gold string, JAMES POTTER [under construction]

chapter three.

chapter three — that... that illness
December 29th, 1976

     By the time Maurice had arrived at the Potter Manor the day after his little midnight adventure with James and Sirius, the sun was proudly shining high up in the sky. He raised his hand up to the metal door knocker, tapping it three times against the door. He bounced on his heels and the small jars in a wooden box he was holding rattled against each other. Just as the front door swung open, Maurice lost his balance causing the box to slip out of his grasp.

      "Woah there," James heaved, leaning over and catching the box before it had a chance to meet the ground. "Everything okay?" He queried peering into the box.

      Maurice thoroughly skimmed over the jars, making sure none of them were cracked. "All good," he replied. "Is your mum around?" He followed James into the foyer, despite Christmas being a couple of days ago they still had their decorations up. They normally would take them down once February started, but by that time the new term at Hogwarts would already be well underway. His grandmother, on the other hand, never put up any sort of decorations. Not even a small Christmas tree. Nothing.

      Growing up, he would always ask her when they would be putting up the tree and fairy lights but every year she would give him the same response, never deviating from it. Never saying anything different. "Christmas is too tacky dear." He eventually gave up on asking, instead he would come help the Potters, and honorary Potter, decorate their tree in the last week of November. "Is Sirius home?" He asked once he noticed the lack of his presence.

      "She's been waiting for you, actually. And no, he went to visit Remus." He responded. Maurice balanced the box in one hand reaching up to his head to pull off his knitted cap. James watched in amusement as his hair fell into perfect places; he averted his gaze the moment Maurice looked up.

      "Mrs. Potter," he greeted as she wiped her hands on her gardening apron, "Sorry if I'm running a little late. I had some trouble finding the ingredients." This was true; before his departure from home, Maurice had ransacked Ethel's stash of ingredients. He doubted she would miss any of them

      "Oh don't you worry about it dear," she exclaimed. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to help me." They followed her through a kitchen with windows covering an entire wall, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. "James here is always rambling on about your natural talent for potions," she added.

      Maurice couldn't help but smile at the news, while James groaned. "Mum!" He casually glanced outside the window, trying his best to disguise his flushed cheeks.

      They followed her like a pair of ducklings as she led them out to the greenhouse, where Euphemia spent half of her time. Maurice's favourite story was about how his mum met Euphemia, a story she had told too many times. Maurice knew it by heart. It was the third week of their fourth year attending Hogwarts. Peony was struggling to safely collect pus from a Bubotuber, which resembled a large, slimy, black slug. After many failed attempts, Euphemia offered her a hand. The rest was simply history

      They followed after her like a pair of ducklings, she led them out to the greenhouse where Euphemia spent half of her time. Maurice's favourite story was how his mum met Euphemia, who told the story too many times, to the point where he could recite it word for word. It was the third week of their fourth year studying at Hogwarts. Peony was struggling to safely collect bubotuber pus from a Bubotuber, which resembled a large, slimy, black slug. After many failed attempts at harvesting the pus, Euphemia offered her a hand. Then the rest was simply history.

      Their friendship is the reason Euphemia continues to pursue a hobby in Herbology, in hopes that one day she could have tea with her old friend and catch up on the time they lost. Mainly she wished Maurice could experience having a mum, and father too someday.