The Generation Before Them

The Records, The Stars, The Photo, The Questions

29th August 1930, Potter Manor, North Scotland.

Fleamont fiddled with his record player, a bar of chocolate in his hand. He was in as what his mother Eliza would call 'one of those moods.'

Fleamont bit off a square of chocolate and began to go through his records, chewing anxiously.

What record to pick? There was so many to choose. Fleamont was addicted to music, as well as his entire family. Any type of music on the clock - Fleamont would listen to.

Fleamont picked out a volume of Irish music, and put it on his record player. The sweet music filled his ears, and the memories too.

Fleamont remembered the way his grandfather would dance with him across the living room, and the way his brother Charlus would sing along to the Irish songs that blared on the record player that now sat in Fleamont's room

Now his grandfather was gone. Charlus was.... Better not to think about it.

Fleamont cuddled his toy sloth close to his chest and nibbled on the chocolate, records scattered all over the desk.

And he didn't see the simmering pair of brown eyes at his bedroom door.

29th August 1930, Black Manor, West Sussex.

Orion bounced around his bedroom on the third floor, far away from his awful mother and sister, packing his belongings for Hogwarts. The only reason Orion was doing this was because he didn't want to spend time with his awful stuffy family.

Otherwise he would do it last minute. Orion always did it. Not because he was lazy, it just pissed his family off. And it was hilarious seeing his mother fume and scream and even more funny when Arcturus would silently laugh in the background, therefore encouraging Orion.

Sadly at his mother's insistence he had to bring a copy of the Black family tree to Hogwarts, in order 'to keep him pure and clean from Mudbloods'

Hm. Charming woman.

Orion spread the tapestry out on his bed, and started looking for his decent relatives.

As of five minutes later,  his grandfather Sirius, his grandmother Slyvia, father and his dead uncle, also called Orion, were the only ones on Orion's list, and the rest were racists or just plain emotionally abusive.

And Orion didn't do that around his very fucked up eleven year old mind.

The tapestry was covered in stars. Bright, shining little stars simmering on the horrible green tapestry. Nearly all of the Black family were named after stars or galaxies. Orion was one of them, named after his sick and dying uncle who proudly held Orion for two hours on the day he was born, and kept Orion close until he died shortly after Orion turned eleven in January.

Orion really missed his uncle. He missed his grandfather Sirius too, but he wasn't dead. Orion wasn't allowed to see him because he wasn't eating his porridge.

Bullshit. Orion keep the house elves didn't mind- they loved porridge, so food wasn't being wasted. He didn't see a problem!

He would write to his grandfather to take him to the Hogwarts Express, and of course his grandmother and his father would be invited too.

Time to spite his mother, and his sister too. Foul fuckers.

29th August 1930, Pettigrew Cottage, Ireland.

Timothy was rummaging through the attic for an old suitcase to store his Hogwarts belongings when he came across a box labelled ANNIE in big black letters, covered in dust.

Tim didn't know anyone named Annie, and as far as he knew his parents didn't either. Could this be an older sister he had never heard about, a sister who tragically died of an illness or freak accident?

Timothy picked the tattered photo off the ground- and in the photo there was a blonde girl with tattered dirty blonde hair with a tall, black haired boy, another talk boy with ruffled brown hair and a much younger looking version of Timothy's dad.

Timothy turned the photo around and read the neat writing on the back.

Annie Pettigrew, along with Henry Potter and her brother John, 14th March 1899, shortly before their graduation.

Timothy was shocked, and stuffed the photo into his pocket as he found a old trunk to store his new belongings.

29th August 1930, Lupin Cottage, Wales.

"Did you and Mum go to Hogwarts?" Lyall asked his father one evening.

"Yes, we did." Conor answered, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Conor looked up from his newspaper.

"You were too young, Lyall."

"To know you and Mum went to a magical school?"

"You don't know what we went through."

"Because you never told me." Lyall said.

There was a long silence.

"What house were ye in?"

"I was a Gryffindor, your mother was a Ravenclaw." Conor answered.

"Were ye getting good grades?"

"Excellent grades, I hope you will too." Conor answered again.

"Yes Dad."

"Good."

"When did ye start going out with each other?"

"Sixth year."

"Did you ask Mum out or did Mum ask you out?"

"Lyall! You question my ability with women! I did ask your mother out!"