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TW: abuse, and blood.
"Josephine , come downstairs now!" Her father's voice pierces through the door, sending a shiver down her spine. His tone is charged with agitation, if not anger.
Instantly on edge, Josephine sets her book aside and opens her door, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she descends the stairs.
In the kitchen doorway stands Sirius, looking bewildered, while James sits on the couch, wearing a guilt-ridden expression. Her father paces the room with an air of frustration, while her mother stands nearby, her face displaying clear distress.
"What's happening?" Josephine stammers, her nerves causing her to fidget with her nails behind her back. Her imagination has already begun to conjure worst-case scenarios.
Her father's gaze snaps in her direction. "I don't know, Josephine. Why don't you enlighten us?" His anger, usually resembling a blazing fire, now feels frigid—cold enough to almost make her flinch.
Frowning, she asks, "What do you mean?"
"Fleamont, let's st—" Her mother's sentence is cut off by her father's cruel laughter.
"James informed us about your associations at Hogwarts," her father interjects, his anger seeming more intense than she'd ever witnessed before, even during their loudest arguments over accidents she's caused.
Josephine glances at James, her gaze returning to Fleamont. "What's wrong with me being friends with Slytherins?"
Stepping further into the living room, she tries to assert herself. Her father points an accusatory finger at her. "You damn well know what's wrong!"
"Are you trying to control who my friends should be?" Josephine and her father are no strangers to clashes; disagreements are practically routine. But this time feels different, maybe that's why she finds the courage to stand up to him.
"Josephine, I've told you countless times. Avoid any contact with the Slytherins! Your brother has no issue complying! He's always listened to me, unlike you. You never listen!" The tension is palpable, each word escalating his voice.
Swallowing hard, she retorts, "I apologize for not being James."
Her father's glare intensifies. Seizing the moment, she continues, "I've never lived up to your expectations, have I? Your ideal son already exists; you never truly wanted me! And being sorted into a different house only added to your disappointment!" Her words match his volume, her frustration boiling over.
His head shakes, while her mother covers her mouth in shock. Her brother seems distant, and Sirius, still lingering in the doorway, offers her a knowing look—the look of someone who comprehends her emotions all too well.
"You're not my daughter," her father declares. Her confusion deepens. What the fuck does that mean?
"Fleamont!" Her mother's voice snaps, laced with panic, causing James to look up with wide, apprehensive eyes.
