WHO: Owen Dearborn, Kevin Dearborn, and IDK Travers WHAT: Do you wanna build a snowman? WHEN: Today WHERE: Outside the Dearborn House WARNINGS: Swearing, threats, intimidation
The Dearborns weren’t really Ignatius’s project, but getting in the way of Robards was always high on his priority list. Casually intimidating one of his Aurors seemed like a fun way to spend a few minutes, even if it meant he had to go to Tinworth.
Ignatius could not fathom why anyone still bothered to live in Tinworth.
The snow on the ground at least made the stroll a bit more picturesque as he made his way down one of the streets. He still hadn’t quite decided what he was going to do when he spotted a certain child building a snowman next to a very unfortunate Robards for Tinworth lawn sign. With a friendly grin, he paused and gestured to the work in progress. “Have you figured out what you’ll do for the face yet?” he asked. “You’ll need something for the eyes.”
Picking up two small rocks, Ignatius transfigured them into two shiny buttons before holding them out, knowing that it was probably only a matter of time before the father joined his son outside.
Kevin looked up at the old guy who was walking by -- he seemed even older than his dad, and dad was ancient -- the genetic Dearborn look of suspicion clear on his face. This was a stranger, and strangers were danger(ous). However, this was a stranger who seemed concerned about his snowman's vision, and so he couldn't be all bad. And he had a beard, and so did most of his dad's friends, so that seemed like a good sign.
"His nose was a carrot but then I ate it," Kevin laughed, taking the buttons, then peered up to the top of the snowman where his head was. After a foiled attempt to stretch up to the snowman's face, Kevin moved to give them back to Ignatius with a sad shake of his head. "His head's too tall."
“I like carrots too,” Ignatius replied cheerfully, taking the buttons and placing them onto the snowman’s face now that it had one. “Maybe you should make a friend for your snowman. One that’s less tall. That way he won’t be lonely.”
"Thank you for facing him," Kevin said, trying his best to remember his manners and to be polite. He put his hands on his hips and considered the empty space next to the snowman. "Bruce needs a buddy," he concluded, naming the snowman in the moment with complete confidence, as if Bruce had been his name the entire time. He started to pack up a hill of snow in the empty space, quoting "gotta make sure you have a strong foundation first or all your plans collapse!" as if he was a sixty year old architecture professor from his father's earlier snowman-building lessons.
Meanwhile, Owen made his way back out of the house, a new carrot in hand to replace Bruce's nose. "Let's not eat this one too, okay buddy? Cosmetic surgery is expen-" Owen had started to say when he finally noticed who was standing near his son, the rest of his words freezing on his tongue, and panic freezing inside of him that was colder and sharper than any icicle that hung from the roof.
"Kevin. Come here please. Let's go inside," Owen said, his hand flying to his wand, and his eyes never moving away from Ignatius.
A grin spread across Ignatius’s face as he looked over at Owen. Not that building a snowman was the worst thing in the world, but this was far more why he was here. “Hello, Dearborn!” he said. “We were just building a snowman buddy for Bruce here. I can’t imagine why you would want to stop your son from doing that. You should come join us. I have a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
Owen's jaw was clenched shut and his knuckles were a stark white from the barely controlled fury fueling his grip on his wand. He ran over to the two as quickly as the snow would allow, the crunching under his feet foiling any sort of intimidation factor that might have otherwise accompanied it. His mind raced with insults and curses and threats, but all Owen could manage to blurt out was "WHY IS HIS NAME BRUCE?"
"Should it be Frank?" Kevin asked, looking between his dad and the man with snow in his beard.
"People like him aren't very nice to people named Frank," Owen replied, continuing to glare at Ignatius as he reached his son's side, stepping between the two. "What do you want, Travers."
“I’m hurt. I was always very nice to people named Frank.” Ignatius looked at Owen for a moment before looking over at Kevin. “I’m always very nice to people named Kevin, too. There was a McKinnon named Kevin. We were very good friends.”
He lightly kicked at the lawn sign, grinning. “This was actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
"I know there was. I've seen the file. And some others. I think you've been "nice" to enough people named Kevin."
Owen only briefly let his eyes flit away from Travers to glance down at the kicked-over sign, which Kevin had started setting back up onto its post. "Not a fan of our Christmas decorations?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not a fan of your candidate. Robards and I go way back, and he’ll be terrible for the job. I don’t recommend voting for him.” He paused briefly. It was mostly for dramatic effect, though he knew better than to get too into dramatics. It never paid to monologue.
Suddenly, he pulled his wand out from his pocket and aimed it towards Kevin and the sign, lighting the latter on fire. “There’s symbolism there. Do you need me to explain it?”
Owen didn't need the symbolism explained. He needed his fist to be smashing Ignatius's face for even daring to imply that he might end up doing harm to his son. He dove toward Ignatius, shouting, "Symbolize THIS you piece of shit!" while he lept at the older man to tackle him to the ground. "KEVIN, GO IN THE HOUSE."
If Ignatius hadn’t been tumbling dramatically to the ground, he might have wondered what kind of person tackled rather than use their wand like a civilized wizard. But he was too busy noticing the way his shoulder slammed into the ground and the pain that was radiating from it to give that a lot of thought. Instead he aimed a punch towards Owen’s face.
Owen felt his nose crunch under Travers's fist and rolled back off of him, nearly spinning himself into the burning campaign sign. Reaching across his body, Owen grabbed the sign with his free hand and tried to smack Ignatius with it as he rolled up to his feet. "You come onto my property and threaten my son? I should arrest you right fucking now."
“Good luck with that, Dearborn,” Ignatius replied as he aimed a vanishing spell at the sign and then pushed himself to his feet. “Because all I did was walk by, help your son build a snowman, and get attacked for my political opinions. Perhaps I’ll press charges.”
"You set my sign on fire. That's destruction of property and threats to do bodily harm via metaphor," Owen said, disputing Ignatius's claim with a slightly more official "you started it". "You don't have a case."
Or, at least, normally he wouldn't have a case. Especially since he should have still been in prison for being guilty of multiple homicides.
“Don’t I?” Ignatius grimaced slightly as he rotated his injured shoulder. “Metaphors aren’t weapons. Yet, anyway. But I recommend you remember what I said about not voting for Robards. Or we might need to have another conversation about how nice I am towards people named Kevin.”
Owen kept his wand clenched at his side, as it was easier to disguise the way his hands were shaking that way. "I suggest you remove yourself from my property before I arrange a discussion between you and a dementor, Murderer Travers. And that will be the best you can hope for."
Ignatius smiled as he took a few slow steps back towards the street. “I suggest you consider what I said, Former Auror Dearborn. I’m being very generous today. After all, which one of us actually has the power to arrange meetings with dementors?”
He let that sit in the air for a moment as he took another step towards the street. “I hope you let your son finish his snowman. It simply won’t do to keep Bruce from his face.” Another moment later he apparated away with a pop.