Four broken boys

Coming home to rest

Mrs Pettigrew really was an excellent cook. She cooked delicious meals and desserts that left the lucky consumers craving more. She would often cook enough for seconds, or even thirds because her children would beg for more.

Sometimes when she would cook she would feel a wave of nostalgia. She would remember when her children used to be at home all the time. Her youngest son would eat everything and more. Her older daughter ate politely, always making sure to eat healthy amounts but never following it.

Mrs Pettigrew only had her husband for company, who worked at the Ministry six days a week. This ended in her missing her children horribly. Especially now her son had started at Hogwarts, the house was empty, even empty of cooking wafts.

When Clara and Peter got off the train she promised them a lovely roast with her special trifle as dessert. Peter responded enthusiastically, by bouncing on the balls of his feet and flashing her a radiant smile.

___

For the way back home Peter spoke happily of Hogwarts and his friends. His mother smiled and responded eagerly while his father nodded occasionally. Clara, always having a very close relationship with her brother, just laughed affectionately at the crazy antics his friends got up to.

"I take it you didn't like the giant squid then?" She laughed.

"Sirius hated it," Peter smiled at the memory. "James was just annoyed that we'd even considered giving it his birthday cake."

They all laughed at the comic acts of James Potter.

"By the way Peter," His mother spoke. "What do you want to do for your birthday? It's in less than two weeks."

"Can I have my friends round?" Peter asked, eyes shining.

"Of course! Should I cook?" She smiled.

"Yes! Sirius loved your cake!" Peter exclaimed, mouth watering at his mother's beautiful cooking.

When they arrived back home, a modest house on the outskirts of north London, Peter raced through the door. Clara pulled her heavy trunk through the door with a huff.

"Why so heavy?" Peter asked.

"I'm borrowing books from friends to study from." Clara responded while setting her heavy trunk next to the stairs.

"Why? It's summer!"

"I've got my NEWTs next year."

Peter rolled his eyes and went into the small kitchen filled with pots and pans. His mouth watered as he took in the delicious smells. A couple of hands rested on his shoulders.

"You still like roast, right?" His mother said.

"At Hogwarts it was amazing, but yours is way better." Peter imagined eating potatoes soaked in gravy.

His mother chuckled and set to work finishing their dinner. Peter dragged his trunk upstairs to unpack (or, as some might put it, procrastinate). Next door he could hear Clara drop a couple of rather heavy books and curse loudly. He walked into her room.

"What are you doing?"

Clara was sitting in the middle of a circle of books all piled up in stacks. Thought suddenly entered Peter's head that she was summoning Satan. The thought made him grin.

"I'm sorting out all my books." She said simply, as if this was a common occurrence.

"Why?"

"Because it means my studying is more organised."