zukuds.cc 
The room was deserted. She quickly cast a few security checks and probes, but nothing showed up as alarming. There was a food cart in the corner of the parlour, two plates of pasta and an empty bottle of wine. She peered around for any other signs of her friends and that’s when she noticed a big, leafy potted plant about the size of a small child on the coffee table. A few open books were littered around it.
She dived into them and soon felt sick at the thought of what inquollis anicorpus could do in the wrong hands. The implications of soul-catching were reminiscent of Voldemort’s efforts to achieve immortality and great power. But if someone could simply gain power by changing the body they inhabited, they could be anyone, do anything, control governments, industry—hold the entire world hostage to their own whims.
She desperately wanted to know how the others had found it, but quickly moved on to figuring out how to approach the ransom drop. She had everything on the list: a phony Timepiece, the Galleons in a bag with an Extension Charm and tracker, and now the plant. Glancing around, Hermione started to panic when she realized the kneazle was nowhere in sight.
She looked everywhere, from under the furniture to inside the shower, until she finally noticed a note on the wardrobe that said PUT ONE ON. She threw open the wardrobe doors and was practically blinded by bright, flashing multicolored lights.
Hanging inside were four of the ugliest Christmas jumpers Hermione had ever seen. One depicted a snowman making several lewd gestures while another, much larger jumper showcased Father Christmas stuck upside down in a chimney with his feet flailing about and his butt crack visible. Another one lavishly featured multiple ornament orbs appearing and disappearing across its front while flashing JINGLE MY BALLS in bright green letters. Each one featured bright enchanted lights and one had a fireplace in the area over one’s navel, a roaring fire crackling in its hearth. There were even sparks.
The entire spectacle, note included, was so bizarre she felt that under different circumstances it would’ve been a funny joke. But the situation was dire and if someone said jump to save Bertrice, Hermione wouldn’t think twice before doing it. As it was the smallest of the four, she grabbed the lewd snowman jumper and put it on over her blouse.
Minutes later, after she’d been pacing back and forth in front of the plant, she decided to hide a timed Self-Kindling Charm on the soul-catcher —just case they couldn’t stop the kidnappers from getting away with it. Frankly, it worried Hermione that the plant wasn’t as extinct as the texts had claimed.
Pansy Parkinson burst into the room a few minutes later followed not far behind by Luna Lovegood. “Luna?” Hermione’s mouth dropped. Luna held the kneazle in her arms. Then Hermione’s eyes almost popped out of her head when she realized the pair of them, and the creature, were covered, head to toe in gold dust. “What is going on?”
“We just negotiated a treaty with the Winter Solstice Fae of Devonshire,” Parkinson frowned. She wiped a hand over her forehead and left a streak of gold dust across her skin.
Luna nodded. “I told you, if you can reach an accord with Fae, you can do anything.”
Hermione baulked, “What are you doing making peace treaties with faeries? I’ve been waiting here almost an hour! No one’s shown up!”
“We’ve got it covered Granger,” Parkinson stated. “And no one said anything about a peace treaty.”
Pansy took a breath and reminded herself that their plan was flawless. Well, mostly.
“It’s going to be okay,” Luna sent her a smile. She held Bertie in her arms and pet her head absentmindedly. The kneazle was not pleased with being held so closely to the red flashing lights on Luna’s Christmas jumper.
“I don’t like this!” Hermione admonished.
“Do you think I like it either?” Pansy frowned. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get the gold dust out of my—”
Hermione interrupted, “It is not a good idea for us to go into a situation without having reconnected with the others. There are so many variables!”
They stood outside the hotel waiting for the right time to apparate to Haddington. It must have been an interesting sight to see: three women in various poorly fitted holiday jumpers, a large plant, and a kneazle.
“Where is Ron? Where are Harry and Draco? Where did the soul-catcher plant come from?” Hermione would not stop asking questions and shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“Who bloody cares,” Pansy rolled her eyes.
Luna leaned in and caught Hermione’s eye. “Do you trust Ron, 'Mione? I’m sure he’s following the leads like he’d said.”
Hermione sighed. “Yes, but—what about Harry and Draco?”
“Unbelievable!” Pansy shook her head. “We are in a crisis and where have all the men gone?” Pansy shrieked. “We don’t need them. Fuck 'em.”
Igora Stramitz didn’t usually celebrate holidays. She found it hard to experience joy if she still had an open case, if someone was still out there alone and separated from their loved ones. She’d certainly never worn a holiday jumper, let alone any jumper that had flashing lights and moving parts. Parkinson and Lovegood assured her that it was absolutely necessary to stay in solidarity with the Winter Solstice Fae, or Tinsel Gnats as Lovegood had called them.
Felix stood next to her, frowning at his own blue jumper as it flashed the phrase ROWENA’S LITTLE HELPER. “Tell me again how this is going to work?”
“Parkinson and Lovegood have bribed the Solstice Fae with the promise of a Christmas Come Early Party in exchange for their help.”
Her partner shook his head. “And we have to wear these because…?”
Igora blinked. “They help the damned things distinguish between friend and foe, okay?” She knew how absurd the plan was. She also had worked sixteen other kidnapping cases with ransom drops and never felt as secure about the exchanges as she did now.
The kidnappers had enough sense to choose a Muggle recreation area for the exchange. A place with no inherent magic meant it was easy to detect traps, wards, and other useful Ministry methods of capture. It also meant the kidnappers could disapparate at any time. Igora was surprised no one at the Ministry had ever thought of using Fae magic before. Although the small creatures were notoriously temperamental, their magic was so intuned with the natural world that if anyone cast regular and even more advanced probes, they’d likely not even notice the Fae were there.
When Pansy Parkinson had owled her to meet at the hotel bar, Igora had never imagined the woman would have such a story to tell. Parkinson ended up admitting that there was a Department of Mysteries angle to the case, so she couldn’t divulge all of the details. There were still inconsistencies with the ransom demands, but Parkinson assured Igora that as long as they protected Bertrice, and—oddly—a red kneazle named Guinevere, everything would be fine.
Everything Parkinson disclosed matched what Igora and Felix had seen and heard, so Igora had no choice but to offer her services and agree to help in any way that she could. She’d never imagined that would mean donning a Christmas jumper and waiting on the roof of an indoor Muggle swimming pool for a signal that the Winter Solstice Fae were loose and terrorizing the kidnappers.
“Is this the strangest case you’ve ever worked?” Felix asked, rousing Igora from her thoughts.
She turned to him, smirking. She’d worked missing persons a long, long time. “This might be the strangest in recent memory,” she offered.
A flash in the distance caught her eye. She and Felix dropped to their knees and peered over the edge of the building. The field below was slightly lit by the electric lights of a Muggle parking area nearby. They could make out two groups of hooded figures standing on either end of the open field below. Then a woman’s voice uttered, “Lumos! ”
Two figures stood closest to the building while the other four figures made their way to the middle of the field. Igora’s mouth fell open when she realized one of the four was Bertrice Zivantus. Felix tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to his watch. When Igora looked back to the field, the figures were clearly performing the expected security spells and checks on the area.
From what she could tell, Bertrice seemed alright. She clung to the side of one of the figures in the field and looked around with wide eyes. The poor thing was probably terrified.
POP!
Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood, who clutched the red kneazle, came into view, both wearing obnoxiously colored, flashing holiday jumpers. They were followed by a third woman holding a large plant. Was that—it was—Hermione Granger, in a similarly ridiculous outfit mostly obscured by the plant in her arms. Igora pulled on her pair of red Weasley’s Wireless Extendable Earmuffs, hoping Lovegood hadn’t forgotten to bring one of the wireless ears with her.
“…wands on the ground if you want her alive,” a woman commanded. It looked like the figure next to Bertrice was the one that was talking, judging by the animated movements of her arms. The three young women threw their wands into the grass. “Now, hand the Timepiece and the money to my associates here, and carefully put down the inquollis anicorpus. ”
Igora tapped her partner on the shoulder and motioned in the direction of the other hooded figures who’d stayed back. Felix nodded and edged to the far corner of the roof to watch the pair of them. Igora focused back on the scene in the middle of the field.
“And what about Bertrice and Guinevere?” Parkinson asked nervously and Igora blinked. How had she not noticed Parkinson’s jumper was so oversized? It looked absolutely ridiculous on her, as if she were wearing a dress for someone three times her size. Parkinson added, “Will you switch them back?”
“Hand over the Timepiece and the plant,” the woman repeated.
Parkinson narrowed her eyes and pointed to Bertrice. “We will give them to you when we know Bertrice is back where she belongs and safe.”
After a few long moments of silence, the woman finally said, “I didn’t want it to be this way, you know.” She pulled something out from under her cloak and took a step forward, leading Bertrice. From what Igora could see, it looked like the woman held a set of vials. “Bring her forward,” she commanded to Lovegood. The blonde stepped closer, the animal in her arms. The woman handed her one of the vials. “Make sure she drinks it all,” she said. Then she turned to Bertrice, tilted the girl’s head back, and poured the contents of the vial into the child’s mouth. Lovegood cradled the kneazle like an infant, uncorked the vial, and slowly let the creature lap it up.
Very slowly. “Hand over the items,” the woman motioned for her associates to collect them from Parkinson and Granger. The two women handed them a gold trinket and a drawstring bag. “According to Bertice,” Lovegood said, “it doesn’t taste very good.” Igora glanced at the young girl and frowned. She hadn’t heard her say anything.
Two things happened simultaneously after that.
A purple bolt erupted out of Bertrice’s chest and struck the kneazle, followed by a red bolt going from the animal to the girl. The force of the energies ripped the creature from Lovegood’s hands and sent both her and it flying. Lovegood rolled across the grass.
At the same time, there was a loud POP and a man appeared in the middle of the field. Igora squinted in the dim light and was sure she had seen him somewhere before. She recognized his black-ops robes. He was from the Department of Mysteries ops-team.
When the bolts between the kneazle and Bertrice disappeared, everyone out on the field looked stunned and stared around at each other.
Then Granger screamed something at the man who’d just appeared and Bertrice threw herself at Pansy Parkinson’s feet. The young girl rolled around feeling for something on the ground until she picked up one of the discarded wands and turned back toward her captors.
