Being at home was nice, even if the nightmares had gotten worse. They were the reason he was sitting up now, wrapped in a blanket listening to stories his absent-minded grandfather was telling. He hadn't wanted to awaken his brother or parents, but Xenophilius had been awake and roaming the downstairs of the house and was happy for company.
It was late, or early depending on how one looked at the time, but sitting here listening to fanciful stories was better than lying in bed, or worse, dreaming about the attack. They got worse with each night, until instead of Scorpius disappearing he was seeing him tortured, bloody and dying.
He was just about to ask Xenophilius to tell him the story of the Fountain of Fair Fortune, his favorite of the Beedle the Bard tales, when there was an explosion at the front of the house that rocked the very foundation of the house. He froze, thinking he was actually dreaming, but he wasn't.
"Grandpa!" He shouted, horrified when the old man went towards the explosion, rather than away. "Don't!" But Xenophilius didn't listen, lost in his own thoughts and before Lorcan had a chance to do anything, a green streak of light hit him in the chest and he toppled over.