Before the Dawn | George Weasley

13

Christmas was quickly approaching, and I'd yet to hear from my father whether or not I should plan on coming home to Edinburgh.

Thea returned a couple weeks after I sent her out with the letter, carrying a brief note of response from my father. It held little of interest, just that he'd be away from Edinburgh for the next few weeks and wasn't sure exactly when he'd be back.

With only a couple of days left before the holiday break, my options were limited. I sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, working halfheartedly on a Potions essay and listening to my friends gushing about their holiday plans.

"We're staying in a villa in Southern France." Jamie's voice was pitched with excitement. "I've never been to the south of France, only the north, in Paris and such. It'll be a nice change of scenery."

"Mum's dragging me out to my grandfather's mansion in Somerset," Pansy complained. "Just like we do every year. I keep telling her that I'd rather travel to New York or somewhere else, but she won't listen!"

"Aw, is poor little Pansy going to a mansion in Somerset?" Graham simpered, blue eyes wide. 

 Jamie whacked his arm, flashing him a stern look. I looked down to hide my smile, but not before Graham caught a glimpse.

"And what are you doing for Christmas, Doyle?" he asked.

"Just going home, I reckon." I shrugged.

"Good old Edinburgh, eh?" he prompted.

"Good old Edinburgh," I muttered.

"I'd invite you to my parents' place, but we're visiting my Gran in Bristol and I would never subject you to that sort of torture," Graham sighed. "Vicious, she is."

"I'll be at my uncle's house in Glasgow if you want to pop over for a visit," Miles spoke up.

I looked over at him, surprised and touched by his offer.

"That's not exactly next door, is it Bletchley?" Lucian scoffed. "Bit of a journey between the two."

"She could fly her broom," Miles defended. "It'd only be a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours in winter? In Scotland? She'd freeze, you daft buffoon!"

I looked between them, wondering if they were going to let me have any say in it. Then, finding an opening in the conversation, I spoke up. "Is your uncle's house in the Floo network, by chance?"

"I think so." Miles flashed a glare at Lucian. "See? She can travel by fireplace."

"Have it your way." Lucian put his hands up in defeat. "If you want to get yourself covered in ash and soot, Doyle, by all means."

"Thank you, Miles." I ignored Lucian and smiled over at Miles. "I might just take you up on that offer."

* * * * * *

I took a chance and went home for Christmas.

Unsurprisingly, the small house was empty and cold when I arrived, my dad's suitcase missing from the closet.

I sighed and wandered around the house a bit, munching on a packet of stale crisps. Not a thing had changed; my bedroom was exactly as I'd left it, the bed unmade and the closet door ajar. I eyed the photograph of my father and me that sat in a frame on my desk: he held a six-year-old me in his lap, the two of us smiling and waving at the camera with identical grins.