I received my letter on July 2nd, 1972. I was 11 - my birthday had been on March 23rd. I opened it without hesitation, gaping at the frilled lettering in bright green ink across the parchment that curled beneath my fingers. My Father walked into the den, smiling down at me and looking at the paper between my shaking hands.
"Got your letter, have you?" he asked, reading the letter over my shoulder.
I nodded my head and handed him the list of school supplies that I would need. He chuckled, looking the list over many times. "You've got a while until September First, James. You don't have to gather your supplies just yet… unless, of course, you want to?"
Again, my father laughed. "We'll go to Diagon Alley this afternoon. I've a holiday today! It's about time I've gotten leave to spend with my son." He handed me the list, turned on his heel, and walked from the den. My Mum was in the kitchen, making lunch. He mumbled a small, "Taking James to Diagon Alley this afternoon," and my Mum's adoring "Okay, dear…" I love my Parents.
We ate a nice lunch. Soon after, my Father stood before the fireplace, a pot in his hand; the same pot that I have seen for every day of my life, come that year. He opened it, and I placed my fingers inside, clamping my index finger and thumb around a pinch of powder. I threw it into the fire. "The Leaky Cauldron!"
With a whoosh of green, I sped from the fireplace at 'Potter's Paradise' as we called it, and flew over the tops of chimneys and with a lurch of speed, found myself standing in the Fireplace of a smoky, dark pub. The innkeeper, chipper as ever, smiled at me with his toothless grin. I stepped from the fireplace and looked at my surroundings. The Leaky Cauldron… how much havoc we would reek there in the future!
My father appeared not much later after myself. Tom grinned at him from behind the bar. "Anything for you, Minister?" he asked. He was always referred to as 'Minister' in public.
"No thank you, Tom," Father said, putting his hand over my shoulder. "Just taking James shopping for his school supplies!"
"I'll be! Young James is going to Hogwarts already?" Tom stared at me, eyes wide and misty. I nodded in response, my smile tickling my ears.
With a wave to the old, smiling Innkeeper, we left the little pub, and ahead of us stood the large brick wall, leading to the entrance of Diagon Alley. Father handed me his wand. "Go ahead," he told me. "Give it a try."
My fingers wrapped around the polished handle of the large Birch wand. The feel of it was wonderful; I waved it around a few times, sparks emitting from the tip of it. When Father gave me a 'lets-do-it' look, I walked to the Trash bins, wand out before me.
I tapped three bricks upward from the second can, and two bricks over. The archway formed before my eyes, exposing Diagon Alley in all of its glory. How many times had I seen this place? Every time that I saw it, however, I was led to more and more excitement. There were so many things that I hadn't been allowed to discover and decipher, but since I was now older, and getting ready to leave for my First Year at Hogwarts to learn magic, I would be considered an adult in my Parents eyes.
Father decided on Robe fitting, first of all. 'Best get the dirty work complete first.' But, of course, we had to extract our money from Gringotts. The Goblins beared down at me like some dirty speck on the floor, their faces contorting into mechanical grins that showed their small, yellow, spiked teeth. They haven't changed much, over the years, have they?
Money bags full, Father led me to a nice shop called 'Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions' and stood beside me. A woman that I have seen so many times before smiled at us. "Hogwarts this year?" she asked politely.
"Yes," I said, nodding my head.
"Which house do you believe that you will be in?" she asked, pulling me away from my father and indicating the stool as a perch.
A grin split my face. "Gryffindor. I just know I'll be in Gryffindor."
"You do, do you?" She looked at me, her magical measuring tape flitting across my body. "Quite determined to be placed in Gryffindor?"
"My Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor… so why shouldn't I?"
The Witch nodded, measuring tape finishing their calculations. Moments later, she placed a stack of parcels into my arms. "Here's your robes, young'n. Enjoy yourself at Hogwarts!" With a jovial wave, she pushed my father and I out of the door, and into the street of Diagon Alley.
A trip to Flourish and Blotts left me with the book supplies that I would need for the school year, and a trip to the Prose Depot gave me my provision of Parchment, Quills, and Inks. The Apothecary stocked my Potions set and gave me my cauldron, and a trip to Quality Quidditch Supplies! gave me a taste at the new models of brooms. The fastest, newest broom was the Silver Arrow X-1000. Oh, how I wanted that broomstick.
I remember, on my way to Olivanders, the wand maker's, I ran into somebody, which knocked my many parcels from my hands. I grunted and turned around to say my apologies. The person before me was no older than myself; his hair was dark, almost raven-like, and his eyes a piercing gray. "Sorry, I didn't see you!"
The boy scowled. "Watch where you are walking," was all he managed, before turning on his heel and walking into the distance. I looked up to my Father; the look on my face must have been puzzled, because he smiled back at me.
"Don't worry, Son. He has always been like that, Severus Snape. His mother and father passed away when he was young, and he has been living with his Aunt and Uncle, Capella and Keane Lestrange ever since. He's a feisty one… angry and easily provoked by the optimists around him. Maybe he'll cheer up at Hogwarts - he's attending his First Year this year, as well! Maybe you two could be friends!"
Little did he know, at that time, what Snape was really like.
We entered Olivanders, the noise shut off from behind us as the door closed. I looked at my Father and then at the large desk before me. A bell rang from somewhere above us, and a white-haired man stepped behind the counter.
"Ah… Mr. Potter… I was wondering when I'd be meeting you…" he quasi-whispered, looking down at me and smiling an eerie smile. "It seems it was only yesterday when Minister Duke Potter stepped into my shop… Birch, 13 inches, containing the hair of a Unicorn. You still favour that wand, Minister?" Mr. Olivander asked, looking to my father.
Dad nodded. Mr. Olivander stepped back between the rows behind his desk, skimming the shelves and muttering "hmm…" every now and then. I was directed into a seat by my father. "Try this one," Olivander said, handing me a short wand.
I waved the wand about, and my father's trousers fell from his waist. Mr. Olivander took the wand from my hand, shoving another one into it. I waved this one, almost laughing at the number of large golden sparks that flew from the end of it and singed my father's leg-hairs. After what seemed thousands of tries, Mr. Olivander handed me a sleek looking wand. "No, no… Try this one…"
My fingers curled around the large, glossy handle, fingers tightening its grasp. I gave the wand a wave; numerous crimson and black sparks spouted from the end, circling my very being into a dome-like structure of sparks. Mr. Olivander smiled ever so slightly, staring down at me with intent.
"I believe, Mr. Potter, that the wand has made it's match. Very curious… curious, indeed… 10 and a half inches, made of Mahogany, containing a heartstring of the Narm." Mr. Olivander stared at me with those piercingly blue orbs, and I could feel myself shudder. "It is not very often that one has a wand with such a ferocious creature's belonging. I believe, Mr. Potter, that this may be a calling. You are destined for great things… Great things, indeed. You may not know it now… but you will know soon enough…"
Father stared at me with an incredulous look on his face. He paid for my wand and we exited the shop. "Congratulations, James," he told me, "but we have one more stop for today…" He directed me to Eeylopes Owl Emporium.
I know that my eyes would have been bugging out of my skull. "You may get an owl. Any owl of your choice."
Without hesitation, I tore into the Emporium, looking through cages and cages of the dignified creatures, setting upon perches of wood. I stopped before a young Screech owl and smiled. This would be my owl. This would be my best friend when I anticipate a letter from my parents. This Screech owl would be known as Kendra for the years to come.
"I want her."
"What are you going to name her, James?" Father asked.
"Kendra. Kendra, the Screech owl… James's owl." I had said the latter to myself.
With my parcels and shopping complete, the two of us, Father and Son, entered the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into the glowing green flames, both shouting "Potter's Paradise!" and whirling from the magical world of Diagon Alley.