Home.

(3.3) Harry

A/N: A friendly reminder: I will be diverging from canon and rearranging events. This applies mostly to upcoming chapters. Enjoy!

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A loud, screeching, insulting woman from the hallway painting was evidently what awaited us in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

'FILTHY HALF-BLOODS!'

I'm sure the painting would've screamed more, but Percy took it upon himself to stare down the woman. His eyes bore into hers. But it only made her pause in her shouting. The lady was about to start again until Sirius came by and covered her with a sheet.

'Sorry about her. Ghastly thing. Can't seem to take it off the wall though.'

'No problem. But I think I'll avoid this hallway as much as possible', said Percy.

'Sirius!' I greeted my godfather.

We embraced in a tight hug that I was reluctant to end. It was Mrs Weasley's voice that broke us apart.

'Food's on the table!' she had shouted through the dusty home.

None of us were ones to miss a meal, so we headed towards the kitchen.

Upon entering, Percy had to duck in order to avoid flying plates setting themselves down on the table. He moved to stand up again but had to drop to the floor because of the cups coming sooner after. Thankfully, the food was already on the table just as Mrs Weasley had said.

'Harry!' she exclaimed as she pulled me into her arms. 'It's lovely to see you, dear.'

I reciprocated the show of affection after overcoming my shock. She really was a kind woman. When she pulled away, she eyed Percy up and down. Around the room, I saw many doing the same thing. They were looking up, specifically, considering he was one of the tallest people. Fred and George hadn't come down yet.

I couldn't fault them. He was clearly American. I can't describe it, but his entire demeanour and composure screamed, 'I'm an American!' Maybe it was his hands in his pockets. Or the laid back vibes. Or the deep surfer's tan. Or his jeans and t-shirt.

It was more than that too. A few were studying his complex eyes, a few his ridged build. And Sirius was taking notice of the light scars on his arms from (presumably) fighting monsters, winning wars, and saving the world.

'And who might this be?' Mrs Weasley asked.

'Percy Jackson, ma'am. I'm Harry's cousin. My mother is his aunt. Glad to finally meet you.'

Mrs Weasley tried to hide her distaste at the name. I wasn't sure what that was about, but their own son, also named Percy, probably made them upset again.

'Ah, yes. Harry's told us about his American relatives. Make yourself comfortable. Have a seat.' She gestured to the table set for dinner.

'I don't understand why you're here', Sirius announced bluntly before he could take a chair. 'You had no knowledge of the wizarding world when we last met, so I don't understand why I was forced by Dumbledore to allow you into my home.'

'I won't destroy your home as you did mine if that's what you're worried about', came Percy's astute reply. 'And I suppose you'd have to ask Dumbledore for his reasons if you question his judgment.'

Sirius's nostrils flared. 'I never said I questioned his judgment.'

'Didn't you?'

'No.'

'Then what does it matter if you don't understand?'

'Because you're intruding into my house.'

'Yes, you would be familiar with that, wouldn't you? Intruding into other people's homes. From personal experience, I mean.'