Chapter Two: A New Beginning

It had forever been a joke amongst the residents of Grimmauld Place to tell newcomers to be sure to visit 'Number Twelve' whilst they were there, a joke that many agreed had long since outlived its humor. Yet for some reason it never ceased to amuse them when the befuddled visitors spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find where the house was located. It seemed like a simple enough task, until they noticed that the building to the right of Number Eleven Grimmauld Place was in fact Number Thirteen Grimmauld Place.

Because, there was no Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, as an amusing mistake of the town committee had incorrectly marked what should have been Number Twelve as Number Thirteen, and continued onward from there. Of course, it was a rather poor excuse for a joke, but after all these years it was still a favorite of those who called the cul-de-sac home.

However, other than these rather humorous engagements, the residents of Grimmauld Place rarely thought of the numerical anomaly. There was simply no Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place and that was all there was to it. Of course, it was fun to use the quirk to confuse other people, but there was not much use in wasting their time thinking about it. After all, what good would it do to pay so much undue attention to a little curiosity such as this.

However, sometimes some odd folk showed up in Grimmauld Place with no other intentions than to view the strange gap between Buildings Eleven and Thirteen. The place where, if there had been more than a sliver of space, Number Twelve would have logically have been found. Always they were very strange folk too; they wore strange cloaks and never spoke to any of the residents. It was as though these people found the fact that there was no Number Twelve to be an unacceptable lapse of logic, and were determined to rectify the problem in whatever way they could. And even more peculiar, they seemed to vanish into thin air the instant that anyone tried to go ask them why they were there.

However, what the residents of Grimmauld Place did not know, was that there in fact was a Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place and that amazingly enough it was concealed in that place between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen. The House had been concealed from the eyes of Muggles so long ago that no one could remember a time when it had been visible for all to see. For the people who lived in this house were Wizards … and ones who had more pressing concerns than a neighbor coming by and asking to borrow a cup of sugar.

Originally, the house had been concealed for purposed of protection, as the residents of Number Twelve had seen its halls play home to two great wars; but though both Wizarding Wars were now over, the occupants of Number Twelve had kept the enchantments in place to maintain some semblance of privacy. For you see, the residents of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place were not normal by any means – not even by the standards of Wizards. In fact, they were about as far from normal as it was humanly possible to be.

On the Third Floor of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, a pair of chocolate brown eyes cracked open as light peeking through the curtains broke over his face. Ordinarily, the boy would have been groggy and slow to awake – trying as many children would to drag out every precious second of sleep that he could – but today was a very special day. The day that he had been looking forward to ever since he had been old enough to understand who and what he truly was had come at last.

There would be no sleeping in on this morning, this was a day that was going to be the most important day of his entire life, and he was not going to miss a minute of it because of something as silly as sleep!

So rather than laze about and resume sleeping until his mum came by and dragged him out of his bed, the boy jumped out of bed after shaking the sleep from his head. He had had that same dream again: the one that he would be living soon enough, if everything went the way it was supposed to.

But why wouldn't it? There was not even the slightest reason to suspect that anything would happen differently. Today was just a formality really, just having what he already knew confirmed for him. Still, it was a rite of passage, and as far as the boy was concerned it was just as important as the real thing.

Rushing over to his dresser, the boy glanced in the mirror for only an instant before scrambling about his room to getting dressed as fast as he possibly could. His dark brown hair – which was less than a shade away from being completely black – was an absolute wreck, but that was to be expected. There was nothing he could do about that, and so he instead proceeded to tug up his jeans despite the mirror's indignant shouts of "Comb your hair you animal!"

Perhaps most people would have been alarmed if their mirror began criticizing their sense of style, or lack thereof, but this was a familiar experience for him after all of these years. Rolling his eyes at the Enchanted Mirror, the boy pulled his jumper, which was the same shade of brown as his eyes except for the golden 'J' sewn in the center of it.

Satisfied with his appearance, the boy rushed downstairs, not bothering to stop and greet his younger brother, who was walking towards the bathroom rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Hey what're you doin …?" the younger boy began, no doubt wondering why his older brother was up early for what was probably the first time in his life.

"No time, gotta go!" was the hasty reply, drawing an exasperated shake of the head from the younger boy as he remembered the only thing that could possibly have gotten his brother out of bed before ten o' clock on a Saturday.

Leaving his brother behind, the older brother reached the kitchen, and saw his parents discussing something quietly over cups of coffee. His father, whose equally untidy black hair hung down nearly to his vibrant green eyes was glancing upwards every few moments as though waiting for something; while his mother, whose flaming red hair was tied back in a pony-tail, was glancing down at the Prophet as she spoke.

Ordinarily, he would have tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but today he had more important things in mind. "Did it come! Did it come?" the boy asked, jumping up on the countertop looking for even the slightest trace of parchment. Mischief making and the like could wait for now, there were important matters to discuss and letters to read!

After exchanging a knowing look with his mother, the boy's father looked up at the ceiling and said in a forced tone of concern "You know, I don't think it did. Maybe you just didn't get in." but the boy was not having any of it. On an ordinary day he would have delighted in going on with such a joke, but this was serious business!

"Yes it did! Yes it did!" the boy exclaimed, now practically shaking with suppressed anticipation. The result was almost comical as his disheveled hair flew around even more wildly than usual.

With a laugh, his father decided that it would be best to stop torturing his son as he extracted a parchment envelope from behind his back and handed it to his eldest son saying with a grin "You knew it was going to, so will you calm down already?" his face glowing with pride as he said so.

The second that the envelope had entered the boy's sight, he had neither eyes nor ears for anything else. He barely even heard the words that his father had said to him, he was far too busy staring at the small parchment envelope in his hand as though it were the Holy Grail itself! There was only one thought in the boy's head, as all others were immediately swept aside, and it was an unrestrained mental shout of 'Yes!'

But he would not allow himself that luxury just yet, he had to see it for himself, he had to hold it in his own hands before he would believe that it was real. And so before another word had escaped from his father's lips, he grabbed the envelope from him and immediately tore it open, removing the sheet of parchment inside with the utmost of reverence. Hands trembling with excitement, he read the letter, scarcely breathing as he did so.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

The boy did not need to read on, he let out a yell of excitement and hugged his parents – something which he would fervently deny having ever done only hours later – he was going to Hogwarts, just like he had always dreamed he would … no, just like he'd always known he would.

It took a good ten minutes to finally calm the boy enough to get him to stand still in one place for more than three seconds. He had kept looking at the letter in his hands again, as though trying to memorize every word on it. His moment was here at last, yet he was still nervous that it was all going to disappear right in front of him.

"Good job son." his father said to him the moment he was sure he was actually listening, the pride evident in his voice. "We always knew that you'd be going someday, just like us. I hope you don't mind, we already wrote back to enroll you." an idea which he clearly thought rather funny for some reason.

The boy could do nothing but laugh, did he mind, was that what his father had really said? Of course he didn't mind! Nothing was going to bother him today, because he was finally old enough to go to Hogwarts and learn magic just like his parents! This was what he had waited for all of his life, dreamed of every waking moment. His Godbrother had told him all sorts of amazing things about the Castle, and he had even bullied some information about his older cousins, but now he would have the chance to go for himself!

His father seemed to understand his speechlessness, so he smiled and ruffled his hair, which certainly did not need to be messed up any further, saying "Well, we're going to have to head down to Diagon Alley before we catch our Portkey, we may not have time once we get back."

At first the boy looked at his father blankly, what was all of this talk about a Portkey, for students took the train to Hogwarts, as every young witch and wizard knew. But his father had said something about not having time when they 'got back', so he could not have been talking about the train. All of the excitement was making it hard for him to think straight, until it finally hit him with all the force of a speeding Bludger.

When it finally hit him the boy was shocked with himself for ever having been confused in the first place, for how in the world could he have ever forgotten? They were going to Ireland next week to see the Final Match of the Quidditch World Cup! His father had managed to get tickets for the Match, which would pit England against Italy, and the whole family had been looking forward to it since March!

He had probably been more excited than anyone else, loving Quidditch as much as he did, but he had been so caught up with getting his letter that he had totally forgotten about the whole thing! And in a family like theirs, being the most excited about anything pertaining to Quidditch was saying something very significant. Their family practically breathed Quidditch!

As if it had not taken his parents long enough to calm him down after receiving his Hogwarts Acceptance Letter, the boy was now right back there again. Now though, he was not just looking forward to being able to go to Hogwarts, but to top it all off he was going to see the Quidditch World Cup in just a few short weeks? Could life get any better?

Confident that this was the best day of his life, the boy pumped his fist in excitement and said "England's going to win right dad? They're the best team ever!" he exclaimed, before catching a pointed glance from his father and adding "Even though they don't have anyone as good as you anymore Mummy."

It was very rare that he ever called his mum 'mummy' anymore, unless he was in deep deep trouble, or he was trying to get on her good side for the day. At the moment however, he was just trying to make sure that he didn't end up in the kind of situation that his Uncle had been in last Christmas. His mum might not be all that big, but when she got angry she was downright scary! In fact, he was more scared of his mum than he was of his dad, and that was saying something!

His mother had played for the English Quidditch Team back before he was born, and had Captained England to their first World Cup victory in several centuries, a fact which everyone made sure to mention every time he held still long enough for him to mention. Still, it wasn't like he minded, he was proud that his mum was a famous Quidditch Star, that was actually a cool thing to be famous for!

The boy was about to ask his mum whether she thought that England could possibly win without her, but at that moment there was a thudding sound behind them as someone came trudging down the stairs. The boy spun around instinctively, though he already knew without any doubt who it was that was making their way down the stairs.

And sure enough his brother, the spitting image of their father, emerged sleepy eyed and drowsy a moment later; meandering lazily into the kitchen before being scooped up by their mother. Unlike his brother, who was alert and excited, the younger boy was barely awake; his striking green eyes barely visible as squints underneath his mess of black hair. "He got it then?" the boy asked sleepily, it was clear that he had never doubted the arrival of his brother's letter.

Unable to resist the chance to gloat, the boy replied "You bet your (toy) broomstick I got it! Are you jealous little bro? I'm going to Hogwarts, and you're gonna be stuck here all year having your hand held by mum!" His little brother was his favorite target for teasing and pranks, but the two were also very close, and privately he wondered what he was going to do at Hogwarts without his brother around to keep him company.

The younger boy's bright green eyes filled with tears, for in fact, he was very jealous of his older brother who got to go to Hogwarts a full year before he did. But more than that, he knew he was going to miss the older boy terribly, despite his constant teasing of him. Besides, he was also afraid that his brother was going to forget about him while he was at school.

But still, he couldn't just take that a shot like that lying down! Something had to be said, though he was never as good at one liners and comebacks as his brother was. "Yea, I'm sure I'll be jealous of you slaving away over textbooks all day and getting your head shoved into toilets by little girls!" he said, poking his head up out of his mother's lap to get a better view of his brother.

It was rather striking to see the two brothers going back and forth like this, because their physical appearances were so strikingly similar, and yet so entirely different. If you didn't know what to look for, the boy's were all but indistinguishable. Though separated by a year, they were virtually the same height and build, and they both had the same messy crop of dark hair atop their heads.

But to those who knew what they were looking for, there was no way they could ever mistake the brothers for one another, a fact which the elder brother was quite happy for. To anyone who was paying attention, his brother's green eyes and jet black hair stood in sharp contrast to his own brown eyes, and hair that was thankfully just a few shades lighter than his brothers'.

"You would know all about that seeing as you're such a pansy that you couldn't stand up to a six year old." He retorted, referring to an incident just a few days before when their youngest cousin had sent his brother running off in fear.

"Oh that doesn't count!" the smaller boy protested, now practically trying to stand up on their mother's lap as he shouted back "And besides you're the one who started running away the moment that you thought she was on to what we were doing!" This conversation was most definitely headed the wrong way, not because of anything that was going on between the brothers, but because their mother did not yet know about the incident to which they were referring.

And knowing the way their mother got when they picked on their younger cousins, that was most definitely a situation that they did not want to find themselves in this close to the World Cup. Fortunately though, she seemed not to notice as she grabbed the both of their attentions with a swift interruption.

"Alright that's enough!" the boys' mother said, never one to tolerate her sons' arguments and fighting. "If you two don't cut this nonsense out right now, neither one of you is going to come with us to the World Cup! I swear I'll leave both of you with Grandma, and you'll have to hear about what happened from your sister!"

Nothing could have shut the boys up faster than those words, as both brothers immediately fell silent, but still glared at each other intently. "Well, it's a start." Their mother said with a sigh, almost laughing at the murderous expressions on her sons' faces as she set down her younger son and set to making breakfast for the family.

Honestly, what with the way those two got sometimes she was surprised that they hadn't killed each other! Of course it wasn't for lack of trying, as she had witnessed on far too many occasions. It never ceased to amaze her how the two could go from being the best of friends to the fiercest of enemies and back in a matter of moments. She knew that her relationship with her siblings had been far from simple, but surely it had not been this insane?

"MUMMY!" came the terrified shout of her younger son, no doubt coming as a result of some clever idea on the part of her eldest which was going to make a lot of work for her. Shaking her head angrily, she turned around saying angrily "I told you two to stop fighting!"

When would they ever learn?

Later that night, alone in his bedroom, the brown-haired boy took the letter out of his pocket, re-reading it for the thousandth time, as though to convince himself that it was actually real. He was not one for reading, but he felt that he could read that piece of parchment over and over again every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of seeing the words that were carefully printed upon it.

He had seen his father's letter once, though his father kept it locked away safely most of the time as though it were a priceless artifact, which indeed it as well have been for all he was concerned. And he had, of course, demanded to see the letters when his older cousins had gone to Hogwarts for the first time, but there was something different about seeing his own name atop the scrap of parchment.

Though he had not actually done anything to reach this moment other than having been born, the boy could not help but feel a sense of deep pride and accomplishment. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had better look out, because he was going to show each and every student in that Castle how a real wizard got it done!

It did not matter that he was only eleven years old, it did not matter that he was so short that several of his younger cousins towered over him, and it did not matter that he didn't know so much as a scrap of magic. From the moment that he set foot in that school, he was going to own each and every inch of it!

He knew that he was going to Hogwarts with atmospherically high expectations being placed on him by people whom he had never met. He knew that everyone was expecting him to be some kind of amazing super-kid like his father had been, but he did not allow that prospect to bother him all that much. It would not be long before they realized that he was not his father, and that he did not need to be. He could be his own person, and they were just going to have to deal with that.

And of course, if there was anyone who was not ok with the fact that he was not his father in any capacity, he always had his Godbrother waiting in the wings to lay down the law! Teachers and Slytherins of Hogwarts, tremble in fear because your days are numbered! For this was a rule breaking duo who were not going to settle for just being normal pranksters, they were going to blow the roof off of that Castle! Together – he was certain – they would do things that not even the most daring of pranksters had ever dared to attempt before!

OK, so he would be lying if he tried to say that he had never once thought about his father's legacy, and whether or not he was ever going to be able to escape the gigantic shadow which he had cast over their entire family. It was a name that was difficult to live up to, but there was no reason for him to suspect that he would not be able to make a name for himself too!

After all, he was not just an ordinary kid, he had done some pretty impressive stuff himself and he was only eleven years old! If what his father had said in his stories was anything to go by, the most impressive thing he had ever done by the time he had turned eleven was accidentally sick a boa constrictor on his cousin, and as much of a prat as that guy was it certainly was not anything to be that impressed about.

OK, and there had been that whole matter of defeating the greatest wizard of all time when he was just a baby, but who honestly paid attention to those kinds of things? It wasn't like he had done something really amazing like …

But the more he thought about it, the more the boy realized that there was really no way that he was ever going to be able to do those kinds of things. Who was he kidding, trying to tell himself that there was nothing impressive about defeating the most infamous Dark Wizard of all time because it didn't involve any rule breaking? That was just a lie he told himself so that he wouldn't spend every night tossing and turning about the fear of not mattering.

So maybe that was how it was going to be. Maybe most people would expect him to never live to be anything more than the son of the most famous wizard of all time. Maybe there was not much chance of him ever doing anything to hold so much as a candle to the roaring inferno that was his father's fame.

But he knew one thing more certainly than anything else, and it was this thought that he held most dear in times like this. Maybe there was no evil Dark Wizard for him to defeat, maybe the world did not need to be saved by him, and maybe there was no battle being waged around him. But he was going to make an impact one way or another!

Sure, maybe he would never be as famous as his father, in fact that was all but certain, but that did not matter to him anymore! He did not need to be as famous as his father, or even half as famous as his father. Hell, he did not even need to be famous at all, though he was always going to be – even if it was just by association.

What was important was that he was going to forge his own path, and do things that he wanted to do, and not let his father's legacy determine the way he lived his life. He had spent so many years doing everything because of what his father had once done, and it had driven him mad! For no matter how hard he had tried he had never been able to equal any of his father's numerous accomplishments!

And now he knew, more certainly than he knew anything, that when people spoke of him they would not do so by comparing his every deed to those of his father. He would not be a tiny spark beside the flame!

No, he would be his own fire, his own story, and it would stand apart from anything his father had done! His father's story had been written, and now it was his turn to write a story that would some day hold the world spellbound! But he would not begin his story in the blank pages that his father had left over, his story would be a tale all to itself! There would be more than just one famous Potter, he would make sure of that!

It had taken him a long time to come to accept this, but now that he had he felt freer and happier than he had ever since those thoughts had fist entered his head as a young boy. Grinning at himself in the mirror, the boy murmured quietly "It's my turn now." His words started as merely a whisper, but they got slowly louder as he continued.

"So what am I to do? Will I mire forever in the rut that has been carved out for me? Do I color within the lines of the picture that was drawn before I was even born?" He already knew the answer, but it felt so good to say these things out loud.

Evidently though, others did not support this viewpoint, as the mirror snapped in a curt voice "Please stop blathering to yourself; I get enough of a headache listening to when you there are actually other people pretending to listen to you prattle on about nothing."

The boy scowled at the mirror, he really was going to have to get rid of that thing sooner or later, but despite himself he had grown rather attached to the thing. It had been there for as long as he could remember, and in all fairness it did have a remarkably fast wit and a very amusing sense of humor.

Still, he took this as a challenge. Just the first person who would doubt that he had what it took to stand beside his father's legacy. There would be many more, he knew there would, but he would show them all in the end!

"You just watch!" he declared, the statement a firm stance towards anyone who would say that he could never accomplish such an insurmountable task. He was not the kind of person to sit content and listen to other people who said that the kinds of things he wanted to do were not possible. If he listened to those people then how would he ever to anything fun?

Of course, if he just listened to those people he also would probably have managed to keep himself in one piece more often than not, but that was an irrelevant sidenote.

Yes, he was ready for his future, ready to face the world that was expecting things from him that he could not deliver. Soon, very soon, they would know who he was and what he was there for.

The next day would be the start of something new and exciting, and he could barely wait for it to come! He kept looking at his clock, waiting for his bedtime to come, an event which was surely unprecedented, so that he could crawl into bed and wait for morning to come. The fact that he could have gone to bed before his bedtime if he wished had never occurred to him. After all, bedtime was bedtime, and so of course that was when you went to sleep.

As he fell back on his bed with a wide grin, the boy placed the letter on his bedside table knowing that there was no longer any doubt; at long last, James Sirius Potter was going to Hogwarts!

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