James Potter collapsed, exhausted, upon his bed without even removing his glasses. He had stayed awake so late the previous night that now, even at just seven in the evening, it felt like midnight. His eyes seared whenever he looked out of them and they yearned to do nothing but shut. He yawned every few minutes. He could barely move his limbs.
James stared out of the window to his side, watching the snow, illuminated by the streetlights, fly violently. Torrents and blankets of white, it seemed, had come alive to fight and fly, collide and elude. The moon pierced through the clouds and illumined everything in a faint blue glow. The crystals glistened in its light.
James yawned yet again and tried to close his eyes, tried to fall asleep; however, only a few seconds had passed before the door to his bedroom was thrown open. The boy rose from his blankets, surprised. The light from the corridor showed black figure standing there, whom he registered to be their house-elf Agnim from the pointy ears, the short height, and the incredibly long nose. The house-elf, peering into the room, saw that James was there and approached. He staggered over his pillowcase shirt on the way, for it reached almost to his ankles. "Master, why did you not join your parents for dinner?" the house-elf asked curiously as he stopped beside his bed.
"I am too tired, I am afraid. I just want to sleep," James replied indifferently, sitting up on his mattress. He rubbed his half-closed, red eyes, trying to regain complete awareness.
"You slept plenty last night! You must have gotten ten hour's of sleep at least." the house-elf retorted disbelievingly.
"I actually stayed awake until four in the morning, to tell you the truth. Therefore, I just got four." James corrected.
"What could merit your staying awake to such a ridiculous hour?" Agnim inquired.
"I was completing that ridiculous homework we were assigned by McGonagall over the holidays. I swear, that woman's heartless. Don't you agree?" James had extracted himself from his blankets and was beginning to climb out of his bed, though his legs refused. Petrified, he could barely move them. Pain surged through them as he forced his muscles to move so that he could stand on the carpet.
"The way in which you speak about her suggests that she is the most deceitful, heartless person there is," Agnim indulged him.
"Exactly, that's what she is," James sighed as he stretched his arms and yawned yet again. He stumbled forward to his window to survey the landscape of Magnolia Crescent. Agnim did not turn to watch him but obeyed his intuition and began to make James's bed. Folding the blankets, he observed to James, "We're eating potatoes and ham tonight. Are you sure you would not like to have some?"
"Yes, Agnim, I'm not that hungry. I snacked with Lily plenty earlier," James replied. He withdrew from the window and sat down on his chair. With his hands folded, he rubbed them together in the vain attempt of warming himself. Agnim noticed that his eyes were concentrated fiercely on them.
"Master, is there anything wrong?" Agnim asked, completely forgetting his endeavor to restore the bed to perfection.
James sighed and lifted his head to look at Agnim, "Could you bring me some mince pie?" he asked, his face contorted with tiredness.
"Certainly, Master, Agnim answered and left the room. James stretched his arms out once again and lied against his chair. A clock ticked in the background. The wind tore against his window, rattling it occasionally. Faint laughter drifted from the house next door. James listened to it all and wished it were all but a dream.
He didn't understand why he was constantly wishing everything in his life, everything about it, were derived from nothing but a dream from which he would awaken. He didn't understand himself what pained him as much as it did in his present circumstances; all he did know was that he was trapped, that he could not tolerate enduring another day in the present conditions. Yet he continued to do so and probably would for as long as he lived. There was no reason, logic told him, that he should be as discouraged as he was; he had friends, he was wealthy, he was popular – he was everything one could aspire to be. In this position he didn't expect that one could experience a discontent as severe as this.
He wanted more; he was not sure yet exactly what that more was. All he was aware of was that his heart craved to increase its sense of vanity more and more. Was it more fame beyond the Quidditch field and the corridors of Hogwarts? Was it more romance? Was it more free time? Was it more mischief? He himself could not analyze his feelings sufficiently to determine what desire it was that troubled him so. He supposed that it was a vague, unattainable fantasy of enhancing his already indulged lifestyle, a mindless vortex of chaos to which there was no end but only expanding boundaries that one could never reach no matter how hard they tried. This abyss haunted him. He despised and loved it.
Nothing in his life brought him satisfaction, it seemed; what was enjoyable was but a temporary escapade in which he could briefly distract himself from the agony. Quidditch and his friends, through them he relished in a short diversion from the pain of it all. That was all they afforded him: a meaningless distraction, for the darkness would seep back into his heart sooner or later, once the activity ceased.
James supposed that he was selfish. He didn't deny to himself that he was enamored with himself, that his whole world revolved around bettering his own existence and not those of others around him. Everyone praised, adored, and embraced him. Did he return the favor? He was troubled in the knowledge that the answer was no. He treasured the glory given him but did not even attempt to distribute it among his peers; he isolated it to himself and his heart, whether he liked it or not, secretly preferred that it be that way. Everyone exalted him as though he were a god. They did not do this for his moral abilities but his intellect. His mind, brilliant, ingenious, and clever, was unsurpassed in all of Hogwarts, with the possible exceptions of his peers Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape. He demonstrated in all of his classes a refined mind with a gift for learning. He displayed on the Quidditch field an eye and a strategy that would rival even the professionals. He exhibited even in his mischief a creativity and ingenuity that most could only dream of having. It was observed among the staff of Hogwarts and among some of the more mature of his class that he was not the most caring personality; he tended to pursue things only in the name of self-interest without any concern for how they would impact others. This concerned the staff, Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, in particular, whenever James and the Marauders were found to have harassed a student on their way to class, turned an office upside-down, and the like. What troublesome thoughts these events brought were soon forgotten as James proved yet again that he possessed all of the abilities essential to sustaining a modern society.
As deficient as he was in the area of compassion extended toward his peers and elders, James excelled in his studies, had proven such an outrageous success at Quidditch, that anyone who dared raise the question of disciplining, punishing him was soon shunned as being too close-minded, too old-fashioned.
James sighed and looked out of the window at the blowing snow again. The wind whistled and howled; the snow curled, soared, and drifted. The moon quivered in the rush.
There was a trace of hope left for him, he surmised assuredly; he had found Lily Evans. The brightest student of their class, Lily, though slightly annoyed with his mischievous antics, supported, carried, and guided him. She was there to offer a compassionate heart for him; he couldn't help it that he was taken with her too. He felt a care for her he did for no other person in his life, with the possible exception of Sirius Black; he genuinely worried about her. He wished her the best in her relationship with her family, with Petunia. He lost count of the number of times that he proffered to her his shoulder as a comforting place on which to shed a tear. Whenever accused of being a most cruel spirit toward his peers, Lily was the first, even among the Marauders, to rise to his defense. He was grateful for her presence in his life. She was like the sister to whom his parents had never given birth.
He recalled vividly their first meeting; it was at King's Cross Station that he found her parents and her lingering between platforms nine and ten, looking confused. Initially dismissing them as those dull tourists with no lives from America, likely traveling to Edinburgh, Canterbury, or Oxford from London, he strolled beside his parents to Platform 9 ¾ to reach the train to Hogwarts. Then as he was striding toward the brick barrier, he heard the mother of the family complain aloud that they could not locate any platform as the one described on the ticket. He realized then that the girl he had ignored was going to be a classmate of his at Hogwarts. He whipped around, to the surprise of his parents, and neared the family. Graciously he clarified to them what they were to do, that they were to walk toward the barrier separating Platform 9 3/4. Looking at though they suspected that he was encouraging them to injure themselves, the family finally obeyed what he said. He walked beside their daughter and crossed the barrier with her, followed by his parents. As they marched along, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was graceful; her eyes were a beautiful green and her hair, a violent red, fell against her warm face like strings of silk. The girl was wearing a visibly worried face, as though frightened by the way used to reach the platform. He assured her that everything was fine, that it was safe. He watched her as they collided with – without feeling anything – the barrier. She had closed her eyes with a painful concentration, as though dreading that her forehead would collide against stone. Once she realized that she hadn't, she opened them with joy.
The train to Hogwarts sat before them, releasing a thick steam that floated abysmally above the crowd congregated there. Before he could move the girl whispered, as though from a distance, "Thank you!" to him and disappeared. He saw her elegant hair for a few seconds and then it vanished.
It wasn't long until he saw her again. At the Sorting Ceremony in the Great Hall, somehow the two of them found themselves standing right next to each other. His body was shaking softly, not from anxiety about which house he was placed in, but from the nervousness of the knowledge that beside him was that girl from the train, that pretty girl. He felt uncomfortable around her, as though she were different from the rest there. He wanted to reach out his hand and take hers, to promise her that she would survive this ceremony (her face was sweating profusely and her eyes were twitching). Then he remembered that about one thousand people would witness this and laugh.
Lily was selected for the house of Gryffindor. After this occurred, he noticed that his heart craved to join that house too, not to continue a family tradition of belonging to that house, but to be with her in classes and in the common room. He wanted to develop a friendship with her. He wanted to become acquainted with her in the same way he had with Peter Pettigrew, his long childhood friend.
These thoughts, he reminded himself, were not normal; why was he this interested in a girl? It was completely abnormal that he should actually not mind to interact with one. It wasn't common for an eleven-year-old to care about one. But he did.
The Sorting Hat decided that he belonged in Gryffindor also. Concealing his delight, he deposited himself in a seat right beside Lily Evans, where she congratulated him. He felt himself blushing. He hoped she didn't notice.
They didn't speak again that night. He didn't know what to say to her.
Two weeks later during broomstick practice with Madam Hooch had directed them to fly gently; they weren't prepared to travel at the speeds seen at Quidditch games. She discouraged them from going any higher than one story and going any faster than walking speed. All the students obeyed her except Lily, who seemed to have no idea how to dictate to her broom how to behave. As soon she laid her hands on the handle, the broom soared like a jet into the sky, almost as fast as a professional player. Her panicked screams echoed in the silence. Many students yelled in terror as Madam Hooch yelled at her to return. Realizing that this was futile, James seized his broom, clutched it, and soared into the air after Lily, slamming his legs against the sides as fiercely as he can. "Hurry up!" he demanded of it, impatient and restless. Lily screamed louder than ever as she traveled over the Forbidden Forest.
Her broom collided against something invisible in the air. Her broom violently came to a stop and a loud roar echoed in the silence. She flipped over, flying through the air, and hit the invisible creature. Her screams didn't last long. There was a freakish slam and there were no more cries for her. A violent rush of wind reached James's ears. Something invisible landed against the branches of the trees of the Forbidden Forest and broke off branches, large ones, as it fell. Lily was going down with it. James, worried immensely now, flew forward into the trees, weaving in and out of their way to locate the girl in the darkness. He found her lying in a bloody heap on the forest floor, where a centaur called Firenze was attending to her.
"One should not fly over the forest. You might not see the Thestrals," he stated as James landed and rushed toward Lily. "This is what happened to this lady."
James collapsed on the ground beside Lily, tears in his eyes, his face covered with dirt and scratches. He lifted an arm and dragged it against her unconscious face. Her hand lied helplessly open, with her palm open toward the sky. Her eyes were opened and fixed upon nothing
Firenze vanished into the trees of the Forbidden Forest, stating that he was going to seek medical assistance from the castle for the girl. He told James not to divulge this to any other centaurs, should he meet any.
Madam Pomfrey, Professor Slughorn, and Rubeus Hagrid arrived in the forest a few minutes later. They magically carried Lily back to the castle where she was treated in the hospital wing for the severe injuries she had sustained. James rarely left her side. Once she awoke after a week's of being unconsciousness, she clutched his hand and thanked him for helping him, risking expulsion in the process.
Since that time they had forged a strong friendship.
James was distracted from these apathetic ruminations as Agnim noisily re-entered his bedroom, carrying a plate holding mince pie. The grinning house-elf announced, "Here's your food, Master!" The servant then gave the plate to his master, who immediately lifted the fork and indulged his mouth with the succulent pleasure of it.
Agnim watched him appreciatively, as though waiting for James to give him another order and happy to do nothing else but follow it. James, after wiping his face, asked for a drink, which Agnim quickly presented him with.
James couldn't wait until his date the next afternoon with Lily.
