To Dylan's surprise, his dad still remembered that old conversation.
In this day and age, raising an artist wasn't cheap—probably just as expensive as it was in his past life. The Dursleys were just an ordinary English family, nothing fancy. Supporting a hobby like painting was fine—buying some paints, a canvas or two, and dabbling here and there was manageable. But turning a kid into a proper painter? That took serious money, effort, and, most importantly, talent.
Dylan had neither the funds nor the flair for it. He wasn't about to pour energy into nurturing some grand hobby either. When he'd mentioned wanting to paint years ago, he gave it a go, realized he was rubbish at it, and promptly shut down his dad's offer to buy him a canvas. Paints were pricey back then, and why waste money on something he wasn't going to pursue?
But now? Things were different. They had a bit of money to spare. Since his dad had gone out and bought painting supplies anyway, Dylan figured he might as well give it a whirl now and then. Call it a bit of personal enrichment. And if his artwork turned out terrible, well, magic could always fix it.
"Thanks, I love it," Dylan said to Hubert with a smile.
Hubert's face lit up with emotion for all of two seconds before he let out a dramatic sigh. "You've really grown up. That cute, squeaky voice of yours is gone. You're just not as adorable anymore."
Dylan shot him a deadpan look. Oh, come on. He fought the urge to whip out his wand and jokingly threaten his dad with an Avada Kedavra.
Maeve crouched down beside the father-son duo, pulling a fluffy knitted sweater from a reindeer-themed gift box. She held it up against Dylan, sizing it up, then gasped. "Oh no! I opened your gift by mistake—sorry, love, I got carried away. I just wanted to see if this sweater suits you. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it in the shop."
Dylan shook his head, grinning. "It's fine, Mum. Let me try it on."
He glanced at the sweater. The light grey wool was threaded with shimmering silver strands, and a wonky cartoon whale was stitched onto it. Tilting his head, Dylan said, "This doesn't look like something from a shop, though, does it?"
Maeve gave an embarrassed smile. "I wanted to knit you a sweater myself, but I wasn't sure how tall you've gotten. So, I bought this one instead." She paused, her eyes flicking to the whale. "And then… I added a little something."
"So, you sewed this pattern onto the shop-bought sweater?" Dylan asked, chuckling.
"Exactly!" Maeve beamed. "Pretty good idea, right?"
Dylan studied the whale. It looked… questionable. Was it a whale or a salted fish? He couldn't quite tell. Was his mum secretly hinting that he didn't need to work so hard at school—that he could just be a salted fish, coasting through life? Too embarrassed to say it outright, maybe?
"It's perfect!" Maeve said, holding the sweater up again. "The sleeves are a bit long, but that's great for stuffing thicker clothes underneath in winter."
Hubert chimed in, "That's my wife for you! This little shark is adorable. Makes our boy look even cuter, doesn't it?"
Maeve blinked. "Didn't I say it was a whale?"
Hubert froze, eyes wide. "Wait, a whale? Since when?"
Dylan smirked, seizing the chance to tease. "I knew it was a whale right away. Looks like Dad doesn't know you as well as he thinks, Mum."
"Hey, I do too!" Hubert protested.
Maeve shot Hubert a mock-glare, then sighed theatrically. Hubert panicked. "Sweetheart, I didn't mean to get it wrong!" He dove into her arms, nuzzling like a clingy puppy. Maeve laughed, patting his back gently. "Oh, come on, I'm not mad. Get up already."
Dylan had only meant to poke fun at his dad, but Hubert, the sly old fox, turned it into an opportunity to flaunt their affection, practically shoving a handful of dog food (as the Muggle saying goes) in Dylan's face.
"You forgive me, then?" Hubert asked, peeking up from Maeve's embrace.
"I wasn't even upset!" Maeve said, exasperated but fond.
"Heh, knew you were the best," Hubert grinned, looking utterly pleased with himself.
Dylan coughed loudly. Ahem. "There's still someone else here, you know."
Hubert glanced at the pile of gift boxes. "So, son, you want to open the rest now or save them for later?"
Dylan thought for a moment. "I'll save them. Open them slowly over time."
Maeve nodded. "Fair enough."
Dylan raised his hand, flicking his index finger. Two gift boxes appeared in front of him with a soft pop. "These are for you," he said, placing one at Hubert's feet and one at Maeve's. "Go on, open them."
Hubert practically leapt out of Maeve's arms, eyes gleaming as he stared at the small box. What kind of Christmas gift would his wizard son give him? Maeve, more delicate, carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Nestled on a velvet cushion inside was a gleaming ring.
The soft carpet cushioned their knees as Maeve gasped, her voice rising with delight. "Oh, Merlin's beard, it's gorgeous!" She lifted the silver ring, its frosted surface catching the light, interspersed with polished sections that shimmered like stars.
"Did you buy this?" she asked.
Dylan shook his head. "No, I made it myself."
He'd wanted to give his parents something practical for Christmas, along with a pair of matching rings. But after his dad mentioned wanting a storage ring yesterday, Dylan had enchanted them with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
"Try it on," he urged.
"What about mine? Is it a ring too? Are they a matching set?" Hubert babbled excitedly.
Dylan rolled his eyes but didn't answer. Hubert, undeterred, tore into his box with far less grace than Maeve. When he saw the ring inside, his face flushed with joy. He slipped it on, turning his hand this way and that, then thrust it toward Maeve. "Well, how's it look?"
"Lovely," Maeve said, slipping hers on too. They held their hands side by side. The rings were nearly identical—one like a starry sky, the other like a flowing galaxy.
"But, son," Hubert said, "it's nice and all, but is it… just a ring?"
Dylan knew his dad too well. He could practically predict the man's thoughts. "Of course not," he said slowly.
Hubert's face shifted from anticipation to brief disappointment, then lit up again at Dylan's words. "So, what's it do? Something magical?"
"You wanted a storage ring, didn't you? That's what these are. You can store valuables inside them," Dylan explained. "Only catch is, since you don't have magic, you can't activate them yourselves. A space bag would've been easier, but rings are more discreet. To make it work, I added a locking charm. Tap the ring three times with your middle finger"—he lifted Maeve's hand to show her—"and for the next ten minutes, you can store anything by covering it with your palm and thinking about it. To retrieve something, tap four times and think of what you want."
"That's brilliant!" Hubert grabbed a gift box and tapped the ring as instructed. The box vanished in an instant. "Ha! I'm practically a wizard now!"
"Witch, Dad," Dylan corrected.
"Whatever! I can do magic!" Hubert cackled.
Maeve tried it too, her eyes sparkling with wonder. "Thank you, Dylan. I love it. I'll treasure this."
Dylan nodded. "I also added a concealment charm, so as long as you're not too obvious, no one should notice you using it."
"Does it have a name?" Maeve asked.
Dylan blinked. "I didn't name it. You can if you want."
"How about 'Hubert and Maeve's Rings'?" Hubert suggested.
Maeve wrinkled her nose. "That's a bit odd." After a moment's thought, she said, "They both look like stars. Mine's like starlight, yours like a flowing stream. Let's call them Starlight and Stream."
"Perfect!" Hubert agreed instantly. "Love those names."
Watching his parents act like lovesick teenagers, Dylan felt a mix of exasperation and warmth. Sure, their constant affection was a bit much, but seeing them so happy was worth it.
"You two must be knackered," Dylan said. "Why don't you get some rest?"
Maeve started to protest, wanting to make breakfast, but Dylan waved her off. "No need, Mum. Go sleep. I'll read for a bit. I'm not going out today. When you're up, we can go for a walk or watch telly. I'll handle food."
He flicked his wand, and Maeve caught his meaning. "Cooking with magic? Your professors wrote to me about not using magic outside school. You won't get in trouble, will you?"
Dylan grinned. "Mum, as long as you don't tell, no one will know."
"We'd never snitch to your professors," Maeve said, though her tone was cautious. "But be careful. Don't go waving your wand about where Muggles might see."
Hubert nodded. "Yeah, those wizard professors are probably dead scary. Don't get on their bad side, or your mum and I won't be able to bail you out."
Dylan's mouth twitched. "Don't worry, I've got it covered."
"Good," Hubert yawned. "I'm knackered. Those coffees did nothing." He stood, pulling Maeve up gently by the hand. "Let's hit the hay, love."
Maeve didn't argue. "Don't forget to eat breakfast," she called to Dylan as they headed to their room.
"I'll manage, Mum," Dylan replied.
Once they were gone, Dylan glanced at the pile of gift boxes by the Christmas tree. His parents had stuffed a ton under there yesterday, and apparently, they'd snuck out last night to buy even more. They'd tricked him into going to the cinema so they could shop, but now he wondered—had they just wanted an excuse for a date night, picking up gifts for him on the side?
He shook his head, smiling. Didn't matter. It was their way of showing love, and he was grateful for it.
In the kitchen, Dylan whipped up breakfast with a wave of his wand. The Ministry wouldn't detect his magic, so no need to cook the Muggle way. A quick cooking charm produced sizzling sausages, fried eggs, and a side of noodles. He ate quickly, then headed to his room.
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