A/N

Obviously, none of the characters are mine.

For the record, I am usually a fan of sticking to canon, and I am aware that canonically James and Sirius were friends from the start. But I found little Sirius in DH pretty unconvincing. At the end of the day, he grew up in the epicenter of pureblood supremacy – I find it hard to believe that he sat up at age ten and thought, "Wow, my mom is batshit crazy; I think I want to be a Gryffindor." Overall, I just got the impression that Jo wrote him like that because the real story was about Snape and Lily, and she wanted to set the stage for maximum animosity in record time. But if one wanted to focus on Sirius as his own character, one would have to admit that he must have undergone some radical change of views at some point, and Grimmauld Place seems like an unlikely sort of place to have a major epiphany of liberality.

Anyway, little James has gotten such bad coverage since the Order of the Phoenix that I just had to write a more sympathetic version. I'd like to think that he was a basically nice kid who happened to end up as a jock and wasn't sufficiently well-grounded to deal with it with much grace.

"Good luck, James. Don't be afraid." Mrs Potter tried to smooth down the errant black hair to no avail. Her heart clenched at the thought of her beloved only son leaving to go to school. "You can write every day, and you'll be home for Christmas."

"I'll be OK, Mom." James squirmed under the attention and seemed desperate to prove that he could cope, but he did feel a little nervous. He might wish to be a brave boy, but he was still only eleven, and he would miss his comfortable home.

He looked around, trying to see if there was anyone he might befriend. He had always been popular, but perhaps school would be different. He was not sure what attributes were considered a big deal at Hogwarts.

His gaze fell upon a slender boy with light brown hair and milky skin. His father looked distracted and was not buzzing with excitement as Mr Potter was. His robes looked worn and were clearly second-hand, and his trunk was far smaller than average. His mother was nowhere to be seen.

James noticed all this and prepared to look away; he pitied the other boy, but the image he created was rather unprepossessing. But something else struck him, and he regarded him again in a new light. The boy's back was quite straight, and his amber eyes were clear and unabashed. He clearly felt no shame at his rather obvious disadvantages. James was a perceptive boy and he somehow sensed that this was neither an act of bravado nor a display of ignorance; this child simply knew his situation and had accepted it.

James had always admired bravery; his room was plastered with posters of Quidditch players performing perilous moves. But for the first time he understood that there was another, quieter sort of courage that had nothing to do with danger or heroism. He was filled with admiration for this display of confidence.

Suddenly his nervousness evaporated. He would be like the pale boy and show courage in being who he was. He approached him while his mother fussed again with his trunk.

"Hi. I'm James Potter. Are you a first year too?"

"Hello. I'm Remus Lupin. Yes, I'm also starting this year." His voice was soft but quite steady.

"Are you nervous? I am – I've never left home before, but my dad said I'll have a super time. I can't wait to be Sorted and see ghosts and learn spells and …" His voice trailed off as he realized he was babbling with excitement, which was very uncool. But he felt better when he saw the small spark of enthusiasm mirrored in Remus's eyes.

"Yes, it is really wonderful. I never thought I'd be able to go to Hogwarts."

James looked at his new friend quizzically. "I thought all witches and wizards were accepted to Hogwarts automatically?"

Though it should hardly have been possible, Remus went a shade paler. "I am sometimes ill and it might have made it difficult for me to go away to school. But I hope that I will be fine." His speech was unusually precise for a child of eleven.

James was about to inquire about Remus's illness – he was almost never ill himself and found it quite interesting. But his father's voice interrupted him. "James, come over here and help me with your trunk."

Mr Potter was an exceptionally kind father. But he was also known for being very stubborn, and one of the things that he insisted on without fail was that James always attempted everything himself. James was to learn to be a man, and that meant making an effort. Once he had done so, his father was happy to spend any amount of time or money to help him. So now, though he was a young, strong man and could easily lift James's trunk himself, he called over his son to help him.

"I have to go help my father." James could not suppress the note of pride in his voice as he excused himself from Remus. "I'll see you on the train?"

Remus nodded and James hurried away. Once his trunk was safely stowed away, he returned to the platform to see his mother again. As he approached her, he noticed Remus gamely tugging along his trunk bit by bit – if it were not so small he would not have managed at all. His father ignored his struggles, staring vaguely into the distance. James ran over. "Can I help you?"

Remus looked taken aback, but smiled and pointed out the other handle. Together, they lifted the trunk into James's compartment. Looking out the window, James saw the most enormous trunk he could imagine being carried across the platform by four house-elves, who looked rather exhausted. They were being directed by a tall, handsome woman who shrieked every time they stumbled. The boy who followed her had long black hair and was ignoring the whole scene completely. He caught James's eyes and smiled slightly. A moment later, James saw the man who laid a hand on his shoulder, who surely must be the long-haired boy's father. He recognized him instantly and gasped. That was Mr Black, with whom James's father had had many arguments. He had been to their home, and James had been shocked to hear his father raise his voice. Afterward, he had sat his son down and explained that there were some wizards who believed things that could hurt other people. One of those beliefs that was very common was that Muggle-borns were not as good as other wizards, and Mr Black was someone who believed that and had a large influence in the magical community. He had told James that the time would come when he would have to decide whether he truly cared about others or not - James was not sure he totally understood this, but he had been filled with pride at his father's faith in him. He turned away to Remus.

"Is your mum working? Is that why she is not here?" he asked, eager to know more about his new friend.

"No" Remus answered. "She left my father and me a few years ago and I have not seen her in a long time." His soft voice was matter-of-fact, but there was a fleeting shade of sadness in his deep eyes.

"I'm sorry" muttered James, looking at his feet. He felt rather confused – he did not understand this boy, who seemed to have nothing and yet seemed so placid and content.

"Don't be" replied Remus. "It's not your fault. Do you want to play a game?" He too seemed keen to lighten the mood.

"I have Exploding Snap in my bag, but I want to go say goodbye to my parents first. Are you coming too?"

The two boys climbed back to the platform, but Remus's father had already gone. He followed James over to the Potters and watched their affectionate farewell. James introduced him to his parents. They looked surprised, but shook his hand kindly and wished him a pleasant term.