Elation. That’s what he was feeling, wasn’t it? The same giddiness he’d felt at the punchline of his father’s favorite joke─ how is a niffler like a Sunday roast?─ as dozens of the thieving beasts poured from smoking dams. Bubbles rising to the surface of his skin, scratching to escape. Forgetting to breath. Yeah, that.
It was a bit of the same thing. How is a niffler like a Sunday roast? How is a niffler like a weasel?
“ Reckon they’ve got the blue fireworks that look like a coiled occamy? ” Mads hummed at his companions. The wind was in his veins, tugging towards his wand. It hesitated and he wondered, for a moment, if it’d do a perfect impersonation of a hose to spite him.
A single massive ball of fire spat out the tip and hurled itself towards the storefront.
“ My bad! ” he called cheerfully to the people his fireball hit on its journey. One of them was well on fire.
Cas imagined – for a short moment – the reactions those wretched Weasleys when they saw their pride & joy ablaze. It made him almost happier than the sight of the first bursts of fire licking at the store. He would pay good money to see them weep and rage and look at the charcoal remains of this … well, he barely wanted to call it a store.
He twirled his wand between his fingers before letting a rope-like string of fire leave the tip of it, hitting the upper store windows, licking at the orange and purple and he laughed an almost giddy laugh and wondered out loud, “Who decided on this horrific colour scheme?” before aiming once again, now through the broken windows.
Head turned to Mads for a second, considering his words. “It’s exactly what a day like this needs — a wonderful firework show at the end of it all. We’re giving the people what they want!”
Caleb focused carefully on the smoke perched behind his ear, plucking it gently between his index and middle fingers and placing it to his mouth. Glass shards skittered like hailstones around his feet as the windows exploded from the heat, the light of the fire set them glittering while he retrieved his wand from its holster. He muttered a small lighting charm, a tiny flame springing to life as he took a deep inhale, the perks of evading a full mask.
The crowing of his boys filled the air amongst the screams. He was a fixed point amidst the chaos, Mads’ ever unpredictable wand hurling a characteristically massive and careening ball of flame after Wren’s, a whip of it curling then from Cas.
Letting air replace the smoke in his lungs and filling his mouth from his hip flask he stepped forward, closer and closer still till he felt the heat become unbearable. He raised his wand and a huge cloud of flame poured upward from his mouth as the alcohol sprayed through the spell he’d readied, one ridiculous striped arm catching as the fire engulfed it.
“Waste of a good vintage, really.” He drawled as loudly as he could manage, taking long strides backward into formation.
“Oy---hope you brought enough to share,” Wren motioned to Caleb and his flask, laughing in delight at the excessive nature of his friends’ attacks. He twirled his hand between his fingers, eyes narrowing at a figure approaching Mads from behind. He shot off a quick bone breaking hex, watching the attacker drop to the ground with satisfaction, “Interrupting our fun---some people have no fucking manners, do they?”
The exterior of the shop was now almost fully ablaze, and Wren figured it’d only be a matter of time before whatever explosives were in the shop helped them finish the job. Still-----his wand arced downward and a powerful blasting hex was sent towards the shop, impacting with the large, Weasley-esque figure that graced the ahead above the entrance. A loud crack sounded as the head split from the---quite frankly, gaudy----puppet’s body, and people underfoot scurried to get out of the way as it crashed to the street in front of the shop. Wren looked on, bemused, at one unhappy wix whose leg appeared to be pinned under the head.
“Well really----that’s just shit luck, isn’t it?”
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