Harry Potter and the Christmas Pixie Panic!

'The Weekly Quibbler' Co-Editor/Owner: Tyler "B in my Bonnet" Messer

                He was a little boy, four months to the day after his first birthday, when the most evil Dark Wizard that Britain had ever known wandered into a home in Godric's Hollow, that was supposed to be protected by a Fidelius Charm, and murdered the green-eyed child's father and mother. He Who Must Not Be Named then turned his wand on this small, innocent boy and attempted to cast The Killing Curse and snuff out the light hiding behind his eyes. But something amazing and unexpected happened when he did this. The curse rebounded on You Know Who, though as of the time I write this article; we still do not know the exact reason why and can only speculate, and thus causing this most foul wizard to lose his powers and go into hiding, barely alive, not to return until 13 years later. The only mark of his existence being the thin lightning bolt shaped scar left on the boy's forehead. After his shocking return, and during his rise to power, You Know Who left many dead in his wake, both muggle and wizard alike. Most notable of these deaths, and the one that brought perhaps the biggest shock to the wizard world, was that of Professor Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore. He was agreed upon by many to be the best Headmaster that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has ever had, and will most likely ever have again. This same man was a skilled mentor to that green-eyed baby who survived the Killing Curse, and under his guidance he grew into a talented wizard in his own right. I speak, of course, about The Boy Who Lived…Harry Potter. It was he who was the driving force to the resistance against You Know Who, and was also he who led the charge on that fateful day, now known to wizards all over as the Battle of Hogwarts. It was this battle that ultimately led to the defeat and downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named at the hands of Harry Potter himself.

          That was over 20 years ago now, and you'd never know of the epic story, if you're one of the inept few who aren't familiar with Mr. Potter and his tale, just by looking at the well-aged and lightning bolt scarred face of that, now 37, green-eyed child. These days Mr. Potter is a well-known, well-feared, and well-respected Auror working for the revamped Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. He attained his current status at the Ministry shortly after his fabled defeat of He Who Must Not… oh, screw it, he's dead… after his fabled defeat of Lord Voldemort, but not before marrying his Hogwarts School sweetheart, Ginny Weasley. Mrs. Potter herself gained notable fame by becoming a very talented and well known Chaser for the all girls Quidditch team, The Holyhead Harpies, before having children and quitting her sports career to become Senior Quidditch Correspondent for The Daily Prophet, though why she chose to work for those gits instead of coming to write for a respectable paper like, oh, I don't know… The Weekly Quibbler, is beyond me. I mean, really. Her own mother, Molly Weasley herself, works here for us at our paper for crying out loud. Luring her over to them with the promise of "free tickets to matches", and "exclusive once-in-a-lifetime interviews", and "decent wages". I swear, I'll get those filthy prophet "reporters" with a Bat Bogey Hex if it's the last thing I… sorry, Leigh, got off topic. ANYWAY! Mr. and Mrs. Potter began a family of their own, having three children over the years, James, Albus and Lily. I'm sure they'd all be proud, and honestly quite amused, at the scene that unfolded early last night in Diagon Alley. Let me recount the tale for you, as I was fortunate enough myself to bear witness, as I was at Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions looking for a gift for my wonderful and brilliant colleague here at the paper for Christmas, and happened to fall prey to the mayhem… Shall I begin?

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          The day was December 23, a fairly mild day with a slight chill in the air, but nothing a nice traveling cloak and a hot air charm couldn't remedy. The sun was near the end of its shallow winter arc in the sky, the horizon blazing with brilliant, deep oranges and reds; a sight that never seems to get old for me. I made my way to The Leaky Cauldron as a small group of muggles blindly walked past me. They were muttering amongst themselves about the stress of finding gifts for their "bays", whatever that meant. As I made my way across the dimly lit and dusty parlor, Tom gave a polite nod and I made my way toward the back door to the entrance of Diagon Alley. I've never been too incredibly fond of traveling by floo powder, you see; I find it a very quick and efficient way to sully ones freshly laundered robes, but I am not against going that route if the situation calls for it.

          I returned my wand inside my cloak as the bricks settled into place and I stepped through into the alley. I could see Potage's Cauldron Shop to my left, and to my right were a Witch and Wizard and their adorable children at Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour sitting outside enjoying a large bowl of Bertie Botts' Chicken and Mint ice cream with rainbow snap 'n spark topping. I could hear the gentle hooting of owls down the way next to my destination at Eeylop's Owl Emporium. It was another splendid day in Diagon Alley, bustling but peaceful. Or so I thought…

          I made my way into Madam Malkin's, noticing a slight commotion further down the way near Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and proceeded to ask the wonderful Mrs. Malkin herself what she would recommend for a gracefully aging witch such as my colleague. She showed me, having to raise her voice slightly because of the increasing commotion outside, her new personal line of traveling cloaks that had this intricate floral pattern that magically changed the color of the cloak by tapping your wand to different flowers and saying "Alterius Pigmenta". I was reaching for my money bag when, as you might be able to surmise, arose such a clatter outside that my hand slipped and gold galleons and silver sickles clanged and bounced loudly on the bare wood floor of the shop. Madam Malkin shot a reproachful look at me and asked me a question I will not repeat here for respect of my own pride, but did unmistakably insinuate that I had perhaps indulged too heavily in mulled mead and dragon nogg. Dodgy old codger.

          Still clutching the color changing cloak in my hand, I knelt down to gather up my coins, muttering off-color remarks to myself about Madam Malkin's previous suggestion. Almost as immediately as I reached the floor there came a loud and heart-stopping crash as one of the front windows exploded inward, showering shards of glass on myself and Madam Malkin. I could hear a high pitched cackling laugh glide through the new opening and towards us. I spun around, still knelt down, scanning quickly for the source of the noise, and realized that I had instinctively and unknowingly pulled my wand from inside my cloak as it kept movement along with my eyes, ready to jinx whatever may come. I spotted a small winged creature, blue in color, and realized it immediately to be a Cornish Pixie. I found myself squinting my eyes and shaking my head due to what I was sure was a trick of the mind, given the situation. After a few seconds I realized that what I was seeing must not be in my head, but was in fact… a Cornish Pixie dressed in a full Santa costume…hat, beard and all. My mouth gaped open in surprise, as the Santa Pixie was not the only thing to have burst into the room with it. Clutched in its small blue hands, was a writhing and squealing niffler adorned in a Santa hat, clearly excited by the view of the shiny gold and silver coins scattered on the floor beneath it, as it kept longingly reaching its little paws towards them.

          With my mouth still agape at the sight in front of me, I watched as the festive little Pixie, who I later discovered was named 'Nogwog' after his father's second cousin (twice removed), carefully circled around the room in an attempt to properly launch his cargo at its target. Nogwog giggled with glee as he swept by Madam Malkin, who was at this point shouting what I believe to be every filthy word she'd ever heard. He dropped the excited little niffler and it landed with an unsympathetic thud and skidded across the floor, spinning like a top. Its arms were frantically outstretched and waving towards my galleons and sickles as it just missed them by inches, colliding loudly with a shelf on the opposite wall and wearing a sad, longing expression on his face. The dark mahogany shelf creaked as it began to tip forward, shiny silver robe clasps, fancy leather bags and Christmas themed scarves  tumbling off on top of the niffler. I suddenly realized Madam Malkin was shuffling behind me and I heard her shout "IMPEDIMENTA!", pointing her wand at the shelf as a bright turquoise light blasted from it, causing me to make a mental note to ask Madam Malkin after all this was over if her robe could be made that beautiful turquoise, because it was gorgeous, really. Just brilliant. I love blues… wait, what was I saying? Oh, yes!

          Madam Malkin had attempted the Impediment Jinx to stop her shelf from falling over and causing any further destruction to her shop. Unfortunately, she narrowly missed and actually blew out another window into the alley between her shop and Eeylop's Owl Emporium. This actually startled the owls next door and caused several to leap from their perches and begin frantically fluttering about over people's heads, randomly swooping at the ones they must have thought dodgy and pecking at their ears and noses. I rose to my feet and wandered over to the broken window and looked into the main alley. I could see several people outside shouting and cursing at the owls, and from what I could glimpse, several more Pixies dressed in complete Santa regalia.

          I could hear Madam Malkin behind me spluttering to herself something about ungrateful and disrespectful riff-raff, then proceeded to question her own sanity for not selling her shop to Gilderoy Lockhart years ago before he went and obliviated himself into stupidity, and started walking towards the back of her shop. Next thing I knew the niffler had unburied himself from the pile of clasps, bags and scarves and out from under the shelf. He was frantically scurrying across the bare wood floor towards my gold and silver, looking quite like an over-excited dog trying to run across a frozen pond, repeatedly slipping and falling face first onto the ground. As he began to gain traction and increase his speed towards my glittering coins strewn across the floor, I raised my wand and took aim at him. I shouted "CARPE RETRACTUM!", and a thin golden cord shot from my wand tip and wrapped itself around the niffler's middle. I tugged sharply on my wand and for a brief moment I could see the niffler look down at his stomach and then turned his head to look back at me, a look of complete anger in his eyes. He snapped backwards, his paws still outstretched towards my gold, and sailed in a high arc that almost bounced him off the ceiling and into my left arm that still had Madam Malkin's cloak draped over it. He squirmed and squealed loudly, trying to break free from my grip. Not wanting to deal with him, and desiring to gather my money back into my bag, I glanced around the room for a way to contain him and spotted an old wardrobe trunk in the corner. I pointed my wand, shouted "CISTEM APERIO!", and the lid popped open. I tossed the niffler inside and quickly bellowed, "COLLOPORTUS!", locking him inside.

          Madam Malkin came strolling back into the disheveled store from her office in the rear hovering a mop, broom, bucket, several rags and sponges, and other various cleaning supplies whilst continuing to mutter angrily under her breath. As I walked over and knelt down to retrieve my galleons and sickles, now laying amongst several pieces of broken glass, Madam Malkin glanced over at the now rattling wardrobe trunk in the corner. She shot a befuddled look at me and asked, "What in the name of Merlin's PANTS is that!?". Without looking up from gathering my money I flatly told her, "Niffler in a Santa hat. Don’t open it until Christmas. Happy Holidays!", and shot her a quick sideways grin. She heaved a heavy sigh, shook her head, and then waved her wand and the cleaning supplies went to work cleaning up the mess. I gathered up the last galleon, blowing a tiny speck of glass off it, and then dropped it with a metallic clink into my bag.

          I stood up and made to open my mouth and ask Madam Malkin if she was still willing to sell me the traveling cloak when I heard a loud pop outside, that most unmistakable sound of someone apparating. Immediately after the pop the commotion outside became louder and I heard a confused voice bellow, "What in the bloody hell?!", heard a sharp cracking noise accompanied by a flash of red light, and watched an unconscious Santa Pixie come flying through the window and skid across the floor.

          I hurried over to the door and wrenched it open, stepping out into the now chaotic alley. I could see Witches and Wizards, young and old, scattering in all directions as a cacophony of Pixie laughs, owl screeches and human screams filled the chilly winter air. I could see a well-dressed woman crouching in a corner next to the steps of Quality Quidditch Supplies, trying to reach a trash bin and pull it in front of her for protection. Down the way near the path to the northeast section of Diagon Alley I could see Christmas Pixies flying in and out of Flourish and Blott's, books in their hands being ripped to pieces, bits of paper fluttering from the sky like large flakes of snow. Down by Scribulus Writing Implements I could see a group of several Christmas Pixies holding a rather ragged-looking Wizard against the wall while another was scribbling "Merry Christmas" on his forehead in color-change everlasting ink.

          My attention was brought back down to Quality Quidditch Supplies by someone shouting, "IMPEDIMENTA!", and a sharp squeal from the well-dressed Witch hiding behind the bin. I spotted a man in the middle of the bustling crowd of people that were running in every possible direction. His back was turned to me and all I could see was dark and wildly unkempt hair. There were dozens of Santa Pixies swirling around in the air around him, interspersed with a mixture of brown, tawny, eagle and snowy owls. I even noticed a few bats and doxy's in the mix, as well as a few kneazles and toads scurrying across the cobblestone ground. I confirmed later that The Magical Menagerie had in fact suffered from the Christmas Pixies breaking free several of their animals. It was complete and utter madness unfolding in front of me as I stood there with my eyes as wide as they'd ever been, mouth agape yet again.

          The man in the middle of the hectic crowd started slinging spells at the festive little Christmas Pixies, dressed in their full Santa outfits, one at a time. "STUPEFY!", he shouted, as he took aim at one. A bright red light smacking one of them clean in the face and sent it twirling through the air and landed in the trash bin the well-dressed Witch was using for cover in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, some if its contents sent flying into the air and back down on top of her as she wailed in horrified misery. The man with "Merry Christmas" written across his forehead came running in the direction of the man in the middle of the crowd and suddenly stopped, a horror-struck look on his face, and pointed behind him and shouted, "INCOMIIIIING!". The wild-haired man spun around, and it was at this point I came to realize it was none other than the green-eyed boy himself, Harry Potter! I can only assume someone had made a report to the Ministry about the mayhem and sent an Auror to investigate the goings-on. I turned to my right to look at where the man had pointed, and to where Harry was now looking with a determined look on his face, and was amazed to see a half-dozen Christmas Pixies flying in formation holding a shiny copper chain forming a wide line. They were descending from the sky, and from what I could gather, intended to clothesline as many people along the alley as they could. Without hesitation, Harry raised his wand and twirled in a wide circle above his head as he shouted, "AVIS!", and in quick succession six birds erupted from his wand. Not wasting any time, he spread out his arms behind him and heaved them forward in the direction of the rapidly approaching Christmas Pixies and all 6 of the birds obeyed his command as he sternly said, "OPPUGNO!". They all shot straight at their targets, and one by one collided with them in a shower of bright blue and green feathers, all six Pixies releasing the chain and falling from the sky unconscious. Harry pointed his wand at the heavy falling chain and made a quick swipe while muttering, "Evanesco" and it vanished in a shower of gold sparks just in time to avoid a young girl clutching her ginger-haired cat from being struck on the head.

          Mr. Potter turned back around to see several more Christmas Pixies down the alley and I could vaguely hear him muttering something to himself along the lines of, "I don't have time for this. Ginny is going to bloody kill me if I'm late to the party.", and heaved a deep sigh. Another Pixie came sweeping out of the alley next to Madam Malkin's and made straight for Harry. Without even turning his head to look at it, he raised his wand and said, "Everte Statum", in a somewhat lazy but angry manner. The Pixie immediately stopped as though it hit an invisible wall and shot backwards with such force that it came straight out of its Santa outfit and struck the brick wall beside my head as nothing more than a common blue Cornish Pixie. Harry continued to gaze down the alley at the madness and said in a very matter-of-fact tone, "If I didn't know he was still at St. Mungo's and as dumb as a sack of Hagrid's rock cakes, I'd think Lockhart had been over here trying to show off again!".

          Seeming to become increasingly exasperated at the whole situation, Harry began turning his head from side-to-side, scanning the surrounding area for some unknown solution to his problem. His eyes finally came to rest on a large, deep red satin sack with a gold cord threaded around the opening laying in the alleyway between Quality Quidditch Supplies and Scribulus Writing Implements. There was a Wizard laying unconscious next to it, a half empty bottle of Fire Whiskey in his hand and several more littering the ground at his feet. He was dressed in a grubby Santa suit and snoring loudly. I watched as Harry closed his eyes, seeming to be trying to center himself and summon every bit of strength and determination he could muster. What happened next was a very quick, rapid succession course of events that I could have easily missed had I blinked.

          Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the unconscious Santa's sack, did a complicated little wave, and it rose into the air and hovered over to a few feet above his right shoulder. He must have decided it didn’t look quite big enough to suit his needs, as he muttered, "Engorgio", and the sack doubled in size. He turned his attention back down the alley to the remaining group of about a dozen Pixies left in full Santa getups. Raising his wand once more in their direction, he closed his eyes again for a brief second and whispered something to himself I couldn’t make out. When he opened them again he quickly bellowed, "ACCIO PIXIES!", and immediately all 12 of them began to sail towards him as though attached to invisible ropes being reeled in from an unknown source. As they got closer, all of them squealing as though they were newborn babies being ripped from their mother's arms, he swung his wand over his head and aimed it at the large open hole of the still hovering sack. By two's and three's they sailed into the sack, making noises that sounded much like using a stick to beat the dirt out of a dusty hearth rug. Once the last Pixie had shot inside, letting out a quick shout of "Bah Humbug, you no-fun spoil sport!", Harry gave another wave of his wand and the golden cord tightened around the opening of the sac, sealing them tightly inside.

          Harry breathed a great sigh of triumphant relief and lowered his wand, the sack falling on the cobblestones to numerous squeals of pain by the Pixies. Within seconds of Mr. Potter making rather quick work of the situation, I heard several more familiar pops as three more Aurors apparated onto the scene. They all had their wands drawn and at the ready, evidently expecting to be entering into a fight. They scanned the area and quickly took notice that all there was too see were several owls still fluttering around, hooting much more calmly than before, and several disheveled and panic-stricken people picking themselves up and dusting themselves off. I saw several shop owners up and down Diagon Alley walking out onto their front stoops and giving their wands a quick wave to magic everything back into proper order. The torn up pieces of books from Flourish & Blott's piecing themselves back together and flying in through the door being held open by the attendant. Mr. Eeylop's nephew whistling for the owls to return to their perches outside the shop. Everything was quickly falling back to order.

          I turned my attention back to Harry and the several other Aurors who's names I did not know. They were circled around Mr. Potter listening to his recounting of what had occurred. He held out the sack full of Pixies and gave it to a rather large looking man who had an eye patch and wore a black leather cloak. He took it with a snarl curling his lip and lifted it up to eye level, beckoning them to keep quiet. None of them listened. A rather pretty looking lady, also an Auror who was standing there listening to Harry, waved her wand and said, "Silencio", and the Pixies quickly fell silent. The large man turned his head and leered at her. Harry pointed down the alley and said something about getting a tip that a man named Gregory Thicknesse may have been responsible for jinxing the Pixies and providing the tiny Santa costumes. The third man shook his head and took off in a run down the alley. The large man then grunted, heaved the sack over his shoulder and shook Harry's hand quite vigorously, disapparating back to where he came from. The lady took one final order from Harry to make sure that everything was in order for all the shops on the Alley and took off in the direction of the man looking for Gregory.

          Harry turned and stowed his wand back inside his robe. He turned his head and his eyes caught my gaze, a small grin creeping across his mouth. His eyes shot down to my arms and then back up, lifting his hand to point at what I was holding, and said, "Good evening, Mr. Messer. That's a gorgeous cloak you have there. Leigh will love it." Turning to face back up the alley towards The Leaky Cauldron, he smiled a very wide and knowing smile, as though remembering some happy memory. He had an air of someone who, though he came to the craft late, was very talented at what he did, and took great satisfaction in it. Many of us in the Wizard World tend to take our abilities, and our way of life in general, for granted. Mr. Potter is unique in that way, having grown up in the Muggle world with a rather awful family who never showed him any proper love. This gave him a one-of-a-kind view when he learned he was a Wizard, and we could all learn a thing or two from him. I challenge all our readers to try and go just one whole day without using any form of magic to get on. And then realize that Mr. Potter lived for 11 years without it. I think it will be at that point that we'll all end up saying what Mr. Potter has been heard to say on more than one occasion… "I love magic."

          He turned to look back at me and said heartily, "Happy Christmas, then? I'll see you later.", and with a polite nod back he disapparated with a loud pop. I found myself with a rather large smile on my face, realizing just how lucky I was to be who I am, and turned to walk back into Madam Malkin's and pay for the traveling cloak I still had draped over my arm… all was well again.