The Marauders: Year One | #Wattys2016

The Potters

The Potters

The moon was bright in the sky and there was snow flurrying through the air, like falling stars in the lamp posts that lined the street that the Potters lived on in Godric's Hollow. It all looked rather like a snowglobe. James was laying on his stomach on the floor in the living room in his snitch-and-quaffle pyjamas - which were technically a whole size too small, showing his ankles by several inches, but were his absolute favorites. He was watching the telly, his chin propped up on a squashed up throw pillow.

"James, it's time for bed," Dora said, coming in and waving her wand to shut off the TV set. She collected the cups and platters from the table. "Up, up, up," she said.

"Aw, mom, c'mon it's holiday," James moaned, "What do I have to go to bed so ruddy early for? I'm not even --" he yawned, "-- tired."

"Hmm, you sound awfully tired to me," she said, smirking as her son stretched.

"Oh no, not at all," James said, "We stay up loads later at school, every night!"

Dora raised an eyebrow.

"Besides, The Doctor was just about to destroy the Sea Devils," James complained, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. "Can't I at least see how it ends?"

Dora shook her head, "You've seen how it ends, Mr. Potter. You've seen all of them. Multiple times. Now off to bed with you. I'll be up in a minute to check on you." She started toward the kitchen and was nearly there when the doorbell rang.

Dora and James both turned to look down the narrow hallway to the front door in curiousity. Charlus, who had been upstairs, was just coming down and he glanced back at the two of them. "I'll get it," he said. Withdrawing his wand, he moved up to the door and peered out into the dark through the peephole. With all of the attacks and horribleness going on out there, one could never be too careful, he supposed, though Charlus highly doubted whether Voldemort would show up on somebody's doorstep and ring the bell to get into avada kedavra them all.

Somehow the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters didn't seem like the doorbell ringing types.

"Who is it, dear?" Dora asked when Charlus pulled away from the door with a look of confused curiosity on his face.

Instead of answering, he opened the door and revealed Sirius Black, standing on the stoop, snow speckling his hair, his face and fingers deep pink from cold. Sirius had a bag slung over his shoulder and he was soaked from the knees down where the snow had seeped through his clothes and into his trainers.

"Sirius!" James exclaimed, running forward and grabbing hold on his shivering friend and yanking him inside. Charlus closed the door behind them. "Sirius, mate, what're you doing out there in the cold?"

Sirius's teeth were chattering, and he gasped out, "I - I couldn't - I couldn't stay th - there another m - m -minute."

"Poor dear, he's frozen half to death. James, bring your friend in the living room by the fire. I'll get you a cup of tea. Did you want milk and honey?" Dora asked, springing into action.

Sirius was shivering too hard to answer, but James said, "Just honey in his mum," and directed Sirius into the living room. He set him in a chair by the Potter's fireplace - the one his mum usually sat in when she read her romance novels - and Charlus leaped forward to wrap a warm blanket 'round Sirius's shoulders. Sirius's fingers barely could move to hold the blanket tightly closed.

Dora Potter came in the blink of an eye with a steaming cup of hot tea with honey. "I added just a touch of firewhiskey," she said, "To warm you up. Not a lot, but you'll notice the taste of it."