James
James sat back comfortably in his seat. This was the life. Last year he had been a scared little kid (he admitted this strictly only to himself) heading to Hogwarts for the first time. Albus could whine all he liked – he already had a brother at the school. He had it easy; hadn't James spent the entire summer holidays making sure the damp little drip knew all the rules, written and unwritten? Maybe he had added a couple of extra, just for fun – James smiled at the memory of Albus leaping up and saluting every time the headmistress's name was mentioned – but still, Albus was lucky. A second son of 'The Boy Who Lived' was never going to be as big a deal. Surely everyone except for the first years had now stared their fill? He had Rose in his year too, and while she was an annoying little know-it-all at least she'd be company. He got stuck with Frederick who was a total weirdo. If James could have disowned him he would have, but one of the perils of fame was that people knew your family. Still, Percy was barely even part of the family, or so James'd been able to hint to those who crowded around him. Uncle George might make a ridiculous fuss of Freaky Frederick – James would have loved just one of the parcels Frederick got almost weekly – but James knew what Harry Potter thought of his dad. James shook his head and reached for another sugar quill. Why on earth was he thinking about Frederick - or Albus?
From the seat across Patrick Finnigan called, "Oy!" and James grinned and passed the box over. This was the best bit about going back as a second year – mates. Pat, Ahmed Merkle and Simon Bones were all crammed in the little carriage with him. A footy magazine, two Quidditch pennants, a whole crumple of sweet wrappers and four sets of discarded robes filled in any spaces between the boys, four trunks, two owls and a cat. Back at school there'd be the whole of second year and whether Gryffindor, stuck-up Ravenclaw, dunder-headed Hufflepuff or even Slytherin, he was looking forward to seeing them.