stagger out in front of us, and it wasn’t to open the door. He smelled of gin, sweat, and vomit. What was he doing there? It was then I noticed how, despite the great crowds elsewhere, everyone seemed to be wisely avoiding this entrance. Lucky us. Ron whispered as much to Harry.

“Merry Christmas!” the ringer yelled a third time; much louder and much, much more insistently. “Howse about a nice cont-ee-boo-shun mates?”

Ron reached out for Harry’s arm when he saw him start to go for his wand.

“Harry, there are way too many Muggles here, including him,” Ron softly reminded him.

“Ah Ron, can’t I just hit him with a minor killing curse?” Harry was breathing heavily again. I was starting to worry about him. Maybe we should have just hit a convenience store–-buy Ginny the English equivalent of a breakfast burrito and Slurpee combo. “How about letting me do Hocus Pocus? Everyone enjoys a good rabbit stew.” He was shouting now, drawing the attention of other shoppers, and somehow inspiring amusement with the drunk.

“Harry…” Ron and I began together.

“Oh, forget it,” Harry said in a much softer voice. “Block everyone’s view of me for just a second, and…”

Harry spun back around then, raised his arms, and produced in one hand a conjured bottle of whole milk, and in the other a bar of soap. The Salvation Army ringer screamed, and then darted off in terror, upsetting the kettle which, not surprisingly, was indeed empty.


*****



Contrary to what you’ve seen In the Muggle Harry Potter films, Hogwarts does not have thousands of students attending the school. That was creative license on the part of Harry’s nice biographer and the hired-on screenwriters. In reality, ours that is, there are merely several hundred in our student body at any one time. During our seventh year (yes, all of us returned to Hogwarts in this universe, but that’s another story), war fears reduced our ranks significantly, especially in Slytherin House.

With that said, I want all three of you who will read this story to visualize the Great Hall full of students, and all successfully being ushered into a non-magical telephone booth. You say it can’t be done? You say it’s impossible without magic, or the Doctor’s T.A.R.D.I.S. technology? Wrong, and I can prove it. Just step inside a shopping mall the day before Christmas.

“Oh, bloody h…”

“Careful Ron, Santa may be listening. I agree though.” I had to shout to him over the din the crowd was generating. “It looks as if they invited the whole city to this party.”

“The whole flippin’ country,” Ron countered. “Harry where…?”

Ron stopped himself, and I instantly saw why. Our friend was sweating as if he’d just run a mile. His eyes were wide again, and once more he was breathing heavily. Every muscle in his body was as tense as if he were expecting to be hit with a Bludger bat. I hadn’t seen him like this since the day he had decided to sample Luna’s porcupine stew. We had forgotten how Harry was slightly claustrophobic from his years of living in the Dursleys’ closet.

“Whoa, sorry Harry. We forgot. Maybe we can try the Alley one more time; or maybe Hogsmeade. They have that shop with the…”

“No Ron, but thanks. We can do this.” Harry hunched his shoulders then and stepped off into the sea of shoppers. “Come on, let’s get this over with!” he shouted back.

Despite the densely packed common area, Harry was moving at a relatively quick pace, and Ron and I were having a great time keeping up with him. The next two hours were an experience that would haunt our dreams for years to come.

At our first stop, a department store, we had the pleasure of being caught between two housewives fighting over the last of an especially ugly blue house smock, we were almost bowled over by two shoplifters trying to run from a security guard, Ron’s foot was run over by a baby stroller carrying twins (from the smell, one or both of whom needed a new diaper), we were serenaded several times by screaming children throwing fits over some toy or another, and passed several store demonstrations of worthless household gadgetry. “A hundred Pound value, but, for you, only nineteen ninety-five–-and I’ll throw in this handy dandy, battery-powered soup ladle.” Still, despite our best efforts, we couldn’t find the right gift for Ginny.

In the next store, and the next, and the several after that, we repeated our suffering with identical results. We had no clue about clothing, neither Grimmauld Place nor the Broom Farm had electricity, which eliminated a large number of categories, she didn’t need glassware, luggage, exercise equipment, garden supplies, or carpentry tools, and we all agreed that Ginny was a tad bit old for the Muggle toys we saw. Although, a now extremely agitated Harry did almost settle for a large yoyo sitting in the bargain bin. Through it all, the only purchase Harry made was a bag of pig ears from a pet store for their dog Banjo (a stocking stuffer he said).

“Harry it’s almost three o’clock. Do you think we can grab a bite to eat?” The bag of bagels and thermos of black tea we’d brought along in the car had long worn off.

“You and Spenser go ahead Ron. I need to keep looking. I’m…really not hungry.” Harry was no longer tense as he had been. The stressful intensity was gone. Defeat and resignation now permeated his body. “I’ll meet you at the food court in about a half an hour.”

Without another word, Harry turned and walked away, disappearing into the blanket of bodies. After a minute more, Ron and I started off in the direction of the lunch counters and their enticing aromas. Bing’s White Christmas came over the mall speakers, but despite it being a favorite, the two of us barely noticed. We were feeling about as bad as Harry, if not worse. Hermione and Luna had been extremely easy to gift. Ron’s wife always appreciated some obscure scholarly magic volume, and mine…well, it was only a bit of a challenge finding a feed store that carried Hippo Chow.

“Crikey Spense, I think that’s the fifth Father Christmas we’ve passed since we got into this mess. At least this one has a real beard. Those elves with him must be close to six feet high. None of them look like the real thing, do they?”

“Yeah…uhm, right. Hold on! What did you say?”

“I said none of them look like…”

“Ron you’re brilliant!”

“Of course, I am. Wait…what?”

“I need to go find a pay phone. I’ll meet you say…by the Greek sandwich booth in fifteen. Try the lamb gyros–-you’ll love them. Get a couple more for Harry and me please.”

“Spenser, you scare me when you get that look.”


*****



Harry’s continued efforts were only halfhearted. At this point, he had sunk into a surrender mode. He briefly stopped to look through the window of a shop displaying scented candles, but he had given her three of those with some bath beads the previous Valentine’s Day. Crum! February fourteenth was less than two months away.

He couldn’t believe it. Ginny and their little boy were his whole world, and he couldn’t do something as simple as provide his wonderful wife with the gift she deserved. Harry knew he wouldn’t settle for something inappropriate just for the sake of a holiday giving requirement.

He remembered the first Christmas present he’d ever found for her. She had only been eleven–-a small, freckled, redheaded girl with an incredible smile that grew all the larger when she examined that handful of multicolored ribbons. Hermione had helped Ginny braid them into her hair, and she had been so beautiful (although he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time). The hand-decorated pencil box Ginny had given him then was still in use on his home office desk. It was one of his most prized processions.

Harry continued to wander. He was numb and oblivious to the sardine can where he was trapped. No one bothered to excuse themselves anymore when they bumped into each other as they moved. It was a vast moving tide of shoppers loaded down with packages. Harry could tell who had completed their ordeals by the relieved, tired expressions as opposed to the frenzied or desperate looks, such as his. The Muggles actually endured this every year? It was no wonder his aunt and uncle had always been especially nasty in the days leading up to the holiday.

The various mall choirs Harry passed were all but ignored, as were the Dickens era-clad musicians playing fife and fiddle. At another small alcove, Harry did allow himself a momentary smile at the sight of a dog trainer having his Santa-suited puppy do tricks for an assembly of delighted children, but still he kept on walking. Finally, perhaps twenty yards further on, his curiosity did come into play at seeing a Muggle magician performing for the holiday crowd. If they only knew.

After five minutes of slight-of-hand tricks, Harry had to admit the man was good. Judging by the loud applause, everyone else gathered there seemed to agree. Harry almost laughed aloud, despite his gloomy mood, when a small red hen was transformed (or seemed to be) into a white rabbit. The Hocus Pocus Spell was a Wizarding standard, and Harry still wished he could have turned the bell ringer into Bugs Bunny.

Harry finally decided it was time to resume his grail quest. Perhaps it was because he was, just then, turning to leave that allowed him to feel the thief pull the thin wallet from his back pocket. Spinning about, Harry immediately spotted the tall teenager trying to escape with his prize. There the wallet was in his hand. He didn’t even try to hide it in his haste to get away. For the third time that day, Harry lost his temper. His wand was instantly in his hand.

Wingardium Leviosa! Harry didn’t care about the Muggles. He didn’t care that he was breaking Wizarding law performing magic in front of them. Ginny had given him the wallet two Christmases before. “Accio wallet!” The moment he felt the leather in his hand, it was as if a switch was thrown in his head. “Oh blast! What have I done?”

Harry immediately allowed the teenager to drop to the floor, and the boy took off running, bowling shoppers down indiscriminately as he went, and, fortunately, attracting the attention of a mall policeman who moved to intercept him. Harry felt himself sweating again. He was also close to panic at the thought of what he had done. Then, quietly at first, and then growing in intensity, Harry heard the strangest sound. It took a few seconds for it to sink into his addled brain, but there it was. People were clapping for him–-the magician loudest of all. Stepping from the small, improvised stage, the man approached Harry, put an arm around him, and turned to address the Christmas audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, another round of applause for my able assistant, Mr. Mortimer Crabapple! Best to play along young Potter,” he softly added in Harry’s ear.

“Wait, you’re a Wizard? What…why?”

“Union wages for Muggle magicians is really excellent, especially for holiday performances. Now you had best run along before anyone from the Ministry shows up. I’ll be able to cover for you, but not if you’re here for them to recognize. Go…Go!”

Harry couldn’t even speak, and merely nodded his thanks as he pulled by into the crowd again. Enough was enough, he decided. It was time to leave before frustration led to yet another accident.


*****



“Spenser, you’re the brilliant one mate!”

“Hardly that Ron. It’s such a simple solution; I’m amazed we didn’t consider it before. Now remember, not a word to Harry about it.”

“Not a word to me about what Spense?” Once more we hadn’t heard him approach, but, in that noisy bedlam, it wasn’t surprising.

“I…didn’t want Ron to blurt out what Remus and Tonk’s got you for Christmas,” I quickly lied. Yes, they’re both alive and well here. Our war had a nicer ending.

“Ah, right. Here Ron.” Harry tossed Ron the keys to Mrs. Figg’s station wagon. “I need you to return the car for me please. Try to stay off the sidewalks as you drive. I’ll Apparate out from a private dressing room or something.”

“Uhm…Harry…”

“It’s all right Ron. I just need to talk to Ginny now. Thanks for trying to help me out…both of you.”

Before either of us could say anything more to him, Harry turned and walked off again. Neither Ron nor I could move or speak for the next minute or two. I just kept thinking about how sad our friend had appeared.

“Think it would be okay for me to eat his sandwich?” Ron finally said.

I just laughed, and gently swatted his arm as we moved toward the exit and our long hike back to our parking spot.


*****



Harry arrived back at the Broom Farm just as the sun was setting. Holidays were always spent at their Hogsmeade residence, and, in point of fact, Grimmauld Place was rarely utilized by the family, or by Sirius either for that matter. Yep, alive as well. Tsk, tsk…you really should read some of my other stories (shameless plug).

Anyway, Harry just then was feeling lower than a Serbian slime weevil during mating season. No, I’ve never seen one, but Luna says they’re pretty flat. Our hero’s only purchase of the day, other than the doggy treats, had been some assorted trinkets and candies from a village shop. At least the stockings are never a challenge for me, he decided.

Stopping at the kitchen door, Harry peered in through the frosty glass to see Ginny working at their stove, no doubt preparing yet another wonderful supper for the family, or perhaps whipping up a batch of his favorite cookies. Those would disappear quickly enough once Ron spotted them the next day. Off to one side, just within arm’s reach, was little James’ highchair. His face was smeared with orange baby food, which seemed to amuse the child immensely. Taking up a wet cloth from the counter, Ginny turned to clean up the child. Harry stepped back, not ready to enter yet–-still trying to find the words to say to wife. He smiled though, and took a deep breath of the cold, wintry air to clear his head. Harry was suddenly filled with a great love for those two special people just a few feet away inside their home.

“You and James are my best gift, yet again,” Harry said to himself…or so he thought.

“Then why can’t you accept that Ginny feels the same way about you Harry?”

Spinning about, Harry found himself face-to-face with the second to last person he would ever expect. Yes, our Voldemort is dead here as well.

“Nicholas! What are you…? It’s Christmas Eve! Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Meh. We don’t have too many stops over Baghdad at this hour, so I’m letting Tim Allen handle that area for a few minutes while I talk to you. Hmm, I probably should have warned him about Saddam’s anti-aircraft missile system.”

“What…why do you need to talk to me?”

“Because you are totally messing up Christmas Harry. No…wait, listen to me young man. I’m going to ask you to think about what I’m going to say. First off, do you remember where Christmas came from?”

It was the last question Harry expected.

“Of course, I know…” Harry’s stomach suddenly sank. Pure embarrassment threatened to overwhelm him. He had allowed one of the holiest of days, Wizard or Muggle, to sink into the commercial pit where too many people placed it. He let out a long sigh. “I’m usually not this stupid…I hope.”

“No, you’re not; although you tend to be rather goofy for several seconds after Ginny kisses you. Harry, gifting isn’t some Christmas requirement. It’s not an annual occasion for the propagation of shopping centers or my competitors in toy manufacturing. I go to the trouble and expense of producing my products, of giving them to the world out of a sense of love, not misplaced responsibility.”

“I realize that Nicholas, and I want you to know… Wait a minute. Would you mind if I asked you how you finance…”

“I cornered the cookie and coal markets centuries ago. I also charge Hogwarts a very healthy rent for the use of my old castle.” Santa smiled at Harry, held out his hands, and there appeared a large package, wrapped in green, but with a red ribbon. “Here you go Harry. Just because this holiday isn’t about presents, that doesn’t mean we have completely make them go away. I’d be out of business.”

“I don’t understand. How did you know…? Oh right, your ‘see us when we’re sleeping, know when we’re awake’ trick.”

“No, actually Luni gave Spenser my cell phone number. Yes, I’m the only other person permitted to use an affectionate Loony for her. She is my goddaughter after all. Please remind him not to keep hexing those utilizing it in a derogatory manner. It’s enough that they’re on my naughty list. Now Harry, I believe it’s time for you to go kiss and embrace your lovely wife and child, and for me to go to see if my sleigh has been shot down. Poor Tim.”

“Thank you, Nicholas…thank you very much…for everything. Uhm, what exactly is this? I should probably know.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. It’s an enchanted snow globe. An image of the two of you playing Quidditch together in a snow storm will be displayed when you shake it. Here, take these as well.” Santa then handed Harry a handful of colored hair ribbons, along with a business card. “That’s for one of my Christmas elves. He moonlights as a gift adviser. Use him my boy. You have no business in a shopping mall Harry.”

Father Christmas laughed long and hard at that. Then he touched his forefinger to his nose, his eyes twinkled, and he was gone. It began to snow again. Harry smiled yet once more, went inside, and took Nicholas up on his fatherly suggestion, much to Ginny’s delight.


*****


Meanwhile in a suburban London garage…



“Why should I pay the tow truck Ron? You were the one driving!”

“You were the one screaming when we went flying off the embankment. You distracted me!”

“I was only screaming because you didn’t see the girl scouts in the crosswalk!”

“I didn’t see the…? Wait, uh Spenser, what exactly is a crosswalk again?”

“You don’t know what a…? Ron, explain to me again why you’re taking driving lessons from your mother. Your family hasn’t even owned a car since the Anglia ran away.”

“Well, she’s the only one who would do it for free. Hermione came away from our only lesson together with her first gray hair and a twitching eye for a half an hour. Now, about the auto body shop; they say it’s going to be steep finding parts for such an old car. Then Mrs. Figg will need a rental–-there will be the medical bills for the nuns; repairs to O’Malley’s delicatessen; legal fees for driving without insurance and all.”

“Don’t forget the replacement cost for those two headstones, the park benches, the fire hydrant, and the sales clerk’s bunny suit.” I was still trying to figure that one out.

Yes, I did help Ron out with the cost of the repairs and such. Yes, one part of the Deathly Hallows epilogue was especially accurate–-it did take Ron nineteen years (and one hundred and twenty-seven attempts) to pass his driving examination. Yes, Harry and Ginny had a wonderful Christmas after our ordeal that year. Everyone did. Except…well did you know hippopotami occasionally enjoy the taste of Christmas trees?

Mischief managed!

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