Cellphone
Thank fucking Merlin for howlers. The longer Mary spent surrounded by Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus, the more she’d grown to appreciate them.
"PETER PETTIGREW If you don’t get your ass to my flat in the next thirty seconds so help me, I will fucking murder him.” The Howler screamed in Mary’s angry tone. “He’s over here, drunk off his ass, being a complete tool, drinking EVERYTHING I HAVE and knocking over anything his lanky arms can reach. I swear to Godrick his body will end up in the Serpentine River if you don’t come and get him THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE. He’s your friend, and he won’t shut up. It is three in the fucking morning, and he’s screaming about his ‘precious mate, Peter.’ This is your fault, and if you don’t come and get him I’ll come after you once I dispose of him. I’m leaving him on the porch, and he’s too drunk to apparate anywhere properly, so unless you want him to end up in a different country, come get him right bloody now.”
