My Nine Brothers~ One Direction & 5sos & Harry Potter

95. Second Home

It has been a hard couple of days since dad was diagnosed. He woke up though in his own fashion, nagging about the pants the put him in. Said they were scratching his bits too much. He took his diagnoses like a champ, telling us all that if he could pass a kidney stone he could beat a little brian tumor.

The good news was that he was home now, resting in his favorite recliner. My brothers scattered from all over the world to be there. Saying they would be at his becking call to help him. But dad sent them packing after four days, saying that they spent to much time worrying over him and not their work or the fans.

Now came the bad news, straight from the other world I live in. Death Eaters were spotted more and more out in the open as Voldemort decided to take his return into full force. It got bad enough that muggle news outlets where waring the citizens about possible dangerous prisoners who broke out of an unknown prison. "Possible dangerous" was putting it lightly, they would kill you. And not to mention, the Dark Mark was spotted in London with fast dark moving shadows in the air. All the Wizarding World, both here and internationally, must be shitting themselves as many statues of secrecy have been broken massively. I mean they should have seen it coming with today's technology and conspiracy theorists.

"I mean the good news is that you will lose the gray hair," I pointed out as we read over one of the pamphlets the doctors gave us on his treatment.

"I could rock a ball look," Dad nodded his head. We sat at the kitchen table as the twins laid in there play area next to us. "Better than my hair cut from the '80s"

"What was your hair like in the '80s?" I asked him.

"We don't talk about the '80s princess," Dad laughed as he set the pamphlet down. "Was a wild time for your old pop's before your mother domesticated me."

"I did not domesticate you," Mum rolled her eyes as she watched the veggies for dinner. "You got me pregnant, twice!"

"Yes, but that was in the '90s," Dad reminded her as she waved him off. "Before then, I was trying to clean up my act so that your mother would finally agree to go on a date with me."

"Mum, why didn't you let dad take you on a date?" I turned my head over to ask her as a small smile sat on her face.

"Because your father was running around at all manner of the night's going from pub to pub, picking up a new girl every night," She told me. "And I knew if he really wanted me, he would work for it."

"And work for it I did," Dad pointed at her. "Even sign up for university so she would think I was smart enough to get her."

"You where plenty smart Mark," Mum told him as she chopped up the veggies. "You were just using your smarts to sell drugs and woo girls."

"Dad, you were a drug dealer!" I gasped at him.

"It was just pot and cocaine, it was the '80s, different times," Dad patted my shoulder.

"Yes, and why don't you ask your father how he got that scar on his chin," Mum gave him a teasing look.

"What scar?" I asked him.

"The scar is the reason I keep my beard nice and long," Dad told me. "I owed this guy some money, he brought a knife and I got a bit cut up."

"Yes and then you came crying to me-"

"I wouldn't call it crying-"

"Your father wept in my arms, Hope," Mum said. "I bandaged him up and even let him stay in my dorm that night. That was when I finally knew."