It Meant Family

20th of December 1993

"the dog upstairs won't shut up, but I can't hate him, he's up there alone all day, making noise must be the only way he knows he's not a ghost" - Homie, Danez Smith

Hogwarts, Scotland

It took him a while to understand what was happening, as his body was abruptly pulled into consciousness, his mind tried to track the origin of the deafening sound that flooded the boys' dormitory. Something slammed against the walls, floor and ceiling at an odd rhythm, accompanied by desperate screams and pleads for salvation.

"Get it." Shouted Seamus.

"What a brilliant idea." Replied Dean. "I hadn't thought of that."

"There," announced Ron, "it's coming this way."

"I got it." Celebrated Neville, followed by a loud thump. "I lost it."

"What in Merlin's name is happening?" Harry pulled his bed curtains open to reveal a room covered in various colours of paint and four stained boys running after a flying paint brush.

"Sorry, Harry." Said Dean, eyeing the brush. "My art supplies have gone mad."

Harry dragged himself out of bed, grabbed his wand from his nightstand and pointed it at the brush flying handle first directly at him.

"Immobulus." He chanted and the brush slowed down, no longer flying, but simply floating. Dean grabbed it and put it in a large wooden box along with other angry art supplies, he put the box inside a small trunk filled with books and locked it.

"I don't know what happened." He said, eyes wide and horrified, "I was packing them to go home for the holidays and they just started attacking us." He swallowed dryly. "Thanks, Harry."

"Thank Hermione." He replied, still half asleep. "She taught me the spell..." he looked around for a moment "anyway." He turned to Ron. "Breakfast?" His friend nodded and as Dean, Seamus and Neville returned to packing, he walked to his wardrobe, took out a pair of dark grey pants, a long-sleeved blue shirt, a knitted oversized Gryffindor jumper with the initials SB on the collar and a long thick black velvet robe, plus his underwear and headed to the bathroom.

Harry changed out of his pyjamas slowly and the events of the previous night began to dawn on him, the weight of Pettigrew's actions on his life and the pain his betrayal must have caused on his family. He tried to imagine what it would feel like if Ron or Hermione turned him over to Voldemort in exchange of what it was that Pettigrew got out of his betrayal, but it was impossible, he trusted them implicitly and the idea of either of them hurting him like that was inconceivable, which was probably why it had hurt Remus and Sirius so much, because that was how much they'd trusted him too.

In the common room, Hermione sat in front of the sofa with her homework spread on the floor and on the coffee table in front of the fireplace and Crookshanks was spread out next to it like a fluffy, ginger rug. Harry walked over and took one of her books, snapping it shut.

"Hey." She protested, the cat woke up and Scabbers sunk into Ron's pocket.

"This is an intervention." He announced. "I'm officially forbidding you from doing our Christmas break homework until Christmas break actually starts." Her jaw dropped, outraged. "Now." He nodded at Ron, who quickly rushed over and began packing up all of her things, Hermione, however, no less of a Gryffindor than the two of them, pulled out her wand, but Harry tackled her into the sofa.

"No." She laughed as Ron ran with her books to the boys' dormitory. "Give it back." When he heard the door up the spiral staircase close, Harry let her go, only to get a stern slap on the arm. "I hate you." She rolled her eyes and shoved him out of her way.