𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ⎯⎯ （theseus scamander.）[english]

08. family dinner

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( chapter eight. )

❝ family dinner ❞

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Every time I went back home, to my childhood home... I've found myself in the same place within minutes.

In the salon upstairs, with wall of  our family tree. I leaned against one of the tables and couldn't take my eyes off my brother's name.

Phineas Black.

And his picture... There was only a huge black spot in its place.

My thoughts always wandered off to the fateful night it happened. I was a little girl, hiding in the corner and watching Papa point his wand at the wall and burn my brother's face with a huge bang.

But he couldn't burn out his memory.

Not from me. And that was what my father punished me the most for.

"There you are!" a sudden voice pushed me out of the rapid flow of my thoughts and I immediately turn my head towards the slightly open door. My younger brother, Arcturus, was standing in the corridor and only half leaned into the drawing room. "I told Mother that she would definitely find you here!"

"How would she know? She would erase this room if she could," I muttered, taking one last look at my brother's name on the wall, then my eyes flicked to my own. Haunted. I could almost see my own face being burned. Like the inevitable future. "When did you arrive?"

"Just now," my younger brother shrugged when I went up to him and hugged him gently. "I had to drag Cy and Violetta through the front door."

"Do you blame them? You wouldn't come in either if you didn't already live here " I laughed to myself as I carefully closed the salon door behind me.

"Shhh! Don't be so loud, or else elves will hear and tell Mother!" Archie snorted. Mother employed two house elves at 12 Grimmauld Square, Neeky and Woody. Ever since we were children, we suspected that Mother was spying on us with the help of elves, considering that many times we didn't even notice if one of them was lurking in the room during a conversation.

"Ask Lys if she wants to move out," I patted him on the shoulder when we reached the bottom of the stairs. From there, we could already hear our little family talking in the dining room.

Our mother insisted that the family have dinner together once a week. And even more so after Father's death. Of course, someone always tried to get out of it, because although no one would have admitted it, none of us  wanted to participate in the gathering.