Alice and Zander stood in the isolated dirt path—Malachi just opposite them.
He strode gently closer, eyes narrowing in a pensive, peculiar way, shifting subtly between her and him.
"So curious," he mumbled. "The things you choose to care about are… so curious."
Zander opened his mouth to retort—but Alice spoke first, shoving past him and rounding on Malachi, seeming suddenly far braver than last time.
"I'm sorry—what? What?" Alice barked. "What things? Because I'm not a thing, genius. I'm a person. And I would think some big-shot professional auror oughta be able to tell the difference. Hah—they really set the auror bar low now, don't they?"
Malachi stared at her with his head slightly raised, as if he was gazing far down his nose, ogling something considerably far beneath him.
"You see?" he said moments later, turning to his son. "All they can do is run their mouths and cause fires and explosions. How very Irish."
Alice released a few mad laughs, reaching into her robe. "Oh, hahaha—aye, ya' got that right! I'll show you some—!"
"Alice," Zander whispered, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back, placing himself firmly between the two and glaring at his father.
They both shared a long, tense glare.
"What did you come here for?" Zander asked.
Malachi's eyes narrowed again, his expression unreadable. "Well, given that someone has taken it upon themselves to kidnap my son…"
"Kidnap?" Alice tried to push past Zander again, fuming at the auror. "He wants to be here—not with you."
"Beg my pardon, child—but I don't believe either of you are seventeen years old yet," Malachi stated, finally speaking directly to her, his tone notably more toxic than before. "Which, incidentally, means that you have no say in where you go or what you do. Nor do any of you people have any say in where my son goes—"
"You—people?" Alice hissed, storming around Zander and glaring wildly at Malachi. "What the ruddy hell d'ya mean, you people?!"
Malachi slightly tilted his head, offering her an empty, pitying sort of smile.
"You really want me to say it?" he said with a faint, dry laugh. "Mudbloods."
Alice reared back, her brow hardening as her mouth drifted agape.
"Melody O'Heiden… now, correct me if I'm wrong, but… she had a muggle mother, didn't she?" Malachi said, mouth curling into a nasty little smirk. "Not that I particularly hate wizards with dirty blood… some are quite exceptional… but you? You people, and this place? This cesspool of wizards mixed with muggles as far as the eye can see, wallowing in poverty and celebrating all their lack of success as if it ought to be cheered and applauded? It's all rather low-end and pathetic. And I do not wish to expose my son to it any longer. So good day."
Then—Malachi reached out and yanked Zander by the arm, jerking him away from Alice and dragging him farther down the path.
Before either of them could react—a sudden burst of light entered the scene.
Malachi skidded to a halt mid-step, staring directly ahead—where a grand, massive fire had suddenly erupted from the ground, as if from nowhere. It burned and crackled a few feet away from him, blocking his path and seeming to maintain itself with no sticks or wood to sustain it.
Alice sniffed and wiped her face—tears forming—and she looked to the side, seeing that her father was right beside her now, his hand slightly extended, his eyes fixed firmly on Zander's father, darker than she ever remembered seeing them before.
Malachi slowly turned back around, spotting Samuel—and the two shared a deep, heated leer with one another.
"I don't believe I have any business with you," Malachi rumbled.
"Oh." Samuel lowered his hand, taking a smooth step forward. "D'you not? You had an awful damn lot to say about my late wife a second ago."
Malachi glared, jaw giving a twitch.
"Yes… you're the voice of all the misfits and bums of the wizarding world, and we're all real proud," he chided caustically. "But, some of us simply see a slum as a slum. Simple as that. Goodbye."
"Whoa—goodbye?" Samuel cocked his head, cracking a smirk. "You can't just walk off abusing your kid like that. I'm obligated to react, now ain't I?"
"Abusing?" Malachi scrunched up his face in confusion. "I hardly think any hand-grabbing can qualify as abuse."
Samuel's eyes flickered down—just for a split second—and met Zander's.
Zander spotted his stare—and he instantly understood, facing his father and trying to yank out of his grasp.
"Come—on now," Malachi griped irritably, giving his son a disdainful look. "Don't be difficult. Let's just go home."
"I don't want to," Zander snapped. "Let go!"
He reeled back and gave his father a hard shove—then kicked him in the shin.
Malachi winced and swore under his breath—reacting with a hard smack aside Zander's head.
Zander spun on his heel and staggered away from his father—just when a burly figure appeared behind them both.
"Whoa-hoa-hoooa—cool your jets, Malachi," Roman laughed heartily, grabbing Zander by the hood and practically throwing him toward the O'Heidens. "Now, you know an auror—as well as any wizarding law enforcement—is bound to react to witnessing familial abuse. Now I've gotta place Zander in the temporary protective custody of this lovely family, here."
"What?" Malachi scoffed in disbelief.
"Oooh—now don't worry, Mr. McAllister," Samuel smirked. "When he says temporary, it means temporary. Zander—buddy—remind me when your birthday is again?"
He placed his hands on Zander's shoulders, giving them a light pat.
Zander glanced up at him, rubbing the side of his head. "Ah… two days before Christmas…"
"Ahhh—two days before Christmas," Samuel grinned with a nod. "That's right—so the trace'll be gone from you, and you'll have the legal right to choose wherever you wanna live, all within a mere couple of days from now."
"And he's under emergency temporary custody of the O'Heidens until then," Roman affirmed, patting Malachi on the back once before sauntering past him. "It's all settled. He's in good hands, mate. Don't worry."
"Aye," Samuel snickered, making a swift hand movement and causing the wall of fire down the path to vanish at once. "You can go now."
Malachi glared furiously between them all.
"Oh—you will pay for this," he promised, turning on his heel to leave. "I'll be sure you do."
The other four watched him go—and Samuel, more so than anyone, seemed to harbor a deep severity in his stare.
"Oy," Samuel yelled after him, stepping past Roman and the teens.
Malachi huffed angrily, facing him again.
Samuel met his eyes—locking with them, visage darkened with an expression no one could mistake for a friendly one.
"You know enough of me to know that I really don't abide much by the rules of our world," Samuel glowered, his faint, softened rasp seeming suddenly harsher than ever. "So the next time you feel like showing up in my home… whipping out empty threats… and trying so damn hard to be more than you are… then you might wanna reconsider who I am."
His hand held upright, he raised his fingers, conjuring fire in the palm of his hand—his severe eyes glistening in its dancing, reflective light.
"Go," Samuel said in a low, simple demand. "Now."
Another long and terribly tense silence fell over them all—Roman eyeing Samuel from behind, Alice and Zander glimpsing between the adults anxiously, and the two fathers sharing the wickedest glare of their lives.
Malachi hesitated, grinding his teeth and scowling, looking as if he wanted to fight—but his eyes jumped from person to person, observing that he was clearly outnumbered. So, he let out another loud scoff, turned around, and marched away, vanishing around the corner and disappearing from sight.
The others paused for a moment after his departure, slowly facing one another.
"Well." Samuel whipped his hand and closed it, the fire vanishing, and he flashed his signature crooked smirk at Zander. "I've gotta say—I am real impressed that you got that so fast. Sharpest Slytherin alive, you are."
Zander breathed out a faint laughing noise, shrugging and nodding. "I just… I dunno…"
"You two just think alike," Roman remarked, waving a finger between Zander and Samuel. "Two Slytherins in a magical carnival. Blimey, that sounds like a good TV show…"
"Well… none of that would've worked if not for you, Mr. Lawman," Samuel cackled, slapping Roman on the arm. "We were in pretty good sync, there. A wizard cop and a magic carnie. There's your TV show."
"When have we ever not been in sync?" Roman laughed. "I've known you for too bloody long."
"Aye," Samuel chuckled, turning back to Zander. "So, I didn't catch the first part of that conversation. How'd that end up happening? What did your father say?"
Zander opened his mouth, sighing and turning, seeing that Alice was no longer beside him.
He leaned over, gazing past Samuel and Roman—seeing the distant figure of Alice far down the dirt path, speed-walking back toward the lights of the carnival.
Samuel followed his trail of vision, watching as Alice wandered away. He pocketed his hands and let out a heavy sigh, his smile fading.
Yes, the conversation started with Malachi demeaning Alice—same as always.
"No offense, kiddo," Samuel mumbled. "But I'd like to light your father on fire."
"None taken," Zander sighed. "So would I."
The three of them stood in silence for a few seconds.
"Well." Roman folded his arms. "Hell of a holiday."
Samuel gazed into the lights of the carnival, looking a million miles away.
"Aye… hell of a holiday."
The two adults gave one another their brief goodbyes—and then, Samuel and Zander headed off together, marching across the vast expanse of the carnival in Alice's wake.
This time, they didn't stop for candy or greet anyone; they simply walked, and Zander didn't bother asking where they were going, as he knew the place all too well.
It was the lone, rounded cabin up the far-distant mountainside, sitting atop the great big hill that overlooked the O'Heiden Carnival, sitting nestled along the edge of woodlands and greenery, its windows alit and just barely within view from outside the park.
Zander stared up at it as they drew nearer, thinking of Hagrid's cabin, as he often did whenever he'd visit the O'Heiden home.
The two of them trekked up the long, enormous hill, then marched around the house and pushed the front door open, venturing into the welcoming warmth of the cabin.
The interior was as cozy as Hagrid's, but with no cages or creature décor. Instead, there was an Irish flag above the fireplace, and the middle of the huge room had considerably more walking space than Hagrid's place ever did. To the immediate left was the kitchenette, its counter alit with the dim glow of a few candles. Directly ahead and around the corner of the stone wall was Samuel's bed—and Alice's was right beneath the window facing the carnival, many of her clothes and belongings scattered messily on and around it. The recliner faced the fireplace like always, and the couch was against the nearest wall, an old-school radio on the coffee table and playing a faint stream of music.
Alice was sitting on the recliner, facing away from them and gazing into the fireplace.
Samuel shut the front door, patting Zander on the back. "Roman's leaving town tonight, so the couch's all yours."
"Thank you," Zander replied, facing him fully. "And thank you for…"
"No no. No thanks," Samuel said quickly, swatting the air. "I just reckon you oughta be happy on your birthday, and I didn't think that was gonna happen if you got dragged home. And, while we're on that… for the record…"
He planted a hand on Zander's shoulder, leaning slightly closer.
"This place does make a rather nice first home for the adventuring wizard heading out on his own for the first time," Samuel said with a smirk and a wink. "If you should ever need such a thing. Door's always open to you."
Zander stared at him, his mouth drifting open.
But before he could reply—Samuel spun around and stared intently at the recliner, sauntering over to it and slapping both hands onto the back of it rather abruptly.
"Ooooy," Samuel said slyly, tilting his head and flashing a smile, slowly beginning to totter the chair backwards. "Issat my little hothead pouting on her holiday…?"
"Stop it, Dad," Alice grumped, her arms and legs crossed, hunching forward and trying to remain seated normally in the chair, though it was steadily becoming impossible. "I'm not in the mood right now."
"Oh no." Samuel's voice and face both fell flat, plastering on a falsely taken-back visage. "Didja hear that, Zander? She's not in the mood right now. Dear me. What on earth have I done?"
"Stop," Alice groaned irritably, leaning so far forward, she was flattening over her own legs.
Samuel grinned and continued pulling the chair back even more, dangerously close to making it fall—and Alice's arms shot out, grasping for balance and jolting in her seat.
"DAD!" she shrieked—just as she fumbled back.
"Immobulous," Samuel said—waving a hand and making her halt mid-air.
Alice took in a sharp breath, levitating as if she was lying on her back, though she was merely floating above the now-fallen chair.
Then, Samuel gently raised his hand, moving Alice to and fro around the living room.
Alice scoffed and upturned her head, glaring at him upside-down—and she whipped out her wand and yelled.
"Ridikkulus!"
Suddenly—a fake red nose and a wig began to grow on Samuel's head and face, a bright scarlet afro and a comically large nose engulfing his real one, his face suddenly painted with clown makeup.
"Oh—you little—monster!" Samuel cackled between laughs, ripping off the nose and the wig.
Zander chuckled as he watched—Alice worming around and jumping from the air, landing briskly on her feet.
"HAH!" Alice bellowed, pointing at her father. "You look like the Joker!"
Samuel challengingly cocked his brow at her. "Oh, do I?"
Then—he lunged at her, snapping both arms around her and tugging hard on her cheeks.
"Then let's put a smile on that face!" he wheezed into her ear, Alice giggling madly as the fought to escape his grasp.
Zander slid his hands into his pockets, smirking and feeling oddly content.
He'd been wondering how he'd cheer her up throughout the entire walk here—but now, it seemed all the tension from their encounter had suddenly gone away, as Samuel had swiftly and flawlessly removed it.
The warmth and levity of the O'Heiden home was always something Zander enjoyed.
But now—he felt more, as if he truly cherished it, as if this was just how a family should be.