Heads and Tails

The twins certainly manage to make things come unexpectedly, mused Percy, as he stood in the doorway of the twins' bedroom. A few minutes ago, a loud bang had emitted throughout the Burrow causing every Weasley to dash towards the twins' room, expecting the worst. When they got there, they could see only a sheet of dust that covered everything in the room, including the two boys.

"Blimey, it didn't work," commented Fred, after Mrs. Weasley had given them a good scolding.

"We were trying to create a spell for the Bludgers," explained George, as Charlie and Percy made sure neither of the twins had any serious burns.

"It was supposed to make them attack the other team," Fred continued, "but it seems to have blown up instead."

"Thank God," said Percy, not at all happy. "You could get expelled from Hogwarts for tampering with Bludgers."

Fred and George rolled their eyes. "You know," started Fred, "if we mix this charm into candy -"

"The candy would blow up!" exclaimed George. "Brilliant!"

"No, no, no," said Charlie, quickly. "Mum wouldn't appreciate exploding sweets, or anything else explosive."

Percy knew the twins would do it all the same. They had a stash of weird creations in their cupboard, and he had seen it. Now, if they could only use their skills for good...

*

"And there's this dreadful girl called Marie-Suzette at Beauxbatons," stated Larissa. She and Marcus had gathered with a few of their cousins in the large library of the Flint estate. The house-elves had started a comforting fire in the fireplace, and various sweets and drinks had been set out. "She's Madame Maxine's niece and the favourite of all the teachers," Larissa continued, popping a chocolate into her mouth.

"Jolly good," said Alexander, a cousin from Marcus's mother's side. "Is that why your grades are sweeping the floor, Lari?"

"It's Larissa," the girl hissed. "Marcus, what do you think? Is she a harlot or not?"

"Very much so," Marcus said, his eyes not looking up from his book. "Don't know why they just don't chuck her out of the school."

"This coming from the boy who shares his room with a girl," chuckled Alexander, from his spot on the windowsill. "How is dear Amelia, by the way?"

"She's fine," Marcus murmured, turning the page of his book. "And we do not share a room. We share a mirror."

"Must be dreadful," Larissa said. "I couldn't bear to speak to someone who talks out of place."

"I'm sure you couldn't," Marcus said.

"Where would you get changed without being leered at?" continued Larissa, ignoring her cousin. "All your privacy would be gone."

"Well, she certainly would have a hard time leering at you," Alexander said. "You've got nothing on that body of yours."

Marcus coughed, trying to hide his laugh.

"Pig!" snapped Larissa, grabbing her box of chocolates, and leaving the room in a huff.

"That was cruel of you," Marcus said, closing his book. "She deserved it, but it was still cruel."

"Cruelty is my middle name, Marcus," Alexander commented.

"Really? I thought it was Ferdinand."

"You ruin the mood, Marcus." Alexander glanced out the window. "Look, an owl!"

"Well, open the window then," Marcus said, getting up from the couch.

Alexander opened the large window, and allowed the petite owl to fly in. It landed gracefully onto the mahogany desk, and pecked at Marcus's hand when he reached for the letter it was carrying.

"Who's it for?" Alexander asked, once he noted the small parcel and letter.

"Me," Marcus said, scanning the letter. "From a Hogwarts mate." He didn't want to divulge it was actually from Penelope. Either Alexander would tease him for befriending a girl, or there would be an uproar about his friend being a Mudblood.

"Open it," Alexander urged.

Marcus carefully untied the lace and took off the silver wrapper. There was a small metal box with a few holes, and a squeaking came from inside.

"Good lord, what is it?" Alexander asked.

Marcus set the box on the table and took off the lid. A small rodent scrambled out, sniffed the air, and squeaked loudly. "It's called a guinea pig," Marcus said, reading over the letter.

"You must be really popular if people are sending you rodents," said Alexander sarcastically.

Penelope is going to pay for this, thought Marcus, not at all thrilled. Who sends people animals by mail?

"What are you going to call it?" Alexander asked.

"Dinner," said Marcus dryly.

The guinea pig walked towards Alexander and pressed his hand with its nose. It squeaked indignantly.

"How about Annoying Rat Thingie?" Alexander offered.

"Is a male or female?" Marcus wondered.

"Doesn't the letter say?"

Marcus shook his head.

"Then turn it around and have a look."

Marcus looked offended. "What if it bites me? It could have a disease!"

"Well, you can't keep calling it 'It'."

"Then we'll give it a neutral name... like Spot."

"No one calls a rodent Spot," Alexander objected. "It won't bite. Just turn it around, for Merlin's sake!"

Marcus carefully lifted the small animal. Giving it a look that clearly said, "Bite me, and I'll feed you to the snakes," he turned it over.

Alexander and he peered at it. "Girl?" Marcus asked.

"Girl," Alexander confirmed. "Now for a name."

"Penny," Marcus said automatically. If he was going to have to take this creature to Hogwarts, he might as well make the attempt to get Percy mad. "No, Percy, Penelope gave it to me," he would say. "I've named it after her. We're just expressing our undying love for each other."

Alexander shrugged. "Penny? All right, then." He scratched the guinea pig's chin. "It's really not that ugly, you know."

*

"Would you pass the potatoes, please?" Ashley asked Oliver during their Christmas Eve dinner.

"How was the lake?" Oliver's father asked the twins in a silly attempt at conversation.

"Freakin' cool," Michael piped up, shoving a spoonful of meat into his mouth. "It's perfect for skating."

"I did a figure eight," Ashley said, batting her eyelashes.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

"What about you, Oliver? What did you do today?" Rachel asked. Oliver noticed her hand was on top of his father's.

"Sent off some Christmas presents," he said.

"Oliver's the Keeper of his Quidditch team at Hogwarts," his father added proudly.

"Really?" asked Ashley, looking amazed. "I wanted to go see Hogwarts. Your aunt says it's awesome."

"I've always preferred Quodpot," Michael said. "It's the best sport in the world."

Oliver gripped the edge of the tablecloth, pleading with every deity to not react against the other boy's words. Be strong, be strong, he told himself, Quodpot is for poufs. Quidditch is a man's game. Calm down.

His father glanced at him nervously. "I was thinking we could go to a game this weekend," he said. "Perhaps Puddlemere United against the Chudley Cannons?"

"Wicked!" exclaimed Oliver.

"Puddle who and Chudley what?" asked Michael.

Ashley had a glazed look in her eyes. "Sport-sy men..." she whispered to herself.

Oliver was disgusted. "Will you be able to get tickets?" he asked his father.

"Well, if Rachel would like to go," his father said, smiling.

Oliver felt like someone had just paused his life, performed a Slicing Spell, and cut him into two. If Rachel wanted to go? Who cared about Rachel?

"Must be fun," Rachel said. "I think we should go."

Ashley nodded frantically. "We could go shopping after."

"Don't they have Quodpot here?" Michael said. "It is a famous sport after all."

"Don't think so, pal," Oliver's father said apologetically.

Pal? thought Oliver. Since when did his father start using words like "pal?" Oliver definitely knew this was wrong. His father was bonding more with Michael than with his own son!

"Oliver, sweetie, sit down," his aunt said.

Oliver had got up from his chair without realizing it. Everyone was looking at him curiously.

"Oliver," his father said, "are you all right?"

"I - I -" Oliver stammered. He didn't feel right. This didn't feel right. Something was deadly wrong. The way Rachel was caressing his father's arm. The way Ashley was all Ms. Sunshine. The weird look Michael was giving him. His aunt asking him to sit down and eat. If a stranger walked by, he would have thought an average family was having their Christmas dinner. That was it - they weren't a family.

"I have to go," Oliver murmured, running off. "I'll be at Percy's."

"Oliver!" his father yelled.

Oliver just kept running, only stopping to get his jacket at the doorway.

*

Oliver didn't know how far he had walked, or how long the time had passed, but he was getting tired. He always knew that his house had been settled on top of a hill leading to a Muggle village; now he was aimlessly walking through a town full of Muggles. Go to Clearwater's house, he kept reminding himself. The only problem was he didn't know where Penelope's house was. He had been dependent on the Floo network, not on directions.

"Why are you alone?" a soft voice asked.

Oliver turned around carefully. A short girl, no older than ten, was staring at him with wide eyes. She was carrying a small basket with acorns, and was wrapped in a purple coat.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"Very," Oliver said, nodding his head politely. Muggle, he thought.

The girl turned towards the big house behind her. "My mum makes very good hot chocolate. Would you like some?"

Oliver was quite surprised to see that she wasn't afraid of him, nor paid much attention to every parent's warning of, "never talk to strangers". The house looked inviting to him, and a hot drink sounded nice. "Won't your mother mind?" he said.

The girl shook her head, and took his hand, pulling him towards the house. "The more the merrier," she stated. The walk to the house wasn't long, but it gave Oliver a bit of time to take in the girl's appearance. She had curly brown hair, and was quite shorter than him. She walked securely, positive of her moves.

"Mum!" she yelled, as they entered the house. She set her basket on a table near the door and removed her coat. "Wait here," she ordered, scampering off to the kitchen.

Oliver waited nervously for what seemed ages, before a woman appeared from the kitchen. She had a warm face, and was looking at Oliver curiously. "My daughter says you were alone, young man," she said.

Oliver cleared his throat uncomfortably. Well done, Oliver, he thought to himself, you've walked into a home of psychopaths. "Yes, ma'am," he said to the woman politely. "My name is Oliver Wood. I had a spot of trouble with my family, and I sort of ran away."

The woman clucked disapprovingly, but smiled caringly at him. "Take off your coat, Oliver, dear. My name is Emily." She waited until Oliver had removed his wet coat, and hung it on the coat rack. Pushing him into a living room, she settled him on a couch.

Oliver looked around, taking in the warmth from then fireplace. There was a small Christmas tree in one of the corner, carefully decorated. All of this seemed soothing to Oliver. This is how a house should be at Christmas, he thought, smiling as Emily and her daughter entered.

"Have some chocolate milk," Emily said. Oliver gratefully accepted the warm mug. "Do you want to call your family?"

Oliver doubted the Muggles would appreciate him sticking his head into the fireplace, but decided, that as Muggles, they must have meant another way. "No, thank you," he said politely.

There was an uncomfortable silence, until an, "Emily, I'm home!" boomed from the entrance. The two women smiled, and went to greet their new guest.

"Oliver," Emily said, "this is my husband, Alfred. Alfred, this is our guest, Oliver Wood."

Alfred looked suspiciously at Oliver, but gave him a warm smile all the same. "Welcome to our humble establishment, Oliver!"

"Come on, Oliver," the young girl said, tugging on his sleeve. "You can help me prepare the mashed potatoes."

Oliver nodded at Alfred politely, and allowed his new friend to guide him to the kitchen. She set another mug of chocolate milk in front of him, and then pulled out some potatoes, milk, and other ingredients from a funny looking cupboard. "Start mixing these," she instructed, pushing a bowl into his hands.

"What's your name?" Oliver asked. The fact that her name had not been brought up all evening made him uncomfortable. He did wish to repay his tiny hostess in some way. She might have made a good witch, anyway.

"Hermione," the girl said, "Hermione Granger."

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Granger," Oliver said, with a cut nod, making her laugh.

"Won't your parents miss you if you've run away?" Hermione asked.

"I seriously doubt it," Oliver said solemnly.

"Where will you go then? It's Christmas, surely they want to spend it with you," Hermione said.

"A friend's, but I don't know where she lives."

"Maybe I can help. My dad knows almost everyone in this village."

"Penelope Clearwater?" Oliver asked, hoping that this Muggle family could actually be helpful.

"I'll go ask," Hermione said, jumping down from her stool, and leaving the room.

Oliver focused on mixing the contents in the bowl. He had never in his life had to cook something; the house-elves had taken care of that. His life had actually come pretty easy, except that his father had never cared much to participate in it.

"So, you need to go to the Clearwaters' house?" Alfred asked, as he and the little girl came into the kitchen. "Are they expecting you?"

"Sort of," Oliver said. Well, Penelope did say he could come to her house if there was any trouble.

"Do you want to give them a ring before you go? Warn them that you're coming."

Oliver didn't know why he would have to give Clearwater's family a ring. Was it some kind of holiday tradition to send families jewels before going to their home? "Er, I don't think so," he said cautiously. He didn't want to be rude to Hermione's family either. He made a mental note to send them some beautiful gems from Diagon Alley the next time he came home.

"All right, then. Come on, I'll drive you," Alfred offered.

Oliver perked up when he heard the word 'drive'. He had been in a Ministry car once and it had been absolutely fabulous. Following Alfred towards the door, he saw Emily.

"Have a lovely Christmas," she told him.

"Thank you for letting me stay here for a while," Oliver said, blushing.

"It's ok," Hermione said.

"No, wait," Oliver said, reaching around his neck, and unfastening another chain. "Here," he said, handing it to Hermione.

Hermione was amazed, and so were her father and mother. The necklace was beyond beauty. It was completely made of gold, from the chain to the small ball with its white wings.

"How does it flutter?" Alfred asked, looking strangely at the way the small wings of the ball flapped.

"Er, magic?" Oliver said sheepishly.

"Thank you," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a hug.

Now, when Percy asked him if he had done something good, he could proudly say yes. There was nothing better on Percy's list than making a Muggle happy. Free drink at The Three Broomsticks would be his reward.

*

Helen had stepped out of the Clearwater household of a moment or two to take a breath of fresh winter air. She had not expected to find Mr. Granger's car in the driveway nor had she expected to find her star Keeper (not that she would ever tell Oliver that) in the car.

"Mr. Granger!" she exclaimed, running down the small path to greet him.

"Hullo, Helen, Merry Christmas," Alfred said, as he and Oliver got out of the car. Oliver looked amazed. "I hope you know this young fellow."

"Ah - of course," Helen said, looking at Oliver as if he were half mad. "Wood, what are you doing here?"

Oliver grinned slyly. "Not happy to see me, Clearwater? Your sister said I could come stay if I had any trouble with my family." He looked behind her where her mother and aunt had gathered.

"Thank you for bringing him, Mr. Granger," Helen said. "I think."

"My pleasure," Alfred said. "Say hullo to your parents. Goodbye, Oliver."

"Goodbye, Mr. Granger. Thank you so very much," Oliver said.

Once Alfred had left on his way home, Helen turned to look at Oliver. "I suppose you should come in," she said. "You look cold."

"Who's your friend?" Clara asked, once everyone had gathered into the house.

"Mum, this is Oliver Wood. He's the Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Helen explained.

"A pleasure to meet you," Oliver said.

"Ah, Oliver! Of course, Penny said you might come over." Clara winked at him.

"Things got more complicated," Oliver said.

Clara made some sympathetic noises, handed him a blanket and a cup of mead, and sent him to Penelope and Helen's room. "I'll call you when your room is ready. You'll be staying here?" she asked.

"For the night, please," Oliver said, though he had no intentions of spending more than twenty-four hours with Muggles.

"Our room is on the second floor, to the left," Helen indicated. "Knock first!"

*

"Percy!" Ginny called, running down the stairs, dragging a rag doll with her. "Tell Ron to stop bothering me."

Ron was at the top of the stairs, staring daggers at his little sister. "I didn't do anything," he stated.

"I'm sure you didn't," Percy said noncommittally, not looking up from his book.

"He wanted Annie to go swimming!" Ginny whined. "She doesn't like water."

"She'll ruin if you get her in water, Ron," Bill said, from his spot near the fireplace.

"I wasn't trying to get her to go swimming," Ron said, stomping his foot. "I was trying to drown her!"

Ginny burst into tears. Percy and Bill rolled their eyes. "Come on, Gin, don't cry," Percy pleaded. "Ron didn't mean it."

Ginny moved towards Percy and sat on his lap. "Tell him if he does, you'll turn him into a spider," she pleaded. Ron's fear of spiders was well known to his siblings, especially the twins.

Bill laughed. "Thank God I don't live here anymore," he commented. "Wouldn't need to be turned into anything."

"You always take her side!" Ron yelled, marching off to his room.

"Ah, the joys of family," Bill commented, getting up from the floor. "Come on, Ginny, let's go get some scones."

Percy smiled. Once Bill and Ginny had gone into the kitchen, he felt someone watching him. He looked at the stairs, and saw Ron looking at him. "What's wrong?" Percy asked him, feeling exhausted. Hadn't he gone to his room?

Ron glared, but said nothing.

"Ron?"

He turned around and marched back to his room. Percy sighed; he knew Ron didn't like him much. Not many of his younger siblings did, apparently.

*

"It's a what?" Amelia asked.

Marcus was lying on his bed, scratching the small guinea pig. "It's a sort of rodent. Like a hamster, but bigger. It's called a guinea pig."

Amelia scrunched up her nose. "Why would someone give you a guinea boar?"

"Guinea pig," corrected Marcus. Amelia rolled her eyes. "Apparently, my friend thought it'd be cute."

"Cute would be a thousand-Galleon watch," Amelia said. "Or a silver cauldron. Not an animal."

Penny rolled over and squeaked at Marcus. Marcus blushed. "I think we've become attached."

"I'm sure you have," Amelia said, her tone sarcastic. "Like peas in a pod, or a family of Mandrakes."

Marcus was about to tell her to shut up with the metaphors, but a light knock stopped him.

"Come in!"

"Dinner is served, young Master," the house-elf said. "Your family awaits you."

Marcus nodded, placed Penny into a cage, and looked at Amelia. "How do I look?" he asked. He had dressed in emerald green robes, a present from his father. His grandmother had wanted him to wear a green tunic (in presence of his Elfish relatives), but he drew the line when he was informed he'd have to wear tights.

"You look marvellous," Amelia said.

Marcus nodded and left the room, leaving Amelia to her privacy.

Almost everyone had gathered for the feast. The table was as long as the room, and set with silver plates, glasses, and cutlery. At one head of the table was Julius, and at the other one was Marcus's father. No food was out yet, since it was good manners to wait for everyone to be seated.

"Happy Christmas, Marcus," Alexander said.

"Alexander," Marcus said, with a grin. "Where's our darling Larissa?"

"She's seated next to William this time," Alexander said, tilting his head on the other side of the table. For as long as Marcus could remember, Larissa, Alexander, and he had sat together, being the closest in age. William, the son of a friend of Marcus's mother, had requested Larissa's presence.

Marcus paled. He always sat between Larissa and Alexander. "Who's sitting with us?" he asked.

Alexander shrugged. "Whoever it is, I do wish they'd hurry. I'm starving."