(Eng) Weasleys, Pranks and other Curses

27

The house elves had really outdone themselves. Even I was completely speechless and hardly recognized the apartment. There were lights and garlands of fir hanging everywhere, and more decorations than the poor branches could handle without magic.

And mistletoe, of course. I had completely forgotten to enlighten the others as to why Mistle was called Mistle. But the little elf had already floated over and handed everyone a mug of hot cocoa, along with a sprig of mistletoe to pin on.

"Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas," she wished everyone.

"What's that all about?" whispered Hermione to me.

"Mistle once heard about the custom of kissing when you meet under mistletoe," I explained so the others could hear it too. "She interpreted it to mean that mistletoe brings good luck, so she hands it out every holiday."

"Kind of cute," Ginny admitted, pinning her sprig to her sweater.

"Well." I pointed to the ceiling. Every few feet, mistletoe was hiding in the decorations. "As long as you're not superstitious, I guess it's okay."

Things were going okay so far, until it came to the division of the rooms. Should the younger ones sleep upstairs or downstairs? Should boys sleep on one side of the hall and girls on the other? Or should simply whoever comes first get to decide?

"Where's your room?" asked Maddie finally.

"Upstairs. I might show you the rooms first before we decide."

The guest rooms weren't just plain rooms. They all had a theme or motif. There was a room in lush green where all the furniture at least vaguely resembled plants or flowers - Maddie threw her suitcase on the bed before everyone had even seen the room. Or the room that would have appealed to a 19th century adventurer - Fred blocked the door and had a wrestling match with Ron.

My room was at the end of the hall. With a four-poster bed that actually belonged in a fairy-tale castle and a ceiling that always showed a twinkling starry sky. I had seen out of the corner of my eye that George had been leaning against the door next door and was now quietly sliding his suitcase in. Luckily, Ginny took the room right across the hall. If worst came to worst, I could still escape to her.

While everyone was unpacking their things, I went downstairs to the kitchen.

As usual, I was greeted by three happy elves. Ginger and Carrot were both not so talkative, but also nodded to me from their places at the stove.

Mistle, Lemon, and Turnip pulled me over to a chair.

"How nice to have such a full house," warbled Lemon, who immediately set out some tea for me. "I'm all excited. I hope your friends will enjoy themselves here and come back often?"

I squeezed her tiny hand and blinked away the stinging in my eyes. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"But Miss," whispered Mistle, who had sat down next to me on the table and was also drinking tea from a tiny cup. "Have you had any success?"

She was only that polite when she was trying to hide something, and it was far too obvious every time. "More than I expected," I confessed, chuckling, and Turnip held out a glass of wine.

"This one for dinner?" He adjusted the bow tie on his immaculate uniform. Turnip and Lemon were kind of like the housekeepers. They primarily took care of the planning and administration, while Ginger, Carrot, and Mistle did whatever came up.

"Maybe for the parents, but I don't think the others drink wine."

"As you wish."

"Don't make such a fuss. She told us we could look around anywhere." Ron's voice drifted in from the hallway, interrupted here and there by Hermione's insistent muttering.

"You can come in," I called, laughing softly at the embarrassed faces. "Any doors that open, you may open," I assured them again.

"Would you like something, young sir," Turnip immediately approached Ron. The Weasley stammered to himself, while Harry squatted amiably and chatted with the house-elf.

Hermione came over and was promptly offered a chair and some tea by Lemon. "So you have five house elves," she stated rather matter-of-factly. I could tell she didn't like the concept of house elves.

"Sugar?" offered Mistle from her seat, spooning sugar into her own cup with a tiny spoon.

"They're all here by choice. I pay them, they have breaks and days off and vacations. Even though most of the time they don't know what to do with it," I explained.

"On my last vacation, I wanted to learn pottery," Mistle told me enthusiastically. "But no one told me that clay was so cold!" She shook her head and her ears bobbed.

Hesitantly, Hermione accepted the tea and continued to look around the kitchen. "You're a pureblood family?"

I shrugged. "Sort of half. On my mother's side, yes, but I also have non-magical relatives on my father's side."

"And you've always been raised that way?"

"Yes and no." I quirked my mouth. "We always had money. But much of my childhood was spent traveling with my parents. Our tents were magical, but they were still tents."

"It must have been very exciting," Mistle daydreamed, as if we were just three friends chatting a bit. In the background, I saw Turnip slipping cookies to Ron and Harry, but lecturing them that they didn't have to sneak anything. All the cookie plates in the house were refilled regularly.

"I see." Hermione dipped her cookie into her tea. "It goes to your credit that you didn't say a word to the Weasleys."

"About what?"

She shrugged. "That the beds are worn out. Or that we all had to share a bathroom."

"I didn't even think about something like that." I nodded to Hermione to follow me back out of the kitchen and we left the two boys behind. Mistle waved at us and we wished her another good break. "If I have to be honest, I would trade every penny we have in a heartbeat for a family as tight-knit as the Weasleys."

At that very moment, the Weasleys entered and Misses Weasley hugged me to her chest before I could even greet them.