This morning was hectic. Sirius spent more than an hour in the kitchen making breakfast special, along with making little snacks for the train ride.

You checked the trunk over and over again. Transfiguration textbook, cauldron, wand, telescope, extra pairs of robes and some jumpers. The family owl, Sovi, hooted in her cage as she watched you unpack and pack the trunk. Triple checking.

You took Arcturus and Sovi's cage, and Sirius took his trunk as you all apparated to an alleyway right beside King's Cross.

Arcturus gave you a quick kiss and hug, Sirius gave him a quick pat on the back with a quick, "Write as much as you can."

You watched him—your little boy—as he boarded Hogwarts Express, disappearing into the endless corridors.

The train whistle blew, and the Express took off, but not before you caught a glimpse of a familiar hand waving through a window.

Now, returning back to your townhouse. The once cozy and lively house seemed empty. Too quiet.

No sounds of a growing boy watching wooden blocks fall, nobody making a flour mess in the kitchen.

The townhouse was still full of love—moving photographs all over the walls, finger paintings that Arcturus made in his muggle daycare, messy pile of adult and kid shoes at the door, dishes left from the hectic breakfast just an hour or two ago.

But it was different now. Empty in a way that you didn't realize was possible.