Oh, For Duck's Sake! Solo fin.

Early July 2025
London, UK

It was right before the Athanatos wedding, and Cyrus and his Aunt Teresa were holed up in a hotel not too far from the cathedral. It was, luckily, a very Muggle (as the British would call it) place, full of electricity and bright lights and free Wi-Fi. His aunt complained a few times about not being able to use magic to do her makeup, to which Cyrus always reassured her that he knew how to make her beautiful – not that she wasn't already!

He did his best to beat the jet lag by pulling out his laptop and plugging it in to one of the unusually-shaped wall sockets. He opened it, set it on his criss-crossed legs, and he entered one phrase into the search bar: best duck ponds in London.

The first spot that popped up was called Duck Island, which sounded promising. Cyrus closed his laptop and pulled out his phone, which, at 29% battery, looked as if it would last him a fair bit. He grinned and slid off the bed, starting to pull on his socks and tie up his Converse. 'Hey, I'm going to go look for some ducks!' he exclaimed.

His aunt stared at him from across the room. 'You really think you'll be back in time for sleep?'

'Yup!'

They had a big day ahead of them, but if Cyrus were honest with himself... although the pursuit of love was a beautiful thing, so were the ducks that were bound to be abundant at Duck Island. He scurried down the hotel's stairs (but not before grabbing his wallet and keycard) while typing directions into his phone's map.

The walk from his hotel was short, slightly sunny and full of fun conversations from passersby. Cyrus walked like a true New Yorker, knowing his speedy tendencies and great sense of crowd-navigating would assist him on his mission. He slipped past Piccadilly Circus and ducked (ha ha) onto Regent's Street St James, keeping a clipped pace as he double-checked the blue-highlighted pathway on his phone. He'd matured enough to keep a strong grip on the device, and he was glad for it when he tripped over a dip in the pavement and didn't drop it. Phew!

It wasn't long before he was greeted by the iconic Pall Mall. He rounded a corner, and into St James's Park he went! He tried not to laugh giddily as he finally arrived at Duck Island. Jet lag couldn't get him down, not while ducks were to be found! He peeked over the fence and immediately started snapping pictures with his phone's camera. 'Holy moly,' he murmured, his voice barely as loud as a breath in the breezy, chatter-filled city air.

He mourned the fact that he'd have to go to the wedding tomorrow. Not because it wasn't cool or even because he didn't want to – he did, he wanted to support people! However, gazing upon these wonders of nature had reminded him why he'd been so into fashion design anyway, and all he wanted to do now was design a few duck-patterned 'fits. Like, a Muscovy-looking shirt and trousers set? Glorious. And the idea would most certainly leave him after too long, and it wasn't like he could just sit down in a pew and design while two people were wed – that would be rude.

So he hurried back to the hotel and took out a sketchpad and a set of pencils. He hunched over his knees and began to draw away. Time ticked by – by 19:00, his aunt was asking him if he wanted to head down to dinner, and he said, 'Not now, I'm working.' An unfamiliar sense of duty had filled him, transforming the whimsical artist into some caricature of a truly diligent and responsible young man.

Various black-and-white designs filled the sketchbook. A sweater with zebra stripes. A blazer with stark contrasts between the sleeves and the rest of it. Some concepts of metallic buttons with ducks on them, with the wings coming out of them so that it was exceedingly obvious that they were, in fact, meant to be ducks.

His mind kept drifting back to Duck Island, and he had to force himself not to smile as he worked. London had the best ducks, that was true. Well, aside from New York. After all, there had been a Mandarin Duck in Central Park, and since those were Cyrus's favourite ducks, he was super biased. But, so far, he hadn't encountered a city with such a high rate of ducks per capita as London, and he was beginning to love London for it. Thank goodness he was staying here for the next two months! He would have so many more ducks to gain inspiration from!

He ended up having some ramen for dinner – 'Really?' his aunt muttered, disappointed that he would have the cheap storebought stuff instead of a chef-made dinner at the hotel's restaurant. The young man, the purveyor of wondrous ducks, simply preferred the ease of the crunchy (since he hadn't let them cook for long enough) noodles. He hadn't had to leave his supplies at all to eat! A sit-down restaurant could have taken forever, and that 'forever' was time he could have spent working.

After slurping down the last of his sodium-filled noodles, Cyrus hunkered down and attempted to get back to work. However, his aunt stopped him by sitting next to him on the bed. 'Cy,' she said slowly.

Cyrus glanced up at her. 'Huh?'

'Cy, we've got the wedding tomorrow. We're going to get your clothes tailored bright and early. You don't want to stay up all night, do you?'

Cyrus shrugged. 'I dunno, if I have a really big sugary drink I'm sure I'll be fine.'

Teresa stared at him as if she had expected him to change his mind, which he wouldn't. He had no idea where she'd gotten that from. Finally, realising Cyrus would not be willing to change his stance, she sighed and sat on her own bed. 'Don't blame me when you're sleepy tomorrow.'

The thing was, it wasn't even 10 pm yet! Perhaps Cyrus was still jet lagged, but this was his prime work time. Heck, he could stay up all night if he had to! Something about the stars just kept him awake. Or maybe it was city lights now. Whatever it was glimmering outside the window, it hardly mattered. Even when his aunt turned off the lights in the room, Cyrus kept the torch on his phone going to provide a small light for him as he drafted design after design.

His favourite was one he'd hatched in a dark shade of grey. It was meant to be navy, but he could only do so much with a mechanical pencil. It consisted of a white shirt, a cravat, and then navy blue trousers and a navy blue coat with long coattails. The thing was, it would have feathers on it. Not real ones, as that was disgraceful to all the lovely birds of the world, but fake ones. He wasn't quite sure how he would make them yet, but that didn't matter. Think now, do later, he told himself, sketching out faux peacock feather after faux peacock feather.

Then, he had another idea. What if this was a guy's costume, and what if there was a matching dress? Ah, yes – a peacock dress with a peacock mask, simply perfect for one of Hogwarts's balls! Or perhaps for an ambitious production of Clue.

The dress would have a form-fitting bodice with vines of silver working as hemming. Then, the skirt would flow outwards, being topped with various colours of tulle – blue, violet, teal – that would cover the wearer's shoes, so that if they wanted to wear Crocs, they could. Cyrus decided to have an optional cape – dark blue with a sapphire (yes, a real sapphire) clasp. He stared at the design with wide eyes once he had finished – it was glorious!

There was a chance that, once the sun rose, he'd look at his nighttime creations in horror; there was a chance that they might not have really been as good as he'd thought. But they could always be edited if that was the case!

With that in mind, Cyrus tucked his sketchbook underneath his pillow and promptly fell asleep, still in his day clothes.



The next morning, true to her word, his Aunt Teresa woke him up bright and early. Cyrus did not complain; true to his name, he rose with the sun, pleased to be awake at 05:30 even if many other young men his age would have rued the day they got out of bed that early. Cyrus almost didn't bother to get changed, except his aunt told him that she wouldn't be seen with him if he wore his smelly travel clothes, so it was with great disappointment that Cyrus changed into a nice button-up and brown trousers. He tossed on a mustard-yellow waistcoat for a pop of colour and even added a blue striped tie. No one could call him boring now.

He brought his sketchbook and phone along with him, which made his aunt raise an eyebrow, but she didn't move to stop him. He smiled at her and bounded along as they made their way to Diagon Alley, where a magical tailor would fix his clothes – 'because it will be faster', his aunt explained when Cyrus asked why they couldn't go to a Muggle tailor.

Well, it was for the better, Cyrus decided. He made sure his phone was turned all the way off so it wouldn't break, and this time, he watched with his eyes and listened with his ears as the tailor began to impart wisdom. Now, Mr Johnson (the tailor) didn't realise he was teaching the young Cyrus anything. Mr Johnson was just doing his job. But as Cyrus's passion was fashion, he paid keen attention to all of the techniques Mr Johnson was using. The idea of magical fashion design was one that had crossed his mind, although he'd never really paid any mind to whether he would be performing magically or mundanely, and so he would do his best to remember what spells and techniques Mr Johnson used before they left.

As he was measured, he gazed upon the walls, eyebrows raising when he noticed a set of audaciously colourful trousers. 'Oh, did you make those?' he inquired of Mr Johnson.

The tailor glanced upwards, pausing what he was doing. 'Oh, yes. The design is mine, and I've worked with my wife to find fabric we like. Sometimes you have to enchant it yourself, but the result can be rather stunning. Are you keen on design yourself, Mr Darsel?'

'Oh, yeah.' Cyrus paused. 'I mean, yes, sir.' He held his arm out at Mr Johnson's request. 'It's what I want to do. As a career, I mean. I have some designs of my own, but I'm not nearly ready for actually sewing. I don't know how to do much other than stitching. One day I'll build myself a nice sewing machine, though.'

'And not just buy one?'

Cyrus hummed. 'Well, I want it to have everything I want. If I buy it, it might not. Plus, I think there's something to be said for knowing how everything works before you use it. That way, if you break it, you can fix it.' He smiled. 'I'm gonna travel a lot, so I've got to know how to fix up my own things. You never know if someone will know how to fix a vintage American sewing machine in Mongolia, after all!'

'I suppose that's fair enough...' Mr Johnson finished his last measurement and sat up. 'Well, I'll go make the adjustments now; it shouldn't take long, so you can sit here and wait, if it pleases you.'

Cyrus waited. The trousers and waistcoat and blazer came back splendidly, and he grinned. 'Oh, thank you so much!' he gushed.

Mr Johnson simply nodded. 'Well, of course.'

Teresa paid him a fair number of galleons, and Cyrus picked up his phone and sketchbook, ready to depart. However, Mr Johnson paused him. 'Wait, Mr Darsel, if you'd like, I could have a look at your designs.'

Cyrus's jaw dropped, and he spun around. 'You really mean it!?'

'Well, yes.'

He handed over the sketchpad, and for a moment, it felt as if all his soul were being borne for all to see. The older man flipped through the pages, raising his eyebrows at times, and at others pushing his glasses further up on his nose. Finally, he said, 'So... I take it you like birds?'

Cyrus laughed. 'I, uh, I guess you could say that! I love ducks especially. But all birds are pretty cool. I like incorporating nature into my designs.'

Mr Johnson nodded. 'Good. Keep that – it'll give you some individuality and perhaps an edge in the market. It's looking like you'll prefer making clothing for commissions rather than for mass sale. Do know that will take you more time. And – this will sound like an odd suggestion, but have you thought about perusing Muggle craft shops for some of your supplies? I see you have a note here about not using real feathers out of fear of harming birds.'

'Oh, that's a really good idea. I hadn't thought of that.'

Mr Johnson chuckled. 'Well, keep that in mind. I'll send you on your way now – you both look rather busy – but do know you can always come see me if you have any questions at all.'

Cyrus nodded and shook Mr Johnson's hand for good measure. When he and Teresa left the shop, he was practically beaming. Today would be awesome – he'd made a new friend, and later, he would get to celebrate two individuals finding love!