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‘Open it now,’ Percy said eagerly.
‘It’s not Christmas for another-’
‘I know, I know, but - without spoiling it too much - it’ll be too late on Christmas day, it should be enjoyed for the whole festive season.’
Ron did as he was bid, unwrapping the perfectly presented parcel with no small amount of trepidation. ‘Ooh,’ he forced himself to say, as he uncovered the gift.
It looked almost like an old portrait at first glance, if portraits were often of pigeons wearing gothic, Tudor style dresses. The... decoration, if it could be called such a thing, was, in Ron’s opinion, the stuff of nightmares, or a side-effect from a bad batch of some kind of mind-altering potion. Intricately embellished with beads and jewels, the pigeon-woman cross (for, Ron noticed with utter horror, the pigeon head was matched with human hands), was poised, wearing an embroidered red velvet gown and holding a bouquet of flowers. A loop of ribbon suggested it should be hung from a Christmas tree, rather than thrown into the bowels of hell where he felt it belonged. He supposed that the abomination was supposed to be opulent, quirky, maybe even artistic, but quite frankly he thought he had never set eyes on a more horrifying concept, and he had seen some dark magic in his time.
‘Isn’t it superb?’ Percy asked, beaming expectantly at Ron, who seemed to be frozen with the ornament’s velvet box still clutched in his hand. The pigeon waved regally at him.
Ron opened his mouth, though he wasn’t entirely sure what words might come out. ‘It’s quite something,’ he said eventually.
‘Very unique,’ added Hermione. Concerningly, Ron couldn’t hear any hint of the same strain that had filled his voice.
‘We just thought it was something a bit different - more interesting than your bog standard bauble, anyway.’
‘Interesting,’ Ron repeated faintly. Hermione, he knew, would have a hundred different words to describe the horrendous ornament held in his hands, but even with Ron’s limited vocabulary he was sure ‘interesting’ wouldn’t be his first choice.
'I'll put it on the tree now,' said Hermione, with what Ron thought was an exceptionally diplomatic smile.
'I'm so pleased you like it,' said Percy, satisfied. 'I always find buying presents so difficult. While I've got you, Ron - any ideas on what Rose might like? Anything you need for the new baby?'
Ron tried to suggest things, but he was heavily distracted by Hermione in his peripheral vision, hanging the monstrous gothic pigeon on a branch of the tree, far too front and centre for his liking. He babbled and stammered incoherently, all ideas for potential gifts for Rosie had been knocked out of his head by the ghastly ornament now staring sinisterly at him from his Christmas tree.
'Books,' Hermione responded, clutching her heavily swollen stomach as she returned to the sofa and lowered herself down to sit beside Ron once more.
'Books?' Ron responded incredulously, his wife’s words having succeeded at driving the horrendous pigeon-woman nightmare from his brain. 'She’s a toddler! She doesn’t want books!'
'Of course she does,' Hermione insisted. Ron cast a doubtful glance to the other side of the room where Rose sat on the carpet, playing quietly with her stuffed unicorns. 'She’s a very advanced reader.'
'Excellent,' Percy said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. 'Audrey bought Lucy a lovely little book which explains the goblin banking system in an age-appropriate, engaging manner. I’ll find out where she got it.'
Hermione nodded enthusiastically at Percy’s suggestion. Ron raised a hand to his mouth, attempting to cover the painful groan which escaped him. His gaze moved from Rosie to the jewel-encrusted pigeon, which gave him a spine-chilling wink. If he’d been asked just mere minutes ago, he was certain he would not have thought it possible that Rosie would be receiving a worse gift than him this Christmas.
The rest of Percy’s visit passed agonisingly slowly. Ron sipped his tea and nodded mutely as Hermione and Percy chatted at length about the latest legislation changes at the Ministry, the potential candidates for the new head of International Magical Cooperation and the seemingly thrilling rumour that there may be an amendment to the guidelines for completing official reports.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Percy clapped a hand on his knee before rising from the sofa. 'I’d best be off,' he said, sending his now-empty mug to the kitchen with a flick of his wand.
Hermione began to wiggle towards the edge of her seat, her face furrowed in concentration at the effort of getting up.
'Don’t bother,' Ron said, placing a hand gently on her bump. 'I’ll see him out.'
He’d expected an argument, a stubborn lecture on the importance of manners, but Hermione’s face smoothed in relief and she collapsed against the back of the sofa without a word of disagreement.
'There’s no need to see me out,' Percy agreed before Ron could stand to follow him. 'I’m quite confident I can find my way to the door.'
'Rosie, say goodbye to your Uncle Percy,' Ron said, happy to let Percy see himself out. Rosie looked up from her unicorns just long enough to wave at Percy who gave her a polite nod in return.
'I’ll see you at Christmas dinner,' he said to Ron and Hermione, already backing towards the door.
'We’ll see you there,' Ron agreed, waving much like Rose had done.
'Thank you for the gift,' Hermione said, smiling with disturbing earnestness at the decoration.
'You’re most welcome,' Percy said, winding his scarf tightly around his neck before disappearing out into the hall.
Ron waited a few moments after the slam of the door, and then turned to Hermione with raised eyebrows and a great sigh. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘Right, let’s get that monstrosity off the tree, then - reckon we could say ‘Shanks broke it and, I dunno, it couldn’t be fixed for some reason?’
‘What monstrosity?’ she said. She looked over at the tree. ‘The gothic pigeon thing?’
‘Yes of course the gothic pigeon thing!’ he exclaimed, utterly flabbergasted. ‘What else would I be talking about?’
‘I think it’s quite quirky - there’s a whole range of them in Twilfitt and Tattings, they were recommended in-’
‘You can’t seriously like it?’
‘I…’ She hesitated, looking back at the tree and tilting her head. The gothic pigeon cooed quietly. ‘I’ll admit, it’s not what I would have bought for myself but is it strange that now that we have it I actually… sort of love it?’
‘Yes,’ he said, flatly. ‘Yes, that is very strange. It’s foul.’
‘God, yes, it’s completely bizarre and foul,’ she agreed. ‘But I quite like that. I like something a bit offbeat.’
‘Well now I’m really worried what that says about me, the man you chose to marry,’ he said flippantly.
This made her laugh, but it did not convince her to remove the crime against Christmas from the tree.
The pigeon remained in place over the next few days. Ron’s persistent attempts to move it to the back of (or, on several occasions, entirely off) the tree, out of sight but most definitely not out of mind, were consistently foiled by Hermione, who despite her current mobility issues seemed to have no problem retrieving the hideous thing and placing it back at the centre.
It was not just Ron who seemed distrubed by Percy’s latest gift. Crookshanks, who had always enjoyed the Christmas tree and the many opportunities it provided for bauble batting, had taken to hissing every time he stalked past it.
Two days after Percy’s visit, Ron walked into the living room to find Rose standing before the tree crying. Ron scooped her up into his arms just as Hermione entered the room.
'What’s wrong?' she asked, hurrying to Rose as quickly as she could, which was still rather slow, given her current condition.
'It’s that thing!' Ron snapped, holding a still-sobbing Rosie tighter to his chest. 'It’s mentally scarring her!'
'The pigeon?' Hermione asked incredulously. 'Don’t be silly, Ron! It’s just a decoration!'
'It’s nightmare-inducing!' Ron argued. Rose wriggled in his arms, no longer crying and apparently desperate to get down.
'Don’t be so preposterous!' Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief. 'It’s perfectly harmless! She just has an active imagination - look,' she said, nodding as Rose scampered off, 'she’s fine now!'
Ron’s responding argument was cut short by a loud knock at the door. Hermione turned away from him and straightened the ornament on the tree, smiling proudly at it as she did.
He shook his head, pleased that Hermione could not see his look of disgust as he left the living room and headed down the hallway towards the waiting front door.
A wave of sound hit him as Ron pushed the door open, washing the disagreement with Hermione from his mind. The scene which awaited him was one that had become increasingly regular as of late.
Albus, his face bright red and streaked with tears, clung tightly to Ginny’s jumper. The wails emitting from him were muffled by her chest and James’ loud shouts.
‘I didn’t do anything!’ James yelled, his lip wobbled as he stamped one small foot on Ron’s doorstep.
‘Oh, so he’s crying for no reason then?’ Ginny demanded, one hand stroked softly at Al’s head as she glared down at James.
‘Yes! He always is-!’
Ron turned to Harry who had a resigned expression on his face as he watched the argument unfold. Lily was strapped snuggly against his chest, babbling loudly as though she too would like her opinion on the matter heard.
‘Alright?’ Ron asked loudly, bringing an abrupt end to the racket.
‘Never better,’ Harry responded, rubbing a weary hand over his face. Taking pity on his best mate, Ron stepped aside and beckoned the five Potters into the house.
Albus continued to sniffle quietly as Ginny carried him through the hallway and into the lounge. James stomped behind them, glaring furiously at his mother’s back.
‘What’s all that about?’ Ron whispered to Harry, who had paused to hang his cloak on the peg beside the door.
‘Who knows,’ he responded with a despondent shrug as he moved to release the straps on Lily’s baby carrier. ‘They can’t go five minutes without falling out recently.’
Ron gave Harry a sympathetic smile, trying to ignore the nagging concern that he had all this to come with Rosie and the new baby. Memories of the loud, obnoxious and utterly pointless arguments which had filled the Burrow growing up replayed through his mind with horrifying clarity.
‘James,’ Ron called, choosing not to dwell on such inconvenient memories.
A moment later, James’ head appeared around the doorframe to the living room. He looked curiously up at Ron, who beckoned him down the hallway towards him.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to get here,’ Ron said, crouching down so that he was eye level with James. ‘The Bertie Botts tree is getting out of hand again.’
James smiled widely, revealing several gaps where there had previously been baby teeth. He leaned forward one the balls of his feet, almost leaping with barely contained excitement. ‘Is it?’
‘It’s a two man job at least, though, you and Al will have to do it together,’ Ron said sternly.
‘All right,’ said James quickly, and he hurried off, shouting, ‘Al! Al! Come on!’
Ron gave his wand a quiet, understated flick, and, unseen by the two young boys, several packets of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans zoomed out from the highest kitchen cupboard and hung themselves on the branches of the olive tree outside. ‘You too, Rosie!’ he called. ‘Help your cousins harvest the tree for me.’
‘Fantastic idea, that,’ said Harry, once the kids had hastily pulled on their cloaks and hurried, with thudding, clumsy, over-eager feet, outside. ‘Might get a Bertie Bott tree myself-’
‘Don’t you dare, it’s my thing, find your own fun uncle schtick.’
‘And just think, Harry,’ said Ginny wearily, taking baby Lily from his arms. ‘Every morning we’d go through the whole saga of explaining to James that no, it’s not ready to harvest yet. Every. Day.’
‘Tea or coffee?’ Hermione called from the kitchen, and Harry and Ginny called back their orders as they kicked off their shoes.
‘I’ll go give her a hand,’ said Harry, and as he entered the kitchen Ron heard him exclaim, ‘Hermione! That baby still not come yet? You look ready to pop.’
Baby Lily began to grizzle and squirm, clumsily headbutting Ginny’s collarbone and pulling at her top. ‘Right, I get the hint,’ Ginny told her. ‘Let’s give you a feed, come on.’
She headed for the living room door, and Ron followed, thinking that he would walk through and join the kids outside to watch them 'harvest' the olive tree of sweets, when Ginny spoke loudly.
‘What in the ever loving fuck is that?’
She’d stopped dead in the living room, staring over the glossy coffee table with Hermione’s newly bought poinsettia, past the fireplace adorned with stockings, a garland of ivy and Christmas lights, to their glittering Christmas tree. Her expression was one of pure disgust, Lily still wriggling against her.
‘What?’ Ron asked.
‘That!’
He followed the direction of her nod. ‘Oh, you mean the Christmas decoration that haunts my every waking moment? Gift from Percy.’
Apparently unable to tear her eyes away from it, Ginny sat down on the sofa and, with practiced expertise, began unbuttoning her blouse one handed for her daughter. ‘And you put it on your tree?’ she said, bewildered.
‘Look, I keep taking it off and hiding it - that way I can put it back if Percy pops round - but Hermione always finds it somehow and puts it back on.’
Ginny shook her head in amazement. ‘The depths that girl goes to for politeness.’
Ron chuckled with dark, mirthless laughter. ‘Politeness has nothing to do with it. She likes it.’
‘What?’ spluttered Ginny. ‘How?’
The children came rushing in, pink faced from the cold but panting with glee. ‘Look!’ James shouted, bouncing ungracefully around as he ran in, his arms full of brightly coloured packets. ‘Look how many there were!’
‘Oh, wow!’ said Ron.
‘You must have not harvested it for ages, Uncle Ron!’
‘I must not have done! Good thing I’ve got you lot.’
‘Maybe…’ said Al, in a very small voice, ‘maybe we should come round more often to make sure it gets done on time.’
‘How come it only needs harvesting when cousins are round?’ asked Rosie loudly.
‘Magic,’ said Ron, and she seemed to accept this. The toddlers dutifully followed James onto the rug in front of the fireplace, and they placed the sweets in the middle of their little circle and began the complex process of negotiation.
Voices rose from the hallway as Harry and Hermione approached; Ron saw Harry carrying a tree laden with a tea pot and rattling with four teacups, Hermione waddling behind with a jug of juice and small plastic cups floating alongside her.
‘-But, you know, might be quicker this time around,’ Hermione was saying hopefully.
‘Hard to think how it could be slower, how long were you in labour last ti-’ Harry was replying, but he stopped dead in the middle of the living room so suddenly that Ron was surprised the tea didn’t slide off the tray.
‘What the fu-’ Harry’s eyes quickly flicked to the kids, gathered on the rug around their sweets. ‘-udge?’ he finished. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘What?’ asked Hermione, an unmistakably stung tone to her voice that showed that she knew perfectly well what he was looking at.
Like Ginny, he nodded to the Christmas tree. ‘That.’
‘That’s the worst Christmas decoration ever designed,’ Ron informed him. ‘Percy gave it to us.’
‘What did you do to upset Percy?’ Harry asked, setting the tray down, though keeping his eyes trained on the horrible pigeon.
‘That’s the sad thing, mate - I don’t think he meant it as a punishment. I think he really expected us to like it.’
‘It’s not that bad!’ said Hermione.
‘It is, and when you’ve had the baby, the fog will be lifted and you’ll realise too.’
‘It is truly horrid, Hermione,’ said Ginny.
‘Haunting,’ said Harry.
Ron clicked his fingers and pointed at him. ‘Exactly what I said.’
‘Be nice,’ tutted Hermione, easing herself into the armchair and rubbing her large stomach. ‘It’s a bit out there, but I’ve grown quite attached to Ethelburga.’
‘I hope you have better names for the baby,’ said Ron.
‘Ooh, no, I quite like that, actually,’ said Ginny, and she looked back at the decoration. ‘Yeah, it suits her.’ She tilted her head. ‘Aw, I see what you mean, I do quite like the creepy little horror show now.’
‘You’ve both lost it.’
‘What on earth are you talking about? Look at it.’
‘Quirky, isn’t it?’ said Hermione cheerfully, as though neither Harry or Ron were speaking.
‘She’s atrociously tacky, but I sort of love her?’
‘The more you look at her!’ Hermione exclaimed excitedly. ‘She’s enchanting, in her own bizarre way.’
‘Exactly! Look at her, the foul, ugly beauty. She’s so… so horrible. I love her. What an icon. Yeah, I’ve changed my mind entirely.’
Harry looked absolutely despairing; he gave a great, heavy sigh, and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, as though he had just read something traumatic in a morgue report.
‘What?’ said Ron.
‘Percy and Audrey are coming round tomorrow,’ Harry muttered. ‘Says he’s got an early Christmas present for us.’