Disclaimer: Gryffindor is red, Ravenclaw is blue, I don't own Harry Potter, but neither do you.
Yes, despite my attempts to posses J.K. Rowling's soul (and gain her fabulous wealth, happiness, and of course the Harry Potter franchise), it turns out that I am not a witch, nor an author of a story pertaining to one.
This is just a humorous disclaimer. I do not now nor will I ever attempt to take over J.K. Rowling's soul. And if I be wrong, let Vampire Ninjas rain from the sky and pelt me with marshmallows! :)
James Potter and the Tomb of Slytherin
Chapter One: Letters of Acceptance
A/N: This chapter is unique in the fact that it is told through different Points of View. Normally, they will be told from James's Point of View. However, I wanted to stress the differences between the six families.
There was nothing about the misty night that would suggest that something sinister was in the air.
In the heart of London, on an old abandoned street, a small Pop! rang out.
A woman had appeared, so suddenly it was as though she had been there the whole time. An alley cat reared it's back into an arch, hissing.
The woman shooed him off, but the cat didn't move. The woman's eyes narrowed, before she turned and walked down the street.
She was aware that the cat was following her, yet she didn't turn around. Soon, the cat's footsteps were joined by several pairs of human's.
The woman stopped, "Who's there?"
No one answered, and the woman took a deep breath. Slowly she turned around.
A flash of green light seared across the cobblestone road.
The woman screamed, falling, and the alley cat hissed.
~James~
Several miles away, a different type of hissing could be heard. A plump, kind-faced woman took the kettle off of the stove and poured herself a cup of tea. She was wearing an apron and a smile, as she entered the sitting room.
"Morning dear," she said to her husband. Mr. Potter was tall, thin, and balding. He smiled back, but the hazel eyes behind his glasses were sad. He was holding a newspaper.
"What's the matter?" Mrs. Potter inquired, immediately.
Mr. Potter sighed, "Jayne Bones disappeared last night."
Mrs. Potter's eyes filled with tears.
Mr. Potter went on, "She was a good Auror. Of course the Daily Prophet says she disappeared. I wouldn't be surprised if she was murdered on the spot…"
Mrs. Potter shushed him as the door to the sitting room opened.
"Morning, Mum! Morning, Dad!"
James Potter walked in, grinning from ear to ear. He was small for his age, and slightly skinny, despite the amount of food his mother cooked him. A pair of perfectly round glasses sat in front of his hazel eyes on a rather long nose.
James didn't look different from any other boy his age. However, James was as different as different could come. For James Potter was a wizard, along with the rest of his family.
"Good morning dear!" Mrs. Potter said, beaming. She hugged her son tightly.
"Happy Birthday son!" Mr. Potter said, cheerily, clapping his hand on James's back.
"I made you a special birthday cake," Mrs. Potter piped up, "It's in on the counter."
James rushed off to the kitchen. Mrs. Potter took the moment to whisper, "We'll talk later. I don't want to worry him!"
"He knows more than you let on, Elizabeth," Mr. Potter whispered back.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, James was staring hungrily at a large three-tiered cake sitting on the counter. Just as he was about to taste it, another thing caught his eye.
"Is that…?" he gasped, seeing the official-looking envelope made out of heavy parchment. He opened it carefully. Several pieces of parchment fell out.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"My Hogwarts letter!" he raced back into the living room, "I can't believe it! Can I take my owl? What about my broom? Are we going to go to Diagon Alley?"
His mother and father chuckled, watching as an excited James bounced on the couch.
Mr. Potter gave a start, hearing a distant knocking at the front door.
He went into the entrance room, "Who's there?" he called sharply.
"It is I, Admiral Fudge of the Auror Office at the Ministry for Magic, wishing to make a casual consult with you, Lieutenant Potter."
Looking bewildered, Mr. Potter opened the door and saluted his superior.
"Admiral. To what do we owe this honor?"
"Oh, I merely wish to give my condolences to young Master Potter's birthday. I say, Potter, have I ever been to your house?"
"I daresay you haven't," Mr. Potter said, his brow furrowing suspiciously.
"Yes, well, it's a nice…err…farmhouse you have here. Quite large, but not as large as I would've thought? It was my understanding that you were quite wealthy? Perhaps a raise is in order?"
"I can assure you, Admiral, that we do have a lot of money," Mr. Potter said quietly, "Yet, we understand that a family's value is placed on it's actions, not how large their manor is."
"Yes but still," Admiral Fudge pressed, "You do have a reputation to uphold. No matter. As I said, I was here to congratulate your son. Where might he be?"
Mr. Potter led him into the sitting room. Upon seeing Admiral Fudge's stern face, James stopped bouncing at once.
Admiral Fudge mumbled a quick, "Happy Birthday," before sitting down on the squashy loveseat. He looked around, taking in every detail of the room.
"Did you hear about Jayne Bones?" Mr. Potter inquired.
Admiral Fudge gave a start, "What's that? Oh, yes. Tragic, simply tragic. I wonder, Mrs. Potter, may I use your restroom?"
Mrs. Potter looked surprised, but nevertheless she stood up.
"Oh no, no need to get up. I'll find my own way, thank you."
As soon as he left, James half-rose from the couch, but Mr. Potter gently pushed him down again.
"What's he doing here?" James snapped.
"James!" Mrs. Potter scolded, softly, "Mind your manners."
"Everything's alright son," Mr. Potter said, though he sounded uncertain.
Then, suddenly, James understood, "He's raiding our house?"
When his father looked away, James's eyes flashed, "Can he do that? Is that even legal? We have nothing to hide! He shouldn't be sneaking around. You should do something; you should stop him!"
"James," Mr. Potter said quietly, "Even if I could, it would only lead to more trouble."
James didn't know what to say. He had always looked up to his father; and here he was, stepping aside while the Ministry acted illegally.
Mrs. Potter gave her son a small peck on the cheek, "Perhaps you should go out and play in the garden, dear?"
James sighed but slinked outside. He had just picked up his broomstick when something caught his eye. The shades that would normally be over his bedroom window were closed.
Before James even knew what he was doing, he found himself slipping inside the side-door and up the secret staircase that led onto the landing where his room was. He opened the door, and felt his jaw drop.
His room was never exactly clean, but James was staring at a disaster zone. His bed was overturned, the covers thrown onto the floor. His dustbin was lying on it's side, and the books on his bookshelf were opened, with pages ripped out.
In the center of his room was Admiral Fudge, peering inside the trunk where James kept his prank supplies.
"Lose something?" James asked loudly.
Admiral Fudge jumped, "Ah, M…Master Potter. I…no…I was just admiring your room. T…tell me. Would you consider these bombs to be lethal?"
James stared at him with disbelief, "They're Dungbombs you…" James stopped, a mischievous glint in his eye, "You know what? Let me show you how they work!"
A moment later, Admiral Fudge was racing down the stairs, yelling. His uniform was stained, and a horrible stench rose off of him, courtesy of the seven Dungbombs James had let off. James chased after him, throwing the last Dungbombs.
There were running footsteps as Mr. and Mrs. Potter appeared.
"James!" Mrs. Potter gasped, horrified, "What have you done!"
A wave of unusual guilt washed over James, "Sorry Dad," he mumbled, remembering how his father didn't want any trouble.
To his surprise, however, Mr. Potter put his hand on James's shoulder, "Don't be, son. You were brave enough to do the very thing that I couldn't; standing up to the Ministry. Now I'm not saying that how you dealt with…err…Fudge was right. But, if you continue to show the courage that you showed today, I'm certain that you will end up in Gryffindor."
James beamed.
~Sirius~
In the heart of London, in the topmost room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, another boy was not smiling. Sirius Black sat on his large goblin-made bed, staring around at his gloomy room. His long raven hair hung into his face, covering his gray eyes.
"UP!" Sirius heard his mother screech. At once, he sprang to his feet and clambered down the stairs to the kitchen, located in the basement.
The rest of his family was sitting at the table that took up most of the room.
His mother, Walaburga, was wearing an elaborate gown. She would've been quite beautiful, had she not been wearing an ugly scowl.
His father, Orion, had his black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was also wearing elegant robes. Sirius's younger brother, Regulus, was a nine-year old version of Orion.
"Mornin'," Sirius muttered.
"Stove!" Walaburga snapped, pointing to the old stove in the corner.
"Yes, it is," Sirius congratulated her, mockingly.
His parents were not amused.
"Cook the breakfast!" Orion demanded.
"Fine!" Sirius snapped back, but he couldn't repress the depressed sigh.
He walked over to the stove. He was barely tall enough to reach the burners, but he managed to pile some eggs into one pan and steak into another.
"You better not burn mine," Regulus threatened.
"Wouldn't dream of it, little brother," Sirius said, sarcastically.
When the steak and eggs were finished, Sirius made himself a pitiful bowl of cold, lumpy, porridge. He ate this at the furthest end of the table as possible from the rest of his family.
Nevertheless, he could still hear his mother say to his father, "Did you hear about that Auror who supposedly 'disappeared'?"
The two laughed, evilly, knowing very well that the Auror was probably murdered.
"Serves her right," Regulus said, his mouth full of steak, "I heard she was a filthy Mudblood!"
"Well said, son," Orion raised his glass.
"How can you say that?" Sirius shot back, angrily, "She doesn't deserve to die, just because she's Muggle-Born!"
His comment was met with three incredulous, fuming looks.
"Shut up and eat your porridge!" his mother shrieked.
Sirius sighed, and like always, obeyed.
He had just finished when his mother stood up, "Follow me, you little wretch!"
Sirius followed her upstairs, apprehensively. He was certain that his outburst at breakfast would cause him, dearly. As they climbed the stairs, Sirius slowed down. Was his mother going to lock him in his room again? And if so, for how long?
However, his mother led him into the drawing room.
"What do you see here?" she said, pointing to a faded tapestry.
"A tapestry," Sirius said, monotonic.
"It is a tapestry of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black," his mother snapped back.
Sirius suppressed a groan.
Walaburga glared at him, "It is an honor to be a Black! Toujours pur! Remember that!"
"How can I forget?" Sirius muttered, "You scream it to me everyday."
"Don't interrupt," Walaburga roared, "Now then, you, like every other member of the Black family, have been accepted to Hogwarts. Whilst there, you WILL remember who you are and you WILL carry out the honor of the Black family."
She paused then hissed, "Or else."
She turned and left Sirius standing there, stunned.
Sirius couldn't help but to do a jump for joy.
In a few months he would be at Hogwarts; away from his precious family and their precious Pure-Blood, Dark Arts beliefs.
For the first time in a while, Sirius grinned.
~Lupin~
Rain was pouring down onto the gray countryside of Britain. Nestled in the dying woods was a small, shabby looking shack. Quite a ways away from the shack was a small cage. Lying in it was a thin, scarred, boy.
Remus Lupin was sleeping on the cold ground. He wasn't clothed, but didn't seemed to notice nor care.
A woman came out of the shack, "Remus dear?" Lupin's mother said softly, "It's morning."
She unlocked the cage and helped Lupin into a scruffy pair of robes, similar to her own. "You poor thing," she cooed, taking in her son's injuries, "Just look at you! Come on, dear, let's get you into the house."
She led her son into the shack. It was pathetic on the inside. A moldy couch sat in the corner. This is where Mrs. Lupin slept. A small splintery table and mismatched chairs sat in another corner, next to a buzzing icebox and coal stove. A lumpy mattress sat against the back wall: where Lupin slept.
Mrs. Lupin gave her son the last bit of bread.
"But Mum," Lupin retorted, "What will you eat?"
"I ate earlier, love," Mrs. Lupin lied. She sat down and took out a newspaper. Unlike her son, Mrs. Lupin was a Muggle. Lupin's father, John, had been a wizard. Unfortunately, he had left several years ago.
Mrs. Lupin sighed, "Oh dear, another disappearance. I always worry with your cage being so far away from the house…"
"Mum, don't worry," Lupin said, aghast at the idea of moving the cage closer, "Besides, no one will want to kidnap a monster."
"Remus Lupin," she said sharply, "You are not a monster. You are…"
She noticed Lupin suppress a yawn and immediately said, "…tired. Come on. Into bed!"
She helped Lupin onto the lumpy mattress. Lupin fell into an uneasy rest. When he woke up, he saw his mother sitting on the couch. Another man was sitting next to her. He was quite old, with several feet of long, silver, hair and a beard. He had half-moon glasses on top of a crooked nose.
"Hello Mr. Lupin," the man said kindly, "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May I talk to you for a minute?"
Lupin nodded, numbly. He followed Professor Dumbledore outside, noting that it was no longer raining.
"How do you sleep?" Professor Dumbledore asked kindly.
"Fine, sir," Lupin said, embarrassed, "I know our house seems a bit…"
He broke off, before mumbling, "Well…my Mum and I are happy."