A/N
This is the last large jump in time, now we can get down and dirty in the storyline.
Also I fleshed out my plan some more and realised this fic might be ridiculously long. Please do review and let me know if it starts to drag!
Chapter 3: Kitten
August 1971
A familiar shriek pierced through the air as Henry looked up from his newspaper, spread over the counter of the bakery. Smiling, he listened to the rapid approach of footsteps and ducked into his display, before leaning out the door to his tiny shop, arms outstretched. Small fists closed over the proffered pastries as they were torn away without pause.
"Thanks, Mr Williams!"
Henry laughed at the familiar flashes of riotous hair, watching fondly as the Potter siblings tore off down the highstreet, as was their usual morning routine.
James led their thundering charge along the village street, glancing back over his shoulder to ensure his sister was keeping up, and slowing only so that he could take an enormous bite of croissant without choking himself. His sister followed close on his heels, giggling, pastry clutched securely in one hand, and her latest library book in the other.
"James, come on! Do we have to run every time?"
James laughed at the feeble protests of his sister as they slowed on their approach to home. Linking his arm through hers, he pulled her along with a grin.
"But of course, little Hermione. No point going anywhere if you don't do it fast."
Hermione wrinkled her nose at his new preferred term of address for her. Up until recently she had always been the taller sibling, even if James refused to acknowledge her status as the older. But James' 11th birthday had seemed to bring with it the start of his growth spurt years, and he had delighted in the weight that his new found extra inches over her leant to his campaign as big brother and protector.
"Stop with the little, I am not that much shorter than you James," she whined. "And I'm older!"
James brushed her complaint aside with ease.
"Dear, darling, little Hermione. I'm the big brother, so says the height marks on the kitchen door, and that means I'm in charge."
Hermione rolled her eyes with a huff but continued to allow herself to be pulled forward, taking advantage of the slower pace to be able to munch on their gift from the local baker.
"Do you think mum has a secret tab with Henry, or do you think he just likes the challenge of hitting a moving target with a pastry enough to give them to us for free?" she mused aloud.
James laughed and shrugged. Whether it was their mother doting on them or their neighbours didn't particularly matter, as long as they were getting spoiled.
And residents of Godric's Hollow couldn't spoil the little Potters more if they tried. The older generation had known the longing Fleamont and Euphemia had for a family, and the years of pain and disappointment involved in attempting to have one. When the two little miracles arrived in such quick succession, the villagers had been delighted. Homemade knits, care packages, easily volunteered babysitting - raising the 'Potter Twins', as they were often termed, had become a community effort. The children had grown up with doting parents, and the doors of the community thrown wide open for them, magic and muggle alike. If some of the population found the slightly eccentric clothes the children wore, or the fact that they were home-schooled rather than attending the local primary, or the strange way in which owls seemed to swoop towards their house in daylight, they had long since decided to turn a blind eye. The Potters were a bit strange, sure, but they were theirs.
Whilst James Potter had used the wiggle room given by this unconditional devotion to develop into a wild, cheeky, and rambunctious child, quick to cause mischief and dance away from any repercussions, Hermione had remained his counterbalance in an attempt to keep them both grounded. She preferred her books to his sports, and kept the local librarian entertained with earnest debates about her latest readings. Whilst James often preferred to keep company with their wizarding neighbours, so that he didn't have to temper his discussions of the latest Quidditch developments, Hermione's thirst for knowledge kept her wanting to know about both the wizarding and the muggle world, and her mother encouraged her interests. Growing up with both from such a young age kept both worlds feeling like home.
Euphemia had been careful to ensure that Hermione knew her background. A sharp child like Hermione would notice how close her birthday was to that of James anyway. Hermione acknowledged her muggle heritage but felt secure in the knowledge that she was no less loved for being adopted as a daughter to the Potters, rather than born as one.
As James and Hermione neared home, they saw their mother leaning against the door frame, wide smile flashing in the sunlight. Raised in her grasp were two large letters.
Hermione shrieked.
"Oh Merlin, they're here!"
Tearing towards her mother and snatching at the letter Euphemia held towards her, she sucked in a breath.
Miss H. Potter, The Blue Bedroom, Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow
Euphemia chuckled at the reverent look on her daughter's face, and the impatient look on her son's.
"Come on in, you daft sausage, let's read it together in the living room with your father."
Fleamont and Euphemia watched from their perch on the sofa in front of the fire as their children ripped into their first Hogwarts letters. Hermione's eyes were zipping backwards and forwards as she attempted to take it all in as quickly as possible.
James let out a wail.
"Mum! It says first years aren't allowed their own broomsticks! Does that mean we aren't allowed to play Quidditch?"
"James, darling, I have been telling you this for months. I knew it was going in one ear and straight out of the other. And when you do your flying lessons, you have to use school broomsticks, ghastly things that they are. So be careful, and no showing off."
James looked utterly horrified; his sister wasn't entirely sure whether it was due to the lack of Quidditch, or the idea of not being able to show off.
Hermione was practically vibrating with excitement as she looked up at her parents.
"When can we go shopping? I want to get a head start on this reading," she said eagerly.
James rolled his eyes affectionately and ruffled her wild curly hair.
"Of course you do," he lamented. "Why couldn't I have a cool sister?"
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, and pounced, knocking him to the ground with a growl and pulling his arm behind his back teasingly.
"I give! I give!" James giggled. "You're very cool….and very scary."
Fleamont rolled his eyes at his children's tussling, and pulled Hermione to her feat, tugging affectionately on one of her curls and letting it spring back to flick her in the face.
"Now now, children. Can you at least try to practice that stellar behaviour I know you are going to display at Hogwarts to represent this family in a good light?" His eyes twinkled as his wife behind him snorted.
"Stellar behaviour?! You do realise these are children raised by you don't you, Fleamont? We can only pray they don't have quite such a lax approach to Hogwarts rules as you did."
Fleamont rounded on his wife, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around the living room as their children laughed.
"Come on Euphemia, the joy of having a misspent youth is that when you have children, you get to pretend it never happened and that you are the epitome of responsibility."
"I don't think there's any danger of that, Dad" James piped up. "You were the one that taught us to put food colouring into water balloons after all."
Fleamont winced as his wife glared up at him, releasing her and backing away with his palms raised in surrender.
"I loved that cream carpet" she hissed, stepping menacingly forward as her husband continued backwards.
"Hooky!" she cried.
Hooky appeared with a crack, eyeing the scene in front of him.
"What is Mister Potter doing now?" the elf asked, turning suspicious eyes on his master.
Euphemia continued her intimidating advance.
"Get me the food colouring and a balloon, Mister Potter's clothes need a revamp."
And with that the elder Potters were off, tearing through the house. James and Hermione could hear shouts coming from the kitchen and the slam of the garden door.
"You'd think" said James "that with older parents, they might have a little less energy."
A reverberating crash from outside made them both wince, and James shrugged. Apparently not.
The next week found Euphemia bundling her children into the floo as they headed to Diagon Alley. In an attempt to keep them easily identifiable in a crowd, she'd encouraged both into brightly coloured tailored robes, long since learning her lesson that neither child could be trusted to follow along neatly without being distracted.
"Right" she said, tapping the brick three up and two across with her wand. "First thing I want to do is get you both your wands, then I'll need a top up of galleons for the rest so can I please trust you both for five minutes to stay in one place while I head to Gringotts?"
Her children looked up at her with wide eyes the picture of innocence. Liars she thought as she burst out laughing. And not any good at it either, neither of these could ever by a Slytherin. She led them both to the narrow shop at the end of the street, gold lettering peeling. She had always wondered why Garrick didn't bother to spruce the shop front up every now and then, it wasn't as if he was short of magical implements with which to do so.
Hermione trailed her mother into the shop and looked around with reverence at the piles of boxes balanced precariously from floor to ceiling.
An old man with wispy white hair approach them from the back of the shop, and shook Euphemia's hand.
"Euphemia, my dear, so good to see you again. Are these your children? I've heard a lot of talk from Bathilda, seems to think Godric's Hollow may never be quiet again."
The man regarded them with amused eyes as James puffed his chest out with pride at the assessment.
"Yes these little monsters, or darlings, I never really know, are mine. James and Hermione." Euphemia encouraged them forward with a hand on each back.
"Excellent, this should be fun. Willow, yours is Euphemia? 10 ½ inches. Unicorn hair?"
Euphemia nodded.
"And Fleamont's, 14 ½ inches, cypress wood, unyielding. Yes, it'll be interesting to see how this goes."
He motioned for Hermione to step up, and at once the tape measure furled on the desk snapped up and began to measurer her arm. After Mr Ollivander had gained a sufficient number of measurements, he began pulling down boxes from the stacks behind him.
"Try this."
Hermione clutched a long black wand and frowned. She put it back on the table.
"It doesn't like me, I can tell."
"Not to worry, how about this one."
They continued in this manner for a minute or so, until Mr Ollivander offered her a final wand with little flourish.
"Here we are, 12 inches, walnut, dragon heartstring."
The moment the wand touched Hermione's palm, a small stream of red sparks emerged glittering from the end and Mr Ollivander beamed.
"Excellent! Powerful wand, that. Should be excellent for adding a little bit of urgency to your casting. Now, Mr Potter, let's give you a try."
They emerged from the shop with James clutching his new 11 inch mahogany and dragon heartstring wand with a grin plastered on his face.
Euphemia looked around at the crowd before stopping in front of her children.
"Right, I need to head to the bank so we can continue on down your list. Can I trust you both to stay together? Why don't you head to the book store and start gathering what you need, and I'll meet you there."
As she said off, Hermione eyed the suspiciously bright look in her brother's eyes.
"Shall we split up then?" She asked with a sigh.
"Little Hermione, I'm so glad you agree. Go on, I know you can't wait to get your mitts on those books. I'm going to Quality Quidditch Supplies."
"Honestly James," said Hermione, exasperated. "You aren't even able to play this year".
James shrugged, and gambolled off in the direction of the store, leaving Hermione in his wake. Hermione headed easily to Flourish and Blotts, not bothering to argue with James' assessment of her eagerness to get hold of their books. Her mother found her half an hour later, still running her fingers across different tomes of interest, having already piled a stack of their supplies at the desk to be rung up by the shop assistant.
Euphemia sighed.
"He left you for blasted broomsticks, didn't he?"
Hermione shrugged, not in a rush to get her brother in to trouble, and helped her mother to load their packaged and shrunken books into a shopping bag.
As they approached the quidditch store, they saw James sat on the street floor, leaning his back against the window display, chatting animatedly with a dark-haired boy beside him. James jumped up and ran over to Hermione.
"Sorry I abandoned you lil' sis, but it turned out worth it in the end, the new Nimbus 1500 has just come out!"
He dragged her to the display to admire the sleek broom perched in the window. Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.
"Honestly James, the day you get me to be excited about broomsticks might just be the day the world ends."
A chuckle beside her drew her attention.
"Oh! Sorry Hermione, meet my new friend, Sirius Black, he's joining with us in September. Turns out apparently that mad family can produce someone normal after all."
Euphemia clipped her son over the back of the head and Sirius wrinkled his nose but nodded in agreement. He reached out his hand to Hermione, who shook it with a smile. Sirius had all the air she might have expected from someone from a Sacred 28 family: high aristocratic cheekbones; the hint of a strong jaw peeking from behind residual puppy fat; and grey eyes that meant he couldn't deny his family heritage even if his scrunched look suggested he might want to. Euphemia and Fleamont didn't put any stock into the idea of the Sacred 28, with Fleamont instead gleeful at the Potter's exemption due to their historically pro-muggle leanings and a particularly bad spat with Cantankerous Nott over a lost bet. Which side lost remained a matter of family preference.
Sirius let go of her hand and reach for her mother's with an easy smile.
"Pleasure to meet you both, can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to a bit of normal company when we can finally escape to school" he drawled.
A screech from further down the street caused Sirius to wince.
"Sirius Orion Black! How many times do I have to tell you!"
A pinched looking woman in long, black, tailored robes was marching down the street towards Sirius, and Euphemia caught the sudden droop in the boy's shoulders, as if he was getting ready to make himself smaller. She stepped forward brightly.
"Walburga, cousin, how are you today?"
Raising an eyebrow in a 'you owe me' gesture to the children, she waved them off further down the street as she turned to converse with the woman Hermione could only assume to be Sirius' mother, and who was currently looking like she had stepped in dog poo.
Sirius sighed.
"Merlin above, got to love my mother. My initials are SOB and that just about sums up what she's like."
Hermione's eyes widened as the reference dawned on her, and she let out a giggle. Sirius grinned at her and reached forward, pulling on a wayward curl, and her giggle turned into an angry hiss.
"Oooh, kitten. Don't hiss at me." He teased, releasing her hair with a wink. "Didn't your dad invent Sleekeazy Hair Potion? It'd be a crime to tame this."
James stepped in before Hermione could get claws involved.
"Got all our supplies for school Hermione? Reckon mum will buy me a new broomstick to sneak in?"
Sirius laughed loudly as Hermione turned from him to James with a roll of her eyes, her cheeks still pink in anger at the breach of personal space.
"Honestly James, I love you, but can you try to follow the rules for just one year?" she huffed.
James shrugged off the suggestion immediately, grinning at his new partner in crime, who encouraged him with a raised eyebrow.
"Probably not" he said.
Euphemia returned at that point and motioned to Sirius.
"Right, she is sufficiently mollified. Chop chop and head back before she starts screeching again, Merlin only knows you owe me for that, I had to draw on several associations through marriage to get her to give me the time of day at all."
James slung his arm around the taller boy as they steered him back to his waiting mother, who was regarding him with narrowed eyes.
"Sirius, my new good friend, we'll see you on the Hogwarts Express?"
Sirius nodded and grinned, waving at the small family, and turning back to his own mother with a sigh. Hermione watched them leave with mild concern. It seemed like there were many reasons to look forward to the start of their new adventure.
Euphemia ended their trip to Diagon Alley with a trip to find a familiar for each of the children. James chose a beautiful Tawny Owl, who closed her eyes and nuzzled his finger with her beak. Hermione, stating that she could always use James' owl to write home if she needed to, approach the pen filled with part-kneazle kittens. Her eyes fell on a tiny Ginger Tom, with thick wiry hairy, and she pulled him into her arms and crooned.
"What a gorgeous little man you are."
The kitten preened in her arms, appraising her before letting out a small purr.
"How would you like to come home with me?" She flipped the tag around the kitten's neck and read Tiberius. And the kitten rubbed his face against her cheek.
James regarded the interaction with amusement.
"You realise the irony of this choice, kitten" he said dryly.
Hermione turned her nose up and chose to ignore him as he laughed.
