Disclaimer: If I owned HP, I would have continued the series
Box of Fourteen
Jamie, Jamie, where to begin?
Your Plague is just the start of your sin,
You're a menace, a pest, a waste of space,
Ha, fate can barely look at your face!
James hadn't asked to be a trouble maker; it was in his blood. And his name.
Well, if your name is James Sirius Potter, you'd be expected to live up to your name, like everyone else. And he did.
It may be unbelievable, but he was actually a good boy in his youth. A sweet, innocent boy, that helped his mother bake cakes, and tidied his room, and never failed to impress. A child every parent would want, right? Wrong.
He'd been in the Burrow kitchen, watching Grandma Molly's brownies while the adults talked about adult things, and the younger children played in the garden. Being the good little boy he was, James wasn't prone to eavesdropping, but they had been talking so loud it was impossible to resist.
"He's a lovely boy, Jamie," Grandma Molly cooed, and you could almost feel the beam on her face.
"Not at all what you would expect, considering-" Uncle Ron was interrupted by Aunt Hermione's bossy tone.
"Ronald!" She scolded, and a swat could be heard. "We should be glad, or would you prefer him to wreak hell all over the place?"
"Wreak hell," Uncle George said, and it sounded as though he had been clapped on the head. "Ow! Angelina!"
"You deserved it."
"Yeah but, he's a bit bland isn't he? Same old thing, everyday, every ho-OW!" Another clap.
"I wonder what dad would say if he could see him," Harry said sadly.
"Tad disappointed in him, I'd think, Hermione stop that!"
"Ronald-!"
"It was a joke!"
"It wasn't funny!"
And it certainly wasn't. James - a disappointment? But he was the sweetest child of the lot, well, except from Lily, but she was only little, and all babies were adorable. But still, how could James be a disappointment? What had he done wrong? Had he missed something?
In fact, James was so caught up in his worries, he didn't even notice the thick, black smoke pouring out of the oven, and only when the crackling amber flames had climbed up the wall did he come out of his trance.
He screamed the place down. It took three people to put the flames out, and only when he was being interrogated at thirty decibels did it finally click. Like the final piece to a puzzle, or a light bulb flashing above his head: they wanted him to be bad. They wanted him to cause trouble, to be up to no good. So, instead of answering honestly, he gave a coy smile that would become his signature look in the near future. And left.
Now, aged fifteen, he can barely remember himself as that sweet little boy that did his homework, how the adults saw him a role model, or how they didn't really mean what they said. Now, if you are caught in his presence, you'll be trapped in a never ending circle of chaos with the menace of the underworld.
He won't be a disappointment; he'll wreak havoc like he was spat out from hell itself.
Hi! Based on a reveiw that I got from the lovely Mew (I know you're reading this Mew) for my other story, I did this! So Mew, by the laws of Fanfiction, I dedicate this chapter to you, or even maybe the whole story.
Yes, it will be continued. Have a great day, and check out Mew's Pandora's box challenge on HPFC.
TaTa!