Hogwarts Forever

by: October Sky

Disclaimer: This story was written by a fan of the series and this in no way has to do with the author or publisher.

Chapter One: End of Summer

James Potter awoke with a start on the morning of August 23 with only one thought: in exactly a week he'd be boarding the train to one of the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the country. That one thought was the only thing that kept James alive the whole summer. Although his family was much richer compared to others, that didn't mean that living the life of the rich was fun. His father spent time doing top secret work at the ministry, and he was gone all day and well into the night. James' mother was at home most of the time, but because of her love of gardening, she was hardly ever seen and when she was James had to talk through a wall of dirt to get anything out.

"You up yet James?" Mrs. Potter called from the outside garden.

Groaning, James rolled over in his four poster bed. Eventually his feet found the floor and he stumbled over to his window.

"Yeah mum!" James yelled down to the slim dirt blonde figure by the garden.

"Get down here!" His mom yelled, wiping sweat off her forehead.

His father and mother usually argued over the concept of Muggle gardening , but she insisted on doing it the hard way.

Groaning once more, James soon found himself trudging down the stairs. A few minutes later he was out side in front of a slim woman of about thirty one standing with one hand on her hip and sighing at the sight of James still in his pajamas.

"Why aren't you dressed?" She demanded.

James looked up and down before replying.

"I look dressed enough for me mum," he replied.

Dressed enough to stay upstairs cooped up in you room all day blowing up innocent bugs, creating "experiments", and coming up with knew schemes about on how to wreck the next guest' visit, he thought.

"Go upstairs and get dressed," his mother ordered, "your father will be here in a hour to pick you up."

"Dad?" James asked. "What's he doing home?"

"Surprisingly, they gave him the afternoon off," said his mother, leaning tiredly against a rake, now go get dressed and eat something. "You're going to Diagon Alley."

"Cool!" James exclaimed as he rushed back into the house.

An hour later, James was standing sitting in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron with his dad drinking a large glass of butterbeer, the drink from Heaven in James' opinion.

"I remember my Hogwarts days," his father recalled for about the tenth out of the eleven days he had gotten to spend with James, "those were the good ol days."

"I know dad," moaned James, "you used to fly around after hours all the time and you finally met mum in your third year when she slapped you in the face for asking her on a date to the library."

"Yeah," James' dad sighed, deep in thought, "I was quite the git trying to be cool back then. Nothing much you could do though."

"Lived during the dark ages didn't ya?" James asked through slurps of butterbeer.

"I'm not that old!" His dad protested, though still laughing.

James gave him credit, he knew he had tried. He could tell that much from the dark bags under his eyes and the lazy way he had handled his food and the way he slouched over when he walked.

"So you gave up a day of sleep to take me to buy a bunch of junk in which half of it I'll probably end up not even using?" James asked.

"Don't get all soft on me," his father said, "had to get you suited up sometime. Who knows when the next time your mother will show her face out of the garden. Come, let's go."

The impact of hitting the bright sun kissed town after being in the dark, rusty restaurant darkened James' vision for a few moments, but soon he could clearly see the extravagant shops and millions of last minute school shopping customers.

Let's go over there, said his father, pointing to the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts.

The shop was so filled with customers that it took five minutes just to find two out of the eight books he needed for school. Ten minutes later, they had finally made their way out of the shop and on to the next. This last shop was the one he knew his dad was most dreading: Quality Quidditch Supplies. Though it was true that Mr. Potter had a true passions for Quidditch and was even a Chaser back in his day, he hated that he couldn't send his son to Hogwarts and take on the Potter family Quidditch traditions until James' second year.

"Now James," Mr. Potter started, "you know that-"

"Even if I did get a broom that I couldn't use it at school until second year," James finished for him. "I know! We've been through this a million times!"

James walked dreamily up to the window, making his way through the crowd and landing an upfront peak at the new and improved Lighting Broom. Next to where he stood there was another young boy wearing a faded pair of blue jeans with an equally as old forest green shirt and thin black jacket. He had black hair that hung slightly bellow his ears and seemed to be overdue for a haircut.

"Nice broom, huh?" The young boy said, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

"Yeah," said James, who was already dreaming of soaring through the sky and chasing the tiny Golden Snitch, which he would undoubtedly catch in a matter of moments on this broom.

"You play Quidditch?" The boy asked, not taking his eyes off the broom.

"All the time," James replied, you?

"Whenever I can swipe Regulus' broom," the boy replied.

"Who?" James inquired.

"My younger brother," he replied.

"He has a broom and you don't?" James asked, not following his story.

"Family matters," the boy shrugged, turning away, "see ya around."

"Yeah," said James, starring after the boy.

"Were you talking to that Black kid?" Mr. Potter asked as James made his way back to him.

"Never said his name," James replied, "but I guess. He said he had a brother named Regulus. Do you know them?"

"They're very well known, but not with a good reputation," Mr. Potter said, "but I have heard the eldest son, Sirius, was alright. Big Quidditch fan. He also had a uncle, Alphard, who had a daughter, Andromeda, who turned out good enough. Both are disowned by the family."

"Is Sirius?" James asked. He recalled the old looking clothes the boy had worn and the dreamy way he had looked at the brand new broom- as if it could've been the best present in the world and one he could never imagine being able to afford.

"No," said his father, "poor kid. Surely not the Slytherin type, but no doubt he's being pressured at home by it."

"So he's going to Hogwarts next year then?" James wondered out loud.

"Yeah," said Mr. Potter, "not very much older than you I expect."

"Cool," James muttered to himself, starring at the spot that Sirius had just been at.