A Christmas Puzzle
Hugo Arthur Weasley paced around his family's London brownstone, deep in thought. In his hands he held a string of Christmas lights—electric Muggle Christmas lights. That string of lights was presenting him with a serious problem: it wouldn't light up.
He'd been proud to buy the lights. He'd gone to Gringotts with his mother and had his own money converted to Muggle bills, and they'd bought the lights from a Muggle store. They were part of Rose's Christmas present; next to their own Wizarding Christmas tree he would decorate a smaller tree using only Muggle means. Rose had inherited her grandfather's Muggle fetish, and Hugo was very happy to have come up with this idea.
He would have been much happier, of course, if the lights had decided to work properly. He'd tried every spell he knew, (with the exception of the excellent bat bogey hex his aunt Ginny had taught him), but nothing worked. Now he was walking round the house, staring intently at the lights and trying to figure out how to turn them on.
Eventually he stumbled upon what he guessed was an important feature: a little stubby bit at one end with two metal prongs coming out of it. It was then Hugo came up with a bright idea. He trotted over to his potions kit and quickly set about making a mixture of beetle eyes and essence of wormwood. Hugo was something of a potions prodigy, so even though he was only in his second year, he knew that this simple solution was very powerful. In fact, it could be added to any of the Calgaroth family of potions to increase potency. But he wouldn't bore you with the details.
Hugo immersed the plug in the solution and waited for something to happen. When, after ten minutes, the beaker began to smoke, Hugo hurriedly removed the stubby pronged end of the lights from it and evaporated the potion. He glanced at the clock. There wasn't much time; his mother had agreed to take Rose shopping for Christmas presents in order to distract her, but it wouldn't be long until they returned home. His father was at work, having put off all of his end-of-the-year paperwork until the very last minute as usual. This left Hugo only one person to turn to for advice.
He grabbed a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantel (the jar was shaped like a cat. In fact, many of the items in the house were shaped like cats. His mother was enormously fond of them, and her old cat Crookshanks was free to roam grumpily about the house, hissing and spitting at everything he met). Casting it into the fire, he shouted, "The Burrow!" and thrust his head into the fireplace.
When the spinning stopped, he was observing a comfortable room with a dusty wood floor. He could see the bottom of a sagging couch and, beyond that, a worn rug. He heard humming in the kitchen.
"Grandma Molly!" Hugo called. The humming ceased, and he heard footsteps. A moment later, a pair of boot-clad feet appeared, followed by apron-clad knees, and finally the smiling head of Molly Weasley.
"Hugo, dear! What a wonderful surprise!"
"Hello, Gran. I was wondering if Grandpa was there. I have a question for him." Molly tutted.
"Did Rose put you up to this? Because I've told her time and time again, not only is it wrong to bewitch a Muggle…oh, whatsit, an iPed or whatever it is…to play breakup songs every time her ex-boyfriend gets within ten feet of it, it is also illegal, and if she's trying to make another toaster do somersaults, she can just"—
"Rose does not know I'm here," Hugo assured her, barely able to keep a straight face. Hugo had forgotten about the toaster, which had failed to do somersaults, instead jumping off the counter and ramming his father in the forehead every time he tried to make toast.
"Oh," said Molly, "Well, in that case, I'll go and get your grandfather." She bustled off, and Hugo heard distant shouts: "Arthur…come inside…gardening can wait, it's the dead of winter…Hugo's on the fire!" Soon enough, the kind eyes and receding hairline of Arthur Weasley came into view.
"Hello, Hugo," he said.
"Hi," said Hugo, "I have a question for you. It's about Rose's Christmas present."
"Hugo," said Arthur, "If you're suggestion that I would imagine for an instant taking apart a Muggle television and bewitching it to"—
"If I don't know, I can't accidentally tell Mum," Hugo interrupted, and Arthur nodded knowingly. "What I need," Hugo added, "is advice about my present to Rose. I'm making her a Muggle Christmas tree"—
"Fascinating!" Arthur interrupted. "And I suppose none of the ornaments dance Irish jigs? Or sparkle?"
"Some of them sparkle," said Hugo, "but only a little."
"And I wouldn't think any of them could sing? You know, one time at my great-uncle's"—
"This doesn't have to do with the ornaments," Hugo interrupted gently. "It has to do with these." He pulled the Christmas lights into the fire so that Arthur could inspect them.
"Astounding," said Hugo's grandfather under his breath. "I suppose you're wondering how they work?"
"That's it," Hugo agreed.
"Well," began Arthur, "there's this little wire inside each bulb—that's the glass thing that lights up—and it"—
"I was hoping to find out what to do on a bigger scale, actually," said Hugo. "I want to know how to make it light up. None of the spells I know are working. What do Muggles do?"
"Oh," said Arthur, his face falling, "Well…er…"
"I think it has to do with this end," said Hugo, showing him the part with the prongs.
"Oh, yes! Yes, that's called a plug," said Arthur sagely. "It goes into a matching part that has holes where the prongs should be."
"Great!" Hugo replied, "And where would I find that?"
"I'm not sure," said Arthur. "Look around, you're sure to find it. Maybe you misplaced it."
Hugo smiled. "Thanks, Grandpa. See you Christmas Eve."
"You'll have to tell me how it works!" shouted Arthur eagerly as Hugo pulled his head out of the fireplace.
"Great," Hugo said to himself, frowning, "how in the name of Merlin's boot-cut Wranglers am I going to find this piece?"
Still grumbling to himself, he set to work. First he looked in the box, which was empty except for the plastic wrapping the lights had come in. Then he tried a spell he'd seen his parents do, but "Accio funny bit with the holes where the prongs should be" didn't roll off the tongue, and the magic was too complex for a second-year anyway. He continued his search, not quite sure what he was looking for or where it might be found. He checked under couches and lamps, piles of books and official Ministry of Magic papers, and many a cat-shaped decorative item. Just as he was giving up, there was a popping sound outside the door, and his father stepped inside.
"What are you doing there?" Ron asked his son, watching him root halfheartedly through the junk drawer.
"I'm looking for the bit with the holes where the prongs should be."
"Should I ask you what you're talking about?" said Ron tentatively. Sometimes, with Hugo's concoctions and Rose's contraptions, it was better not to know.
Hugo held up the Christmas lights in response. Ron blinked, then laughed.
"What's so funny?" Hugo snapped.
"You're looking to…what's the word…plug it in, right?"
"I just want to make it light up," Hugo responded, glaring. Ron laughed again.
"Here," he said, moving toward the spot next to their family Christmas tree where Rose's little tree was nestled snugly. He kicked aside a large wooden trunk, which barked angrily in protest. Finally, he beckoned his son.
"Look there," said Ron, pointing to the plug on the wall. "Try putting the it in there."
Hugo did, and it fit perfectly. The only problem was…
"It still hasn't lit up," Hugo pointed out.
"Right," said Ron. "As for that…" Ron slipped behind the tree and, without Hugo noticing, took out his wand. He mouthed a silent incantation, and the lights came on. "There you go," he said to Hugo, covertly slipping his wand back in his pocket.
"Dad, you're the best," Hugo enthused, hugging Ron.
Together they decorated the little tree, laughing at the unmoving ornaments and at the still tree skirt, which didn't do so much as a Christmas slide show, let alone put on a pantomime as Molly's handmade one did.
Hermione and Rose stayed out shopping later than was expected. When they had finished decorating the tree, Ron and Hugo retreated to the kitchen to drink hot chocolate and wait for their return. It was going to be an excellent Christmas.
A/N: Yes, I know Hogwarts students aren't allowed to use magic outside of school. But hey, it's Christmas! If Santa can be in 6 billion places at once, Hugo can attempt to enchant a measly little string of Christmas lights!
As for me? No, I don't want anything for Christmas. Just drop me a review if you're feeling generous. A paragraph would be nice.