(If you feel you might be a closer friend of the Gamps, and want to join us, PM me on Ignan's acc.)

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"I don't understand darling, you're going to have to do a different action…" Lyra Gamp's brow furrowed at the posturing of her eldest son before the fireplace. Orion let out an exasperated huff, putting his hands on his hips.
"Ahhh don't speak Dad!" Ariadne exclaimed, sprawled on the floor on her front, chin propped on her hands to watch. There was a very strict penalty for speaking while stood before the fire acting out the words. Her father appealed with hand gestures to his brother, Cepheus, who scratched his chin thoughtfully. 
"Do that bit again…" Orion obliged, wiggling his hands by his ears.

"Silence of the Elves." Mortimer spoke from his armchair, cigar smoke curling round his balding head. He'd been absolutely silent throughout the posturing. Orion jumped excitedly and clapped his hands and snapped his fingers, pointing at his father, very pleased indeed. Finally he was able to make noise again.
"Yes old man, yes!"

Cepheus groaned quietly at not guessing before their father. Ariadne cackled from the floor at her uncle's displeasure.
"Oh well done darling!" Lyra exclaimed from the end of the sofa beside Mortimer, extending a hand to pat her husband's hand in congratulations.

"Eugh, we're losing Aunt Andromeda." Ariadne exclaimed as she inked another mark onto some very well loved parchment with a new quill she'd received for Christmas. The parchment was littered with marks and years and names. Charades was a Gamp Christmas tradition and the tally score was kept every year on the same parchment to ensure no dispute over who won what year before. The disputes were frequent, and lengthy after too many rounds of port or sherry.

"Come on, you've always got the advantage," niece rolled over onto her back on the rug and reached up with the bag of clues to her aunt with hope. "Please try and draw one I might have read this time."
"Easy way to solve this, Ariadne." Her grandmother called from behind, always despairing of how Ariadne did not press her nose into a book often enough these days.
"Grandma, you're meant to be on the same team as me!" Ariadne huffed and adjusted her Christmas cracker hat.
"I'm not the one trying to keep your father quiet, if he'd squeaked we'd have had that point..." Lyra pointed out to her granddaughter.
"Thanks sweetheart." Orion grinned, taking a seat on the rug beside her, cross-legged, port glass recharged. "Come on sister, show us how it's done."

Andromeda laughed. She was equally annoyed not to have guessed that. It was a good mime! Obvious now. Andromeda got up from her seat. She put down her drink and put her hand in the bag. She took a moment to rummage around. "No pressure then Ari." She pulled one out and unfolded it to read. She kept her back to the family and had a think. She could not really remember if she had read the book. The title was ok to mime though with luck. "Ok."

She closed her eyes and visualised her face. She could feel it moving and stretching. It was all tingly and itchy for a moment. Then it was ok, but it felt really strange. She turned back to show the family the duck bill where her mouth had been. There was lots of laughter. She hoped one of them had read it. She pointed to her bill and then waved her finger to say no. Ariadne would know it perhaps. It had to be a story.

Mortimer chuckled to himself as his wife and granddaughter exchanged frustrated conversation over lagging behind on the points. They would resort to dirty tactics soon enough. It was the Gamp way, nobody was truly honest when it came to family competition. It was why they had the dog-eared parchment to keep count.

It was rather good to have them all home, all the children, and their granddaughter. Orion was ordinarily off somewhere remote on the boat writing about Christmas in foreign climes for Devia Orbis, and reluctant to find time to come home.

After the tricky business of extracting him from Venezuela during the summer, Mortimer and Lyra had suggested that Orion consider his movements during Hogwarts holidays. Ariadne would probably be off on her own adventures once she finished her NEWTs and they would see just as little of her, so it might be nice to see them both for Christmas. For once, their eldest son had taken the hint. At 35 it wasn't too late to grow up.

Andromeda's duck beak tickled them all. Her antics were doted on by Ariadne and had always been rather witty even when she'd been a teenager. Her metamorph abilities had of course helped her in her rebellious appearance during that decade. Mortimer wan't sure what he and Lyra had done to raise three children so different to their traditional approach, but despite it they'd turned out well enough.

Mortimer racked his brains for books on ducks.
"Ugly Duckling?" He suggested, tapping his cigar, if only to try and spur some guesses from the others.

Andromeda made a face at her dad. With a bill it was difficult but she was sure he could tell. She was not ugly! He was being mean. She looked to her mum. She had read more books than Ariadne. Mostly because she was a lot older! She cupped her ear as if she was listening. Then Andromeda seized a piece of tinsel. She tied a knot in it. She cupped her ear again. Then she pointed to the knot. Finally she pointed at her bill. To help she flapped her arms like a duck.

"Duck…" Ariadne voiced, thinking aloud, "Beak…" she made a face, propping herself up on her elbows. "Bird… bill… feathers… sticky beak… beaky…"
"Ugly Duckling?" Her grandfather suggested.

The interruption made Ariadne all the more determined. Think… DUCKS…. come onnnnn. She balled her fists up on the sitting room floor and screwed up her face.

"Tinsel, tie… knot… NOT!" Ariadne suddenly shot up from the floor in a shot,

"THAT IS NOT A DUCK!" She yelled over enthusiastically over her grandmother's shriek of alarm and her father's whoop.

Andromeda was very happy Ariadne guessed right. Not just because they were on the same team. More because she did not know how else to act out the book. She did not even know what the plot was. She high fived Ariadne and took a seat. "Your turn!"

Ariadne high-fived her aunt Andromeda as they swapped places before the fireplace. Hopefully her luck would rub off on the younger Gamp. She enthusiastically dug her hand into the bag of clues and rifled around it, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth.

Dropping the bag aside she unfolded and examined her clue with her back turned to the audience. Behind her, the family tittered quietly about ducks and her grandmother remarked
"I remember when her head didn't even reach the mantle." in respect to how tall Ariadne had grown.

Almost forgetting the family rule and opening her mouth to shout 'ready' Ariadne turned to face them all, prepared. She mimed with her hands as if she were holding a ball the size of a quaffle and pretended to gaze into it intently.

The room began to fill with cries of 'scrying' 'crystal ball', 'divination', 'seeing'. Ariadne tried to keep her role and mimed the crystal ball coming away in either hand as if it had split. Her face was disappointed. Then she mimed dropping it entirely and running away in horror - all in silence of course.

Christmas with the family was rather homely, Cepheus reflected. Had he not come down to Godric's Hollow to spend it with his siblings, niece and parents it might have been spent with friends or even alone with his cat. Instead he was sprawled in one of the armchairs trying to figure out what his niece was gesticulating in her mime. Competition meant that Ariadne stayed quiet for once.

"Barely does now," Cepheus replied to his mother's remark, making a quiet joke before concentrating back. "Balls," he suggested and Ariadne gesticulated at him with thumbs up. "Smashed balls… dropped balls…?" Beside him, sat cross-legged on the rug where Ariadne had been, his older brother creased forward laughing. He might be older, but when his younger brother started saying such things he was eleven all over again.
"Honestly," Ceph rolled his eyes, pretending to chastise his brother, "In front of your daughter!"

"Everyone here has seen Orion's balls!" Andromeda laughed with her brothers. It did not matter that they were grown up. They could still laugh about it. "Broken balls." Andromeda guessed. She grabbed her hair with both hands. She knew this one. "Broken balls! It's divination." She pulled a face at her brothers. "Your balls will be broken soon. Watch it. FORTUNES! When fortunes foul?" Andromeda threw her hands out to Ariadne. 

His daughter did not appear very amused at his suggestion of 'ugly duckling' but it made Mortimer chuckle to himself. Eventually Ariadne very loudly proclaimed the answer, taking Lyra by surprise and receiving congratulations from Orion.

Mortimer's granddaughter, Ariadne took her turn with enthusiasm. He was rather pleased at her assertive nature, taking after his eldest son, but wasn't entirely convinced over her aspirations.

His two sons might be in their thirties but they were still young teenagers when they got together at Christmas like this. Giggling over jokes about balls. Mortimer glanced to Lyra who tutted at the nonsense. She had raised them both to be gentlemen!

"Everyone here has seen Orion's balls!" Andromeda roared with laughter, no better than her brothers. If anything she'd grown up to be the more stereotypically masculine one…

"I think Andromeda has it." Mortimer agreed, not too fussed to have barely participated in the round, enjoying observing his descendants interacting. He put out his cigar a moment and unfolded his long body from the armchair while Ariadne settled back down and updated the score. Mortimer dug into the bag of clues and pulled out one, letting out a sigh.

He turned back to his family who were all studying him expectantly. Considering the head of the household was normally a man lacking in any amusing expression, this game provided an insight into what their father and grandfather could do if he put his mind to it.

All of a sudden, Mortimer raised his hands up above him, arms at length and made a silent, terrifying expression of a roar with clawed hands, ambling forwards a few steps like a terrible creature.

Then it dropped, and he held his palms together opening them like a book, and then resumed the original position, swiping down at Ariadne and then at Andromeda for additional affect.

"In front of your daughter!" Ariadne gestured fiercely at her father, wanting to tell him off for being crude but she couldn't say a word otherwise she'd forfeit the round. She wasn't forfeiting the round to grandpa. He was far too smug about it, but wasn't offering answers she noticed.

She appealed to aunt Andromdeda instead but it seemed all three of them were in fits of giggles about her dad's balls. They were like fourth years!!

"Broken balls." Ariadne nodded enthusiastically, and re-mimed. "Broken balls! It's divination." Ariadne nodded again, eyes wide. Come on aunty! "… FORTUNES! When fortunes foul?"
"I think Andromeda has it." Her grandfather agreed.

"NEAR ENOUGH!" Ariadne yelled, seizing her aunt's hands and delivering a massive hug before folding to the floor to mark up the score again. The head of the house passed them to take his turn and Ariandne swatted mischievously at his shoes as he passed without making contact.

Her grandfather was awfully straight-laced about everything, which caused friction. Ariadne was more like her parents, outspoken, loud, energetic. She made decisions her grandparents didn't necessarily like, and wasn't as brilliantly academic as the two of them were. However, when it came to playing this game, she could see the small part of them both that Orion had inherited - the outgoing, witty part. He'd just amplified it.

Rolling onto her back on the floor, Ariadne regarded her grandfather from below, upside-down. She giggled at him as he acted out and then returned to his straight face again.
"OOOoh!!" She exclaimed, rolling back suddenly, "Is it - is it -- Monster book of monsters?"

Andromeda was very pleased to guess correctly. She squeezed Ariadne's hands. In summer she would take Ariadne out drinking. Not family games. It was her dad's turn. Andromeda pulled her feet underneath her. She curled up in the armchair and looked at Cepheus. "What do you think brother?" Ariadne shouted out an answer really loudly. It sounded about right. "Was that the book you had to stroke?" She asked Cepheus. He had lots of creature books. "Good guess!" She praised Ariadne.

“At this rate you three will be winning,” Ceph remarked, complimentary at the achievements of sister, niece and mother. “Come on brother.” He reached down from the armchair to clap Orion on the shoulder. “Perhaps we need something stronger to get our brains working.”
”Excellent idea, here.”
”Just ask-.” Their mother was about to suggest calling the house elf when Orion jumped to his feet and tapped his nose, retreating to the back of the room to clink bottles in the family’s alcohol collection. Ceph decided he didn’t need to move from the armchair for a while, and if he did, the house elf could definitely apparate him to his old bed.

Their father took the ‘stage’ before the fireplace. The tallest of them all, he blotted out a great deal of the fire for Ceph, and became a silhouette.
”What do you think brother?” Andie asked.
“Definitely no romance novel.” Ceph replied, smiling fondly at his younger sister.

”Ooooh!!” Ari exclaimed from somewhere down by Ceph’s feet on the floor. ”Is it - is it - Monster Book of Monsters?”
”Good guess!” Their father nodded, praising Ariadne mildly, as if he considered it far too easy.

“Ri, give me a hand here, Ari and Andie are winning without mum’s help.” Ceph shuffled round in the armchair to look behind at his brother returning with two glasses of something that looked potent and distinctly colourless. “Andie you might have to drink this one.” Ceph suggested, sniffing tentatively and taking a sip, wrinkling his nose and passing it down to his sister. “Merlin, what did you put in that?”
”Half the spirits knowing him.” Their father interrupted, retaking his seat and lighting his cigar again. Orion raised a toast and necked half of his without flinching.

"You are such a lightweight Ceph!" Andromeda teased. She sniffed the drink and frowned. It did smell strong. Did Ri want them to forget how to play? "Here goes." She took a mouthful. "Ew! Ri that tastes disgusting. Ceph wants to make it to the end of the afternoon. You are evil." She looked up at her second brother. "I will save you from this. Hold on." Andromeda knocked the whole glass back in one go. Her hair turned bright green. "No better." She wiped her mouth with one hand. "But I will be fantastic at charades now. Guaranteed." She gave a double thumbs up to Ariadne. She had no idea her hair had changed colour.

His granddaughter guessed very easily - it wasn’t the most elaborate of mimes nor a book with a very niche audience despite the ferocity, so Mortimer was not overly impressed with the achievement. Across the room his eldest son was mixing alcohols as if he felt he was better employed in Thailand at some establishment he’d once elaborated about to Mortimer and Cepheus the night before Ariadne had come home. The older wizard had almost obliviated himself over the description of how table tennis balls came into it. Needless to say, he was not enthused that Ariadne might have once been exposed to such environments, though thankfully not this time.

Whatever Orion had mixed, his brother refused to drink on sniffing, which only encouraged Andromeda. It was as if they had raised three boys rather than two and a girl. She had always done exactly as her brothers had, and if anything, Cepheus had demonstrated the most feminine qualities. Still, he reminded himself, drawing on his cigar, they had turned out a hundred times better than many children he and Lyra had encountered in their research[1].

On drinking it, Andromeda’s hair turned bright green. Mortimer indulged in a chuckle at his daughter along with the rest of the family for the reaction. Ariadne’s eyes were like saucers at it. Despite them all being rather seasoned to the metamorphmagus abilities, on occasions the reactions their daughter displayed were rather vibrant indeed.
”My dear.” Lydia gestured to her own hair, trying to let her daughter know.
”Gran, why don’t you ever do things like that?” Ariadne asked from the floor, propped up on her elbows.
“She does, Ariadne. But with far more subtlety. It is rude to demand it as entertainment.” Mortimer pre-empted his granddaughter’s curiosity. “What are the final scores, the game appears to be at an end.”

1.	1966, Desperate Volunteers