25 December 2011
3pm Christmas Day
Sellaphix home in Marylebone, London

The living room was a comfortable disaster. A large evergreen tree filled the space next to the fireplace were a happy fire was stoking itself. The tree was decorated with mostly family ornaments and a few Quidditch one. Lightning bugs provided the twinkling illumination as they gently blinked red, green, and gold. The floor was littered with wrapping paper and piles of opened gifts. The coffee table bore a tray of sweets and cakes, next to it a caraffe of hot chocolate; both were eaten from, but there was still plenty left.

Figaro was upstairs sleeping. He'd been uncharacteristically withdrawn. It was slight but noticeable. 'I'm just tired' had been his  explanation. Frank was in the kitchen, brewing the source of the good smells. There were still many hours until they'd all sit down to a big meal, but Frank was keeping the food coming all day. He was doing scones at the moment - orange, ginger, cranberry.

Zelda and Rafe let the boys be, for the moment. Zelda flipping through a big old Herbiary from Frank he'd found at Obscurus books. Seventeen hundreds with hand-drawn illustrations that still had some movement in them. This one was unique in that it included insects, a particular interest for Zelda. She wore a pair of socks from her mother.[1] Everyone had been gifted several.

A few gifts remained under the tree. The tags marked them as intended for Bagnolds.

1.	An enthusiastic knitter

From his arm chair, feet up on the pouffe, Rafe wiggled his toes, all nicely wrapped up in a pair of lime green and pink woollen socks. They were, of course, courtesy of Mrs Morseley, a wonderful woman who, on an annual basis, furnished the Sellaphix family with marvellous foot apparel. The whole family were wearing them today, would be rude not to.

On Rafe’s lap was a bowl. In it, a measuring jug and some water. He’d been happily fiddling about with an ingenious gift bestowed upon him by his wife. It was really something! A glass bottle that looked like any other glass bottle. When he’d opened it, he’d stared at Zelda rather quizzically and given her an all too polite “A bottle. I love bottles. Thanks, dear.” Until she’d all but told him that he was a fool and instructed him to put something in it. Well, then the happy potioneer had become very excited! Now, with some quiet in the living room, he kept refilling the bottle to see it’s marvellous effects.

“Okay, I’m satisfied.” With his hand, Rafe levitated the bowl with its jug, water and special bottle to land in the corner of the living room on the floor. He hopped up with a grin. The grin was one that said mischief was coming. “I’ll be back, love.” With that, far quieter than normal, Rafe snuck from the living room in his super quiet cosy socks. He silently pushed open the kitchen door and waved to get Frank’s attention.

“He should be konked right out by now. Ready, kiddo?” He whispered and pulled the tiny vial from his pocket, jiggling it about for Frank to see.

Frank popped up from where he was crouched at the oven, his blonde hair stuck up at wild angles from sweating in the hot kitchen. He'd had to whip his arm behind his back to hide his wand which he was not supposed to be using off term. Instead he smiled as big as he could and used his oven-mitt hand to wipe flour from his chin. When he saw that he wasn't about to get scolded and that it was, indeed, only his dad looking like a great old devil.

After a pause then a darting check on his scones, Frank shucked the oven mitts and wand onto the counter and followed Rafe out of the kitchen and upstairs. Their bedroom door was shut and Figaro was quiet inside. Well, mostly quiet. Frank held his breathing and could hear gentle snoring.

"We were supposed to hang out," Frank whispered, but instead Figaro had gone back to bed as soon as presents were done, making some excuse.

Figaro was supposed to hang out with his little brother. Shame on him.

Shame.

On.

Him.

Rafe cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at his youngest son. “Well, he’s asked for this then, kiddo.” He whispered back, perfectly calm, as if they were talking about brewing tea. “Practically begged for it, breaking a promise to his baby brother. Shame on him, indeed.” They had the perfect excuse to prank Fig now. The promise breaking had clearly made it more of a gentle punishment than a prank. It absolved Frank and Rafe of any blame in the aftermath. Zelda could vouch for them, if necessary. It wasn’t like Fig had never involved him in any similar activities in the past.

The small vial was placed in Frank’s hand, but Rafe didn’t let go immediately. He locked eyes with his son.
“Whole thing. Pour it right down his ear and wait. Well, probably best we wait downstairs. Blameless then, aren’t we? Totally innocent. What Fig? Us? Nope, don’t know a thing about it.” The wizard let go of the vial and tapped a finger to his nose. Their little secret. And Zelda’s. Nothing ever got past Zelda.

“Off you pop. Every drop.”

Frank's eyes lit up with the scandal. He scrunched up his shoulders and wiggled his fingers for the vial, giggling with mischievous glee. He stifled it quickly and nodded. He'd been about to ask what it did, but he knew is dad well enough - the surprise was part of the fun.

He took a deep breath and held it, then began to creep into the bedroom. The door was ajar and swung smoothly open. Frank crossed the floor, avoiding the debris of the shared space and the squeaky spot in the middle. Figaro was on the bottom bunk, fast asleep. His bare back and bare feet were out of the blankets.

Frank knelt by the edge of the bed and uncorked the vial. A little puff of dust erupted out of it like a cough along with the smell of wet dog. Frank wrinkled his nose, but didn't have a single second thought. Carefully, carefully, poised to run, he tipped the vial into Figaro's ear.  The potion moved like syrup but it seemed light as air. Fig snorted, shifted, and batted at his ear but didn't wake up. Frank swallowed a laugh and continued in earnest until the whole vial had seeped into his brother's ear.

Soon as that was done, he bolted from the room. Out in the hall he passed his dad and flew quietly down the stairs, clearly having practiced a quiet descent many times.

Upstairs, Figaro dreamed of happy nothing. And then he started to itchy. First his nose, then his ears, then the rest of him. He sniffed coughed and scratched and when nothing gave him any relief he woke from irritation. He couldn't see, something was - he - what was going on! He was covered, completely covered in rapidly growing curly blue fur.

"Glurrrgh!" In almost no time at all, the fur was so long and thing he looked like a giant fuzzy blue mop, and when he tried to speak all that came out were sort of melodic growls and trilling grumbles. "Aruuuooogh!"

There were only two suspects. He'd been careless. He should have known better to nap without safe guards, not when his dad and Frank were in the same house. Figaro charged downstairs, stumbling and banging as he got caught up in in the tangle of fur and unable to see the pile of laundry at the top of the stairs.

He presented himself in the doorway of the living room and shrugged in angry resignation.

"Graaughroogh? Bragh. Grorl."

With a loud crack, three figures appeared in the back garden behind the Sellaphix family home. 

Ever since he’d turned seventeen, apparition had always been routine for Kurby, although there were some wixes who didn’t take to it well.  But for those not raised with it, it could be an even more difficult story.  Next to him, his sister’s Muggle boyfriend staggered slightly, his knees nearly buckling as the world finished surging around them.  Kurby kept a hand on Charlie’s shoulder for an instant longer than he would have otherwise, making sure that he was able to stay upright before he let go. 

The Muggle looked a bit green and was breathing harder than usual, but he waved a hand at them, a silent motion that he was all right.  With a worried smile, Rosheen flocked to her boyfriend’s side. 

“Not as bad that time, was it?” she asked him lightly, slipping her arms around his waist.  “Look, you’re still upright!”

Kurby rolled his eyes at the show of affection, although he smiled slightly as he made his way to the back door.  After running through what seemed like a constant rotation of Muggle beaux over the past several Christmases, each presumably intended to shock their tight-laced pureblood family, Rosheen had finally settled on bringing the same one two years in a row.  At the very least, from what Kurby had seen, Charlie seemed to take the magical world in stride, and his sister laughed even more than usual when he was around.

The warm smell of something baking hit him before he’d even reached the back door.  Kurby tried the knob to make sure it was loose, and then eased it open without knocking, visitation decorum long abandoned.

“Oi!  Happy Christmas!” he called out as he stepped inside to the kitchen, and then stopped short.  Through the doorway, he could see something large, blue, hairy, and growling in the middle of a rampage to the living room door.

When Kurby and kin arrived, Zelda was still snickering with her gaze down and her fingers propping up her forehead. Clearly things were getting back to normal now that Rafe was pitting one brother or against the other with harmless yet slightly unsettling pranks. Kept both of her sons on their toes. Figaro had been inexplicably morose - he usually loved Christmas and being a big brother to Frank - so maybe this would snap him out of it.

She rose from the chair as Figaro stood and took the ridicule he'd rightfully earned.

"Don't move. I need a picture of this."

"Mrooooooooh..."

Zelda headed past him to the kitchen, scruffling the blue mop along the way.  Rafe had outdone himself. It'd have to go into the ear for the hair to get that thick.

"Kurby," she greeted the scruffy wizard with a quick hug. One for Rosheen as well. For the boyfriend just a look.

"Christopher," she said knowing full well that wasn't his name.

Frank was quick to follow, beaming manically. He pounced on Kurby clinging like a barnacle. "We pranked Fig!"

Blue, furry and unable to speak coherently; an unbeatable combination any time. Scrap the apothecary, Rafe Sellaphix should have set up a joke shop to rival the weasleys. There was no limit to the ridiculous potions he could invent. Doubltessly something Zelda wouldn’t agree to. He could suggest it. She’d roll her eyes and pat his shoulder. Pat pat. Silly husband. Back to work.

Either way, Figaro Sellaphix looked bloody damn fantastic all blue and pretty and groaning nonsensical groans.
“You need to lay off the beers, kiddo. There’s not telling what effects they have. Clearly.” Rafe grinned and jumped up from his seat where he’d been innocently awaiting the arrival of his furry oldest son.

“Pranked? Don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank.” Rafe claimed as he followed the family into the teeny tiny now claustrophobically crowded kitchen. “Fig just ate something spicy. Put some extra hairs on his chest.” A wink and a grin before his gaze found the visiting trio.

“Merry Christmas!” Big hugs for everyone. Even the boyfriend. Rafe wasn’t as choosy as his wife. But he did at least follow suit in one thing. “Good to have you here, Christopher.” Had to please the wife somehow, didn’t you? “Come on through. Escuse the giant furball. He’s good for polishing the floors.”

Kurby stared, bemused and a bit bewildered, at the enormous blue mop that was occupying the entrance to the living room.  Zelda wasted no time brushing by it, coming over to greet him with a hug.

A gleeful Frank was close behind, bounding towards him with an explanation.  "We pranked Fig!"

The werewolf hunter's expression became immediately pained, but luckily, he had plenty of occasion to hide it as Rafe also swept in with hugs in greeting.

"Well, at least that's one less chore to worry about, then," he said, as he offered Frank a fist to pound, and then returned Rafe's hug. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Rosheen had accepted Zelda's hug, but gone immediately stiff upon the witch's final greeting.  "Charlie," she interjected sharply, an edge to her voice as she linked arms again with her boyfriend.

Kurby sighed inwardly.  Time to move the encounter along.

"How's your morning been?" he asked Rafe and Frank, giving his sister a look over his shoulder as he started past the blue mop into the living room.  The Sellaphixes weren't purists, but plenty of magical folk were uncomfortable around Muggles; it was something that Kurby imagined that any non-magical person had to deal with.  From what he'd seen, Charlie never seemed to let the digs of the extended Bagnold-Whitman clan get to him, but Rosheen was another story.  The second that an unfriendly word was offered, she quickly dug her heels in.

"Uh," he added, with an awkward glance at the mop as he breezed by.  "Merry Christmas, Fig."

"Charlie," Zelda echoed, relenting in her own way. Any friend of Rosheen and Kurby's were welcome here, provided they didn't bring trouble with them.

"Francis, check the oven," she added on her way out to the living room with the Bagnold's

Frank flattened his smile at his mother - she knew he didn't like to be called that, but it wasn't worth the trouble to remind her. He peeled away from Kurby and ducked around his dad in the small kitchen to check his baking.

"Perfect...!" he hummed to himself.

Meanwhile, Figaro stayed where he was in the hall while the merrymakers flowed through to the cozy living room with the sofa and chairs and lightly stoked fire. Part of him was wondering where his undershorts went - he'd had some on for his nap, but now he was covered top to bottom in a shag rug. The other part of him was very focused on being not excited to have Kurby stopping by.  It'd been two weeks since the full moon and he and Kurby's fruitless shouting match. Two weeks as well since he'd heard anything new about what happened. Two weeks since he'd spoken with Moira. No, just restless sleeps, too many beers, and working long hours to distract himself (although the Daily Prophet wasn't exactly the venue to avoid news).

He hardly returned Kurby's greeting and instead posted up against the door frame. He scratched his ear where the potion had gone in, tipping his head like he'd gotten out of a pool. Some of the blue fur fell away.

Zelda saw and called to him from the couch. "Figaro, no, not there. You're shedding. Out back."

'But it's cold,' Figaro tried to say, but it came out more like, "Bur ugh gurr."

"Yeah, why so blue, Fig?" Frank asked, mouth full of hot scone. "Don't you want to wish Kurby a hairy Christmas?"

“Charlie.” Rafe said to his wife and with his wife after Rosheen corrected the pair. “You really should remember names better, Zelda, dear.” He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Must be the mulled wine she’s been guzzling all morning,” and he did a quick step out of the way in anticipation for a playful swipe.

Everyone wandered off into the living room and Rafe lingered by his blue furry son in the open doorway. Fig started scratching and Rafe was far too amused when Zelda reprimanded him for shedding. A great big arm was lifted and put around his son’s blue furry shoulders.

“It was your mother’s idea,” He fibbed quietly to the lad. “I wanted to get you a jumper. Nice and simple. Normal. She had other ideas. You know what she’s like, Kiddo, just wants you to be warm and cosy. And I can see why; you won’t be catching that cold going around when you’re all warm and furry like that, will you?” A quick ruffle of Fig’s shaggy head, and Rafe stepped lightly into the living room where he eased himself into his favourite armchair. It let out a satisfied creak and the wizard let out a satisfied sigh.

“You really should quit with the puns, Frankie, my boy. You’re on shaving duty later.” He grinned at the younger boy and wiggled his bushy eyebrows before doing his best muggle santa impression, “Ho ho ho, Haaaaaairy Christmas!” A hearty chuckle followed and he reached to grab a scone.

Shaving duty! Frank's face twisted into a dramatic look and he covered his stomach. "Dad! Gross. I'm not shaving his hairy arse! Ugh, I'm going to be sick."

Frank had been bested by his old man, thoroughly. He should have known better, known better than to battle the beast! Retreating Frank turned to Charlie.

"Welcome to our house. Don't worry, it's always like this. How do you like the magical world so far? Getting along alright? Hard without a wand. I'm not allowed to use mine outside of school until I'm seventeen. Really makes you think, actually."