Not so much one or two long snapshots as a bunch of mini-snapshots, revolving around (for now) Landis, Erin, and Hannah at various points in their lives. The Morgan-Harper household is an often precarious one. XD



“You’re friends with Dominik Weidman?”

“Acquaintances,” Landis corrected. He walked from the living room with his breakfast, Erin trailing him like a sullen, unwanted mutt. Hannah sat in the room already, her presence making theirs a muted animosity.

“THE Dominik Weidman?” Erin pressed, as Landis side-stepped him around the couch. Hannah blinked limpid eyes at him, and Landis sighed and sat, letting her steal the bacon from his plate. He sipped at his juice and dutifully tuned out his little brother, at least until Erin began to flick the decorative dried cherries from the bowl in the middle of the table at him to get his attention. Landis got up to murder him, and when he got back from an unfruitful chase through the house - casualties: the drapes, a careless water glass, mum's favorite family portrait(that last was on purpose) - all of his toast was gone. So was Hannah.

Landis sighed and went to get some more breakfast.





Their father vanished to his study as soon as gift opening was over. Sullen and dull-eyed, a little boy home from his first year at Hogwarts, Erin slunk after him. At the last moment he darted up the stairs to the safety of his room, the rapid stomp of his feet hitting stairs lacking all subtlety. Below Landis sat straight as a statue in the corner of the room, his mother asking him questions she knew he wouldn’t answer about his new job at the Ministry while his sister played on the rug. After half an hour of one-syllable answers she stopped pressing, retreating instead to the warmth of her only daughter. Carefully she folded herself down onto the rug, hands hovering over her daughter’s bowed and brilliant head of hair.

After a moment he rose and went upstairs as well. Hannah twisted to watch him go, tiny hands pausing in their ministrations of her curls. But she didn’t call out after him, and his mother didn’t glance up. Instead she caught a butterfly ornament intent on escape and pinned it back into place, the fingers of one hand pressed against Hannah’s spine to remind her to sit straight.

Landis went to his own room. After he’d stepped in and closed the door, something heavy hit the wall that he shared with Erin. He briefly considered fratricide, but went to write a Christmas letter to Dazmond instead.





They were laughing at her. Both of them! Erin with his stupid chortles, and the twitch of Landis’ lips was as glaring as a sign.

“Stop it,” she hissed between clenched teeth, stomping her foot, and now Landis laughed out loud. That spurred Erin on, and then for the first time in her memory they were both laughing together. Contrary to her usual peace-keeping status, Hannah was not impressed. This was not good. This was not what she wanted. This was awful and irritating and just... couldn’t they find something else funny? Something besides her? Angerly she wiped at her mouth, smearing her mother’s carefully applied lipstick, and glared.

But the two laughed and laughed until she whirled out of the room, trailing layers of violent pink and purple tulle, and the only reason Hannah didn’t bounce something off their heads on the way out was because she couldn’t decide which of them to throw at.





"And don't you look just like your father," the woman crooned, hands pressed under her aged and drooping chin. Erin went to punch her, realized midway through that punching great-aunts, however offensive, was not allowed, and balked. The resulting physio-mental conflict resulted in a gangling elbow in the sugar and a dismissal from the table; stomping happily up to his room, Erin considered this a success.






It took convincing to make Erin come see her, but Hannah was stubborn, more stubborn than he, and far more annoying. It wasn’t worth trying to ignore her, so every couple of weeks Erin gave in and and let her have an evening. He didn’t like his Gryffindor sister coming to his common room, and Hannah didn’t like the clean austerity of the Slytherin rooms versus Gryffindor’s loud cheer; so they compromised, meeting in empty classrooms and quiet niches.

This evening Erin had brought his cat. He and Hannah sat across from each other, legs outstretched and feet touching sole-to-sole in a circle that enclosed the kitten. Erin was zoning out, blue eyes fixed vaguely on the stones about Hannah’s head as she cooed and giggled. A bite brought him out of it - he started and refocused in silent indignation at the small gray cat with its teeth locked on the fleshy side of his hand. It stared back at him, nose crumpled, and went into a frenzy of kicking and biting, tiny milk teeth and brittle claws no real stinger except for the sound of Hannah laughing and laughing at his cross expression.





It was Christmas holidays, and neither Erin nor Landis had gone home. Landis had seen Hannah off on the train and Erin had hugged her the day before, but neither of them had the slightest inclination to be back under the thumb of their mother. They might have never known had Landis, eyes bright and lips curled with the utmost disdain, not cornered Erin to ask of his plans. Erin had declined to answer, and escaped as soon as possible with a mirror-sneer and the urgent desire to be elsewhere. A few days after start of break Landis caught Erin in the library after hours, and that was answer enough.





Only a few days into the new year, and late one night Landis caught Erin in the stacks. Again.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice cold and flat as he looked down at his brother. Erin was crouched with a book and his wand out, feeble light glowing from its tip and washing over both their features. Stupid boy - the light had been how he’d found him. 

Erin sneered at him. It was an impressive attempt, but Landis had seen better. “I’m doing homework - what does it look like?”

A moment of struggle. Erin shied away, but Landis’ grip was tight, disappointingly blunt fingernails digging in just under his brother’s collarbone. Erin grimaced in pain and anger as Landis escorted him to the entrance and threw him out in the hallway, lingering just long enough to see Erin give him the two-fingered salute and pelt off. Only a few years ago he would have hexed Erin silly for such an insult; now Landis only closed the doors and went to his office.

He must be mellowing in his old age.