The Generation Before Them

Hogwarts Letters

15th July 1930, Black Manor, South England.

Eleven year old Orion Arcturus Black walked down to the kitchen with the air and grace of a perfect pureblood prince.

For once, Orion was excited. He may get his Hogwarts letter today. For once, Orion was smiling, like a normal child.

"Good morning, Mother, Father, Lucinda." Orion said, greeting his parents and his older sister, who was in her fourth year at Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Orion. Did you sleep well?" Arcturus Black asked his only son.

"Yes." Orion said, looking at his breakfast, disgusted.

Porridge.

Ugh.

His least favourite food in the world.

"Eat your porridge, Orion." Melania Black said to her only son. "It's good for you."

"I don't care. I don't like porridge." Orion moaned. "It's disgusting."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucy told me it was your favourite." Melania said. Beside her, Lucinda smirked evilly.

Orion stuck his tongue out at her, and he smirked evilly.

"Vile bitch, Lucy is." Orion said loudly. "You know I don't like porridge. It looks like your face- Oooh, startling resemblance!" He said happily as his mother's face twisted with anger.

"How dare you!" Melania shouted.

"How dare you!" Orion mocked. "Bullshit."

"I'm hurt, Orion! I only wanted you to try it!" Lucinda simpered.

Orion gagged.

"Yeah, I'll try throwing at your fuc-"

"That's enough!" Arcturus shouted. "Orion, please stop annoying your mother and sister."

"If they stop annoying me." Orion snapped. "Tipsy!" He called.

A house elf appeared beside Orion.

"Yes, young Master?" Tipsy squeaked.

"Can you get me some toast, and get rid of this porridge, please." Orion said, winking at the elf.

"Yes, of course." Tipsy squeaked. She popped away for a few moments, and popped back again with the requested toast and the mail.

"Your mail." Tipsy said to Orion, handing him the letter he'd been waiting for ever since he was two years old.

His heart leaping, Orion opened the envelope.

"WOO HOO!" He screamed. "I'm going to Hogwarts!"

15th July 1930, Potter Manor, North Scotland.

Eleven year old Fleamont Henry Potter opened his eyes and yawned.

He checked the time, and it was 10:34 am.

Fleamont rolled out of bed, and he got changed into normal clothes for the day.

He looked into the mirror, and started to comb his messy black hair.

Fleamont rubbed the bags under his hazel-green eyes, and he nearly burst out crying when he saw the scar still etched onto his cheek.

"Mont? You awake yet?" His father, Henry Potter, called from outside his son's bedroom door.

Fleamont sobbed.

"Yeah." He called out, his voice cracking.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes." Fleamont said, his voice cracking with that one word.

Henry Potter walked into the room, and he saw his son staring at himself in the mirror, tears in his eyes as he stared at the scar on his left cheek.

"It's okay." Henry said, hugging Fleamont tightly.

Fleamont just sobbed into his father's chest.

"It's my fault! It's my fault!" Fleamont sobbed.

Henry broke the hug and looked his son directly in his hazel-green eyes.

"It's not your fault, Fleamont Henry Potter. You couldn't have done anything to stop it from happening." Henry said sternly, for once.

Fleamont wiped away his tears.

"And you look like you didn't sleep last night, am I right?" Henry asked, and Fleamont nodded.

"Well then, you're going to get something to eat, and take a nap on the couch where I can keep an eye on you." Henry said. "You get it? This sleep deprivation is getting ridiculous, maybe we should get you checked out-"

"No hospital." Fleamont said, shaking his head.

"Okay then." Henry said. "Let's get you fed."

Twenty minutes later, Fleamont had eaten (looking reluctant to do so, but a glance from his father made him do so) and was laying down on the couch, trying to fall asleep.

"I've got to go to work." Henry whispered. "I'll be back soon."

"Take care, love you." Fleamont slurred.

----------------

He woke up an hour later, to find a letter on his chest.

Fleamont opened it.

He screamed with joy.

"I'm going to Hogwarts! WOO HOO!"

15th July 1930, Lupin Cottage, Wales.

Lyall Lupin was a normal boy.

Until it all turned upside down in July 1930.

Lyall was wandering the forests of his hometown, bored as fuck.

His father, Conor, had left for work hours ago, and Lyall had no siblings, so he had no one to hang with.

Lyall's mother, Remi, had died years ago, and Lyall could hardly remember her, but he had some hazy memories.

Lyall Lupin, a normal boy, spotted the owl flying towards him with a letter attached to it, and Lyall grew excited. His father loved animals, so Lyall knew his father would be excited that Lyall had seen an owl at eleven in the morning. Carrying a letter, no less.

The owl dropped the letter in front of Lyall's feet, and Lyall was confused.

"Oi! Mister Owl! You dropped this!" Lyall shouted, picking up the letter and waving it towards the direction of the owl, but the owl had already flown away.

"Oh well- holy shit!" Lyall shouted in surprise as he saw his own name on the envelope.

What was Hogwarts?

Where was Hogwarts?

Why the hell did this letter say he was A FUCKING WIZARD?!

Did his dad know about this?!

Lyall Lupin, a completely normal boy, had  many questions.

15th July 1930, Pettigrew Cottage, Ireland.

"What's Hogwarts?" Timothy Pettigrew asked his parents, John and Anna.

"I don't know, love." Anna said as she fried up some bacon.

"I might..." John said slowly.

"Oh well." Timothy said, opening the letter.

Timothy read through the letter quickly. He was happy he'd gotten into this Hogwarts place, but why had his dad reacted so strangely?

"I'm going to Hogwarts!" Timothy said, beaming.

"Well done!" John said, a smile spreading across his face.

"Congrats!" Anna said.

15th July 1930, four eleven year olds got their Hogwarts letters on the same day, bit they didn't know it until they met on the way to Hogwarts