I do not own Mystery Science Theater 3000, James Bond, or Smiggle's Shampoo and Conditioner.

I hope you all enjoyed that last chapter, because I'm never asking him to write another chapter for me. In regards to those of you who disliked his chapter, in his defense, he is attending Michigan State University and going for a major in English Literature. He is at the top of his class. As for myself, I'm going to read some Kitchen Princess and then write another chapter. That's right, knead the dough, Najika. Oh, that really does it for me… feh.

Chapter 14: Christmas With the Weasleys

"So Snape was trying to throw Harry off his broom?" Luna murmured, stunned.

"So I've heard," Harry muttered, "For some reason, no one's taken my amazing catch all that seriously."

"Harry, you almost died," Hermione said, exasperated.

"I'm sure I'd have thought of something."

"That's the spirit, Harry," Fred and George patted him on the back as they walked by.

They were standing at the Burrow's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.

"It's not like there's anything we can do about it anyway," Ron said dully, "and did Fred have something funny under his arm just now?"

"Honestly," Hermione scolded, "Harry's life is in danger and all you can think of is what tomfoolery Fred and George are up to."

"Well, yeah," Ron said, as though his point were quite obvious.

"It looked like a frowning potato with legs," Harry said.

"It must be a Lanx if… no, Lanx don't have legs…" Luna trailed off.

"It sounds like a gnome," Ron said, "but knowing them, it could just as likely be something worse."

Hermione ground her teeth and Luna played with her Chao Bao Zi T-shirt.

"And that was an amazing catch, Harry," Ron added, just to tick Hermione off.

Hermione gave up, letting out a loud sigh.

Ginny walked into the kitchen, "Hey, guys. Mum said that once you're done with those, you can start on the yams."

Ron swore loudly, "Ginny, whose side are you on?"

"That's a cool shirt!" Ginny ignored Ron.

"Thanks, my dad picked it up at some school when he visited the Japanese Ministry to get permission to print an edition of The Quibbler in Japanese. It never panned out," Luna shrugged.

Hermione walked off in the direction of the sitting room. Luna and Ginny nattered on for awhile about this and that. Eventually, they wandered off to Ginny's room to talk about clothes.

So, did you tell anyone in your family about the three-headed dog?"

"No," Ron frowned, "it's not something you just share, even with family."

"I suppose you're right. There's a reason the teachers don't want the students to know. I just wish I knew why."

"They must have their own reasons. Maybe it has something to do with Sirius Black."

"Hey, you two!" Fred and George had come back. "Aaah, George, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them."

"I'll be seventeen (No, really) in two and a bit months' time," said Ron grumpily, "and then I'll be able to do it by magic!"

"The important thing to know about magic," George said in an uncanny imitation of Professor McGonagall, "is to know when not to use it."

"And meanwhile," Fred said, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his feet up on it, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a – whoops-a-daisy!"

"You made me do that!" said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. "You wait, when I'm seventeen –"

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills," yawned Fred.

"And while we're here, Ronald," said George, "what is this we've been hearing about you looking at a young miss Lavender Brown?"

Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back to the sprouts. "What's it to you?"

"Well, we can't have our little bro looking at girls without touching them. That would ruin our reputation. You don't have any guts. Harry had the nerve to show up to his date with Cho, and, from the sound of it, flirt with her."

"Do I have to?" Ron's face darkened a little.

"Yes."

"We've got some love potion," Fred said, shaking a little bottle. "This stuff's potent. We had Cho make us some of her specialty. This stuff should get her up in your dorm room at lightning speed."

"I won't use such despicable methods," Ron glared at them.

"I'll bet you've considered it, though. Am I right?" Fred smirked.

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand.

"Ron!" she said furiously. "Don't you ever let me see you throwing knives again!"

"I won't," said Ron, "let you see," he added under his breath, as he turned back to the sprout mountain.

"Fred, George, I'm sorry, dears, but Bill is arriving tonight, so he'll have to squeeze in with you two."

"No problem," said George, striding off with Fred at his side.

"Then, as Charlie won't be here until tomorrow, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic. Oh, and Bill is bringing his girlfriend. I suppose she can share with Ginny and Luna – Harry, dear, would you mind telling them?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry nodded, setting down the knife and heading for the stairs as Ron continued peeling, grumbling under his breath.

Ginny's room was on the fourth floor. Maybe I should have mentioned this before, but the Weasley house is big. The door was shut, so Harry opened it. The knob turned silently and the door opened. Inside, Luna and Ginny were in the middle of changing.

Harry quickly shut it and stammered, "Err – sorry. Mrs. Weasley said that Bill's girlfriend will be sharing a room with you. Sorry."

There was silence for a few seconds before he heard Ginny say, "D*** it."

Blushing furiously, he returned to the kitchen to help Ron with the sprouts.

"You're red as a tomato. What's up?" Ron asked

"Girls…" Harry croaked.

"Piss me off too. If I had a Knut for every time one has embarrassed me…"

After dinner, they retired to the sitting room, which had been decorated lavishly with paper chains. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for dinner.

They were all supposed to be listening to a broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, Bill's girlfriend, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that the scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Lust," Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny and Luna. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Little chance of that, as they were speaking in French. Meanwhile, Percy was sitting beside the fire, writing into a leather-backed diary, trying hard not to hear Celestina's voice.

Oh, come and stir my cauldron,

And if you do it right,

I'll boil you up some hot milk

And warm your bed tonight.

As you may have noticed, I couldn't really make it all that much dirtier.

"We danced to this when we were eighteen!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes on her knitting as Fred and George each shouted eighteen? "Do you remember, Arthur?"

"Mphf?" said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been bobbing over the mistletoe he was inspecting. "Oh, yes… marvelous tune…"

With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at Harry, who was sitting next to him.

"Sorry about this," he said, jerking his head toward the wireless as Celestina broke into the chorus. "Be over soon."

"No problem," said Harry, grinning. "Has it been busy at the Ministry?"

"Very," said Mr. Weasley. "We've been two months since Black escaped and no one's seen hide nor hair of him."

"Why was he sent to prison in the first place?" Harry asked. "I never was able to get a good answer to that."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, we're not sure. The ministry doesn't want to admit it, but Black was a double agent working for the ministry during the war. He was convicted for killing a fellow agent, Peter Pettigrew, and two thousand muggles besides."

"That sounds like rather definite evidence to me," Harry said, incredulous.

"He claims that Pettigrew had turned on us and that the muggles were imperiused."

"Imperiused? What's that?"

"It means," Mr. Weasley sighed, "they were under the Imperius Curse. The Imperius Curse puts the victim under the control of the caster. During the war, the enemy discovered a new spell which allows someone to put many people under a general control at once, but it doesn't allow very good control and only works on the weak-minded. Now, we've solved the problem. The Japanese Ministry of Magic sent us some devices which make the curse fail in most areas of the United Kingdom."

Harry gaped and uttered, "How can anyone kill so many people even if they are under mind control?"

"He was under a great deal of emotional stress. We know that for certain. You see, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were friends during their childhood. Whatever his excuse, he can't be forgiven for a crime we knew… Never mind what it was, but they proved he was guilty and sent him to Azkaban," Mr. Weasley shook his head sadly.

"I heard Azkaban was a prison. Is it really as bad as it sounds?"

"Yes, it is. Dreadful place, glad I've never been there, what with the Dementors."

"Dementors?"

"Yes, horrible things they are—"

"Arthur! You'll give him nightmares!"

"Sorry, Molly, I'll stop."

Oh my poor heart, where has it gone?

Oh my! I think you're touching it!

There was a small bang and Fred swore.

"J****** p*****!"

"Fred!" Molly shouted, managing to drown out both Fleur and Celestina.

"He's not Fred," George corrected, "I am!"

"George!"

"What'd I do?"

"You – Wait which one am I supposed to be – keep it down, you two!"

Molly sat back down and pointed her wand at the radio again.

… and now you've taken it from me

I'll thank you to give me back my heart!

Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs. Weasley joined in with enthusiastically.

Fleur said something in French, probably along the lines of, "Thank Pleinair that's over!" because Bill didn't translate.

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked Mr. Weasley loudly, leaping to his feet. "Who wants eggnog?"

They all stepped into the kitchen for some eggnog. This was a short change of scenery, because Fleur decided it might be fun to try imitating Celestina's singing. Everyone took the look on Mrs. Weasley's face as a cue to be the cue to go to bed. Harry and Ron climbed all the way up to the attic bedroom he shared with Percy, where a camp bed had been added for Harry.

Harry fell asleep almost immediately.

Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of his bed. He put his glasses on and looked around; the tiny window was almost completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron was sitting bolt upright in bed and examining his own stocking.

"Merry Pleinair Day!" he said cheerily.

"Merry – what?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what Pleinair Day is! It's the day we celebrate the creation of the world by the Goddess Pleinair," Percy said drowsily, inspecting a blue sweater with a big P on it.

Harry looked down at the stocking at the base of his bed in surprise.

"Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Ron smirked.

"I never got anything from the Dursleys."

"Gosh that must have – sucked," Percy shook his head.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it – it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and will be happy to continue to store and guard your gold for you. We here at Gringotts wish you a very merry Pleinair Day. There was an origami dove in the parcel which fluttered out and around the room.

"That's pretty," said Harry.

"Indeed," Percy agreed, petting the origami dove that had been in his.

"Hagrid and Gringotts. Then who sent these? Not my aunt and uncle, certainly."

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a lumpy parcel. "My mum. I told her you didn't expect any presents and – oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy – a large box of Chocolate Toads from Hermione.

Luna had given him an unbreakable silver blue rope which she claimed was made from the back hair of the Finnish Hyena.

Seamus had sent a red cloak with the Gryffindor Lion embroidered on the left breast.

"Thanks for the present, Harry," Ron said, ripping open the bag of Sugar Moths Harry had bought for him in Hogsmeade.

Harry was looking at his new sweater and cloak in a standing mirror when Fred and George kicked the door open.

"Merry Pleinair Day!"

"Hey, look – Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, inspecting Harry's sweater, "she obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George (As you may have noticed, by this point I'm just guessing which one is saying what. This way, I don't have to develop separate characters for them and can just pair them as one person.) demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid – we know we're called Giselle and Fiora."

"Will you two shut up?" Percy more-or-less screamed.

"P for prefect!" Fred exclaimed, picking up Percy's sweater. "Get it on Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours."

"Do – not – want—" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting in your room all day studying, either," said George. "Pleinair Day is a time for family."

They frog marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his sides by his sweater.

Harry picked up his last present. He felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the bag of Sugar Moths. "If that's what I think it is – they're really rare and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He looked in the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just from the neck up. He pulled the cloak over his head and disappeared completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before

he died. It's time it was returned to you.

Use it well.

A Very Merry Pleinair Day to you.

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. I'll give you my sister for it."

They both fell over, rolling with laughter.

Everyone was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs. Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

"Bill gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes, they are, Molly," Arthur hugged her tight with a small smile and an adjustment of a pair of new silver rimmed spectacles.

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair," said Luna dreamily, leaning across the table to pick it out; Harry felt goose bumps erupt up his neck that had less to do with the maggot and more to do with what he'd seen her like the night before.

Fleur said something in French with an affected shudder.

"What's she say?" Arthur asked Bill.

"How horrible."

"Yes, isn't it?" Ron agreed. "Pass the syrup, dad."

The gravy boat slipped out of Mr. Weasley's fingers. Before the spilled gravy could land in Ron's lap, Bill waved his wand. The gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly to the boat.

"You're as bad as Neville," Harry said to Ron, laughing.

"Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley suddenly. She had risen from her chair; her hand was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen window. "Arthur – it's the Minister!"

"What?"

Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window; Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was a man in a pinstriped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat, and a bottle-green suit. He looked very official. A moment later he began walking toward the back door. Mr. Weasley jumped up and rushed to the door and opened it just before the Minister reached it.

"Merry Pleinair Day, Mr. Weaggly," he said smartly, oblivious to the fact that he had addressed Mr. Weasley incorrectly.

"Welcome, Minister," Mr. Weasley bowed.

"Please, let me take your coat and you a seat, Minister," Mrs. Weasley bowed.

"Not necessary," the Minister said, smirking. "I came because I wanted a quick word with Harry."

He beckoned to Harry. Harry stood up, aware of all the eyes staring at them as they walked through the back door. For a few moments, they just stood there. Then the minister broke the silence.

"I am the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, as you may have heard. And you are Harry Potter. I trust that you know who you are."

"I'm the boy who lived, right?"

"Quite right. You-Know-Who tried to kill you and failed, the spell somehow backfiring on him, killing him, instead. Though I suppose you don't know how he found your parents?"

"He would have found a way, wouldn't he? How should I know?" he remembered at the last second who he was speaking to. "Sir."

Fudge gave a small frown. "Yes, well, your parents' home was under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. The Fidelius Charm prevents those who do not know the existence of a location from finding it. The charm requires, however, that someone knows of the location, and anyone who learns of the location can enter it. They can tell about or show others the location. The Secret Keeper for the Potter house was named Sirius Black."

Harry gaped at him, then quickly closed his mouth.

"Sirius Black was a childhood friend of the Potters. When they went into hiding, they named him Secret Keeper. Black was an undercover agent working for the Ministry at the time. Of course, we didn't know that he was really a double agent who was really working for You-Know-Who. He told You-Know-Who the location of the house, and the rest is history. I realize this must be a huge shock to you."

Harry felt like he was about to faint.

"And you know that Sirius Black recently escaped from Azkaban. Now, we are getting to what I came here to tell you."

"Which is what? …Sir."

"Simply a warning to be careful. After all, he doomed your parents to death a decade and a half ago. Chances are, he may go after you next."

"So," Ron asked him when he reentered the dining room, "what'd he have to say?"

Harry slumped back in a chair. "Sirius Black told Voldemort how to kill my parents and is coming after me."

Around the room, faces paled. Harry knew his own face was pale.

"It's not as bad as all that," Mr. Weasley said, trying to be cheerful, "he's probably decided to give up his evil ways and start a new life."

Harry could tell Mr. Weasley was lying, but decided it wouldn't do any good to be negative about it, "Yeah, that's what he'll do. Now that we've got that settled, could you pass the gravy, Ron?"

Later, as Harry sat in the sitting room, looking into the fire, Hermione sat down next to him.

"I suppose you're here to tell me it will be all better, too," Harry said casually.

Hermione blushed. "No, I just wanted to thank you for giving me that copy of Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan. It's excellent. One of the best fantasy books in recent years."

All righty then, I sponsored your bloody book, now where's my mon— Oh, there it is.

"You do love books."

"Well, yeah."

They sat there for a little while. Luna plopped down beside Harry and slid an arm around his shoulder.

"Hiya, Harry! How're you doing?" she asked cheerfully.

"How do you think I'm doing?" Harry replied gloomily.

Hermione said something about hot cocoa and left. They sat in silence for a little while.

"So, how did my ! look?"

Harry turned beet red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to peek."

"Oh, it's ok. Ginny still gets a nosebleed when she thinks about it, though. So, how did my ! look?"

"Um… good."

"Why thank you, a lady loves being complimented."

Harry couldn't tell if she was daft or plastered.

"Uh, Luna…"

"I know, people usually don't take things like that too well."

"That's one way of putting it. Hermione chastised Ron about it when he did it to her for a week straight whenever they thought no one was listening."

"He looked at her naked for a week straight while no one was listening?"

"No, she nagged him for a week straight. Blimey."

"I can see that," Luna laughed.

"You don't act like other girls."

"Well," Luna said, "would you prefer it if I called you a pervert and verbally abused you?"

"No," Harry laughed.

"But that doesn't mean I'm going to show it off for you," Luna said sternly.

Ok, I know a lot of people are by now thinking that I'm going to ship Harry and Luna. I'm not. I'm just going to outright say it. Luna is one of the people Harry tries, and fails to have, a relationship with. Rather like the one he had with Cho in canon.

"Of course not," Harry nodded.

"So," Luna said, once again upbeat, "Is breast perkiness a good thing or bad thing to guys?"

Some while later, Harry and Bill were shoveling the front walk.

"So, how's school?" Bill asked. "I hope you're getting along well with my little bro. "

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "He's a good friend."

"Best friend?"

"No, not really."

"Didn't think so. He's not very personable."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, curious.

"Not many people understand him. He's been overshadowed his entire life. Five older brothers, can you imagine?"

"I guess so."

"I imagine that he feels like everything has already been done. That if he does something important, one of us will have done it first. I was Head Boy. Percy was a Prefect. Charlie was Quidditch captain. It's no wonder he acts so anti-social. But that's not a very happy subject. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Well, not really, no. Oh, wait a moment. You're an archaeologist, aren't you?"

Bill nodded. "That I am."

"What do you do?"

"Me? I go all over the world searching for lost treasures and temples, evading traps and natives, and learning about history. And scouting out good land for Gringotts to buy."

"Why would Gringotts want to buy land?" Harry asked.

"Gringotts is like any other bank, Harry. They buy land, develop it, and sell it as a higher price. I've made Gringotts thousands of Galleons finding good land in the South American Rainforest to develop."

"It's a good thing Lavender doesn't know that. She'd probably send you a mail bomb."

Bill shook his head. "That poor misguided girl. Cutting down the trees doesn't deplete the world oxygen supply. Most of the world's oxygen comes from volcanoes."

"I think she's more worried about the animals."

"That's just silly. It's not like animals have souls."

Bill shrugged. Harry wasn't sure that was a good argument, but he didn't say anything and went back to shoveling.

Next time on HPMF:

Dumbledore: Next time on HPMF…

Harry: We already did that!

Snape: Headmaster, I really think you need to take your medication.

Dumbledore: Look! I found a camera!

Justin: Hey! My camera!

Snape: Oh, who cares?

Dumbledore: Merry Christmas!

Harry: We already did that, too!