“Err, Mum,” George said hesitantly. “What are you talking about?”
“Nargles, George,” she replied. “Luna was telling me all about them over Christmas lunch yesterday. Normally, they live in mistletoe...so we dealt with that.” She pointed to the corner of the room. George could see the crushed remains of all the mistletoe she’d lovingly festooned the house with.
He was starting to get worried. This wasn’t his mum, even after too many meads, she was never this crazed.
“Dad,” he called as he edged towards the door. “You’re needed here – NOW!”
Arthur appeared, dressed in a pink, fluffy cat suit.