Sirius – Ask The Boy Who Lived

The Letter: Part 2

(( OOC: Peter: @sirussly – Mrs. Pettigrew: @cam-ravenpuff-rp ))

Peter: *limps in through the front door, a bruise forming below his eye*

Mrs. Pettigrew: *glances up as Peter walks in, her face falling*

Mrs. Pettigrew: *anger rising as she stands up, making her way to the phone*

Mrs. Pettigrew: *stares at his desperate face, heart aching*

Peter: *rushes up the stairs to his room, stumbling on the way up and nearly face planting*

Peter: *slows approaches his bed, a letter with emerald green scrawl resting neatly on his pillow, glancing around suspiciously*

Mr. P. Pettigrew
The Room in the Attic
Burren Street,
Doolin, Ireland

~*~

Sirius: *sits quietly at the dining table, glaring daggers at his soup*

Walburga: *snaps* He’s a terrible influence.

Sirius: *jaw clenches stubbornly as his feet wrap around the legs of the chair, his hands gripping the armrests*

Walburga: *slowly sets her knife down*

Sirius: *flinches as the knife scrapes against her plate*

Walburga: With any luck, your brother will take your place–

Sirius: *stomach growls loudly, his lower lip quivering as angry tears burn the corners of his eyes*

Walburga: *picks up her knife, cutting her food into tiny pieces*

Sirius: *snatches up his spoon, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling*

*there’s a loud screech as the Black family owl flies through the kitchen, dropping a letter into Sirius’ stew*

Sirius: *shakes off the dripping letter, grimacing* What–?

Mr. S. Black
The French Bouillabaisse
12. Grimmauld Place,
London, England

~*~

Fleamont: *pulls out a potions bottle, carefully measuring out a small amount*

Fleamont: *pours a bit of the potion onto James’ head and attempts to brush through the mess of black hair*

Fleamont: Take your tarts, you heathen.

James: *bounces over to hug Euphemia*

Fleamont: *exasperated* How am I supposed to sell a hair potion that won’t even work on my own son!?

James: *proudly through the mess of curls* I’m one of a kind!

*there’s a screech that echoes from the open window as an owl swoops into the room, the letter in its possession landing on James’ head*

Mr. J. Potter
A Head of Messy Hair
The Potter Family Estate
London, England

To Be Continued