Alma let out a deep sigh, ignoring as the heavy iron-wrought gate fell shut behind her with an almighty screech and a bang. It was nice to see that some things never changed. She had left nearly a year ago for her first year at Hogwarts, listening to her mother berate her father to “please finally fix that bloody gate before I blast it off its hinges”. Now she returned with a bunch of fond memories and a trunk full of summer homework to find the gate still in its state of disrepair and her father working in his vast garden that surrounded their home not even twenty yards away, yet idly ignoring the gate. So busy he was with tending to the plants that he didn’t even notice his eldest daughter sneak up behind him. Alma smiled fondly at the man as he even ignored the crunch of gravel as Alma set down her luggage in favor of talking to an especially bright batch of Hybrid Tea Roses. She noted that his coppery brown hair was newly streaked with grey and despite the fact that he was far from actually being considered ‘old’, Alma couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the thought of the mortality of her parents. Shaking herself out of these dark, dark thoughts, she decided to speak up to effectively distract herself.
“I just had the most pleasant conversation with a lady on the Knight Bus,” Alma drawled, startling her father enough to cause him to drop the trimming shears he’d been holding. “Apparently some families actually fetch their children from the Platform instead of letting them travel hallways across London in a dodgy bus, surrounded by dodgy people and -“
Alma’s friendly banter was cut off when she was pulled into a hug tight enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs.
“Well, some families are stupid and don’t trust their children enough to be capable of defending themselves,” her father muttered, finally releasing her from the hug to allow Alma to get some air.
“You just plain forgot,” Alma wheezed and her father awarded her with one of his crooked grins.
“Guilty as charged. Don’t tell your mother.”
“I’d never. I’m too young to legally take over the family business.”
Her father laughed wryly, well-aware that the unspoken threat of punishment still hung over him like the sword of Damocles.
“Now,” he said after he released Alma from the tight hug, picking up her suitcase while Alma was busy shaking her head to get rid of the stars in her vision. “Your uncles closed the shop earlier today. They should be here fairly soon. How about you take a shower and change into something more comfortable and I see if your mother needs help with preparing dinner?”
Grabbing the trunk from her father’s hands, ignoring his protests that it was far too heavy for her to safely carry upstairs, Alma raced into the house and into her room.