Fred and George woke on Christmas morning to the sound of pipes being torn from the wall and thrown across the attic. It had been so long since the ghoul had startled them out of sleep that the constant rattling was as welcoming to the ear as the melodious tones of Lexington Parsimonae's Meantail. The moment the floorboards could be heard creaking under their feet, Ron threw open the door and leapt into their bedroom.
"Happy Christmas, Fred and George," he said, fully awake. "Get yourselves dressed and come downstairs. Bill's been trying to Disapparate. Says he's got too much work to finish back in Egypt."
"Then we must stop him from escaping," Fred vowed, through a yawn.
"Happy Christmas, Ron," said George.
When they were alert enough to risk the perilously uneven stairs that always seemed to coil into a different shape in the night, the twins were able to hear their mother shouting from the kitchen.
"No, you don't!" she said forcefully. "It's Christmas! Those tombs have been cursed for thousands of years. They can wait a few more hours."
"At least until you unwrap your gifts," said Mr. Weasley, trying to help.
"Christmas is about more than gifts, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley urged from the sink, where she was scrubbing dishes furiously.
"Agree to disagree," said Fred, from the first floor landing.
"Wonderful. There they are," Molly declared. "See? You can stay!"
"Very well," said Bill, grinning at the twins while he removed his sand-tattered jacket. "But no dawdling, all right?"
"Yes — Yes," said Mr. Weasley, before whispering the opposite to the twins. "Move at half-speed, boys."
George patted their father on the chest. "Always do."
"Especially during Transfiguration," Fred stressed, just loud enough for their mother to hear.
The moment Fred and George stepped onto the rug, it was a free-for-all of fists and elbows as everyone reached under the tree for a present bearing their name. Even Mr. Weasley.
"Family gifts first," Molly instructed, drying off her hands.
With a collective groan, they set down their gifts and reached for the lumpy packages wrapped in old editions of the Daily Prophet. Originally an inexpensive option for Molly, it had become an enjoyable family tradition to tear through the newspaper in such a way that the moving photographs had to run for their lives into the articles to avoid being severed in half. Since money was scarce, the Weasley parents had to be creative with both their wrapping paper and their gifts. And this year it was two pairs of socks and a hand knitted sweater with the initial of their first name.
"Jumpers?" said Charlie in surprise, holding it to his chest. "You don't have trouble telling us apart, do you?"
"I happen to like them," said Molly briskly.
Ginny's sweater was yellow, with a bright pink 'G'. She squealed when she saw her reflection. George swept up beside his sister and threw an arm around her shoulder.
"Look, Fred!" he said, pointing to their initials. "Twins!"
For the Weasley boys, each of their sweaters were a blotchy brown with different colored letters. Ron scowled at his.
"Maroon? You couldn't pick a worse color?" he complained, stuffing it into the gap between the sofa cushions.
Fred chortled. "Oh, Ronald...don't be such a maroon."
"Can we exchange gifts?" Charlie asked, looking to his mother for permission before Percy was even finished unwrapping his jumper.
"Oh, all right."
And soon the air was filled with cheers and shredded paper.
Bill got a pair of homemade goggles from Charlie to help keep the sand out of his eyes. From the twins, Ron received a package of swiftly confiscated Dungbombs. While arguing his case for why he could be trusted with them, Ron rapidly lost interest. He was distracted by three issues of his favorite comic book, The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. The gift had been Percy's idea, and all the boys chipped in what they could. After hugging each of them tightly around the neck, Ron skipped away to the sofa, where he gladly dressed in his new jumper and poured through the first comic with a sticky, peppermint wand in hand.
Percy was hesitant to open his small gift from the twins, but discovered that it was a little yellow hat for Scabbers, which he did not at all find amusing.
"Is this a page from your history book?" their father asked with a hoot, as he inspected the yellow-painted paper.
"That it is," said George, as they noticed their mother's eyes widening.
"Nothing to worry about, Mum," Fred assured. "It's got loads of pages."
"Positive thinking..." Mrs. Weasley muttered, as she reached for the gift on her lap. "I will not allow Christmas Day to be spoiled."
Molly opened her present calmly. It was a set of books on proper housekeeping from a wizard whose strikingly handsome face took up over half of the cover. Fred and George would recognize him as Gilderoy Lockhart. The oblivious man winked at her, and she blushed.
"Thank you, Arthur," she called, holding the books to her chest.
"Thank you!" Mr. Weasley beamed, as he tore the cover off the box at his feet. "A new chess set!"
"Well, you can't go on playing with three-quarters of the pieces missing, now can you?"
Arthur blew a kiss to his wife and smiled at Ron, since it was truly a gift for them both.
"How could you play with so few pieces?" asked Bill, staring at Ron through his new goggles.
"Using rocks from the garden," he replied with a shrug. "The game is difficult enough without having to stop every few minutes to tell the pieces apart."
"Mum should have made them little jumpers," Charlie suggested.
"Thank you, dear," said Arthur. "Wonderful gift. Mine cannot compare."
"I've been saving since last December," she said behind a loving smile.