Once Alice and Zander grabbed their belongings—everyone headed out to the courtyard.

Zander—who never had his own broom, and only used the ones from the flying class—stood beside Alice as she mounted her own, a flashy black-and-red broom with a stark crimson end, which made the back of the broom look almost like fire. The words Irish Rogue 3000 were written in stylish gold letters on the side, and the broom was equipped with two large footrests, as well as a comfy little seat that resembled a tiny saddle. It was something she cherished deeply—something Samuel saved up to buy her years ago—and Zander had seen many times just how fast it could go.

Just a little ways ahead, Samuel and Roman were mounting their own brooms, waiting for the teens to ready themselves as well.

Alice sat on hers and looked to Zander, who was still standing a few feet away, staring at her and her broom with a strangely hesitant expression.

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong? C'mon. Get on."

Zander opened his mouth to reply, drawing a blank for a second.

Alice examined him, glimpsing over at the adults, then back. "D'you wanna ride with Dad instead? Or…?"

"No, no… it's not that," Zander uttered, his tone slightly hushed. "It's just that… that thing… it goes at a breakneck speed."

"Aye… but I'm flying it," Alice replied with a smug little smirk. "So we're fine."

Zander gulped, glancing at the adults, then leaning closer to Alice.

"Do they really plan for us to fly all the way to Ireland?" he whispered.

Alice choked out a laugh. "Nooo—we're just flying to the outskirts past London. That's what Dad said, anyway."

"I've got a portkey stationed out there, and it'll take us to the islands," Samuel added. "But you can't use portkeys inside Hogwarts or the O'Heiden Carnival, so… part of the journey had to be by flight. You're not scared, are yah?"

"No," Zander replied a bit too quickly. "I just… it just… it seems problematic. What if we get separated from each other?"

Samuel traded eyes with Roman, then faced Alice, sighing and dismounting his broom. He sauntered over to her with his usual cool stride, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a profound sort of stare.

"I was gonna wait until we were home," Samuel said softly, sliding his free hand into his pocket. "But… no reason you can't have it now."

He pulled out his special compass, holding her hand upright and placing it firmly into her palm.

Alice stared down at it, then gave him a questioning look.

"That… will always lead you right," Samuel told her, closing her fist and clutching it tightly. "If you're separated from someone you love… then that'll lead you right to 'em."

Alice's brows raised. "Really…?"

"Aye," Samuel nodded. "If you're ever separated from Zander… then it'll take you straight to him. And, if you get separated from us… then it'll bring you straight to us, too. No matter how far they are, no matter what sort of charms and spells might be hiding 'em… you'll always be able to find 'em with this. Always."

Alice smiled, her eyes lighting up with joy.

Samuel smirked and patted her on the shoulder, then turned to Zander and waved him over. "No worries about being separated now, eh?"

Zander stared, huffing out a breath as his expression became unreadable.

Samuel mounted his broom again—yet still, Zander seemed hesitant to join Alice on hers.

"Zander," Alice murmured, hushing her voice and scooting gently over to him. "Are you scared to fly?"

"No, I'm not… not scared," Zander mumbled quietly in response. "Just… not… used to flying over entire countries. Especially not on a bloody racecar of a broomstick…"

"Oh my God," Alice breathed, a realization suddenly hitting her. "Is that why you didn't go through with Quidditch tryouts at the start of the year?! Blimey! You're scared! You're actually—"

"Alice," Zander hissed, sparing a wary glance over to the adults again. "I'm not—I'm not scared, all right? I'm just not—I don't—I don't shine with this like you do. I can duel. I can't fly."

"Zander," Alice said in a softer, kinder voice, offering him a sweet and comforting smile. "I'm flying. So just trust me."

Zander fell silent, sighing deeply and gazing into her, everything about her seeming to disarm him all at once.

Then, with one more sigh, he moved forward, reluctantly draping a leg over the broomstick and sitting on its cozy seat just behind her.

Samuel then faced Roman, brandishing his mischievous half-smile.

"Twenty galleons says we make it outta London first," he dared.

Roman opened his mouth, then scoffed out a laugh, gripping his broom tightly and cocking his head. "You're on."

"What?" Zander barked in alarm—gasping sharply as he suddenly found himself pulled from the ground.

Samuel and Roman shot out of the courtyard like twin missiles—and Alice beamed with delight as she raced after them with haste.

Zander snapped his eyes shut and clung onto her viselike—and all of them soared away from the castle at a breakneck speed, their robes and coats flapping rapidly as their hairs all blasted back, Roman's hat flying off his head—all of them whizzing quickly through the blistering winter air, though none of them seemed bothered by it in the slightest.

Zander didn't dare open his eyes—feeling the girl and the broom around him move and weave, turning and flying up and down, to and fro, left and right—and then, for nearly three full minutes, the flight was going perfectly straightforward, no turns, inclines, or declines anymore.

So, Zander slowly eased his eyes open, raising his head and peering over Alice's shoulder, squinting as the cold air pummeled against his face.

Directly ahead was the railroad—the train tracks used by the Hogwarts Express, stretching through the open grassy terrain of rural Scotland in a long, straight line, Samuel and Roman flying parallel with each other just a short ways ahead of them. All three brooms were flying at a steady pace just above the trains tracks leading back to the station.

"Alice," Zander croaked, raising his voice over the wind and speaking almost directly into her ear. "Please be careful…!"

He wasn't sure if she heard him, as she simply continued flying without a response.

For a while, they all continued flying through the cold along with the train tracks—and within half an hour, the train station finally came into view in the distance, isolated in the woodlands, contrary to its counterpart in the muggle world.

Samuel smirked and raised upright slightly, casting a spell and waving his hand over himself—then back at Roman and the teens. "Concelo!"

Alice and Zander both felt a brief burst of warmth overcome them when the spell hit them—and Zander raised his head again, wearing a befuddled face.

"What was that?!" he hollered.

"Dad put a perception charm on all of us!" Alice yelled into the wind. "The muggles won't see us now!"

"What—why is—what're we doing?!" Zander stammered. "Why do we need a—?!"

"Hold on!" Alice urged—leaning forward and gripping the broom tighter.

Zander practically ducked behind her—his arms locking around her even harder.

Just then—they all broke a hard left and soared into the train station at once.

The brooms shot past a few groups of wizards on the platform—blowing past them all and heading directly for one of the pillars of Platform 9 ¾.

Zander peeked up again just in time to see it; Samuel shot into the platform and vanished from sight with Roman disappearing into it a second after—he and Alice barreling at the pillar and fazing through it as well—the world instantly transforming around them.

Now all the sudden—the three flew over the heads of numerous muggles inside the London train station, creating great gusts of wind that made the muggles all shriek and duck in confusion, some dropping their belongings and one of them losing a briefcase of papers that scattered all through the air.

"Hahahaheheh," Samuel cackled—raising up and soaring over the muggle crowd.

Roman followed hot on his tail—and Alice chased after them, all whizzing through the muggle station and emerging in the large staircase that led outside.

They flew out of the building and raced down the streets of London—Samuel blasting past several cars and doing a barrel-roll midair, narrowly dodging a red double-decker before swiftly flying past it. Roman pulled upright instead—shooting over the roof of the bus—and Alice did the same roll as her dad, dodging the bus on the opposite side and making Zander release a muffled yell into the back of her robe.

Alice grinned from ear to ear after leveling out again, soaring over countless cars and making a b-line straight for her father and—

"ALICE!" Zander bellowed into the side of her head, his voice cracking.

Alice blinked and glimpsed back at him, then faced forward again, sighing and beginning to lift the front of her broom.

Zander buried his face in her back, not looking at anything around him any longer—but he felt the broom ascend more and more, his feet hooked tightly under hers inside the broom's footrests, his arms fixed onto her as tightly as possible, fingers curling into the fabric of her robe and grasping her for dear life.

Then, the broom began to slow, easing to a nice and steady stop.

Zander still didn't open his eyes, hiding away and feeling as if she was preparing to pull another deadly stunt, perhaps a nose-dive directly into the heart of London…

"Zander," Alice said calmly, her voice as clear as ever now, as the pummeling winds had gone. "Zander, look."

"Mm-mm," Zander murmured into her back, gently shaking his head. "Just… please… get us where we're going. I'm not looking anymore…"

"Zander, I'm not gonna race anymore now," Alice promised. "Just look."

Zander swallowed roughly, barely easing his eyes open and taking a deep breath.

Then, as he slowly raised his head, he found a sight he hadn't expected.

The two of them were hovering far above a snowy, beautiful London—and directly before them, almost perfectly level with them, was the face of the clock on Big Ben, its long hand making a gentle move to the right as the minute passed, its top coated in a gentle layer of snow.

Zander stared across the glorious scenery, his eyes resting on the clock tower, feeling just the faintest touch of serenity.

His arms remained locked around her, his feet still hooked perfectly into the footrests, as hovering so far above the city was still unsettling regardless—but now, things seemed strangely and suddenly calm.

"Blimey," Zander exhaled. "I've never… seen it all from here."

"Nor me," Alice smiled.

The two fell silent for a moment, simply absorbing the beauty of the scenery around them.

"I wonder," Alice murmured thoughtfully. "I really wonder… what kind of cities we'll be flying over next year."

Zander spared the scenery a moment of staring longer, then blinked and shot her a look. "You plan to do this again?"

Alice laughed. "Not this, no… just… maybe flying just for the sake of flying. Just to see it all."

"Oh." Zander nodded, glancing around the snowy London again. "It'll probably be… New York, or something."

"Aye," Alice grinned. "I can't wait to see America. I'll give 'em all a run for their money. Just wait and see."

Zander paused, turning and eyeing her intently, a thought only just occurring to him.

"Alice," he muttered. "You don't plan to put your name in the Goblet of Fire, do you?"

Alice lost herself in the scenery, her smile just beginning to wane, her crystal blue eyes gazing into the city almost trancelike.

"I want my dad to…" she mumbled softly. "I dunno, I just… I want my dad to be able to relax for once. He's always, always working… always scraping for money just to get us both by… and to get me this bloody broom, for God's sake. Y'know he nearly made the carnival go bankrupt when he paid for it? What he saved up was only about half what it cost. I jus… I wanna give it all back to him. Winning the tournament, and getting all that gold… that's the only way I can do it. I want to… I really want to…"

"Alice," Zander said seriously. "People die in that tournament."

"Aye… well… people die dueling and flying, too," Alice remarked. "Doesn't stop us."

Zander stared at her, feeling a festering discomfort beginning to grow deep inside.

"Is that why," he uttered. "At the start of the year, you… you asked if I was gonna go for it…"

Alice nodded mildly at the city.

"If it's gonna be one of us," she said softly. "I'd rather it be me."

Zander stared even more, eyes narrowing, his heart making an uncomfortable throb.

"You can have all the money you want if I win," she added with a smirk. "So long as I have enough to take care of my dad, then I don't care."

"I don't…" Zander mumbled thoughtlessly, ogling her as if he'd never seen anything like her before. "I'm not… I don't care about the…"

"Hey." Alice turned slightly, trying her best to face him as much as she could. "You're not still scared, are you?"

Zander gulped and fell silent, glimpsing down at the city far below, then meeting her eyes again, wearing a conflicted visage.

Truthfully, he certainly did feel scared—but it was for an entirely different reason now.

"What if I…" Zander muttered without thinking.

Alice squinted at him. "What if you what…?"

"What if I just… I'll do it," Zander told her without a single second thought, his voice finding a bit of strength now. "I'll do it for you."

Alice gave him an odd look. "Do what…?"

"The ruddy tournament, airhead," Zander grumped. "Let me do it instead… and you can use all the money you like if I win."

Alice stared back at him, her mouth drifting agape in surprise. "You don't need to…"

"Would you—stop being so damn polite?" Zander griped, leaning forward and nearly brushing his nose against her cheek. "You don't need to be like that all the time—and you definitely don't with me. You know I've got a good shot at the tournament—so just let me do it."

"What—I don't—I don't want you to."

"Why not?"

"Because, it—it's dangerous!"

"Yeah? No shit, it's dangerous—you think I want you to either?!"

Zander leaned forward even more, making the broom tilt—and he instantly gasped and tightened his grip on her, Alice's hand clasping onto one of his, clutching it as it remained coiled around her torso, resting firmly against her stomach in a warm, tight grasp.

Zander found himself halfway buried in her back again, face resting cozily against her shoulder, glaring out at Big Ben as his thoughts continued to race.

But, her hand so snugly curled around his… it seemed to soften his thoughts.

He let out a long, heavy sigh, just visible as an icy cloud in the air beside them.

"I'm so glad I have you," Alice said in a soft, sweetened voice, smiling calmly at London as her thumb gave his hand a gentle stroke.

Zander continued to stare at the clock tower without a reply, thinking of nothing at all to say, though he felt a warmth inside that filled him with a contentment he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

"Y'know… whatever happens… I know we'll be fine," Alice added with confidence. "If one of us got into the tournament… then the other one would slave away trying to help 'em with it. Or… who knows, maybe neither of us will get in. But, whatever happens… we'll just… be fine. 'Cause we'll be us."

Zander stared, eyeing the tower, the flustered sensations inside seeming to grow, his heart thumping harder against her.

He'd never felt it before—never felt so deeply touched, so truly comforted by someone else, and he hadn't the faintest clue of how to respond, what to say or how to act.

But—he knew one thing for certain now.

The thought of Alice delving into the Triwizard Tournament rattled him to the core, worried him so deeply and so suddenly, he felt mad enough to go in her place without a hint of hesitation—and now, he knew most assuredly that he cared about her more than he ever spared a thought before.

His free hand slid slightly closer, gliding over hers and clutching it tight.

His eyes eased closed, and he released a deep cloud of breath, all thoughts vanishing from him as he simply, comfortably, savored her.

And Alice—she merely smiled, a genuine sort of smile that belonged to her and her alone.

She knew him all too well, knew he didn't always have words for these situations—but it couldn't possibly matter. After all, his every action always spoke louder—and she knew how much he cared without a single shadow of a doubt.

She continued holding his hand, using her free one to pull out the compass, surveying the needle for a moment before stuffing it away.

Then, she gently guided the broom down with a single hand, gliding across the London skyline with grace and heading off in her father's wake.