"What did you say his name was?" her father asked again, frowning. Isabella sighed, she was sitting in the cottage and stringing popcorn and cranberries together for their tree. Well, when she wasn't throwing bits of popcorn for Portia to snag on her claw and eat.
"Terry Boot," she told her father again. Patrick O'Reagan was a tall man with dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and a flashing smile. Now, however, when he was concerned about his daughter dating, he frowned. Her father could be very overprotective.
"And how old is he?"
"Fifteen."
"He's too old!" he father scowled. He was using a Scouring Charm to clean out a cauldron. Her mother, tall with dark skin and hair, was levitating garlands around the room.
"Patrick," she said, her accent thick and rolling. "You were seventeen and I was fifteen when we started dating."
"That was different," her father said, blushing in a way that reminded Isabella of Terry. "You were mature."
"Bella is mature," her mother insisted, kissing her daughter on the head. "She's a Petrroci."
"Aha! Does your grandfather know about this?" her father demanded, sensing an ally.
"Dumbledore said not to send Castro out of the country," Isabella said, using the needle to spear a cranberry.
"He did what?" he mother and father said simultaneously. Isabella explained about the intercepted letter and how Castro's Silencing Charm had been taken off.
"How dare they!" her mother said, her cheeks flushed with righteous indignation. "I will be contacting Fudge about this!"
"Mami, don't," Isabella pleaded. Her father rallied to her cause and soon her mother was calmed down enough. Isabella and her father began to trim the Christmas tree with their decorations.
Her mother's Puffskin, Shylock, was hiding under the lowest boughs of the tree. She knelt down and coaxed him out with a bowl of milk so that Isabella and her father could put the presents under the tree.
"Hey, this one's for me!" her father said, weighing one of the presents in his hands. He held it up to his ear and shook it slightly. "A book!" he decided. It was an old joke: her father always claimed that no one gave him anything but books.
Isabella took the package and weighed it, checking the tag.
"It's from Great-Aunt Guilia!" she announced. "And it's heavy. It must be her disappointment in you!" Her father sighed dramatically as he took the package and placed it under the tree, nearly squashing Skylock.
"Antonia, do something about that puffskin!" he shouted as the bright yellow creature squeaked and rolled under the couch. Her mother merely laughed and hung up their stockings. The fire roared merrily and for a moment the three of them sat there in silence. Then her father went to the ancient piano and sat down. It was badly in need of a tuning and some of the keys didn't even play when your pushed them.
Her father began banging away on the keys, belting out "Oh, Chistmas Tree" in Italian. Isabella pulled Portia onto her lap and joined in. Her mother hovered in the kitchen finishing dinner and humming along.
Her father paused. He pushed the key again, but no noise came out. He grinned and Isabella and her mother laughed as he continued to pump the silent note.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, only the way a morning can after a fall of fresh snow. Isabella came into the living room and saw that the fire was already burning and her parents were curled up in each other's arms before it.
"Happy Christmas!" she said, holding a struggling Portia in her arms.
"Happy Christmas," he mother and father smiled.
"Now we can open presents!" he father said, excited as a schoolboy. Her mother slapped his arm gently as he scrambled away to claim the heavy package sent by Great-Aunt Guilia. Isabella joined him beneath the tree selecting a gift sent to her by her cousins.
"A book!" her father exclaimed triumphantly, tearing off the last bits of wrapping.
"How to be a Disappointing Nephew-In-Law?" her mother asked, cradling her morning coffee in one hand. Great-Aunt Guilia didn't dislike her niece's husband, she just didn't approve of Isabella using her father's last name. Petrroci's usually went by the name Petrroci, whether they were married of not.
"Close," he father said, holding up the large volume. "Deadly Fungi of Finland."
"Why on earth would you go to Finland?" Isabella laughed, opening a fine kit for broomstick care. It was a beautiful leather case with an instruction manual written in Italian.
"No idea," her father said cheerfully, putting the book aside. Isabella's mother selected a gift of her own and set about opening it.
Great-Aunt Guilia had sent Isabella a knit hat and gloves; Uncle Luigi had given her an entire package of Italian sweets; her cousin Juliet and her husband Taddeo had bought her a set of brand new eagle feather quills; Grandfather Leonardo had sent "spending money" (about twenty Galleons) and several brand-new spell books. Her father had gotten her some grooming things for auguries and kneazles. Her mother had bought her a magnificent set of diamond earrings.
Isabella had given her father a book (big surprise) about Newt Scamander's travels in Southern Italy and Greece. She had also bought her mother and rather spectacular peacock feather quill simply to see if she would use it at work.
Morgan had sent her a box of Honeydukes sweets; Alex had bought her a notebook; and Luna had... well, Isabella wasn't quite certain what Luna had sent her.
It was an empty jar, so God knows what Luna thought was inside. Probably wrackspurts. Isabella did not open it.
In return, Isabella had sent Morgan a heart pendant, Alex a new book bag, and Luna a brand new copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them, because she knew her friend's copy was a little worn out.
Isabella, after a little hesitation, had sent Terry Boot a book called Practical Defensive Magic and its Uses Against the Dark Arts. She was glad she had, because Terry had also sent her a present. She opened it, then began to laugh uncontrollably.
"What is it?" he mother asked, tugging the book from its wrappings.
"Hang on," he dad grinned. "Isn't that...?" Terry had given her a copy of Practical Defensive Magic and its Uses Against the Dark Arts.