The train pulled into the station.
Dylan's gaze drifted to the window.
It was nice weather outside.
King's Cross Station was bustling with people.
Dylan closed the book in his hands.
Neville and the others started cleaning up the leftover fruit peels and pits.
Before parting ways, they exchanged good wishes.
"Merry Christmas! See you when school starts!"
"Bye-bye!"
Dylan waved at them.
Neville and Seamus' families were already waiting at the station, so after they left, Dylan quietly walked toward the pillar on the platform.
At that moment, Dean caught up with him.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Guess I said bye too soon."
The two passed through the pillar.
They re-entered the Muggle world's station.
Dean spotted his family waiting for him and grinned at Dylan. "Not too late to say it again. See you at school!"
Dylan nodded lightly. "See you."
He glanced around.
No sign of his mom or dad.
He wasn't surprised—this was typical for them.
Dylan hailed a cab.
He headed home.
The entire villa district was decked out with all sorts of Christmas decorations.
Dylan stepped onto the snowy ground, following the stone path toward his house.
Streetlights cast a warm yellow glow under the snowy sunset.
Dylan shivered, then cast a warming charm on himself.
"Is no one home?"
He glanced at the pitch-black villa.
No lights were on.
It didn't seem like anyone was there.
"They're off having fun somewhere again without telling me," Dylan muttered, reaching the door and pulling out his key.
Just then, he caught faint rustling sounds from inside.
His eyes narrowed.
Who's there?
He was about to cast a spell.
But then, he heard his dad's cheeky voice.
"Honey, you think this'll scare Dylan?"
His mom, Maeve, replied, "Scare? This is supposed to be a surprise, okay?"
His dad, ever the doting husband, quickly agreed. "Right, right, a surprise!"
Dylan's magic, ready to burst, fizzled out.
He sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face.
He pushed the door open.
A cold breeze carried the rich aroma of roasted turkey.
The dark villa suddenly lit up with colorful lights.
Hubert wore a Christmas sweater with a Golden Snitch pattern.
Maeve had a red headband adorned with stars.
The couple held a gift box tied with ribbons.
As Dylan opened the door, they popped out from behind it, shouting in unison, "Merry Christmas, kiddo!"
Dylan blinked.
Seeing their expectant faces, he widened his eyes, feigning shock. "Whoa! You guys startled me!"
Hubert, thinking he'd spooked Dylan, chuckled gleefully.
"Here, son, this is the Christmas gift your mom got you!"
Hubert shoved the gift box into Dylan's arms.
"I thought you guys weren't home, off gallivanting somewhere," Dylan said.
"It's Christmas! Of course we're home waiting for our son!" Hubert said, ushering everyone inside.
"How's school, sweetie?" Maeve stepped forward, pulling Dylan into a hug. "Have you grown taller? You're only 13, right?"
Dylan's mouth twitched. "Actually, I'm 14, Mom."
Maeve blinked. "Oh!"
('-')
Just an oh?
Was he really their kid?
Dylan's lips twitched again.
He caught a whiff of ivy and beer on his mom.
"Were you guys drinking?"
Maeve smiled gently. "Your dad wanted to celebrate you coming home for the holidays, so he dragged me into having a little."
Dylan: "…"
Celebrate that?
Sounds like an excuse to drink!
The star headband in his mom's hair was poking him painfully.
Dylan opened his mouth to complain but held back.
"Come on, honey, it's cold at the door! Don't freeze yourself—or our son," Hubert said.
Maeve patted Dylan's back, stood up, and led him into the living room, closing the door behind them.
Dylan looked around.
This year's Christmas decorations were different from last year's.
Who'd they hire for this?
A Christmas tree stood in the center of the living room.
Normal enough.
But what wasn't normal was the naked, bare-bottomed golden angel—a male angel—spinning at the top.
It was pointing a sword in every direction.
Under the tree were piles of gift boxes, big and small.
Hubert turned on the gramophone.
A cheerful melody filled the room, mixed with jingle bells.
"Dad, where'd you get that Golden Snitch sweater?" Dylan asked.
Maeve guided him to the dining table, pulling out a chair for him.
Dylan set the gift box aside and sat down, eyeing his busy dad.
The Golden Snitch sweater had him curious.
"This? I saw it at a mall. Thought it looked cool, and it reminded me of that Quidditch game you mentioned, so I bought it," Hubert said casually.
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
A mall?
Someone was openly selling magical-themed stuff?
Did the Ministry of Magic not care?
Or maybe it was just a patterned sweater, nothing to regulate.
It wasn't like Ron's dad enchanting Muggle objects.
Just a design. No big deal.
Dylan didn't dwell on it.
The dining table was covered with an emerald-green tablecloth. The house staff seemed to have been sent home.
It was Christmas, after all—they deserved a holiday too. Plus, Dylan was a wizard.
Hubert and Maeve didn't want their son's secret exposed.
The food was prepped, the house cleaned. All they had to do was heat things up and serve.
Dylan set out the silverware.
His mom brought out steaming pumpkin soup.
Hubert, like a magician, pulled out a basket of gingerbread men.
Each cookie was shaped like an owl, wings dusted with edible gold powder.
"Try these! I don't know if they've got that wizard vibe, but I had a designer redo the house and the food. Not sure if it matches your school," Hubert said, winking at Dylan.
Dylan could tell that ever since his dad had money and time, he'd been acting like a kid again.
No more slaving away for the family, no more boring, repetitive work. Now it was just traveling the world with his wife, getting more childish by the day.
Dylan didn't mind.
A youthful mindset kept you young.
Glancing at the Christmas tree, Dylan smirked. "Who's this 'designer' you found? You got scammed. No wizard would put a naked angel pointing a gun at everyone on a Christmas tree."
"Hahaha! I thought it was weird too," Hubert laughed, then paused. "Wait, son, how do you know that phrase—'pointing a gun at everyone'?"
Maeve blinked, looking at her now-tall, nearly 5'7" son.
Dylan's eyelid twitched, but he stayed calm. "What's weird about it? How else would you describe it? Besides, we study human anatomy in class. Potions isn't just about brewing—it's about understanding the body. Same with Transfiguration."
Hubert looked disappointed. "That's not a cute way to put it."
He turned to Maeve. "Honey, our son's getting too serious."
Maeve smiled gently. "So what? Serious is good. Sounds like he's doing well at school."
Before Dylan could respond, Hubert puffed out his chest. "Of course! He's our son! So smart—takes after me!"
Maeve and Dylan exchanged a glance.
Neither commented, just smiling and letting Hubert have his moment.
When Hubert's solo laughter finally died down, Dylan spoke up. "Also, angels are usually genderless. I mean, no one's seen what's under an angel's pants—assuming they even wear pants."
Maeve's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Are there really divine beings like angels?"
Dylan tapped the table lightly. "Maybe. Wizards don't usually believe in gods. With magic, gods might just be wizards who understand it better."
"I see," Maeve nodded, smiling softly.
She tilted her chin toward the gift box. "Open it. It's not just from me—your dad's got something in there for you too."
Hubert's eyes lit up, eager for Dylan to open it.
Maeve watched expectantly.
Dylan suddenly had a bad feeling.
His dad's expression didn't scream "good news."
He eyed the beautifully wrapped box, hesitated, then picked it up and set it on his lap.
His fingers tugged at the ribbon, slowly untying it.
The ribbon slipped off.
Dylan took a deep breath, lifted the lid, and peeked inside.
Two items.
One was a telescope.
Maeve smiled. "I wasn't sure what you needed at school, or if this would be useful, but it's a little something from me. I hope you like it."
Dylan picked up the telescope.
It was heavy, well-made, probably expensive.
—What, did she want him to use it to spy on people with some kind of X-ray vision spell?
Dylan grinned. "Thanks, Mom. I love it. It'll be useful."
He looked back at the box. "And Dad's gift?"
Hubert leaned in, flipping back a layer of padding to reveal a small object.
A photo and a tiny wooden carving.
The photo showed a kid, butt-naked, sitting on a table, pointing a toy gun.
The carving was a replica of the kid in the photo.
Dylan's eyelid twitched.
"What's this?"
Suddenly, the kid looked familiar.
Not just a vague feeling—really familiar.
Dylan whipped his head around, staring at the Christmas tree.
His eyes locked onto the white angel statue at the top.
He looked at the statue, then the photo, then the carving.
His mouth twitched hard.
"This…"
Hubert burst into laughter. "Hahaha! I knew he wouldn't guess! Told you, honey, I win this bet!"
Maeve smiled. "Fine, I'll keep my promise tonight."
Dylan: "…"
What?
Hubert, in high spirits, ruffled Dylan's hair. "Finally figured it out? That little angel is you, my dear son!"
Dylan's face darkened.
He stared at the photo.
It was him as a kid.
A black-and-white shot.
Little Dylan, completely naked, with a blank, almost cocky expression, staring down the camera.
A flood of old memories hit him.
That wasn't a "cool" expression!
He'd been stark naked when a photographer barged into their house, snapping pictures without warning.
He'd been totally stunned!
Later, he learned his dad had gotten a bonus and hired the photographer.
Looking back now…
Was this when his dad's goofy side started showing?