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Christmas Eve had arrived, and December's chill was everywhere. Outside, snowflakes danced in the wind, swirling under the streetlights and blanketing the city in a soft, silent white. From his window, John watched the world transform, the familiar cityscape made new by winter's touch.
He stood alone in the quiet of his home, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Funny how things change," he murmured. "I used to be the one who never spent Christmas with you. Now, I'm the one left behind." His words lingered in the emptiness. His parents were off somewhere, wrapped up in their own world, and Ariana was nowhere to be found. The house, once alive with laughter and warmth, now seemed impossibly vast and hollow.
John's thoughts drifted back to his years at Hogwarts, when Christmas was just another day in a long line of days spent away from home. After he turned eleven, holidays with his family became rare. When he left Hogwarts and entered the magical world, he was always on the move, working to secure a place for wizards in a society that often seemed poised against them. The tension between the magical and Muggle worlds meant he was always busy, always needed elsewhere.
Now, with the world at peace and his schedule finally his own, he found himself spending his vacation alone. He shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I'm not as popular as I thought."
But he was not completely alone. There was still Peter.
"What should I give him?" John mused, thinking of the boy's bright eyes and boundless curiosity. He remembered Peter's love for Lego, and that settled it. He would give Peter Lego for Christmas.
He picked up his phone and dialed Ferdinand. The phone rang a few times before Ferdinand answered, laughter and the sound of his family's celebration in the background.
"Hey, Boss," Ferdinand said cheerfully. "Merry Christmas!"
"Are you at home? Can you pick me up?" John asked, knowing Ferdinand was always ready to drive at a moment's notice.
"You're still working on Christmas?" Mrs. Pierce's voice could be heard, gently protesting her son's willingness to leave.
John smiled. "No need, Ferdinand. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."
He hung up and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the bustling street below. People hurried by, arms full of gifts, faces flushed with excitement. The city was alive with anticipation, the countdown to Christmas nearly complete.
John set his phone on the table and wrapped a green scarf around his neck, pulling on his coat. "A little walk is good for the body," he said to himself.
With two hours left until Christmas, he stepped out into the cold. The streets were crowded with people, all looking forward to the holiday. John made his way to the mall, weaving through families and couples, his mind on the gift he wanted to buy.
He stood in front of the Lego display, overwhelmed by the sheer variety. After much deliberation, he chose the most challenging set he could find: the Lego London Bridge. He told himself it was not meant to bully Peter, though he suspected the boy would relish the challenge.
As he left the store, he somehow managed to fit the enormous Lego box into his small bag, a feat that defied all logic and physics. Snowflakes landed on his face, melting instantly. He tilted his head back, savoring the crisp air and the quiet beauty of the night.
"It's been a long time since I felt this way," he murmured, watching his breath cloud in the cold. He glanced at his pocket watch. There was still an hour until Christmas.
Raising his hand, he hailed a taxi and climbed inside, giving the driver an address in Queens.
On the way, he wondered how Shang-Chi would spend the holiday. Maybe, John thought, he could make this Christmas a little brighter for everyone.
After John left, a white-haired old man stepped out of the mall and tried to hail a taxi. He waited in the cold for half an hour, his body growing numb, before an ambulance finally arrived to take him to the emergency room.
*****
Shang-Chi was Eastern, or rather, his father was—a Khan, ancient and steeped in the traditions of old China. His mother, on the other hand, came from a mystical place called Ta Lo.
When John knocked on Shang-Chi's door, there was a loud crash inside, followed by the sound of someone scrambling to the entrance.
The door swung open to reveal Shang-Chi, sweat beading on his brow, his clothes disheveled, and one pant leg still rolled up to his knee.
John took in the scene, his expression unreadable. "Young man, you need to practice moderation," he said dryly.
Shang-Chi, caught in the middle of his martial arts training, flushed with embarrassment and stammered, unable to find the words to explain himself.
John, misunderstanding the situation, simply shook his head. "When you've got too much free time, your mind tends to wander," he said. "I didn't bring a Christmas gift, but I can help with that."
He pulled out his wallet, the sight of crisp green bills making Shang-Chi wonder just how many hours of dishwashing it would take to earn that much.
"Take this and buy some exercise books," John said, pressing the money into Shang-Chi's hand. "Consider it my Christmas gift."
"Exercise books?" Shang-Chi was dumbfounded. With so much money, he could buy hundreds.
John's face was earnest. "You have too many distractions, young man. Only enough textbooks will help you focus and keep your mind sharp. Remember to buy only exercise books. I'll check them when I have time."
He spoke with the kindness of a mentor and the cruelty of a devil, leaving Shang-Chi wanting to cry but unable to protest. He had only been practicing martial arts, not breaking any rules.
John waved him off. "Hurry up and get changed. I'll wait outside."
Shang-Chi took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes. When he returned, he saw John holding a massive Lego box. He wondered if John had brought it with him or conjured it out of thin air.
John handed the box to Shang-Chi without explanation and led him across the street. When the clock struck midnight, he rang May's doorbell.
May opened the door, her face lighting up in surprise. "Merry Christmas, John!"
"Merry Christmas, May," John replied, pulling Shang-Chi forward.
Shang-Chi blushed and mumbled, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Sean," May said warmly, her smile making Shang-Chi drop his gaze in embarrassment.
Peter ran out, cheering. "You kept your promise!" John handed him the gift.
"Lego!" Peter's eyes sparkled with delight. He jumped up and high-fived John.
Shang-Chi looked at Peter's gift and then at the practice books he was supposed to buy. A wave of sadness washed over him. Would he, like every other Asian child, never escape the torment of endless exercise books?
The only consolation was that Peter invited Shang-Chi to join him in building the Lego set.
With the boys occupied, John and May were left alone. The house was filled with Christmas decorations, a tree glowing in the corner, and the scent of pine in the air.
"Wizards… do they celebrate Christmas too?" May asked, her voice a little shy now that it was just the two of them.
May was the first person to know John's true identity as a wizard. Her memory was supposed to be erased, but since they had grown close, John had let her keep it.
John smiled. "Not only do we celebrate Christmas, but it's actually a special holiday for us. Christmas at Hogwarts was never as lively as it is here, but it was always fun."
"Hogwarts?" May's eyes widened. "Is that a magic school? You really have schools for wizards?"
"I told you, there might be wizards living right next door," John said, settling onto the sofa with May beside him.
They talked for a long time—about Hogwarts, about the magical world, about the things that set wizards apart, and about the things that made them just like everyone else.
May's curiosity was insatiable. She asked about invisible beasts, about flying on broomsticks, about magical cities and the Quidditch World Cup, about castles in the sky, and about magical creatures she had only read about in fairy tales.
John answered every question, painting vivid pictures of distant lands and hidden wonders. He spoke of wizarding schools in different countries, of the mysterious city on the sea, of werewolves and vampires, invisible beasts and nifflers. May listened, captivated, her eyes shining with wonder.
"It would be amazing to see it all for myself," May said wistfully.
"Maybe one day, wizards will live openly among ordinary people," John replied. "Then you could visit Wizard City, maybe even take the sea train."
He noticed May watching him closely.
She reached out and touched his cheek. "You really love that world. I can see it when you talk about it."
John smiled, the kind of smile May had never seen on his face before. For the first time, she realized that the place she longed to visit was John's true home.
"Why don't you go back?" she asked softly.
John hesitated, the question catching him off guard. Go back?
"It's impossible," he said finally. "There's too much work to do here, and my vacation has only just begun."
A faint smell of something burning wafted through the air. John sniffed and raised an eyebrow. "Are you baking something?"
May, lost in her magical reverie, suddenly snapped back to reality. "My roast chicken!"
She leapt up, and in her hurry, nearly knocked over the coffee table. She dashed into the kitchen and flung open the oven, releasing a cloud of black smoke.
John watched, bemused. "Is it just me, or do most of the women I know have trouble cooking?"
He laughed quietly, warmth blooming in his chest. For the first time in a long while, Christmas felt like home.
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