Chapter 2 – Harry Potter

Panting heavily, James skidded to a stop outside the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady was snoozing in her frame and snoring slightly. Just as James began to wonder whether or not she had a name, he remembered that he should be upstairs, reading the book that was digging into his chest, and not wondering about paintings of temperamental women.

He coughed quietly, but the Fat Lady didn't stir. What was wrong with this woman? It's not like she ever had to do anything!

"Oi!" James hissed. Nothing. He glanced around surreptitiously, wishing he had the Invisibility Cloak. He sighed, and out of slight desperation he tapped his knuckles on the painting.

The Fat Lady s snorted and her head jerked up. "What are you doing up? Sneaking food from the kitchens aga-"

Oh did it really matter? "Chocolate frogs!"

"Alright, alright, no need to be like that," the Fat Lady huffed.

James sighed. "Sorry, sorry, just got something important I need to read, that's all…"

"You? Read?" The Fat Lady laughed. "I don't think I want to know what it is. Goodnight."

"'Night," James replied hurriedly, slipping into the common room and sprinting up the stairs. In his haste, he almost ran into the wrong dormitory twice, before he finally reached his own. He flung the door open, shut it as carefully as he could bear, and then dived onto his bed. He yanked the curtains shut so as to let the book and map fall from under his robes. He cleared the map and shoved it under his pillow, changed into his pyjamas in record time, then sat cross-legged on his bed with the book lying in front of him. He stared at the cover of the book for a long moment. The secrets of his family, even the ones he had never gotten to meet, not to mention his friends, and most importantly, of course, himself, lay inside that book. Well, maybe not their secrets, but McGonagall's, certainly. He took a deep breath, flicked through the book until he found the page on his father, and began to read…

My, oh, my! What an incredible week this young boy has had! Goodness, goodness, I don't know where to start! Being the logical person that I am, I should, of course, start at the beginning. This is not the first time I have met Harry Potter, oh no, but it is very hard to get an impression of any sort from a sleeping baby. I will never forget the day I witnessed him being left on the Muggles' doorstep. However, I digress.

I can't help but express my horror at how the boy has been treated! He didn't even know he was a wizard, why, Rubeus told me that he had been told his parents had died in a car crash! I'm half surprised he left them alive, what with that temper of his! But, this is about Potter, not Rubeus. I first caught sight of the boy when he was brought into the Entrance Hall after his trip on the boats. Although, I have to admit, I wasn't sure at first whether it was actually him or not! For a few moments, I was almost convinced that he was his father. He was the exact same height – maybe a little skinner, but that was only to be expected given the conditions he was living in. All in all, he had the same, scrawny build that his father had. He wore the exact same round glasses, glasses that wouldn't have looked right on anybody else but those two. The hair, though, was the main thing that caught my eye. It was black as a crow, no, blacker, and messier than you could imagine. The strands stuck in all directions, pointing upwards at the back. Exactly like his father's. For a moment, there was almost a break in my composure, but I couldn't allow myself to break down in front of the students, so I carried on.

It was not until I had ushered the children into the chamber that I was able to pick out the subtle differences. His nose was ever so slightly the wrong length, and there was his legendary scar, of course. I found myself battling to keep myself together again once I saw Potter's eyes. Green. Bright green. A bright, emerald green that he unmistakably inherited from his mother. They were even the same, almond shape.

There was an even more important thing that differed him from his father, though; the expression on his face. As I explained that the first-years would soon be entering the great hall to be sorted, his expression turned from awed to worried. He looked more worried than any other pupil in the room, except for maybe Longbottom. The more I spoke, the more worried he became, and the more noticeable the tinge of green on his face became. He looked almost frightened – quite the opposite of James.

When I told them all to smarten up, he attempted to fatten his hair nervously, something James would never have done. There were already differences here, and I know I must stop trying to think of Harry as his father, but it is so difficult when they look so alike and have the same traits!

I noticed that Harry already seemed to have made a friend – well, and acquaintance at the very least. He was sticking very close by the Weasley boy, and this was something that I was pleased to see, naturally. The Weasleys are a good family, and if they are willing to accept Harry he must have some likable qualities, something I didn't doubt.

As I watched him take his seat on the stool to be sorted, I was slightly worried in case we had to bring on a bucket for him to vomit into. I can't imagine that he knew much about the houses prior to the Hat's song, but although he seemed nervous he looked very determined. He must have already decided where he wanted to be. I hoped it was Gryffindor, we're going to need a good, strong class if we're going to win the House Cup this year.

The Hat was on Harry's head for much longer than I ever remember it staying on a pupil's head before. It seemed to be having trouble making a choice. I know that Potter is determined and focused – anybody who saw his face when walking up to the stool could see that. I can't describe it, but some people seem to have an intelligent look about them, and Harry is one of those people. Though, with parents like his, how can I expect any less? For somebody who hadn't had the best start in life, he was surprisingly unshaken. Scared as he was, he always has an air of self-confidence around him. I can see why he was so hard to place.

After an extremely long moment of trying to shush the people who had started whispering at the boy's name, the Hat finally called out, "GRIFFYNDOR!"

I'm extremly proud to have the Boy Who Lived in my house, who wouldn't be? I sincerely hope that he will continue to settle as well as he has been doing. He is very obedient in class – always takes notes and tried his hardest. He gets that from his mother. I have had to scold him once or twice for talking when he shouldn't be, but at least he is making friends. I had my doubts about him fitting in, being who he is, but I don't think that will be a problem now.

He does have his father's nerve – I'll give him that. I was terrified for his life when I saw him on that broom, without ever having flown before, after being told specifically not to and threatened with expulsion!. I am unaware of the details, but I have heard people saying that the only reason he flew in the first place was because the Malfoy boy had stolen something of Longbottom's. I must say, for this I am grateful, for if Malfoy hadn't have dropped it, whether by accident or on purpose, Harry made a simply astonishing dive and caught it against all odds. He almost made it look easy.

Instead of punishing him, like I probably should've, I allowed him onto the house team, with permission from Albus. He seemed very pleased when I told him. Albus, not Harry. Well, both actually. I do hope this doesn't make Harry too arrogant though; he's definitely his father's son as it is. He has had no qualms with showing off to his friends, and he did seem very pleased with himself.

All in all, he is a delightful young boy with an appetite for life. He is very lively and his little remarks do make me smile sometimes, and he has found a good friend in Weasley, for which I'm glad. If he continues working hard like he is doing, he will make an exceptional wizard some day. I just hope he won't be tempted by the dark side. I shan't dwell too much on this, though, because he seems to have a good, sensible head on his shoulders, even if he is more mischievous than some of my other students. He is certainly one to keep a close eye on, considering his general lack of concern for the rules. He seems to be trustworthy and doesn't seem the sort to let a friend down, and I know that even if, for some unknown reason, his magical abilities are not what they should be, his moral fibre will get him through.

James finally tore his eyes away from the page and looked up into the canopy of his four-poster.

"Moral fibre," he smirked quietly to himself. "I have to start using that. I wonder what Uncle George would say if he saw this…he'd have a right laugh." James smiled excitedly; it was going to be brilliant fun reading about all of his family members in here!

He tapped his fingers on his knees again, was it the right time to tell Albus? Then again, Albus would probably tell him off…and it was very degrading to be told off by a younger sibling…oh well. James grabbed the Invisibility Cloak out from under his bed, hid the book under it, and crept out of the dormitory.

He found his way quickly to the room in which Albus slept; he'd been in here many times before. Slowly – very slowly – he opened the door and snuck over to Albus' bed. He reached out to prod his thirteen year old brother gently. "Al! Al! Albus!" he hissed. How heavy a sleeper was this kid? "Albus!" he hissed again, this time giving him a sharp squeeze to his shoulders.

Albus jumped suddenly. He took one look at the hand suspended in mid-air of his bed and sighed sleepily, "What do you want, James?"

James pulled off the cloak and whispered excitedly, "Well, I found this book, its McGonagall's, and it has all sorts of stuff in it about people we know, look!" James pulled out the book and showed Albus. "Did you know dad nearly got kicked out in his first week for riding a broom when he wasn't meant to?"

Albus sat up a little straighter in bed. "Really?"

"Yeah! Yeah, here, look, read it!"

Albus read the page about his dad quickly, and he grinned. "So he wasn't always the little angel we thought he was…but…moral fibre?"

The brothers sniggered.

"Do you reckon we show the others? Lily and Hugo and Rose and Teddy?" Albus asked. What kind of question was that? Of course they were!

"What kind of question is that? Of course we are!"

"I really can't believe this…its like…like…a book of…personology!"

James stared. "Personology isn't a word. You don't use made up words, you're too boring. You must be tired."

"I am, it's past midnight in case you haven't noticed."

"No, I hadn't, actually, now that you mention it."

Albus sighed again. "Can we just call it the Book of Personology and be done with it?"

"Sure. Now, give it here so I can go back to bed."

"Why should you get it?"

"I'm the oldest."

"I'm the most sensible."

"So? I'm the one who sto- I mean, found it."

Albus was too tired to notice James' slip-up. "Whatever, just take it, look after it, and DON'T LOSE IT!" he ordered.

"Aye, aye, captain," James responded, before sneaking back off to his own bed. He couldn't wait for morning, what with so much to learn!

.o.O.o.

Well there you have it, that's Harry. I know this one isn't very funny or particularly groundbreaking, but there's only so much you can do with a character that's already so wholly developed. I suppose the good stuff will come with the more obscure characters, so I can work in their own stories that you don't already know. Coming up next: Hermione, for MrsEmCullen.x