'Twas the week before Christmas...

[Barry Arrowsmith]

'Twas the festive season, a time for  decorations ... parties ...  
presents .... ringing cash registers .....

In the parlour of the The Madam Whiplash House of Correction and  
Negotiable Affection all was most definitely not sweetness and light  
as Hermione Whiplash (prop.) counted what little there was of last  
night's takings.

"Listen, Looney, only a half-wit entertains seventeen sawn-off runts  
dressed in green, whose vocabulary mostly consists of "Begorrah!" and  
"Mine's a Guiness," without getting suspicious about being paid with  
gold coins all of which have "Best Before Dawn" stamped on 'em. How  
bloody dim can you get?"

"I'm really sorry, Madam -  honest. But when one of them asked me if  
I  knew "Ossian's  Ride" I got flustered and my glasses steamed up."

"Gah! If it wasn't for the fact that we're rushed off our feet with  
all the office outings..... "

Luna (masquerading under the professional billing of Desiree  
Plumptious) shifted nervously from foot to foot. Madam  W. was not  
renowned for having a forgiving nature - quite the opposite in fact.  
Luna hoped that she wouldn't be demoted to being the fairy on top of  
the tree again this year; twelve days and nights - those pine needles  
made her itch, and the bowtruckles got  everywhere.

Madam brooded. Things were not going well. More money was going out  
than was coming in - refunds, compensation, hush money. Not good.

First there had been Ginny's 'Salome Spectacular', a sell-out  
performance of the Dance of the Seven Veils - only it turned out  
that  she'd been wearing eight plus thermal underwear. Bad enough.   
But when the customers complained Ginny'd got stroppy. "Next one to  
complain - and it'll be *his* head on the platter. Got it?"  There'd  
been a mad scramble for safety as the room positively coruscated with  
hexes and jinxes as she'd blasted spells around at random.

Then Kneasy had to stir from his booze-sodden slumber with his  
brilliant offering. Why not dress Grawp (commisionaire and bouncer)  
as Santa, plus reindeer and sleigh, and he could do the valet parking  
for broomsticks in festive mode. Only no-one told Grawp he shouldn't  
eat the reindeer. Using the broomsticks as toothpicks was just the  
icing on the cake.

Now this from Luna. The tree? No. Not  this time. She toyed idly with  
her wand - the notorious 'Pacifier'.
"Luna, I think you'd make a wonderful Bunny-Girl"
  *Zap!*
She stared down at the quivering white rodent.
"Now hop along to the kitchen before I decide that rabbit's foot  
lucky charms are due to make a comeback."

In the corner Crankshaft perked up, his evil yellow eyes alight with  
anticipation. He liked helpless, fluffy little creatures. Most of all  
he liked them for breakfast. Salivating slightly, he slipped silently  
out of his basket and stalked towards the kitchen.

"Mistress?" It was Droopy, the liberated House-Elf.
"What?"
"Mistress .... about Christmas Day," he mumbled.
"No, no, no. Definitely not. I gave you a day off only three years  
ago. You think I'm going to ruin my nails peeling potatoes when I pay  
you do do it? Think again, sunshine. There's thirty for Christmas  
lunch, seven courses, and the first had better be on the table at 3pm  
sharp. By the time you've washed up, produced supper and cleared up  
after the evening party it'll be time to cook breakfast. It's about  
time you learned, my lad - when you're free you have to *earn* a  
living. No free ride, no free lunch."
"Thank you, Mistress," muttered Droopy despondently as he shuffled  
off to lick the stove clean.

"Now ... how can I increase the cash-flow," wondered Madame. Her eyes  
fell on the Pensieve carefully placed under the window. Any thief  
breaking in was treated to an action-replay of what happened to the  
last burglar Hermy got her hands on. Even she fast-forwarded through  
the more extreme bits.

"I wonder if Rita is in the market for some 'swish and tell'  
exposees? Let's have a look at what's in the files."
She touched the surface with her wand and - the lights went out, the  
doors and windows flew open, a howling gale rushed through the room  
and a sepulchral voice filled her ears:
"Hermione Granger? Currently trading under the name of Madam  
Whiplash? You will be visited by three spirits......"

Oh dear.