The Imps Invade

I've settled into my new digs here--a fine bungalow in town. The Muggle neighbors are an eclectic bunch: a bachelor and his dog to one side, and elderly couple and their middle-aged son to the other, a tyre factory worker across the street, and a policewoman next door to him. Two houses down from her lives a retired cement finisher, and it was in his front garden where I first spotted the New World Imps.

At first glance, I wasn't sure they were imps at all, seeing as they were blue mottled with purple and black--nothing like the subdued browns of the Old World Imps back home. I quickly discerned that they were equally troublesome as those in Lancashire, though, for these found endless amusement in drifting the newly shoveled snow back onto the sidewalks, icing "doggie-doors" closed, deflating automobile tyres, and rampaging through the neighborhood late at night, thereby setting all the dogs for blocks around to barking hysterically. (Luckily, I was able to Memory Charm old Dan, the retired cement finisher, into believing they were bluejays.)

So you maybe wondering what possessed me to open the window that cold winter morning when three of the little blue buggers sat themselves on the sill, mournfully looking in. Trust me, if I knew, I'd tell you.