AUTHOR'S REPLY----Thanks, hk.
"That bad?" Ron wrinkled his nose.
"That bad." Harry replied solemnly.
Ron was busy stringing garlands of holly and crimson rosettes along the walls, while Harry busied himself hanging wreaths from the walls. After a good hour later, the hallway looked blessed with the spirit of Father Christmas.
"Just the perfect decor, eh?" Harry commented.
"Definitely," Ron replied. "Now all we have to do is the bathroom and the two bedrooms.''
"Who on earth would decorate a bathroom?" Harry snorted.
Ron shrugged. "Okay, the two bedrooms it is. Trouble is, it's Hermione, Ginny, mum, and dad who sleep on this floor. Woe betide us if they don't like it."
"Indeed." Harry muttered grimly.
They passed the bathroom, which had already been splendidly decorated to its fullest possible extent.
"What the - ?" Ron gaped.
A very fluffy red and green toilet seat cover had replaced the standard one, and the flush handle was a elaborately carved and painted sleigh. The old curtains had been pulled down and instead, a sparkling new shower curtain had been hung up with splendid patterns of sparkling snowflakes and Father Christmas hats. Yet another Christmas wreath hung over the sink mirror, and several magical icicles hung from underneath the sink.
"Only a house-elf could possibly waste their time like this." Harry muttered to Ron, who wholeheartedly nodded.
***
The decoration of the second floor took a long time, but by the end, Harry and Ron were both immensely proud of their unknown aesthetic skills. To keep anyone from thinking they were going feminine, Harry and Ron placed the solid credit on Dobby. Dobby was rather confused as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley laid praise on him. Ginny and Hermione also seemed delighted with their room.
"Should we tell them that it was us?" Ron said in a low voice to Harry.
"No," Harry said wisely. "Because if Ginny and Hermione really secretly think we did a lousy job, they'll never have the heart to tell that to Dobby. They think he's cute, or rather, Ginny thinks he's cute."
Ron shook his head.
***
Fred and George had successfully made a new invention for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes: Muggle tobaggans with an unnatural, almost dangerous boost of magical speed.
"You realise some people might get hurt on these?" Ron asked them, torn between the prospect of extreme fun and the possibility of an injury on Christmas Eve.
"Who cares? We've already given them a few dry runs, they seem perfectly safe." Fred said, glee tingeing his voice.
"As long as they know how to steer properly." George added, almost as an afterthought.
"Anyways," Fred continued. "We were thinking of going to the top of Stoatshead Hill and riding down the entire way. As an added bonus, we don't even have to drag it back up, we just sit back and let the boost do its work."
Ron still looked a tad doubtful, but he said, "Oh, fine."
"Excellent," George grinned broadly. "Bill n' Charlie are coming too, this afternoon. I think we'll be able to fit everyone on one Rocketboggan."
" 'Rocketboggan' ?" Harry said, snorting with laughter.
"Hey, best we could come up with under the circumstances, mate." George reprimanded him, punching him lightly on the arm.
They put the Rocketboggan on its 'maiden voyage', if you could call it that, an hour later.
True to George's words, they were able to seat everyone in the seat, though not without complaint of uncomfortableness.
"We should really get some padded seats." Fred said.
Harry felt slightly more reassured as the rocketboggan started sliding up the hill at a reasonable speed; not too fast, not too low. They reached the top in less than ten minutes and faced the runway that the twins had cleared with their wands.
"Ready?" Fred asked, getting off to give them a good push. "No boost this time, we want to try out the steering first."
There was an audible sigh of relief, followed by five shouts of "Ready!"
Fred ran and pushed the rocketboggan as if they were in a bobsleigh, and then heaved himself aboard with all the agility of a cat.
In all his life, the only other experience where Harry had felt such exhilaration was his first broom ride, so as was the ride on the rocketboggan. Bill was screaming, both in delight and panic as Ron covered his eyes with his woolen mitts. Fred was roaring, "Faster, faster!" George was covering Charlie's eyes, and almost everyone was laughing.
They flew over the crest of a particularly large bump and landed hard, everyone flowing off into a snowbank. Bill was the first to rise.
"Again, again!" he laughed like a child, and was first to upright the rocketboggan and take his seat.
Thrice more they flew down the hill, until everyone's behinds were decidedly sore. Then they sat down and rested, until George provoked a snowball fight by tossing a clump of wet snow at Charlie's head.
"Oi!" Charlie shouted, and scooped up a very large mittful of snow and raised it back to throw. George dived behind Bill, and Bill unfortunately took the snowball in his face.
"Oh, I promise you you'll pay for that!" Bill shouted cheerily. Soon, sides had taken place: Ron, Harry, and Bill against the twins and Charlie.
They were still hurling snow at each other tirelessly by sundown, and then others came. Mundungus Fletcher. Dedaelus Diggle, who had always admired Harry and would not miss out a chance to have fun. Tonks, who had conjured bright dancing butterflies for nighttime illumination. Lupin. Even the normally serious Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dumbledore, who had so artfully betwitched a pile of snow to become a fat snowman who dived and tackled Lupin much to everyone's amusement. Lupin responded by cunningly throwing up a magical wall of ice that blocked all snowballs hurled his way.
Soon enough, Dumbledore beckoned all of them back to the burrow. No one could really protest, as they were all sore, tired, and weary. But Harry felt he had one of the best times of his life there, he felt as if he belonged to the Weasley family almost.
Soon, the
AUTHOR SAYS------------Why are none of the regulars here male?
Soon, the night grew cold and Mrs. Weasley beckoned them inside.
Dumbledore created a waterproof barrier in the front door so that no one would drip half-melted snow in the house. Everyone was very happy, striking up conversations with their neighbours.
"That," Ron said, still panting. "was the best afternoon in my life."
"Couldn't agree more." Harry replied, grinning broadly.
Hermione and Ginny were one of the few that did not participate in the snow fight.
"How was it?" Hermione asked Harry and Ron.
"Excellent." Harry beamed at her.
"Brilliant!" Ron added.
"Spectacular!" another voice wheedled.
Harry and Ron turned and saw Dedalus Diggle shrug and smile sheepishly.
"And we missed it," Ginny sighed. "I tell you, it would've been nice to have one last bit of Christmas Eve fun."
"Dad's going to light up the decorations outside the house after we eat," Ron said. "So let's hurry up."
They dined on excellent fare, most of it being savoury; steaming bowls of beef ravioli, seafood stew, loaves of nutbread fresh from the oven, potato and leek pasties, and a cheese and pork flan for afters.
"Great cooking, mum," Ron said, leaning back. "And Dobby."
"Oh, just you wait," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. "Dobby and I have planning a whole lot of fare for Christmas Dinner tomorrow. It's much better than what I usually make for those special occasions, thanks to Dobby here."
Dobby blushed furiously. "Dobby thanks you kindly, marm!"
"Everyone ready to come outside and see the decorations?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Everyone nodded, and bundled up once more.
When they got outside, there were no ornaments, no statues, no decoration, period.
"I can't see anything, Mr. Weasley." Hermione said. However, Harry knew that there was more to the eye.
"Hang on a second...." Mr. Weasley reached out a gloved hand and tapped a small square of metal with his wand.
Instantly, the house seemed to spring to life. Ribbons of pure green and red light orbited the house. The windows were gleaming merrily, and the snow in the yard collected into several fat snowmen, who kept bowing at everyone in sight and saying "Merry Christmas!" in a deep voice, which reminded Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
A small little cloud just above the house kept raining green and red sparks down occasionally. Jets of soft gold light stole out from the chimney.
Harry was lost for words, as was Hermione.
"What do you think?" Mr. Weasley said happily. "I decided to raise it up a notch, seeing as Harry and Hermione are spending Christmas with us; it's their first time in the Burrow for the holidays."
"I couldn't have done better myself, Arthur." Tonks said, watching the bowing snowmen.
"It's brilliant, dad!" the Weasley children exclaimed.
Everyone applauded Mr. Weasley.
"Well, what do you think, Harry, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley said. Hermione snapped back from watching the crimson sparks fall to earth.
"Well..." Hermione said. "All I can tell you...is that we are lost for words, it is so enchanting."
Mr. Weasley grinned at them both, and clapped them hard enough of their backs that Harry's glasses slid down his nose.
"Good show, good show," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now let's go inside and have a good night's sleep so we can get up early next morning and open presents!"
Mr. Weasley turned off the spectacular decorations and they all went inside.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN=======
Harry was awakened Christmas morning. He assumed it was the bright light from the snow in his eyes, so he rolled over again sleepily and closed his eyes again.
Something pecked his head sharply.
"Cut it out already, Pig." he mumbled into his pillow, without thinking.
The enormity of what he had just said struck him like a sledgehammer, breaking through all vestiges of sleep. Harry sat upright like a thunderbolt.
Sure enough, it was the miniature little owl.
"How......" Harry said, shocked. "You're supposed to be dead....."
Pig cocked his head curiously. Harry pinched himself very hard. It hurt a great deal, and which assured Harry that he was indeed, not dreaming.
"I saw your body," Harry told the owl, cradling him in his hand. "How is it possible you're still alive?"
But then Harry remembered...
The owl that Malfoy had beheaded was a darker shade of grey. He had probably imprisoned the real Pig to keep Ron thinking that he was dead.
"Is it really you, Pig?" he whispered. Pig clacked his beak, and Harry took that to be a yes.
Across from Harry, Ron grunted. "Harry, are you having nightmares again?"
"No," Harry said, a huge smile spreading across his face. "In fact, I've gotten you an extra present."
"Well, you'd better have gotten everyone else extra presents too," Ron yawned. "It's not fair if I get two and everyone else gets one."
"Well, feast your eyes on this, mate." Harry showed him the owl, who hooted happily at the sight of his owner.
Ron fainted.
Harry brought him to consciousness again by dowsing his head with a cup from the water jug.
"Eh, what?" Ron said. "Oh, it's you, Harry. Listen, I just had the weirdest dream. Pig - "
" - is alive, and I showed him to you, eh?" Harry said slyly.
"How do you know?"
"Swear to me that you will not faint." Harry commanded. Ron shrugged and nodded.
Harry showed him Pig again. Ron's eyes bulged alarmingly wide, and he pinched himself. "Ow!"
"You're not dreaming," Harry said, not a little impatient. "So be a proper owner to him and welcome him back!"
"Is he...real?" Ron said, completely awed.
"Real enough." Harry snorted, and passed Pig to him.
After deciding that his "dead" owl was indeed real, Ron's expression changed from awe to one of utter delight.
At six o'clock in the morning, Christmas day, the entire household was awakened by Ron's triumphant roar.