Chapter 2: Flying Lessons

The sun rose slowly over the mountains in the distance, spilling into Harry and Ginny's bedroom from the large leaded glass window. Harry groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes and rolled over to face away from the offending rays. He reached out for his wife, but found only wrinkled sheets. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he rolled out of bed and staggered to the shower and adjusted the temperature of the water. Revelling in the hot stream of water pouring down his back, Harry began to smell the tantalizing scent of bacon, toast and coffee wafting up from the kitchen. Stomach rumbling, he finished washing, turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist.

Fully dressed, dark silky hair still looking as though he had just rolled out of bed, Harry entered the kitchen sleepily and sat down at the table with his wife and kids. "Morning everyone." Harry yawned.

"Sleep well Daddy?" Lilly asked him, laughing slightly, as she scooped more scrambled eggs onto her plate and added maple syrup. Harry smiled warmly at the sight. He had done the same thing when he was little, when the Dursleys allowed him to, that is.

"Well, just not enough, princess." Harry replied chuckling slightly. "So I was thinking, James, how would like to have your first flying lesson after breakfast?"

"Can I come too?" enquired Albus longingly.

"No! Dad!"

"Calm down James. Sorry Al, but you won't be flying a real broom until you're eleven. James and I will be going alone. That's my final word." He added to stave off a protest that was about to come from Albus' mouth. "You'll get your chance next year, I promise."

When they had finished eating, the children ran outside to play in the garden while Harry and Ginny began to clear up the dishes. "Did you get a chance to read the Prophet yesterday?" She asked with a smirk.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh. "Do I want to know what it says?" She gestured to the paper that lay on the counter in the corner. The headline on the front page read:

CHOSEN ONE'S ELDEST SON TO BEGIN AT HOGWARTS

It has been nearly eighteen years since You Know Who was defeated by Harry Potter, current head Auror for the Ministry of Magic, and finally his first son, James (named after Potter's late father) will be starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though we cannot be too hasty in assuming such, this journalist believes that we can expect great things from this young wizard…

(Continued on page 6)

"Great." Harry groaned. "Three people dead in little over a week and that's what they put on page one. Have the kids seen this?"

Ginny laughed. "Since when have our children paid any attention to the news? I think we're safe for another little while. We may have to sit down and talk with James before September, though, and make sure he understands. I don't need a son with an over-inflated ego." Harry nodded and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her gently behind her ear. "Keep that up, Potter, and you'll be too busy to take James flying."

Harry released her and went to the cupboard to grab his broom. "We'll just have to wait until tonight." he teased, then he called out "Come on James! Let's see what that broom of yours can do."

Harry and James set out for a large meadow about two kilometres from the Potter home. Harry had chosen this location because the ground was soft and the trees surrounding it were tall enough to shield their activities from muggle eyes. Harry took a few minutes explaining the basics of flying with his son. This didn't take long since James had been flying his practice broom for many years. He had also been up in the air with his dad a few times over the years and couldn't to be up there on his own.

"Okay, first time around, I want to you make one lap of the meadow. Don't go up more than two or three meters. I want you to get a feel of the Firebolt before we go up any higher. I'm serious, James, this broom is much more powerful than that practice broom you've been using." He eyed his son suspiciously before proceeding. "If you do well, we can go up a little higher. If you ignore my instructions, we go home. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." said James. He was a little disappointed that he couldn't go up high on his first run, but knew from experience that his father would be true to his word if he disobeyed.

Harry watched in eager anticipation as his eldest son mounted the broom and took off. He felt a surge of pride as James stayed low to the ground and made his lap of the field, landing perfectly on the ground in front of him. "Well done, kiddo! I'm really proud of you." Harry beamed.

"Thanks dad! You weren't kidding, this thing really IS powerful! Can we take her up higher now?" Harry laughed quietly. He knew that for a young man like James, it would have been agony to ride such a powerful broom and not test her limits. So, with that in mind, Harry mounted his own broom and father and son took off, chasing each other through the air laughing and having the best day either could remember.

After several hours of flying, father and son rolled, exhausted, off of their brooms into the soft grass. "I wish we could do this every day, dad."

"Me too, James. Right now, though, I've gotta get to work." Both of them sighed at this and pulled themselves onto their feet and began to gather their things. As Harry bent down to pick up his broom he heard a loud pop directly behind him. He spun, reaching for his wand, but before he could utter 'protego' he was hit with the Cruciatus curse by his unknown assailant. Dropping to the ground with a heavy thud, Harry screamed in blood-curdling agony. His eyes blinded with white-hot light, he felt bile rising in the back of his throat. Suddenly the pain subsided and he was left trembling in the grass. He squinted up at his attacker, who rounded on James. Wandless and terrified, James stood his ground, eyes riveted to his gasping father.

The cloaked stranger raised his wand, pointed it at James and shouted "Avada…" Harry raised his wand and shot a curse at the man and shouted "Protego!" The power of the shield charm knocked James back as well as the stranger who never finished uttering the killing curse.

"Run! Run, James! Get help!" Harry shouted, dragging himself to his feet and squaring off against the dark stranger. Desperately wishing he didn't have to leave his father alone, he knew he was more of a hindrance than a help, so he quickly climbed onto his broom and raced home, trying with all his heart to coax every bit of speed his Firebolt was capable of.