The morning before Christmas was cold enough to bite your nose off. A light snowfall drifted over the fields behind the Brown family cottage, settling on the rooftops like icing sugar.
Inside, however, it was warm. Chestnuts roasted over the fire, and something savoury bubbled gently on the stove, filling the cottage with a rich, comforting smell.
Dobby the house elf darted about in a frilly apron that matched his hat, humming to himself as he tended a large iron pot that occasionally tried to hop off the burner.
Dorothea Brown stood nearby, wand in hand, guiding a flock of enchanted gingerbread rabbits into a neat row along the counter. Every so often, one tried to bite another's ear off, and she would tap it lightly with her wand to restore order.
"Dobby, how's the stew?" she asked.
"Nearly ready, missus! Dobby is making the Brown family special, rabbit and leek with thyme and a splash of firewhisky!"
From across the room, Nigel gave a distracted hum. He was decorating the Christmas tree, or rather, the tree was decorating itself while he supervised.
The tall fir floated a few feet above the floor, turning slowly as ribbons of golden light coiled around its branches. Tiny glowing trinkets drifted into place one by one, guided by the steady flick of his wand.
"A bit more firewhisky than Mum used, I'd wager," he said absently, sniffing the hot aroma drifting through the house.
"Oh really?" Dorothea raised an eyebrow.
"Hm," Nigel muttered, still distracted, and nodded.
"Then how about you show us exactly how she made it?" Dorothea replied sweetly. The gingerbread rabbits froze mid-hop.
At the table, Ben sat cross-legged in his chair, swallowed up by the oversized jumper Dorothea had knitted for him to grow into. "Oh boy," he muttered, shrinking into his collar like a turtle.
The tree landed with a thud as Nigel realised his blunder. "Thea, that's not what I meant, my love! I like it better this way. Look how cold it is, a bit more firewhisky's just what I needed!"
He was saved by the sudden rush of flapping wings at the window. A dozen owls swooped past, hooting and jostling for space. Seizing the distraction, Nigel flicked his wand, and the latch popped open.
A burst of cold air swept in as the owls flooded the kitchen. They circled noisily, then began dropping deliveries across the table, letters, parcels, and a few small boxes tied with red string.
"Mail's here!" Dobby squeaked. He darted to the counter, grabbed a plate piled with scraps, and began tossing bits of meat with surgical precision. Each owl caught its share midair before sweeping back out into the snow.
Dorothea chuckled. "Well, that's one way to get them out before they start nesting in the curtains."
By the time the last owl left, the table was a glorious mess of envelopes and feathers. Nigel began sorting through the pile, stacking letters by type.
"Let's see... Christmas cards from your sister, three invoices from Slug & Jiggers for potion supplies, and—ah—a letter from the Magical Menagerie about the new feed mix and an order for two dozen white kits. They must be selling well before Christmas."
Dorothea smiled, folding her arms. "Everyone wants a rabbit for their children until they find out how much they nibble on the curtains."
Nigel flipped through another handful. "One from old Mr Tully, asking for more rabbit hair for wand-polishing kits."
Dorothea ignored him. "Anything from the farm in Kent?"
Nigel checked again. "Hmm. Not yet. Oh, but here's a thank-you note from the woman with the crop blight. Says the droppings worked wonders."
Dorothea looked smug. "Of course they did."
Nigel smiled faintly, "Two new orders for greyhides, including one order for six greyhides from Mrs Fletcher."
"About time," Dorothea said. "She's been 'thinking about it' since September."
Nigel shuffled the last few letters into a neat pile, then frowned at the remaining roll of parchment with a green ribbon tied around it. "What's this one, then?"
Dorothea looked up. "Another one of those catalogue adverts?"
He shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. It's a proper paper. The Magical Voice. Ever heard of it?"
"No," she said, drying her hands and stepping closer. "Maybe it's the new Witch Weekly issue? They said they were changing their format."
Nigel grunted and passed it to her. "If it is, at least they've learned to use proper paper this time."
Dorothea brushed off her hands and untied the ribbon with practised curiosity. The parchment unfurled with a soft rustle, revealing a glossy front page.
Across it, Gilderoy Lockhart beamed from a moving photograph, hair shining brighter than the fairy lights behind him.
"HOW I LOST AND THEN FOUND MYSELF!" Exclusive with Gilderoy Lockhart — only in The Magical Voice!
Dorothea gasped. "Oh, Lockhart! I didn't know he was giving interviews again. Bless him."
Nigel raised a brow. "You didn't subscribe to this, did you?"
"Of course not," she said quickly, clutching the paper like treasure. "I'd have remembered that. It must be a free copy."
Nigel turned toward Ben, who had quietly drifted toward the stove and was now pretending to busy himself with the stew. "Ben?"
"Don't look at me," Ben said at once, already reaching for a bowl. "I'm broke. Spent everything on presents for everyone." He nodded earnestly at Dobby. "Mind pouring me a bit, mate?"
"Right away, Master Ben!" Dobby chirped, ladling out a generous helping.
Ben took it, blowing hard on a spoonful. "Speaking of, any chance I could get next month's allowance early?"
Nigel folded his arms. "As soon as you finish cleaning the rabbit pens and putting in fresh bedding."
"Brilliant," Ben said immediately, grabbing his bowl. "I'll get started right now, then."
He could practically taste the ammonia just thinking about it. But even that was better than facing anymore questions.
He was out of the kitchen before either of them could say another word.
Dorothea rolled her eyes at the two of them but was already absorbed in the paper.
"Oh, listen to this! 'Lockhart opens up about his greatest challenge—himself.' Honestly, he's marvellous."
Nigel snorted. "Marvellous waste of ink."
He leaned closer over her shoulder and took a peek while pretending to scoff, but something made him frown. "Hold on. A crossword."
The Enchanter's Crossword was printed in shimmering purple ink, a promise of a Thousand Galleons gleaming below it.
"It's rather festive. Look, little snowflakes in the corners." Dorothea said, appreciating the little things.
Nigel straightened his back, puffing out his chest like a man about to make history. "Dorothea, fetch me a quill. This is my moment."
Dorothea lowered the paper slowly, fixing him with a look that could stop clocks. "I beg your pardon?"
He froze. "Ah, no, no, love, I didn't mean fetch fetch, I'll get it myself."
Nigel flicked his wand, muttering Accio quill so quickly the word blurred together.
The quill shot from across the room and smacked into his chest.
He caught it clumsily and gave her his most innocent smile. "What I meant was, I'm going to win this lottery for you, my love."
Dorothea scoffed. "You said that about the raffle at the Floo store."
"That one was rigged," he said gravely, already leaning over the crossword like a codebreaker.
"And you're sure this one isn't because?" Dorothea questioned.
"There. See?" He tapped the page. "What animal delivers wizarding post? Owl. Honestly."
Dorothea glanced at the grid. "Nigel, that's hardly a challenge. Every wizard knows that."
"There's a hard one too. Look here. 'What creature is known for guarding treasure but hates riddles?' Easy. Ukrainian Ironbelly."
"Don't they teach that in Care for Magical Creatures?" Thea asked.
"Exactly, not everyone takes those classes", Nigel said excitedly.
He scribbled the answer down, muttering to himself. "And this one—' The most common ingredient in a Pepperup Potion'? Mandrake root, obviously."
He continued, gaining confidence. "Name of the school in Scotland. Hogwarts. 'Currency smaller than a Sickle.' Knut. 'Spell used to summon objects.' Accio."
Dorothea sighed. "This is basic magical literacy."
Nigel paused and looked at her. "Really? Because I've seen grown wizards struggle with coin change."
Dorothea folded her arms. "You just wanna feel proud of knowing things everyone should know."
"Yes," Nigel said calmly. "Because most of them don't."
He sat back, surveying the finished grid with satisfaction. "I've got a good feeling about this one."
Dorothea shook her head and went back to the interview. "You always do."
Dorothea sighed, shaking her head as she turned back to Lockhart's interview.
Outside, the snow continued to drift down in lazy spirals.
Inside the barn, Ben scrubbed at a rabbit pen, grinning as he heard owls swoop through the snow, carrying fresh copies of The Magical Voice.
The first issue was out.
[End of Chapter]
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