A/N- I don't own anything in this, all Harry Potter world is belonging to JK Rowling, only only new characters in this chapter are the Potters' house elf and James' owl.

Please review, I need feedback.

Walburga and Orion Black, of number 12 Grimauld Place, were proud to say they were descended from a very old family. They had no time for mudbloods or blood traitors, and the entire community was aware of this.

Orion Black could often be seen stopping in at the Ministry to offer his opinions on current matters and attend meetings with the Minister, these often involved large donations from the Black Family vault. He was a pale, narrow faced man with jet black hair and a dour personality. Walburga had sunken black eyes that judged everyone she met and held her pointed nose high in the air, which helped her to look down on those beneath her, that being, in her opinion, everyone. The Blacks had two sons, Sirius Orion and Regulus Arcturus, who they raised to follow the family motto Toujours Pur, or always pure.

The 3rd of November was a dull grey Tuesday, but Sirius Black woke with the excited energy of any boy on his eleventh birthday. He leapt out of bed and raced into his brother's room. "Reg you gotta wake up!" cried Sirius leaping onto his little brother's bed "it's my birthday! I'm eleven!"

"Hap' birfday Siri, geroff," Regulus mumbled, pulling his covers over his head and burrowing back into the warmth.

"Come on Reg, get up," urged Sirius, just as Regulus was inexplicably launched out of his bed. "You know you're not allowed to do that, it's not fair, I wish I could control it like you'd I," Regulus scrabbled up rubbing his shoulder from where he had landed. "I don't know what you mean, it's 'accidental' magic," Sirius feigned innocence, "but since you're up, let's go see if my letter is here!"

Sirius grabbed he younger boy's hand and dragged him from his bedroom, down the dark staircase to the dank sitting room, decorated in grey and green like the rest of the house, where their parents sat waiting for their breakfast to be served to the by Kreacher, the house elf of number 12 Grimauld Place. The two boys burst into the room, and stopped suddenly as though hitting an invisible wall, they knew better than to be boisterous around their mother, who believed children should be seen and not heard, unless she was educating them on pure blood etiquette. "Morning Mother," Sirius cried, barely able to hide his excitement, "morning Father, have we had any owls this morning?"

"The only owl that has arrived this morning was delivering my newspaper," Sirius' father replied, glancing up from that morning's issue of the Daily Prophet, "you are expecting something?"

"Yes, yes my Hogwarts letter, I'm eleven now, and when you turn eleven you are eligible to attend Hogwarts and they send you out a letter, and since it's my birthday and I turned eleven I should get my letter today so that I can go to Hogwarts!"

"Calm yourself Sirius," Walburga said sternly, "your Hogwarts letter will not be here for months, they are not sent out until June before you attend. Frankly I'm not convinced I want you attending Hogwarts with the mudblood lover Dumbledore as Headmaster."

"Oh but mother, I simply must attend Hogwarts, it is by far the greatest school, Blacks have always learned at Hogwarts."

The conversation was interrupted at that point when the house elf entered the room struggling under the weight of an over sized tray laden with breakfast for Mr and Mrs Black. "You two may follow Kreacher into the kitchen where he will prepare you breakfast," allowed Walburga, "oh and happy birthday Sirius, we shall take you to Diagon Alley this morning where you may buy your gift."

"Can I get my wand too? You know, so I can start practising and prove how Black's are the superior family," Sirius knew exactly what to say to persuade his mother to do what he wanted.

"Well, in order to prove the nobility of the House of Black, I suppose that would be a good idea. Yes, you may get you wand as well, we will visit Ollivander's whilst we are in Diagon Alley."

"Thank you Mother." With this Sirius grabbed Regulus by the hand and raced into the kitchen to have Kreacher prepare their breakfast.

It was half past nine in the morning when a loud tapping woke James Potter from his sleep in. Blinking groggily he lifted his head off his pillow to find a large and elegant looking eagle owl, tapping its beak against his window. James did not recognise the owl, but rushed over and allowed the large bird to fly into his room where it promptly dropped a heavy yellow envelope on his pillow and flew back out the window. Whilst he was used to owls bringing his mail, the arrival of this particular letter had put James into a frenzy of excitement. "Mum, Dad, it's here, it arrived!" he cried out to his parents as he raced from his room down stairs to the large lounge room where his mother sat knitting a gold and scarlet scarf.

"What is that you have there James?" asked Euphemia Potter softly, as the boy shot into the room and started bouncing on his toes in front of her.

"Where's Dad? He needs to be here for this too!"

"Your father is outside, degnoming the garden," replied Mrs Potter with a smile, she recognised the heavy envelope with the purple wax seal, "sit here with me and we will send Cerus for him." At that a loud crack announced the appearance of the house elf in question.

"Did Mistress Euphy need Cerus to do something?" asked the elf, her large golden eyes looking eagerly to the lady of the house.

"Yes dear, could you please find Fleamont in the garden and ask him to join the three of us in here?"

"The three of you ma'am? Cerus only sees two of you here ma'am?"

"Of course, you will join us Cerus, this is an important letter, you must be here for its opening too." The elf's face broke into a large smile and with a loud crack she disappeared to find James' father, who very soon came rushing through the doorway.

"What's wrong? What has my troublesome prodigy done now?"

"Nothing Monty, nothing at all," grinned Euphemia, thinking of the pranks that James and Fleamont often pulled on each other, or occasionally on her, "just sit down while James opens the letter that has arrived for him."

Fleamont's eyes darted from his wife to the letter clutched in James' hands, to his son, whose resemblance to himself was so similar right down to he messy black hair that neither of them could ever get under control. "Ah, the letter, yes of course, about time," he sighed taking a seat on the large leather lounge beside his wife. Cerus was quietly standing beside Euphemia, the tips of her ears barely reaching the top of Mrs Potter's knees, her large eyes eagerly watching James as he tore open the letter and pulled out two sheets of the same parchment the envelope was made from, he held them up and announced to the room.

"Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin - First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr Potter,

We are please to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Dept. Headmistress"

James stood there, his eyes flashing across the page as he read and reread the letter he had been waiting to receive for the last two months since turning eleven.

"Well? What are you standing there for son?" asked Fleamont in an amused voice.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I'm surprised you made it through the whole letter without dashing back up the stairs and sending Virtus back to Min-er I mean Professor McGonagall, you do wish to attend Hogwarts do you not?"

"YES OF COURSE," cried James, spinning on his heel and sprinting out of the room, the parchment abandoned on the floor.

Euphemia turned to look fondly at Fleamont, with small tears in the corners of her twinkling eyes, "Well, it's happened at last, he's growing up, off to Hogwarts in little more than two months, those poor teachers." Me Potter reached out at grasped her hand gently in his, "Oh they will handle him, Minerva told you about the Prewert twins, she managed them alright, and there is only one of James."

In the short time this exchange took, James had returned, ink smudges on his fingers, and curiously, on his forehead. He bent down and picked up the letter again, reading through his book list mumbling to himself "Black robes...Standard book of Spells...Fantastic Beasts...WHAT?!"

"What is wrong James?" his mother enquired with concern.

"Parents are reminded that first years are not permitted their own broomsticks," moaned James, "What is this? How am I meant to be the greatest chaser Hogwarts has ever seen if I'm not allowed my own broomstick?"

Mr Potter chuckled aloud at his son's outrage, "James, we told you that you would have to wait until second year to try out for the team, remember?" he reasoned, "This rule has been around for over 50 years, you will still get to attend flying lessons and you can watch the older students play against the other houses, if you get to know them, you might even be able to go to their practices." James just glared at the list in front of him, grumbling to himself about the injustice of it, and how disadvantage Gryffindor team will be without him.

"Well then James," Mrs Potter said trying to distract the boy from his disappointment, "do you want to get dressed so we can head to Diagon Alley and get your school supplies, you must be excited for your wand?"