Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter, nor its characters.
-The Potters
Mr and Mrs Potter were proud to say that they were perfectly abnormal, thank you very much. They were the first people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they very much loved such nonsense.
Mr Fleamont Potter had developed Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, which had led the family to earn quite a wholesome amount of gold. He was tall and skinny, with knobbly knees and slightly less hair than a man would normally have at that age. Mrs Euphemia Potter was a beauty of sorts, with kind eyes and enough hair to account her both herself and her husband. The Potters had a son called James and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
The Potters were quite special, and although their secret was big, they were not embarrassed by it. Instead, they saw it as a blessing, a gift. They cherished their secret, and as did their close friends, whom shared this peculiar thing to be kept hidden from others. In fact, many people around the world shared their secret, and it was quite a wonder as to how it hadn't gotten out by now considering how careless such people could be. The truth was, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were in fact a witch and a wizard, as was their beloved son.
James Potter had turned 11 some time ago, and was quite excited for his upcoming trip to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His parents fuelled the boy's glee with fascinating stories from when they had attended the school; they spoke to him of all the magic he'd learn and how good he would become, and not to mention the praise they gave to their old professors. They could not inform him of what the headmaster was like, however, as Armando Dippet had been replaced by a man named Albus Dumbledore, and although he was quite famous, the two parents had no experience with him being the man in charge.
The couple had taken James to the legendary Diagon alley a few days prior to the 31st of August, probably due to their disorganized nature, and had rushed around gathering all of the essentials. The two were very doting parents, and so had very nearly caved when James begged them to buy him the latest flying broomstick. 'Oh, please mum! I'm going to be ever so good at quidditch, you'll see!' James had tugged on his mother's robes and pouted for 15 whole minutes while his parents' ummed and ahhed over what to do. Mr Potter had eventually unclasped James' hands from his mother's clothing and smiled apologetically at him. 'Sorry lad, it says first years aren't allowed brooms. Your mother and I promise to get you the best model for next year, though!' James was happy to hear that, but made a mental note to get his hands on a broom as soon as possible when he got to Hogwasrts; like some stupid rule was going to stop him.
After the rushed trip (and then another to pick up a forgotten book) James had packed his belongings in his suitcase, and quite neatly too, which was very out of character. He'd wanted to look after these items as they marked the beginning of a new life for him, so he'd put them in his trunk with caution, not realising that all but a month later they'd all be dog-eared anyway. This messy habit spilled over into his appearance; it wasn't that he wore shabby clothes or looked grubby, it was his hair. It stuck out wildly, and was devilish to comb, but Mr Potter said that it was his favourite aspect of his son because it reminded him fondly of what he used to look like back then.
The family was more than happy with each other. Curled up in bed together, Mrs Potter mumbled to Mr Potter about how proud of her son she was, while Mr Potter smiled and thought about how lucky he was to have a wife so loving and a son so worthy of that love. The youngest Potter sat in his bed and held his brand new wand daintily, looking down at it and all that it represented. A smile graced his face as he shut his eyes and imagined all the fun he would have, the friends he would make and the mischief he would cause. His head filled with aspirations, hope and wonder that would drown any thoughts of sleep. Although the Potters were more than happy in that house, they all knew that it was at Hogwarts that you found your home.