Hello Lyall
December 23, 1971. 9:32. Sirius
Sirius sat awkwardly at the table, as did the Potters. They were all randomly looking up at the stairs where the twins had disappeared. Sirius wondered if it would be a good idea to follow them.
He pondered over why Romulus had gotten so upset about being asked about Remus, and he couldn't come up with an answer. He didn't know why someone who was normally level-headed had been so explosive. Maybe it was just an off day? He didn't know.
He looked over at James, who mirrored the confused look Sirius was sure he had. Seeming to have read his mind, James gave a small shake of his head. He thinks I should just leave them alone then. Probably smart, Sirius thought to himself.
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11:26
Sirius had just finished losing a game of chess when there was a knock at the door. He leapt up into the air to answer it, racing James to the door. Maybe it was Peter!
Just as Sirius turned the knob to open the door, he heard one of the twins shout, "Wait!"
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I1:27. Fleamont
Fleamont could have heard the commotion from a mile away. He heard his son and his practically adoptive sons racing down the stairs or hallway to get to the door first. At first he had thought it to be harmless fun. Simply antics of a full house. That was until he heard a panicked cry from James to get to the door.
Fleamont walked down the hall and saw a looming figure of a man much broader and taller than himself, and Fleamont was an ex-semi pro Quidditch player in his prime. He was also 6'2.
This other man, however, was probably somewhere from 6'5 to 6'8, broad, muscled shoulders, and even with a bit of a dad bod, very obviously strong. He had shaggy blond hair that was ill-kept, a stained white tank top, blue jeans, and a thrashed pair of Doc Martins. Though it was incredibly obvious to Fleamont who this man was, the two thing that set it were how the twins were looking at him, and those dark, steely blue eyes. The same eyes young Romulus had. This was the boys' dead-beat father.
Immediately, Fleamont's dad instincts were kicking in, and he put himself in-between the boys and the abuser. Lyall was clearly tipsy.
"How and why are you here?" Fleamont said calmly, yet icy. He hadn't even known this man for 5 minutes, hadn't said a word to him, and yet he hated him. Deeply.
"Why do you have my boys?" Lyall retorted.
"Real men don't treat their sons' or their wife's that way. You don't have the right to call them your boys. They weren't yours the second you damn near killed them," Fleamont snapped back.
"They are my boys. They have my blood. They are spitting images of me. It's not my fault they're disappointments. It's not my fault they're worthless. It's not my fault they needed to be taught to respect the man of their house. The house I allow them to live in," Lyall was near seething now, Fleamont could see. Was he really about to fight this man, who was huge and unpredictable, for these boys he barely knew? Yes. Yes the fuck he was. But before he could do anything, he heard one of the twins mutter something.
"What was that, boy?" Lyall said, turning his anger on Remus.
"I said, 'It is your fault. You know exactly what you did, your just to emotionally immature to except it'," Remus said loudly.
"Remus, please don't, he'll hurt you worse," Romulus said, fear clear in his face as he looked at his brother.
Fleamont saw the anger in Lyall's eyes as he turned and looked at Remus. Lyall lunged for the poor boy.
Lyall had succeeded in gripping Remus by his collar and slapping him across the face before Fleamont could react. He sent a silent Levicorpus, and was very satisfied with this giant of a man swinging uselessly in his hallway. Lyall was enraged. He cursed screamed, threatened, spat, and swung at Fleamont. Euphemia heard the commotion and rushed into the hallway, seeing the raging man swinging by his ankle in her house.
"Oh, is that your bitch, Flea? Always was a pretty one. Might have to get a piece myself-" Lyall started, but was cut off by the fist connecting with his face. The fist of Fleamont Potter.
"NEVER speak of my wife like that or I will fucking cut you!" Fleamont screamed. For the first time in decades, he saw red. He wanted to hurt this man. He wanted to scare him. He had hurt to many people. He was about to fucking end him when he felt a small tug on his sleeve, and looked down to see James, who looked scared. He was pale and shaking. He saw Sirius, hiding in the corner, covering his ears with silent tears falling from his eyes. He saw Euphemia, looking at him with worry and concern, he saw Romulus, who had his head down, arms across his chest, gripping his biceps with white knuckles.
What was the worst he saw though, was Remus. He looked insane. His eyes were near yellow, with a maniacal grin on his face, a blood-lust look to him. He sighed.
"Get out of my house," Fleamont spoke with a monotone.
"I'm taking my boys-"
"Get the actual fuck out of my house. Now," Fleamont said.
He released Lyall from his jinx, pushed him out of the door, and slammed it shut behind it.