Author's note: I do not own any of these wonderful characters(apart from a few characters) or the school or the world. They belong to J.K Rowling. This is not authorised by J.K Rowling or Warner Bros.
Chapter 1.0-Letters
James's POV:
The wonderful aroma of bacon frying wafted all through the cottage. James woke up slowly, keeping his eyes shut at first, letting the delicious smell fill him up. He opened his eyes a crack, then immediately shut them, screwing his face up against the morning sun peeping through the curtains. Maybe he would just roll over and go back to sleep…but the smell was just too good to ignore.
James emerged in the kitchen, his normally tousled hair made worse by sleep. He rubbed his eyes before sitting at the table next to his father, who was reading the weekend edition of the Daily Prophet. The kitchen, which was a light, friendly room at any time, was made all the more inviting thanks to the customary Saturday breakfast being laid out on the table by James's mother.
"Good morning, lazybones," Dorea Potter smiled at her only son.
"You do know it's nearly nine o'clock? I thought I'd have to come and wake you up!" Charlus Potter looked up from his paper and smiled at the sight of the mouth-watering breakfast that his wife was directing from the bench to the table with her wand.
"Jamie, sleep through breakfast? We'll never see the day," he laughed.
"And no wonder! How many boys get a breakfast like this to welcome them to their weekend?" Dorea smiled warmly at her husband, and he stood up from his chair to peck her on the cheek. James grinned and picked out the biggest piece of bacon he could find, followed by two sausages, a hash brown, a fried egg and (after a look from his mother) half a tomato.
"It's brilliant, Mum," he said through a mouthful of egg. "Always is." Dorea smiled again as she joined her husband and son at the table.
"Then again," Charlus continued, "for Jamie, the weekend is the same as any other day. No school, no work, nothing to do but laze about. Ah, to be eleven again. Maybe you could donate some of your weekend to me, son. I certainly could do with some extra time off; I'm not as young as I used to be." Dorea laughed.
James looked at his father. True, he did seem to be getting more grey hair every day. James has never thought of either of his parents as old, but they weren't as young as many of the children's parents he saw in the village. He dismissed the thought and continued mowing his way through his breakfast.
"Ooh, but soon enough he'll need his weekends just as much as you!" Dorea said to her husband.
"He'll spend his week working hard, learning all sorts of new things, things he'd never learn being lazy round here! Isn't that right, Jamie?"
James's stomach did a flip-flop, just like it always did when he thought of his impending start at HogwartsSchool of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He wasn't nervous – well, if he was completely honest with himself, he was, a little; but his gastric gymnastics were more down to anxiety, excitement, and the longing he felt to be going to Hogwarts after all this time. James glanced at the calendar, as he always did when he thought of Hogwarts. It was the middle of July; the first of September was creeping closer. Dorea saw her son looking worriedly at the calendar and smiled.
"It'll be here any day now, Jamie," she said comfortingly. James certainly hoped so. If felt like he had been waiting for weeks – every time an owl turned up, his stomach would fill with butterflies, but so far the owls had on brought notes from mother's friends, or memos from Dad's work. He'd been waiting what for what seemed like forever, but still no Hogwarts letter! The Potters finished their special Saturday breakfast quickly.
When they'd all finished, Charlus went back to his paper, Dorea set the scrubbing brush to work on the pots and pans, and James wandered into the living room, thinking he might turn on the wireless to try and catch the Quidditch scores. He fervently hoped the Cannons had managed to beat the Tornadoes… But just as he tuned into the right station, he heard his mother joyfully calling is name.
"Jamie! Jamie! Oh, we're so proud –" James rushed back into the kitchen, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tawny owl fly out the kitchen window. Then his focus moved to his mother, who was holding a yellowish envelope out to him. He took the envelope from her hands and stared at it. His name and address were written on the front in green ink. This was it! His hands shook as he tore open the envelope, and as he pulled out the letter inside, his stomach back-flipped.
"Read it out, son." His father said. James looked up at his parents and grinned.
"Dear Mr Potter," he began,
"We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at HogwartsSchool of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July."
James looked up at his parents, who were watching him with obvious pride. As if they hadn't seen it coming! His family was from a long line of wizards; James had grown up knowing that he would eventually get a letter informing him of his enrolment at Hogwarts. But obviously the fact that it had finally happened was getting to his parents just as much as it was getting to him.
"Well, let's have a look at that equipment list," his mother said, holding out her hand James passed it over, still staring at the piece of paper bearing the wonderful news. "Okay, well, sweetie, we can get all of this in Diagon Alley. If you want we can go tomorrow, I've been needing to go for awhile now anyway… "But James wasn't really hearing his mother's plans. The only thing occupying his mind was the thought of finally doing what he had dreamed of; he was finally going where countless other witches and wizards had gone before him; he was going to learn how to cast spells and make potions and all sots of other things… He was going to Hogwarts!
