Chapter One
Many Questions
In the Muggle vicinity of Little Whining, Surrey, on a quiet street by the name of Privet Drive, there was an apparently normal house. From the outside, that is.
If anyone was brave enough to enter this house they would've found things that would shock most decent folk. Just inside the doorway there was a rather large black cauldron. To the left of the front door, in the large entry way, there stood a beautifully adorned mirror; which when looked in properly showed more than your reflection -maybe even your heart's desire. In the living room there were many shelves of odd sports trophies. The walls were adorned with quite a few pictures, but far from normal was the fact that the persons in these pictures seemed alive, and were quite able to move and flit from frame to frame conversing with fellow framed beings. Then, the bookshelves. At first look they appeared the most normal thing in the house; but upon further inspection it would be discovered that they were actually books of magic and spells. Some of these various titles included strange names, such as 'Quidditch Through the Ages', and 'An Animagus' Guide to Keeping the Disguise'; then there were the odd titles, like 'The Monster Book of Monsters' which, when untied from the belt it was bound with, actually bit.
If a visitor had so far not been surprised by the queer contents of the home, then they would be little surprised by the residents. Of these, most were animals. There was an enormous shaggy black dog, by the name of Padfoot; an elderly, but quite fluffy ginger cat called Crookshanks; a magnificent bird with scarlet feathers who was known as Fawkes; and tethered in the back yard (though of course well hidden by a wooden enclosure) was a half horse, half giant eagle named Buckbeak; and the two family owls, a tiny and incredibly loud one named Pigwidgeon and a large Snowy owl named Hedwig.
Naturally, the residencies' owners were wizards. The man of the house was a tall, redheaded and boyish looking yet well-to-do wizard whose name was Ronald Weasley; but preferred to be addressed as simply Ron. His wife, Hermione, was a clever and pretty witch with rather bushy brown hair. And yet the most unusual of all the home's residents (Or any of the other contents for that matter) was their son.
James Weasley was tall but skinny and well built. He wore glasses and his hair was dark brown and a bit messy. He looked little like his parents. But of course, they had told him that they really weren't his real mother and father, but when it came to who his real parents were they refused information and always changed the subject. Whether they just didn't know or preferred not to tell him, James could not tell. For almost 10 years James had lived with the Weasleys, even having their name. But now, just before his 11th birthday, he was standing outside the living room door; listening to them having an argument. They were thinking of sending him away!
Ron was pacing in front of the fireplace, holding a piece of parchment that had just come by way of a large barn owl. He had read it over and over again; as if hoping to uncover some clue he'd missed. Hermione was seated upon the couch, fingering something in the inside pocket of the pale pink robes she was wearing, the ginger cat in her lap.
"But why?" she asked Ron pleadingly, jumping up so suddenly the ginger cat fell to the floor. "Why if, he's a - a squib?"
"Because of Harry." Ron replied, reaching for an envelope on the coffee table and stuffing the letter back in. Its seal was an emblem bearing a snake, a bird, a lion and a badger intertwined around a large letter H. "McGonagall always liked Harry; almost like a son I think. She may have been strict, but on the inside she was really soft. Think of all the times the three of us could've been expelled!"
"Oh Ron," Hermione said, an odd look of puzzlement in her eyes. "Do you really think McGonagall would do that? She couldn't. Dumbledore would've never done that. It must be against the rules. Remember Filch? He never finished at Hogwarts. There must be some other reason." She drew a breath after her long string of words, and it looked as if she was racking her brain in search of some answer she'd once read in a book.
"Hermione, we aren't sure he is a squib," said Ron after some time. "We've never given him the opportunity of showing if he has magic in him. We only assumed that because he never showed any 'odd' powers like Harry and some of us did as kids. Think of his lineage. he could be anything. Even a vampire or a werewolf!" he added, in a seemingly hopeful tone. Hermione glared at him reproachfully at the last statement. Ron raised his eyebrows then said "OK, that was silly" when he realized what she was thinking. They had known a werewolf in their third year at school; and clearly James was not one.
"Why are we sitting here debating this now? If McGonagall thinks he's deserving we shouldn't deny him that. I trust her opinion." Hermione said, but with her brow still furrowed. "I just hope he doesn't find out some thing while he's there. I guess we'd better ask him though. Maybe it's not something he'd like to do." She turned around and faced the window, looking out at the Muggle neighbors busying themselves about their yards.
Meanwhile the boy she and Ron had been discussing silently sat up from looking under the door and leaned against the wall, his head spinning with questions. Harry. he'd heard that name plenty of times around the house, but no one ever talked about that person's life; except a few stories about when he was a boy living with his Muggle aunt and uncle in their house. The house James was in now, to be precise. When the Dursleys had died they'd left the house to Harry, because their own son Dudley was in prison. Most of the unusual things in the house came from this Harry. Yet no one ever said why. And why were there no pictures of Harry in the house? As James sat there he wondered what had ever happened to Harry; and why he, James, had come to live with the Weasleys. But why were they calling James a squib, whatever that was? He'd never heard the word before.
But his thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he hear footsteps coming towards the door beside him. He jumped up quite suddenly and went up the stairs, jumping the third one that squeaked. He wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that conversation.
"JAMES! Come here, will you?" Hermione called up the stairs. James started down the stairs again, trying his best to look curious as to what was happening. "Step in here; we need to talk about something."
James sat down on the couch, pushing the shaggy Padfoot aside. Ron went to the armchair by the fireplace; but Hermione sat beside James and put an arm around him. "Hogwarts sent this letter today," she began. "You've been accepted. We need to know soon if you want to attend." James took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch. Half of him wanted to go; yet the other half knew what he'd heard: that maybe he wasn't deserving. Oh yes, he wanted to be a wizard; that is if it was in him. Yet something, something deep down in his heart held him back.
"Yes," he began, with a weak voice. "Yes. I want to go. I mean - if it gets too bad I can always come home, right?" he said a little stronger. Hermione hugged him tightly and said "Don't worry! Just obey your teachers and the prefects and you'll be just fine. I know; I spent seven years there!" Ron just nodded to back her up.
The next day after breakfast Hermione went to the fireplace and lit it with her wand. "Hermione, are you crazy, it's July!" Ron said when he came into the living room and saw the fire. "Oh don't be silly," she snapped at him. "How else are we going to get to Diagon Alley? And don't give me that look; you know we're going to get James his school things." She took a wooden box off the mantle. The things above the fireplace were much different than what was up there when the house was owned by the Dursleys. They consisted of an old crystal ball, a strange glass spinning top, a set of highly polished brass scales, a small model dragon, and a wand laid across a velvet box.
After everyone was gathered around the fireplace she held out the box. "James, you remember how to use Floo powder?" she checked. After much assurance he knew how to use it and would not end up in Knockturn Alley, James took a pinch of the powder, walked to the fire and threw it in. As the flames turned purple he climbed in and yelled "DIAGON ALLEY!" He closed his eyes as he felt himself spinning and heard a rushing noise. Then, as suddenly as it all started he felt himself hit the floor of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace with a thud. His round glasses flew into the air and fell in a flagon of mead the bartender was taking to an old witch in the corner. The bartender stopped and pulled them out, then handed them to James with a toothy grin. He started off with the mead, but turned back suddenly, and began staring at James; who was wiping his glasses on his t- shirt. "I'll be," muttered the bartender. "Could it be-Mr. Potter? But it's impossible! This fella' can't be older than ten or eleven." He started to question James; but just then Ron stepped out of the fire, brushing soot off his dark blue robes.
"How are you, Tom?" Ron asked quite suddenly. "It's been quite some time since we've seen you. Come today to buy James his Hogwarts stuff." Ron added loudly enough for the entire pub to hear. Luckily, before any strange questions were asked Hermione walked gingerly out of the fire and came up beside Ron. The three started out the door, but the bartender held Ron back. "Mind if I have a word, Mr. Weasley?" he asked a very nervous Ron. "We'll just go on ahead, shall we?" said Hermione after looking back briefly. As they started out the door James felt every head in the pub turn to watch him leave. "What was that all about?" he asked Hermione hoping at last to get some answers.
But "Oh, nothing. Just a lot of curious old folk with naught to do but meddle in the affairs of others," was all she said; much to James's disappointment. "Let's see- where to first? Gringotts I suppose, we can't buy much with the few Knuts I've got." This cheered James up a bit; he had hopes of getting some things at the joke shop, or maybe his own pet. He knew Ron would never let him take Hedwig or Pigwidgeon; they were quite dear to him and Hermione, and both exceptionally old.
When they got to the bank, however, James became quite disappointed again. Growing up in the wizarding world he was used to such strange things as goblins and hags; but all the same he liked to see them. When they reached the marble steps Hermione asked him to wait outside, and told him she had a bit of boring business to take care of. As he sat there staring around at the many shops a familiar face strode by. "James! Oh it's so good to see you again. Where's Hermione and Ron?" asked a young red haired woman. It was Ron's sister, Ginny. "She's in there getting some gold," he told his aunt, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to the enormous doors.
Ginny must have assumed that James and his family would be in Diagon Alley for no other reason than to buy Hogwarts supplies, because she immediately launched into an explanation about some of the things first years would learn in their classes. "And beware of the potions teacher, head of Slytherin House also, Professor Malfoy;" she told James. "He used to be Ron's arch rival. Quite a few times he caused that threesome some trouble." At this James perked his ears up, hoping for some information on Harry; but instead Ginny went on about the teachers. "Neville Longbottom is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. For Charms you've got Professor Granger. Oh yes, you'll have Professor Abbot for Herbology. Woman, that one. Quite a few this year. But she's head of Hufflepuff house; so like most she favors her students. Let's see. who else. Oh yes, Madam Bones is the school nurse; she was Hufflepuff also. Madam Chang, she's the flying teacher and Quidditch referee. Head of Ravenclaw, she is. There's Professor Brown, she teaches Divination. But don't worry about that until your 3rd year. And then of course, there's me. I teach Transfiguration and I'm head of Gryffindor." She finished, adding herself as an unimportant afterthought. "Wow, you're a teacher?" James asked, quite interested. "I never knew. Well, I mean I wondered why we never saw you except in the summer, but. wait a second, did you say Professor Granger?" Now James was really puzzled. Did she mean Hermione?
But just then, Hermione herself stepped out of the bank smiling. "Oh hello, Ginny," she said. "Spilled the beans on all the teachers yet? Most of them went to school with us. Yes, poor little Professor Flitwick retired last year. Had him in my day, but he just finally got to old. So I took the job for this year." She said in reply to the look of wonderment on James's face. "Let's get going. Pull out you're list, we need to see what supplies are on there. See you in a few weeks, Ginny."
James took the envelope out of his jeans pocket and pulled the second piece of parchment from it. It read:
UNIFORM: Three sets of plain black work robes One plain pointed black hat One pair of protective dragon hide gloves One black winter cloak (silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS: The New Standard Book of Spells (Grade One) By Hermione Granger
A Revised Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration By Minerva McGonagall
Magic Through Potions By Severus Snape
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (55th Edition) By Newt Scamander and Rubeus Hagrid
Dark Arts: Protection Against Curses, Creatures and Cruel Wizards By Alastor Moody
One Million Magical Herbs and Fungi By Phyllida Spore and Professor Sprout
Current History of Magic By Benjamin Binns
New History of Hogwarts By Hermione Granger
OTHER EQUIPMENT: 1 wand 1 standard size two cauldron (pewter only) 1 telescope 1 set brass scales
All students are allowed ONE pet. First years MAY NOT have a broomstick. Have a safe trip and enjoy the school year!
Minerva McGonagall Headmistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"You never told me you wrote schoolbooks." Said James, feeling rather disappointed he hadn't been told any of this by Hermione before. As they walked down the streets of Diagon Alley Hermione began telling him about the dozens of magical books she'd written. She only stopped talking when they came to a halt in front of a large store; the name 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' scrolled across the awning. They went in and were greeted by a witch with pins in her mouth. "'Ogorts?" she asked through a mouthful of pins. James nodded and the witch led him to a stool in front of the window. She disappeared for a moment but returned with an amount of folded black cloth. When she unfolded it, however, it was a set of unhemmed robes. She slipped them over his head and began pinning them to the right length. While James waited on the seamstress to pin up the robes he glanced around the shop. He stared at the racks of many colored cloth for a bit; allowing his mind to find patterns in the way the bolts were stacked. Suddenly, he thought he saw the yellow glint of an eye. He squinted for a better view; only to meet the glance of a beady eyed rat that was feasting away on the cloth. James thought to himself that it would be an interesting sight to see the seamstress witches blasting away the store in search of one pesky rodent. Soon however the witch was done and the robes were magically sewn up; the humorous thoughts forgotten to James in the bustle of being unwrapped from the robes.
Hermione and James set off to their next stop, a wand. It was rather grubby store they went to, the name 'Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.' printed above the door in peeling gold letters. When they went in James saw shelves upon shelves of thin boxes, but not a person in sight among all the other dusty things. Hermione went to the counter and rang a small bell beside an empty owl cage. Shortly, an old man with very grey hair stepped out of the shadows, having just come from the back section of the store. "Ah yes, Mr. Potter" he said. "I expected in my heart of hearts that you should come soon." At this James looked at Hermione, who appeared nervous but pretended she hadn't heard what Mr. Ollivander had said. "Let me take some measurements, and then you can try a few wands, my lad" said Mr. Ollivander, drawing a silver tape measure from his pocket. "Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?" he asked, while the tape measure began measuring James on its own. "Well, I'm right handed if that's what you mean. Why are you calling me Mr. Potter?" Mr. Ollivander looked rather puzzled that James was not pleased being called Mr. Potter, but after glancing at Hermione, who was shaking her head, he said nothing and went to get some wands. He returned and started to talk again. "Each wand is unique," he said while stacking the wands on the counter. "As is each wizard and each magical creature that supplies a wand core. Remember, Mr. Potter-the wand chooses the wizard; not the other way around. Now try some of these." James wasn't sure what he thought of Mr. Ollivander - other than the fact he was strange, that is.
"Willow, 9¾ inches, unicorn hair. Quite springy," Mr. Ollivander, handing James a wand. James gave it a wave, but nothing happened. 'Oh no,' he thought. 'What if I really am a squib?'
But Mr. Ollivander merely took the wand and gave him another. "Beech, 9 inches, dragon heart string. Very flexible." When James waved this wand nothing happened, but he managed to stir up a cloud of dust from his vigorous waving. Mr. Ollivander snatched it away quickly and replaced it with another.
"Cherry, 8½ inches, Pheonix feather. Nice for levitation." When he waved this wand, James caused the bell on the desk to fly so hard into the wall that a lot of wands fell off their shelves. Hermione was by the door, hoping to escape should anything large drop near her head.
"No, no. Try this one. Oak, 10½ inches, dragon heart string." This wand also did nothing when James waved it, but was quickly replaced by another from Mr. Ollivander.
"Hmmm- tricky, eh? I've had them before. Try this. Maple, phoenix feather, seven inches. Whippy." James took it, now feeling quite foolish; but it was immediately snatched away.
James continued to try. And try. The tried wands on the desk were now rolling off there were so many. Finally, Mr. Ollivander said "I think I might have some in the back. Let me go and see. Don't worry now- we'll find the right one." A few minutes later he emerged with another stack of wands; which he handed to Hermione because the counter was now full. He took the top one off, but stared it and began mumbling. "Hmm - I wonder - worked before - maybe it'd be best not - but, oh why not. Here, quite unusual. Ebony and phoenix feather. Ten and one half inches. Give it a wave." James took this wand, and when he did he felt warmth in his fingers quite suddenly. He swished it about, leaving a trail of red and green sparks. Mr. Ollivander clapped, then snatched the wand and placed it in the box. "Curious - quite strange. I wonder - fates are strange. And curious," he said, mumbling again. After he handed James the parcel with his wand in it, James finally plucked up the courage to ask what Mr. Ollivander thought so strange. "Ah, well," he began, looking at Hermione as if for approval. "The phoenix who gave your feather only gave two others. One, well - it was in the wand belonging to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." James was speechless, but Hermione suddenly gasped. When they asked her what was wrong she only made excuses. "Oh, I just realized we'd um - left Ron at the Leaky Cauldron." She said in an unconvincing tone.
She quickly handed Mr. Ollivander 7 golden Galleons for the wand and went out of the store.
They caught up with Ron in front of Flourish and Blotts, where he was looking at a new book about every World Cup ever played. "Look!" he shouted when he saw them. "The World Cup we went to, Ireland versus Bulgaria, it's in here. It even has pictures of the Wronski Feint Krum pulled off!"
"Oh grow up," Hermione chided at him. "James, would you go on in and start finding these books?" Ron and James looked at her questioningly, so she said "I have something important to discuss with Ron" through gritted teeth.
That was enough to get James in the bookstore. He looked around at all the books; from tiny ones the size of your thumb to enormous ones that took three people to lift. After picking up most of the things on his list he meandered around back to the front of the store to pick up his copies of A Revised Beginners Guide to Transfiguration and The New Standard Book of Spells (Grade One), but when he got to the front window where they were on a display he heard raised voices. They belonged to Hermione and Ron.
"They are asking questions," said Ron's voice. "Tom, the old bartender, thought he was Harry come back as a boy again. We really need to tell him, or someone else will let it slip." James moved closer to the window so he could just see their faces through a rack of 'Magical Cookbooks That Really Cook'.
"That's not what I need to discuss, Ron," said Hermione's voice. She did not sound her usual cool-headed self. "Do you know what? I think Mr. Ollivander knew exactly who he was. And now that people have started calling him 'Mr. Potter' he's going to ask questions we can't answer. But that's aside from the point," she added at Ron's look of 'I told you so'.
"I know this may not be important to you," she continued, looking as if she was discussing a mad Sphinx right over her shoulder. "But do you know what's in his wand? A phoenix feather. But not just any phoenix feather. Its brothers were in V-voldemort's wand and-and Harry's. I just don't know what it means!" she groaned, looking quite displeased for once she didn't understand something important. Ron was looking quite bewildered now.
"I really think we ought to tell him," he said at last. "He deserves to know." But Hermione would not change her mind. "Trust me on this," she said. "Like you once did. Just this once trust me. It's important that you do. I will tell you when it's the right time." She ended it there by giving him a look that meant 'just do it, I mean it, no more questions' and then they kissed.
James shrunk back behind the rack in disgust and they started to come back into the store, but at that moment something happened that surprised everyone. In his corner behind the rack of Flourish & Blotts James suddenly felt a deep, cold chill rush through him; as if his blood had turned to ice. He grew dizzy - he could hear something playing in his head like a bad cassette tape- "Dementors!" he heard someone shout in the shop - he felt sick - he wouldn't be on his feet much longer - the cold was worse - the sound in his head was growing louder. He felt his legs turn to water and fall from under him-his head hit the rack of cookbooks as he fell. Someone was shouting-now screaming-an incantation-a blast of light-someone falling to the ground. Then he fainted and knew no more.
Many Questions
In the Muggle vicinity of Little Whining, Surrey, on a quiet street by the name of Privet Drive, there was an apparently normal house. From the outside, that is.
If anyone was brave enough to enter this house they would've found things that would shock most decent folk. Just inside the doorway there was a rather large black cauldron. To the left of the front door, in the large entry way, there stood a beautifully adorned mirror; which when looked in properly showed more than your reflection -maybe even your heart's desire. In the living room there were many shelves of odd sports trophies. The walls were adorned with quite a few pictures, but far from normal was the fact that the persons in these pictures seemed alive, and were quite able to move and flit from frame to frame conversing with fellow framed beings. Then, the bookshelves. At first look they appeared the most normal thing in the house; but upon further inspection it would be discovered that they were actually books of magic and spells. Some of these various titles included strange names, such as 'Quidditch Through the Ages', and 'An Animagus' Guide to Keeping the Disguise'; then there were the odd titles, like 'The Monster Book of Monsters' which, when untied from the belt it was bound with, actually bit.
If a visitor had so far not been surprised by the queer contents of the home, then they would be little surprised by the residents. Of these, most were animals. There was an enormous shaggy black dog, by the name of Padfoot; an elderly, but quite fluffy ginger cat called Crookshanks; a magnificent bird with scarlet feathers who was known as Fawkes; and tethered in the back yard (though of course well hidden by a wooden enclosure) was a half horse, half giant eagle named Buckbeak; and the two family owls, a tiny and incredibly loud one named Pigwidgeon and a large Snowy owl named Hedwig.
Naturally, the residencies' owners were wizards. The man of the house was a tall, redheaded and boyish looking yet well-to-do wizard whose name was Ronald Weasley; but preferred to be addressed as simply Ron. His wife, Hermione, was a clever and pretty witch with rather bushy brown hair. And yet the most unusual of all the home's residents (Or any of the other contents for that matter) was their son.
James Weasley was tall but skinny and well built. He wore glasses and his hair was dark brown and a bit messy. He looked little like his parents. But of course, they had told him that they really weren't his real mother and father, but when it came to who his real parents were they refused information and always changed the subject. Whether they just didn't know or preferred not to tell him, James could not tell. For almost 10 years James had lived with the Weasleys, even having their name. But now, just before his 11th birthday, he was standing outside the living room door; listening to them having an argument. They were thinking of sending him away!
Ron was pacing in front of the fireplace, holding a piece of parchment that had just come by way of a large barn owl. He had read it over and over again; as if hoping to uncover some clue he'd missed. Hermione was seated upon the couch, fingering something in the inside pocket of the pale pink robes she was wearing, the ginger cat in her lap.
"But why?" she asked Ron pleadingly, jumping up so suddenly the ginger cat fell to the floor. "Why if, he's a - a squib?"
"Because of Harry." Ron replied, reaching for an envelope on the coffee table and stuffing the letter back in. Its seal was an emblem bearing a snake, a bird, a lion and a badger intertwined around a large letter H. "McGonagall always liked Harry; almost like a son I think. She may have been strict, but on the inside she was really soft. Think of all the times the three of us could've been expelled!"
"Oh Ron," Hermione said, an odd look of puzzlement in her eyes. "Do you really think McGonagall would do that? She couldn't. Dumbledore would've never done that. It must be against the rules. Remember Filch? He never finished at Hogwarts. There must be some other reason." She drew a breath after her long string of words, and it looked as if she was racking her brain in search of some answer she'd once read in a book.
"Hermione, we aren't sure he is a squib," said Ron after some time. "We've never given him the opportunity of showing if he has magic in him. We only assumed that because he never showed any 'odd' powers like Harry and some of us did as kids. Think of his lineage. he could be anything. Even a vampire or a werewolf!" he added, in a seemingly hopeful tone. Hermione glared at him reproachfully at the last statement. Ron raised his eyebrows then said "OK, that was silly" when he realized what she was thinking. They had known a werewolf in their third year at school; and clearly James was not one.
"Why are we sitting here debating this now? If McGonagall thinks he's deserving we shouldn't deny him that. I trust her opinion." Hermione said, but with her brow still furrowed. "I just hope he doesn't find out some thing while he's there. I guess we'd better ask him though. Maybe it's not something he'd like to do." She turned around and faced the window, looking out at the Muggle neighbors busying themselves about their yards.
Meanwhile the boy she and Ron had been discussing silently sat up from looking under the door and leaned against the wall, his head spinning with questions. Harry. he'd heard that name plenty of times around the house, but no one ever talked about that person's life; except a few stories about when he was a boy living with his Muggle aunt and uncle in their house. The house James was in now, to be precise. When the Dursleys had died they'd left the house to Harry, because their own son Dudley was in prison. Most of the unusual things in the house came from this Harry. Yet no one ever said why. And why were there no pictures of Harry in the house? As James sat there he wondered what had ever happened to Harry; and why he, James, had come to live with the Weasleys. But why were they calling James a squib, whatever that was? He'd never heard the word before.
But his thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he hear footsteps coming towards the door beside him. He jumped up quite suddenly and went up the stairs, jumping the third one that squeaked. He wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that conversation.
"JAMES! Come here, will you?" Hermione called up the stairs. James started down the stairs again, trying his best to look curious as to what was happening. "Step in here; we need to talk about something."
James sat down on the couch, pushing the shaggy Padfoot aside. Ron went to the armchair by the fireplace; but Hermione sat beside James and put an arm around him. "Hogwarts sent this letter today," she began. "You've been accepted. We need to know soon if you want to attend." James took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch. Half of him wanted to go; yet the other half knew what he'd heard: that maybe he wasn't deserving. Oh yes, he wanted to be a wizard; that is if it was in him. Yet something, something deep down in his heart held him back.
"Yes," he began, with a weak voice. "Yes. I want to go. I mean - if it gets too bad I can always come home, right?" he said a little stronger. Hermione hugged him tightly and said "Don't worry! Just obey your teachers and the prefects and you'll be just fine. I know; I spent seven years there!" Ron just nodded to back her up.
The next day after breakfast Hermione went to the fireplace and lit it with her wand. "Hermione, are you crazy, it's July!" Ron said when he came into the living room and saw the fire. "Oh don't be silly," she snapped at him. "How else are we going to get to Diagon Alley? And don't give me that look; you know we're going to get James his school things." She took a wooden box off the mantle. The things above the fireplace were much different than what was up there when the house was owned by the Dursleys. They consisted of an old crystal ball, a strange glass spinning top, a set of highly polished brass scales, a small model dragon, and a wand laid across a velvet box.
After everyone was gathered around the fireplace she held out the box. "James, you remember how to use Floo powder?" she checked. After much assurance he knew how to use it and would not end up in Knockturn Alley, James took a pinch of the powder, walked to the fire and threw it in. As the flames turned purple he climbed in and yelled "DIAGON ALLEY!" He closed his eyes as he felt himself spinning and heard a rushing noise. Then, as suddenly as it all started he felt himself hit the floor of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace with a thud. His round glasses flew into the air and fell in a flagon of mead the bartender was taking to an old witch in the corner. The bartender stopped and pulled them out, then handed them to James with a toothy grin. He started off with the mead, but turned back suddenly, and began staring at James; who was wiping his glasses on his t- shirt. "I'll be," muttered the bartender. "Could it be-Mr. Potter? But it's impossible! This fella' can't be older than ten or eleven." He started to question James; but just then Ron stepped out of the fire, brushing soot off his dark blue robes.
"How are you, Tom?" Ron asked quite suddenly. "It's been quite some time since we've seen you. Come today to buy James his Hogwarts stuff." Ron added loudly enough for the entire pub to hear. Luckily, before any strange questions were asked Hermione walked gingerly out of the fire and came up beside Ron. The three started out the door, but the bartender held Ron back. "Mind if I have a word, Mr. Weasley?" he asked a very nervous Ron. "We'll just go on ahead, shall we?" said Hermione after looking back briefly. As they started out the door James felt every head in the pub turn to watch him leave. "What was that all about?" he asked Hermione hoping at last to get some answers.
But "Oh, nothing. Just a lot of curious old folk with naught to do but meddle in the affairs of others," was all she said; much to James's disappointment. "Let's see- where to first? Gringotts I suppose, we can't buy much with the few Knuts I've got." This cheered James up a bit; he had hopes of getting some things at the joke shop, or maybe his own pet. He knew Ron would never let him take Hedwig or Pigwidgeon; they were quite dear to him and Hermione, and both exceptionally old.
When they got to the bank, however, James became quite disappointed again. Growing up in the wizarding world he was used to such strange things as goblins and hags; but all the same he liked to see them. When they reached the marble steps Hermione asked him to wait outside, and told him she had a bit of boring business to take care of. As he sat there staring around at the many shops a familiar face strode by. "James! Oh it's so good to see you again. Where's Hermione and Ron?" asked a young red haired woman. It was Ron's sister, Ginny. "She's in there getting some gold," he told his aunt, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to the enormous doors.
Ginny must have assumed that James and his family would be in Diagon Alley for no other reason than to buy Hogwarts supplies, because she immediately launched into an explanation about some of the things first years would learn in their classes. "And beware of the potions teacher, head of Slytherin House also, Professor Malfoy;" she told James. "He used to be Ron's arch rival. Quite a few times he caused that threesome some trouble." At this James perked his ears up, hoping for some information on Harry; but instead Ginny went on about the teachers. "Neville Longbottom is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. For Charms you've got Professor Granger. Oh yes, you'll have Professor Abbot for Herbology. Woman, that one. Quite a few this year. But she's head of Hufflepuff house; so like most she favors her students. Let's see. who else. Oh yes, Madam Bones is the school nurse; she was Hufflepuff also. Madam Chang, she's the flying teacher and Quidditch referee. Head of Ravenclaw, she is. There's Professor Brown, she teaches Divination. But don't worry about that until your 3rd year. And then of course, there's me. I teach Transfiguration and I'm head of Gryffindor." She finished, adding herself as an unimportant afterthought. "Wow, you're a teacher?" James asked, quite interested. "I never knew. Well, I mean I wondered why we never saw you except in the summer, but. wait a second, did you say Professor Granger?" Now James was really puzzled. Did she mean Hermione?
But just then, Hermione herself stepped out of the bank smiling. "Oh hello, Ginny," she said. "Spilled the beans on all the teachers yet? Most of them went to school with us. Yes, poor little Professor Flitwick retired last year. Had him in my day, but he just finally got to old. So I took the job for this year." She said in reply to the look of wonderment on James's face. "Let's get going. Pull out you're list, we need to see what supplies are on there. See you in a few weeks, Ginny."
James took the envelope out of his jeans pocket and pulled the second piece of parchment from it. It read:
UNIFORM: Three sets of plain black work robes One plain pointed black hat One pair of protective dragon hide gloves One black winter cloak (silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS: The New Standard Book of Spells (Grade One) By Hermione Granger
A Revised Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration By Minerva McGonagall
Magic Through Potions By Severus Snape
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (55th Edition) By Newt Scamander and Rubeus Hagrid
Dark Arts: Protection Against Curses, Creatures and Cruel Wizards By Alastor Moody
One Million Magical Herbs and Fungi By Phyllida Spore and Professor Sprout
Current History of Magic By Benjamin Binns
New History of Hogwarts By Hermione Granger
OTHER EQUIPMENT: 1 wand 1 standard size two cauldron (pewter only) 1 telescope 1 set brass scales
All students are allowed ONE pet. First years MAY NOT have a broomstick. Have a safe trip and enjoy the school year!
Minerva McGonagall Headmistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"You never told me you wrote schoolbooks." Said James, feeling rather disappointed he hadn't been told any of this by Hermione before. As they walked down the streets of Diagon Alley Hermione began telling him about the dozens of magical books she'd written. She only stopped talking when they came to a halt in front of a large store; the name 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' scrolled across the awning. They went in and were greeted by a witch with pins in her mouth. "'Ogorts?" she asked through a mouthful of pins. James nodded and the witch led him to a stool in front of the window. She disappeared for a moment but returned with an amount of folded black cloth. When she unfolded it, however, it was a set of unhemmed robes. She slipped them over his head and began pinning them to the right length. While James waited on the seamstress to pin up the robes he glanced around the shop. He stared at the racks of many colored cloth for a bit; allowing his mind to find patterns in the way the bolts were stacked. Suddenly, he thought he saw the yellow glint of an eye. He squinted for a better view; only to meet the glance of a beady eyed rat that was feasting away on the cloth. James thought to himself that it would be an interesting sight to see the seamstress witches blasting away the store in search of one pesky rodent. Soon however the witch was done and the robes were magically sewn up; the humorous thoughts forgotten to James in the bustle of being unwrapped from the robes.
Hermione and James set off to their next stop, a wand. It was rather grubby store they went to, the name 'Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.' printed above the door in peeling gold letters. When they went in James saw shelves upon shelves of thin boxes, but not a person in sight among all the other dusty things. Hermione went to the counter and rang a small bell beside an empty owl cage. Shortly, an old man with very grey hair stepped out of the shadows, having just come from the back section of the store. "Ah yes, Mr. Potter" he said. "I expected in my heart of hearts that you should come soon." At this James looked at Hermione, who appeared nervous but pretended she hadn't heard what Mr. Ollivander had said. "Let me take some measurements, and then you can try a few wands, my lad" said Mr. Ollivander, drawing a silver tape measure from his pocket. "Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?" he asked, while the tape measure began measuring James on its own. "Well, I'm right handed if that's what you mean. Why are you calling me Mr. Potter?" Mr. Ollivander looked rather puzzled that James was not pleased being called Mr. Potter, but after glancing at Hermione, who was shaking her head, he said nothing and went to get some wands. He returned and started to talk again. "Each wand is unique," he said while stacking the wands on the counter. "As is each wizard and each magical creature that supplies a wand core. Remember, Mr. Potter-the wand chooses the wizard; not the other way around. Now try some of these." James wasn't sure what he thought of Mr. Ollivander - other than the fact he was strange, that is.
"Willow, 9¾ inches, unicorn hair. Quite springy," Mr. Ollivander, handing James a wand. James gave it a wave, but nothing happened. 'Oh no,' he thought. 'What if I really am a squib?'
But Mr. Ollivander merely took the wand and gave him another. "Beech, 9 inches, dragon heart string. Very flexible." When James waved this wand nothing happened, but he managed to stir up a cloud of dust from his vigorous waving. Mr. Ollivander snatched it away quickly and replaced it with another.
"Cherry, 8½ inches, Pheonix feather. Nice for levitation." When he waved this wand, James caused the bell on the desk to fly so hard into the wall that a lot of wands fell off their shelves. Hermione was by the door, hoping to escape should anything large drop near her head.
"No, no. Try this one. Oak, 10½ inches, dragon heart string." This wand also did nothing when James waved it, but was quickly replaced by another from Mr. Ollivander.
"Hmmm- tricky, eh? I've had them before. Try this. Maple, phoenix feather, seven inches. Whippy." James took it, now feeling quite foolish; but it was immediately snatched away.
James continued to try. And try. The tried wands on the desk were now rolling off there were so many. Finally, Mr. Ollivander said "I think I might have some in the back. Let me go and see. Don't worry now- we'll find the right one." A few minutes later he emerged with another stack of wands; which he handed to Hermione because the counter was now full. He took the top one off, but stared it and began mumbling. "Hmm - I wonder - worked before - maybe it'd be best not - but, oh why not. Here, quite unusual. Ebony and phoenix feather. Ten and one half inches. Give it a wave." James took this wand, and when he did he felt warmth in his fingers quite suddenly. He swished it about, leaving a trail of red and green sparks. Mr. Ollivander clapped, then snatched the wand and placed it in the box. "Curious - quite strange. I wonder - fates are strange. And curious," he said, mumbling again. After he handed James the parcel with his wand in it, James finally plucked up the courage to ask what Mr. Ollivander thought so strange. "Ah, well," he began, looking at Hermione as if for approval. "The phoenix who gave your feather only gave two others. One, well - it was in the wand belonging to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." James was speechless, but Hermione suddenly gasped. When they asked her what was wrong she only made excuses. "Oh, I just realized we'd um - left Ron at the Leaky Cauldron." She said in an unconvincing tone.
She quickly handed Mr. Ollivander 7 golden Galleons for the wand and went out of the store.
They caught up with Ron in front of Flourish and Blotts, where he was looking at a new book about every World Cup ever played. "Look!" he shouted when he saw them. "The World Cup we went to, Ireland versus Bulgaria, it's in here. It even has pictures of the Wronski Feint Krum pulled off!"
"Oh grow up," Hermione chided at him. "James, would you go on in and start finding these books?" Ron and James looked at her questioningly, so she said "I have something important to discuss with Ron" through gritted teeth.
That was enough to get James in the bookstore. He looked around at all the books; from tiny ones the size of your thumb to enormous ones that took three people to lift. After picking up most of the things on his list he meandered around back to the front of the store to pick up his copies of A Revised Beginners Guide to Transfiguration and The New Standard Book of Spells (Grade One), but when he got to the front window where they were on a display he heard raised voices. They belonged to Hermione and Ron.
"They are asking questions," said Ron's voice. "Tom, the old bartender, thought he was Harry come back as a boy again. We really need to tell him, or someone else will let it slip." James moved closer to the window so he could just see their faces through a rack of 'Magical Cookbooks That Really Cook'.
"That's not what I need to discuss, Ron," said Hermione's voice. She did not sound her usual cool-headed self. "Do you know what? I think Mr. Ollivander knew exactly who he was. And now that people have started calling him 'Mr. Potter' he's going to ask questions we can't answer. But that's aside from the point," she added at Ron's look of 'I told you so'.
"I know this may not be important to you," she continued, looking as if she was discussing a mad Sphinx right over her shoulder. "But do you know what's in his wand? A phoenix feather. But not just any phoenix feather. Its brothers were in V-voldemort's wand and-and Harry's. I just don't know what it means!" she groaned, looking quite displeased for once she didn't understand something important. Ron was looking quite bewildered now.
"I really think we ought to tell him," he said at last. "He deserves to know." But Hermione would not change her mind. "Trust me on this," she said. "Like you once did. Just this once trust me. It's important that you do. I will tell you when it's the right time." She ended it there by giving him a look that meant 'just do it, I mean it, no more questions' and then they kissed.
James shrunk back behind the rack in disgust and they started to come back into the store, but at that moment something happened that surprised everyone. In his corner behind the rack of Flourish & Blotts James suddenly felt a deep, cold chill rush through him; as if his blood had turned to ice. He grew dizzy - he could hear something playing in his head like a bad cassette tape- "Dementors!" he heard someone shout in the shop - he felt sick - he wouldn't be on his feet much longer - the cold was worse - the sound in his head was growing louder. He felt his legs turn to water and fall from under him-his head hit the rack of cookbooks as he fell. Someone was shouting-now screaming-an incantation-a blast of light-someone falling to the ground. Then he fainted and knew no more.