DECEMBER 25 SATURDAY
The chaps woke up in a jail cell.
James sat up, hungover, arrested for drunk driving and cheeking an auror. He dreaded to face his parents after this.
Sirius sat up as well.
"Ow my head..."
"Why is it that this seemed like such a good idea last night?" James wondered.
"Because you were drunk?" said Remus.
"Hey so were you!"
"I could swear we meant to do some good thing," said James.
"We gave the oppressed werewolves a voice I don't regret it one bit," said Sirius.
"A voice? Well I have heard of languages that are completely based on whistling."
"I agree that somehow, for some reason, when we try to do something good, we still wind up looking bad."
Sirius looked in his mirror. He was less than pleased with the make-up.
"This is the activist's life," he said, wiping it off with Lizzy Goat's feather boa. "Activists wind up in jail all the time. There will always be the bad forces trying to stop you from doing good."
"Is driving drunk ever a good thing?" Remus asked.
"If a paramedic is off duty and walks into a restaurant, parks his ambulance outside, has a bit of wine, then the sommerlier gets cardiac arrest- sod it I'm too hungover for this."
Sirius lied back down.
This was truly a new low. In jail on Yule Day. And it got worse when a guard put a radio outside their cell.
And so this is Christmas (ching ching, ching ching) and what have you done?
"Not that song again!" said Sirius and stuffed his ears full of feather boa.
"Let's try to get a Christmas number one sometime," said James.
"And let's make Shishi sing it," said Sirius.
"Padfoot that's racist."
The music stopped, mid-song, as if by a yule miracle, when a guard returned to remove it. He also unlocked the cell door.
"Ok boys and girls you're free to go."
"Did someone bail us out?" James asked.
The guard didn't say. He simply returned their possessions and showed them to the exit.
The sky was clear over Diagon Ally square. Streets were busy.
"I wonder who bailed us out!" said Peter.
Then they crashed into Ruffly, who was wearing a nice suit again. And holding a latte.
"Was it you?" Sirius asked him.
"Was it I what?"
He snorted some cocain and shouted in a phone in a phone box.
"Did you bail us out just now?"
"Bail you out? I didn't know you were in jail. Catch you later."
"So you're back on Finance Street?" James asked.
"Yeah. And now we have stock broker competition."
"How does that work?"
"No idea but I assume there is such a thing. Like, people buying their stocks, and not ours? Eh sod it. Point is, they have such dumb business idea. Stock Broker Café. Run by two bakers. Buy stocks, get a cake."
"Do you know their names?"
"Sure I do. Lestrange. I think they are probably brothers. Now I remember, I overheard them say: Let's be the ones to bail them out, mon frere! I didn't think anything of it, until now. So you were bailed out, then? Cool. Catch you later."
He went around a corner, where Finance Street lied.
"Those bakers bailed us out?" said James.
"I told you it was a bad idea to ask for fanmail," said Remus.
Did those bakers know, that they were the Mischief Managers? James put on his butt mask.
"Come on, fan club! Let's get some cake, and discuss fan things!"
Sirius put on his buttmask as well.
"Bet you don't think it's silly of us to run our own fanclub now!" said Sirius.
And so the set off, to have cake, and discuss fanclub things.
FIN.