Disclaimer~ I am actually not JK Rowling, believe it or not. I own nothing
except Melissa, Henry, and Margaret Potter, and even then I own very little
of. In fact, feel free to rip them off if you wish.
First Impressions~
James trudged along the cobblestones, an exaggerated expression of embarrassment etched permanently onto his features. Why did everything always have to turn into such a horrible family affair? He *was* 11, after all.
"James, come along, now!" cooed the small, stocky blonde woman from up ahead. "No time to doddle on your big day! We're going to need lots of time to get all your little school supplies." She gave him a sweet dimpled smile. James shook his head as he surveyed the object of his discomfort. Sure, he was excited about finally going off to school! Sure, he wanted plenty of time at Diagon Alley. But did *they* have to be here? Merlin, it was so embarrassing!
Dad strutted along up ahead. He looked so proud, one would've thought James had won the Order of Merlin. He was even wearing his finest dress robes, complete with a tall pointed hat two feet in the air, with his erratic hair sticking out from underneath it. He would stop random people he hardly knew and inform them jovially "We're here shopping for my oldest. Hogwarts, you know!" Then, whatever stranger it was would treat him like a very small child, asking him if he was excited, and telling him about all the wonderful friends he would make. Mum was hardly better, she spent half the time cooing and looking flustered, and the other half trying to make his hair lie flat so he'd be presentable and telling him to stop being surly. But James was going to be surly, because Mum had probably ruined his whole life by insisting they take Melissa.
Melissa was nine years old, so James really did think that she might know better. But no, she had insisted on wearing her long pink princess dress up dress to Diagon alley, not to mention the sparkly feather boa that changed colours from lavender to blue to yellow to pink and back again. And since as soon as mum had asked her to change she'd started to through a screaming fit, his parents had let her come dressed as she was, with a warning to "Be nice to her, James." Everyone always insisted that he be kind to Melissa, just because of her parents, he pouted to himself. Other Hogwarts students right now were probably watching and thinking "That James Potter sure has a freak for a cousin. He's probably insane, too. Let's none of us ever talk to him." Actually, if insanity ran in the family, there was a good chance he'd gotten it. And if not, well, his family would drive him insane in other ways.
"Oh, look, James!" squealed mum. "It's the first place on the list! Madam Malkin's! We can get you a lovely robe!"
"Aunt Margaret, can I get a robe?" asked Melissa innocently.
James's mother smiled and shook her head. "We'll get you some nice new robes another time, dear," she said kindly, casting a look at James. "Henry, why don't you take Melissa to get some ice cream while I wait with James? Maybe you can pick up the things he needs from the apothecary."
Melissa looked just about to throw a tantrum, when she heard the words 'ice cream.' She smiled and left, skipping along next to James's father. James scowled at the sight. When he turned, his mother had already gone inside the shop, so he followed.
"James!" exclaimed Margaret Potter. "Look who's here! It's your little friend from Quidditch Camp!" James glanced over to the boy being fitted in Hogwarts robes by a woman wearing lime green. The boy caught James's eye, recognized him, and waved so vigorously that he nearly fell over and destroyed Madame Malkin's measurements. James thought that the witch must be having a hard enough time fitting him already. The boy was small and overweight, with a round, pink face, tiny grey eyes, and thin wispy hair that seemed to have been cut with a severely damaged wand.
James remembered him from Quidditch Camp- the boy who couldn't even get his broomstick off the ground. James had defended him from some older boys, and the fat boy had taken a sick sort of liking to him. He'd followed him around everywhere, grinning a mad little grin. It was frankly disturbing, but mum had somehow gotten it into her head that they had become best friends.
"Er, hello, there," James said slowly, walking up next to him to be fitted and trying to remember the boy's name. "Perry. . ."
The boy's chin wobbled slightly in disappointment. "Peter," he said. "Remember?" He looked so sad that James began to feel slightly guilty, not a welcome change of emotion at the point.
"Well, of course! What did I call you?" James forced a chuckle. "Not much sleep lately, you know?"
Peter nodded, his awestruck happiness returning. "Oh, me too! I'm just so excited about Hogwarts! Hopefully we'll be in the same house, huh, James? What house do you want to be in?"
"Gryffindor, of course," James said proudly as Madame Malkin began to take his measurements. Peter's face faltered slightly, as though he felt as though there would be no way he could get into Gryffindor. James thought about this. Sure, Peter was a little annoying at times, but if they were in the same house, at least James wouldn't be alone. It was even kind of flattering that Peter admired him so much, when taken in small doses.
Peter's robe had been tailored, and an emaciated woman about 10 years older than James's mother paid for the robe, and some other clothes. James was still being measured, with a tape measurer that worked by magic. It was hardly unusual to James.
The young wizard had partly hoped Peter would leave now, but by the way he stood shyly by the door, it was clear he was waiting for James. James smiled and nodded at him as the tape measurer took his last measurements. Madame Malkin hurried over and began cutting and pinning and sewing a piece of black cloth. In less than a minute, she had several lovely long black robes done. They even had the letters "JP" embroidered on the inside at his mum's request, in red and gold stitching. Mrs. Potter put all of James's robes, hats, cloaks, and gloves into one tiny shopping bag with an enormous inside. Then, she smiled warmly at her son.
"I have an idea, James. Why don't you and your friend go off together? I'll give you some money and you can get your schoolbooks. Do you have the list?"
James whipped it out of his pocket quickly. "Sure do," he said. "Do you really mean it, mum?" Even if he had to be with Peter, it would be worth it for mum to let him go off and explore Diagon Alley without his parents there.
"Why not? You're getting older, James. Just be careful, don't you *dare* go near Knockturn Alley, and meet your father in front of Ollivanders at 2 o'clock sharp. Alright?" asked the woman, winking one of her large hazel eyes.
"Sure thing, mum! 2 o'clock!" James grinned as his mother handed him a tiny pouch filled with galleons for him to spend. "Thank you!"
Mrs. Potter ruffled his hair to James's slight embarrassment, but he said nothing until she was gone. "So, Peter, wanna go to. . .Knockturn Alley?" he asked dramatically.
Peter gasped and his pink face turned a sort of greenish-white. "B-but we're not allowed!" he said in an urgent whisper. "It's full of dark wizards, my mum says! Th-there could be all sorts of things, like vampires and hags and werewolves!"
James laughed, grinning a challenge at the other boy. "Don' wet yourself, Peter, I was joking. I've got a bag full of galleons, I don't want some stupid Slytherin to snatch it off me."
"Y-yeah, well," said Peter, looking slightly relieved, "I wasn't scared or anything. I just didn't wanna hafta fight any dark wizards, since I've never practiced on this wand." He sniffed and tried his best to look brave.
A very tall, thin woman peered in at the two of them. James recognized Peter's mother, although the resemblance was difficult to find. She was built nothing like her round son, although they did possess a similar pointed nose and watery eyes. "Peter? We really must be going," said Mrs. Pettigrew. Peter flashed James an apologetic look, but he couldn't hide his relief. He practically ran over to the woman.
"Bye, James, see you at school," he called. His mother tried to hold onto his hand, but he wrenched it free as they walked out of the shop. James continued watching, and noticed that as soon as they got far enough away, Peter grasped her hand once more.
"What a baby!" exclaimed James to himself. He felt just a little bad for frightening Peter, who wasn't so bad, and might've been one of the only friends he'd have at Hogwarts. James sighed, but knew one place that could always cheer him up.
Quality Quidditch Supplies was James's favorite store in the whole world. The insides were filled from ceiling to floor with posters of great teams, autographed robes and snitches, special practice balls to use at home, and the latest brooms. James's father had bought him a broom for his ninth birthday, but he'd smashed it up at Quidditch camp. Henry Potter had informed his son that he'd buy him a new broom when he made the house team in his second year. James wanted one now, but there was no way he'd manage to get a broom in his trunk past mum and dad. So, instead he contented himself with standing outside the shop window, where the latest in racing brooms were kept.
The one James was looking at was particularly nice. It had a beautiful pale ash handle that had been shined to resemble a gemstone. Each twig was in perfect position, and the name was spelled out on the handle in perfect, Gryffindor red.
"Cleansweep 7, eh?" questioned a voice. James looked around. He hadn't noticed the boy standing next to him against the window. He had a charismatic, confident voice that made him seem quite likeable, and wore long robes that were even darker than his freshly cut hair. "Nice broom," added the boy, "but not worth your time. See, all the Cleansweep line looks pretty fancy for a couple of years, but if you're looking for durability and reliance, they're absolutely awful. My old '6' was a great broom, until one day it started to stall. Rubbish."
"Oh?" asked James with interest. "Know a lot about brooms, do you?" he asked calmly, ruffling his hair with one hand so he'd look cooler.
"A good deal," responded the boy. "My uncle used to be in the business, until he retired. He designed the Lightening Arrow."
"That's the broom that they used in the World Cup fifteen years ago!" exclaimed James. "When England won the game in less than a half hour! Amazing. The Brazilians had never seen a broom so perfectly balanced."
"Merlin," chuckled the first boy. "You sure know your Quidditch. What's your team?"
"Tornados, of course," said James proudly. "Faster ever catch of the snitch in Britain, you know, and they've got the best team of Chasers since the old Cannons teams in the '90s."
"Oh, I can't deny that the Tornados are good," said the boy with a grin. "Seen every game they've ever played. But my team is the Falcons."
"Falcons?" said James in disgust only a true sports fanatic could understand. "Why?"
"Because," said the boy deviously, "My mum hates it. 'Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.' That's my motto, all right. It comes in handy with three older cousins. They're girls." The boy said 'girls' as though he had said 'slime.'
"I know what you mean," said James, grinning. "My cousin Melissa has to live with us. She's the absolute worst."
"Hah!" said the other boy. "You obviously haven't met Bellatrix or Narcissa. No competition. But maybe we should just agree that all girls are equally obnoxious"
"Agreed!" said James quickly. He grinned, and the other boy returned the grin.
"Hey, what happened to your friend?" he asked. James must've looked surprised, because the wizard explained "I saw you talking to him in the robe shop earlier."
"Oh," said James with a slight roll of his round hazel eyes. "Peter. I met him over the summer and. . .my mum likes him. I told him we were going to Knockturn Alley. He got scared off." James gave the boy a devious look, which was nothing like the mischievous grin that he received in return.
"Cool. But Knockturn Alley's not so great. Pretty boring." He lifted an eyebrow in dramatic flair, and James stared. This boy had been to Knockturn Alley? It was the ultimate dare; one that no one he knew had really ever had the courage to pull off. This boy, on the other hand, said it was boring. Now, he grabbed James's arm, and whispered "Come with me, I want to show you something, okay?" The look he gave made it clear that this would be exciting. James nodded. He probably would've followed this wizard to rob Gringotts if he had asked.
The two boys walked calmly into Quality Quidditch. The sales people gave them absolutely no notice, since they didn't appear to have much money. Boys their age came to gawk at brooms all the time. No one noticed when the tall boy in the dark robes stole a key from one of the saleswizard's pockets, walked calmly to an oak door in the back, and opened it.
"This is where they keep the best stuff. Most of these brooms haven't even been released yet," he whispered once James was inside.
"Whoa," whispered James, staring at the perfectly shaped broom in front of him. Cleansweep what? "What I'd give for a ride on that!"
The other boy chuckled, his shining eyes slightly luminous in the dim light of the back room. "That's a whole new line. Nimbus. Built for speed. Makes me wish first years were allowed to have brooms," he sighed. "I bet dad would even buy it for me."
James glanced at his friend. "Hey, you're going to be a first year? Me too!" he whispered. The other boy grinned and nodded. "So, maybe we'll even be in the same house!" James said, more to himself than to the other boy.
"Oh, yeah, maybe," said the wizard carelessly. James wondered about his last statement. Mrs. Potter had introduced him to most of the new students from wizarding families she knew, but this boy knew far too much about Quidditch to be muggle born. And he had said he'd had an uncle in the broom business, didn't he?
James knew of only one polite way to find out. "So, er, what's your name?" he said slowly in a low whisper.
The other boy frowned, and then smoothed back his hair in a carefree sort of way. He raised an eyebrow. "'M Sirius Black," he said finally, in a dramatic tone.
"Oh," said James, in a short, cold whisper. Of course. That's why he'd been to Knockturn Alley, that's why James had never been introduced before, that's probably why he liked a vulgar, brutal team like the Falcons. James had been brought up in a good family. They even had ties to Gryffindor himself, and lived in Godric Hollow, a well-known neighbourhood for families belonging to Gryffindor house. He knew all about people like the Blacks. Dark wizards.
Despite James' cold tone, Sirius's cool demeanour didn't drop a notch. He displayed a toothy white grin, as though waiting for some reaction. "And you would be?" he finally asked, his tone suggesting that it mattered very little.
"Why?" Asked James sharply. "Want to make sure I'm a pureblood? Well, I am. James Potter. The Potters. Heard of us? I can trace my bloodline back to the first class of Hogwarts. To Gryffindor house." He kicked the ground in anger.
Sirius exhaled sharply, and rolled his dark eyes in mild annoyance. "Well good for you," he responded casually. "Congratulations, then, I'm sure you're very proud. I expect they'll throw you a party when we get to school. Not every day Hogwarts is graced with the likes of a Potter." The word Potter was dripping with sarcastic reverence. "Well, I won't be bothering you anymore, your Gryffindor-ness," he muttered. James wouldn't have cared, but he realized Sirius's perfect confident manner seemed slightly shaken. This aroused James's curiosity.
"What's your problem?" he snarled. "I'm not the one who. . ." Sirius gave him a smug look, and James realized that Sirius hadn't actually done anything other than say his name and ask James's. "Well," continued James, "At least I have something to be proud of. My grandfather nearly died fighting Grindelwald, and two of his brothers did. I bet your grandfather was fighting on the other side," he said smugly.
"Actually, he was completely batty. Duelling injury, see. Thought he had been turned into a toad. He used to try to escape all the time to go catch flies." Sirius grinned, then, remembered the conversation. "But you're wrong, because my Uncle Alphard was fighting right alongside Dumbledore. They were friends, and still keep in touch. You know, if you'd ever spent more than two minutes in the presence of one of us so-called dark wizards, you might find that not only are most of us dark wizards, but gits, too. And I wouldn't mind. But you don't even know, so keep your big fat mouth shut. We Slytherins are noted for sticking together."
James didn't really have a suitable answer for that one, because part of him knew Sirius was right. He was the first of that kind of family James had ever talked to, and he had at first seemed nice. But James's father had spent plenty of time among Blacks, Malfoys, Lestranges and all the others to know a thing or too. He'd said he'd never met a Slytherin alumnus that could be trusted. Maybe Sirius seemed a little nice, but James knew that sooner or later, he'd start practicing dark magic and start up with his pureblood mania. "I don't have time for this," said James coldly, and he stormed out of the room, ignoring the bewildered look from shopkeepers he was getting.
He walked outside into the cobblestone streets and took a deep breath, calming himself. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and he knew who it would be without even looking. "Go away," he snarled.
"Fine," muttered Sirius. He ran his fingers through his hair, gave James a cool, unperturbed glare, and walked off in the direction of Gringotts. James figured he was probably going to Knockturn Alley, where he'd feel more at home.
James kicked the ground, grunting in anger. Fingering his galleons in hand, he noticed that it was nearly one-thirty. James could've cursed himself for wasting his freedom with Sirius. He turned and headed off towards Flourish & Blotts.
James normally would've enjoyed Flourish & Blotts. The little store was filled with all sorts of books that mum and dad would never let him buy- books on interesting hexes and gory Transfigurations. The perfect tools of revenge for both annoying cousins and stupid Slytherins. But right now, James was determined to be in a bad mood, so he stormed down the aisles, and suddenly found himself sprawled out on the floor of the shop.
He glanced behind him, and realized that he had tripped over a young boy who was sitting in the aisle, reading. The boy was so absorbed in his book that he hadn't even noticed James trip over him. He calmly turned the page.
"Hey!" snapped James. "Try to stay out of people's way!"
The boy glanced up from his book, and James shuddered slightly. There was only one word to really describe this new boy- creepy. He had pale, pale skin like a vampire's, and hollow eyes surrounded by deep lines, and brown hair that looked like it had been sapped of colour. He could've been a corpse, except for the clear blue eyes that peered at James intently, completely silently, as though he were trying to solve a particularly complicated puzzle. The look also had the uncanny ability to make James feel guilty.
"Sorry," the boy finally said, stood up, and slipped away silently. James shook his head. Judging from the book he was reading, this boy was another first year. James really hoped the creep wouldn't wind up in *his* house. He purchased a set of books quickly from the store manager, and plopped them into his book bag. As James left the store, he saw the creepy boy again. He was lurking right outside the shop, sitting on the ground in the shadows between the bookshop and Florean Fortesque's and reading the same book. James could've sworn he'd seen the boy's eyes watching him, but the creep practically had his nose wedged between the pages so intent was his focus on "A Beginner's Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Ten after two found James hurrying down the cobbled walkways. He hadn't thought that Ollivander's would be so hard to find! It was nestled away in a tiny crook of the alley, a dusty old shop with opaque windows. The faded words "Ollivander's" were just visible. James's father was standing just outside the shop, a grin on his face as he saw his son struggling to make it on time.
"Sorry I'm late, dad," said James, out of breath. "It was really far away, and I thought I could make it, but I got sort of lost. Don't tell mum!"
"Don't worry, James," chuckled Henry Potter. "Frankly, I expected you to be far later than this. Since you were a little slow in arriving, Mr. Ollivander is working on another little customer, but we'll just wait inside, alright?"
James nodded and followed his father inside. He was actually relieved- Ollivander's was just a bit scary, and although James certainly wasn't afraid of getting his wand, he would appreciate seeing how the whole getting-a-wand thing worked.
James and his father sat down on old wicker chairs cluttered somewhat randomly towards the front of the clustered shop. Decades of dust rose in the air around him. He was trying to be silent, but it didn't seem to matter, since Mr. Ollivander was busy in a frenzy of testing wands out on a girl James's age. If he liked girls at all, which he absolutely did not, he would've thought she was kind of pretty. She had really nice long hair that was dark, dark red and sort of cool green eyes. But James really didn't care.
Suddenly, one of the girl's wands lit up the room with golden sparks. Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, "Yes! Ten and a quarter, swishy, made of willow. The perfect wand for a young lady sure to excel at charms." He smiled at her, and the red-haired man with her tried to pay for her wand, but he was paying in odd paper money.
"Sorry, but we don't accept pounds here," said Mr. Ollivander. "Why not see the exchange goblin at Gringotts?"
The man looked extremely flustered, and Mr. Potter stood up and walked over to the counter. He laid several galleons on Mr. Ollivander's desk. "Don't worry, I have it covered." Mr. Ollivander took Mr. Potter's money, and then began tidying his wands.
"Oh," said the red haired man gratefully. "I suppose you're a wizard, then. My wife comes from a magical family, but apparently there hasn't been a witch or wizard in it in years. All this has come as rather a surprise to me, of course," chuckled the man. "My girl Lily, a witch. I still can't imagine." He shook his head disbelievingly, and then glanced at James's father. "Well, thank you, Mr. . ."
"Potter," responded James's father. "Henry." He held out his hand, and the red haired man shook it vigorously.
"George Evans," responded George, grinning broadly. Then, he glanced at the serious faced girl standing at his side. "Oh, and this is my daughter Lily. She'll be eleven in two months. How old is your boy?"
Henry Potter glanced over at James. James took great care to not watch them, instead, staring very interestedly at the dust on the floors. But it was of no avail, for James soon heard his father call. "James, come say hello to Lily!" He turned back to George. "He's eleven, so they'll be in the same year." Henry glanced at James again, who was still sitting, pretending not to have heard. "James, get over here."
James trudged over, still looking at the ground. His father put an arm around the boy's back and guided him towards Lily. James cast a glace upwards, his shoulders slouched protectively. Lily was watching him expectantly. She had very clean pink skin, a neat ponytail, and a perfectly tidy skirt and blouse. There was even a stupid blue hair ribbon binding all that long dark red hair. It matched perfectly, of course. Trust a girl to be so stupid.
"It's nice to meet you, James," said Lily. Her voice was very much like her clothes- controlled and neat in a way that was somehow infuriating. He shrugged his shoulders further up, but Lily kept on talking, oblivious. "It's good to meet one of my classmates- I'll admit I'm a bit nervous about starting." She held out her hand to shake, but James didn't take it. She probably had cooties.
George Evans jabbed James's father with his elbow. "Well, look at these two, eh?" he winked. James's father chuckled and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like 'He's usually not so shy.' Shy? They thought he was being shy? The horrible realization dawned on him. They thought he liked her! Couldn't they see how awful she was? He'd rather be friends with Sirius than with her!
"Well, James," said James's father with a grin in his voice. "Maybe you'd like to show your little friend around Diagon Alley after you get your wand? She's never been here before, so I bet she'd appreciate it!"
"That would be very nice," said Lily politely. She smiled a friendly sort of grin at James. He was disgusted. That stupid Slytherin Sirius would see, and he'd make fun of James and tell the whole school Lily was his girlfriend. And then mum and dad would prattle on about how cute they were and then he'd have to kiss her and it would be awful.
"No!" shouted James. "I'm not going to be friends with some stupid girl!" He stormed away from Lily and sat grumpily down on his chair, refusing to look at any of the others. Mr. Potter sounded very shocked and very angry.
"I don't have any idea what's gotten into him. He's usually much better behaved." Henry Potter shook his head and sighed. Mr. Evans smiled understandingly.
"It's alright. Boys will be boys, after all. We should get going." The tall man took Lily's hand, and let her out of the shop. Lily clutched her new wand tightly in one hand, and James stole a look at her face. She looked angry, indignant, and hurt. At least she wasn't crying, although James still felt a little bit bad.
"It's better this way, daddy, he was very immature," said Lily deliberately as she passed James, in a very haughty tone, refusing to look at him. James shook his head. Guilty? There was nothing to be guilty about. She was so stupid. He made a face as she passed, and Lily stuck her nose up in the air exaggeratedly.
Mr. Potter shook his head. "James, it wasn't nice of you to be so rude to that girl," he sighed. Then, the wizard noticed Mr. Ollivander putting away the last of Lily's discarded wands. "We'll talk about this later. I guess you'll need a wand if you're going to Hogwarts, right?"
"Right," said James grouchily. He trudged towards Mr. Ollivander. Hogwarts had sounded so exciting, but if these were the kind of people he'd meet there, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go.
Author's Note~ So? What did you think? I know its slightly unlikely that all five of them were in Diagon Alley on the same day and met up, but this isn't about realism so much as I thought it would be fun. You've read thus far, do me a favour and review? You don't have to say much, just drop a note to let me know you've read. However, I would like to know whether or not you liked it and what specifically was good or bad if you could.
First Impressions~
James trudged along the cobblestones, an exaggerated expression of embarrassment etched permanently onto his features. Why did everything always have to turn into such a horrible family affair? He *was* 11, after all.
"James, come along, now!" cooed the small, stocky blonde woman from up ahead. "No time to doddle on your big day! We're going to need lots of time to get all your little school supplies." She gave him a sweet dimpled smile. James shook his head as he surveyed the object of his discomfort. Sure, he was excited about finally going off to school! Sure, he wanted plenty of time at Diagon Alley. But did *they* have to be here? Merlin, it was so embarrassing!
Dad strutted along up ahead. He looked so proud, one would've thought James had won the Order of Merlin. He was even wearing his finest dress robes, complete with a tall pointed hat two feet in the air, with his erratic hair sticking out from underneath it. He would stop random people he hardly knew and inform them jovially "We're here shopping for my oldest. Hogwarts, you know!" Then, whatever stranger it was would treat him like a very small child, asking him if he was excited, and telling him about all the wonderful friends he would make. Mum was hardly better, she spent half the time cooing and looking flustered, and the other half trying to make his hair lie flat so he'd be presentable and telling him to stop being surly. But James was going to be surly, because Mum had probably ruined his whole life by insisting they take Melissa.
Melissa was nine years old, so James really did think that she might know better. But no, she had insisted on wearing her long pink princess dress up dress to Diagon alley, not to mention the sparkly feather boa that changed colours from lavender to blue to yellow to pink and back again. And since as soon as mum had asked her to change she'd started to through a screaming fit, his parents had let her come dressed as she was, with a warning to "Be nice to her, James." Everyone always insisted that he be kind to Melissa, just because of her parents, he pouted to himself. Other Hogwarts students right now were probably watching and thinking "That James Potter sure has a freak for a cousin. He's probably insane, too. Let's none of us ever talk to him." Actually, if insanity ran in the family, there was a good chance he'd gotten it. And if not, well, his family would drive him insane in other ways.
"Oh, look, James!" squealed mum. "It's the first place on the list! Madam Malkin's! We can get you a lovely robe!"
"Aunt Margaret, can I get a robe?" asked Melissa innocently.
James's mother smiled and shook her head. "We'll get you some nice new robes another time, dear," she said kindly, casting a look at James. "Henry, why don't you take Melissa to get some ice cream while I wait with James? Maybe you can pick up the things he needs from the apothecary."
Melissa looked just about to throw a tantrum, when she heard the words 'ice cream.' She smiled and left, skipping along next to James's father. James scowled at the sight. When he turned, his mother had already gone inside the shop, so he followed.
"James!" exclaimed Margaret Potter. "Look who's here! It's your little friend from Quidditch Camp!" James glanced over to the boy being fitted in Hogwarts robes by a woman wearing lime green. The boy caught James's eye, recognized him, and waved so vigorously that he nearly fell over and destroyed Madame Malkin's measurements. James thought that the witch must be having a hard enough time fitting him already. The boy was small and overweight, with a round, pink face, tiny grey eyes, and thin wispy hair that seemed to have been cut with a severely damaged wand.
James remembered him from Quidditch Camp- the boy who couldn't even get his broomstick off the ground. James had defended him from some older boys, and the fat boy had taken a sick sort of liking to him. He'd followed him around everywhere, grinning a mad little grin. It was frankly disturbing, but mum had somehow gotten it into her head that they had become best friends.
"Er, hello, there," James said slowly, walking up next to him to be fitted and trying to remember the boy's name. "Perry. . ."
The boy's chin wobbled slightly in disappointment. "Peter," he said. "Remember?" He looked so sad that James began to feel slightly guilty, not a welcome change of emotion at the point.
"Well, of course! What did I call you?" James forced a chuckle. "Not much sleep lately, you know?"
Peter nodded, his awestruck happiness returning. "Oh, me too! I'm just so excited about Hogwarts! Hopefully we'll be in the same house, huh, James? What house do you want to be in?"
"Gryffindor, of course," James said proudly as Madame Malkin began to take his measurements. Peter's face faltered slightly, as though he felt as though there would be no way he could get into Gryffindor. James thought about this. Sure, Peter was a little annoying at times, but if they were in the same house, at least James wouldn't be alone. It was even kind of flattering that Peter admired him so much, when taken in small doses.
Peter's robe had been tailored, and an emaciated woman about 10 years older than James's mother paid for the robe, and some other clothes. James was still being measured, with a tape measurer that worked by magic. It was hardly unusual to James.
The young wizard had partly hoped Peter would leave now, but by the way he stood shyly by the door, it was clear he was waiting for James. James smiled and nodded at him as the tape measurer took his last measurements. Madame Malkin hurried over and began cutting and pinning and sewing a piece of black cloth. In less than a minute, she had several lovely long black robes done. They even had the letters "JP" embroidered on the inside at his mum's request, in red and gold stitching. Mrs. Potter put all of James's robes, hats, cloaks, and gloves into one tiny shopping bag with an enormous inside. Then, she smiled warmly at her son.
"I have an idea, James. Why don't you and your friend go off together? I'll give you some money and you can get your schoolbooks. Do you have the list?"
James whipped it out of his pocket quickly. "Sure do," he said. "Do you really mean it, mum?" Even if he had to be with Peter, it would be worth it for mum to let him go off and explore Diagon Alley without his parents there.
"Why not? You're getting older, James. Just be careful, don't you *dare* go near Knockturn Alley, and meet your father in front of Ollivanders at 2 o'clock sharp. Alright?" asked the woman, winking one of her large hazel eyes.
"Sure thing, mum! 2 o'clock!" James grinned as his mother handed him a tiny pouch filled with galleons for him to spend. "Thank you!"
Mrs. Potter ruffled his hair to James's slight embarrassment, but he said nothing until she was gone. "So, Peter, wanna go to. . .Knockturn Alley?" he asked dramatically.
Peter gasped and his pink face turned a sort of greenish-white. "B-but we're not allowed!" he said in an urgent whisper. "It's full of dark wizards, my mum says! Th-there could be all sorts of things, like vampires and hags and werewolves!"
James laughed, grinning a challenge at the other boy. "Don' wet yourself, Peter, I was joking. I've got a bag full of galleons, I don't want some stupid Slytherin to snatch it off me."
"Y-yeah, well," said Peter, looking slightly relieved, "I wasn't scared or anything. I just didn't wanna hafta fight any dark wizards, since I've never practiced on this wand." He sniffed and tried his best to look brave.
A very tall, thin woman peered in at the two of them. James recognized Peter's mother, although the resemblance was difficult to find. She was built nothing like her round son, although they did possess a similar pointed nose and watery eyes. "Peter? We really must be going," said Mrs. Pettigrew. Peter flashed James an apologetic look, but he couldn't hide his relief. He practically ran over to the woman.
"Bye, James, see you at school," he called. His mother tried to hold onto his hand, but he wrenched it free as they walked out of the shop. James continued watching, and noticed that as soon as they got far enough away, Peter grasped her hand once more.
"What a baby!" exclaimed James to himself. He felt just a little bad for frightening Peter, who wasn't so bad, and might've been one of the only friends he'd have at Hogwarts. James sighed, but knew one place that could always cheer him up.
Quality Quidditch Supplies was James's favorite store in the whole world. The insides were filled from ceiling to floor with posters of great teams, autographed robes and snitches, special practice balls to use at home, and the latest brooms. James's father had bought him a broom for his ninth birthday, but he'd smashed it up at Quidditch camp. Henry Potter had informed his son that he'd buy him a new broom when he made the house team in his second year. James wanted one now, but there was no way he'd manage to get a broom in his trunk past mum and dad. So, instead he contented himself with standing outside the shop window, where the latest in racing brooms were kept.
The one James was looking at was particularly nice. It had a beautiful pale ash handle that had been shined to resemble a gemstone. Each twig was in perfect position, and the name was spelled out on the handle in perfect, Gryffindor red.
"Cleansweep 7, eh?" questioned a voice. James looked around. He hadn't noticed the boy standing next to him against the window. He had a charismatic, confident voice that made him seem quite likeable, and wore long robes that were even darker than his freshly cut hair. "Nice broom," added the boy, "but not worth your time. See, all the Cleansweep line looks pretty fancy for a couple of years, but if you're looking for durability and reliance, they're absolutely awful. My old '6' was a great broom, until one day it started to stall. Rubbish."
"Oh?" asked James with interest. "Know a lot about brooms, do you?" he asked calmly, ruffling his hair with one hand so he'd look cooler.
"A good deal," responded the boy. "My uncle used to be in the business, until he retired. He designed the Lightening Arrow."
"That's the broom that they used in the World Cup fifteen years ago!" exclaimed James. "When England won the game in less than a half hour! Amazing. The Brazilians had never seen a broom so perfectly balanced."
"Merlin," chuckled the first boy. "You sure know your Quidditch. What's your team?"
"Tornados, of course," said James proudly. "Faster ever catch of the snitch in Britain, you know, and they've got the best team of Chasers since the old Cannons teams in the '90s."
"Oh, I can't deny that the Tornados are good," said the boy with a grin. "Seen every game they've ever played. But my team is the Falcons."
"Falcons?" said James in disgust only a true sports fanatic could understand. "Why?"
"Because," said the boy deviously, "My mum hates it. 'Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.' That's my motto, all right. It comes in handy with three older cousins. They're girls." The boy said 'girls' as though he had said 'slime.'
"I know what you mean," said James, grinning. "My cousin Melissa has to live with us. She's the absolute worst."
"Hah!" said the other boy. "You obviously haven't met Bellatrix or Narcissa. No competition. But maybe we should just agree that all girls are equally obnoxious"
"Agreed!" said James quickly. He grinned, and the other boy returned the grin.
"Hey, what happened to your friend?" he asked. James must've looked surprised, because the wizard explained "I saw you talking to him in the robe shop earlier."
"Oh," said James with a slight roll of his round hazel eyes. "Peter. I met him over the summer and. . .my mum likes him. I told him we were going to Knockturn Alley. He got scared off." James gave the boy a devious look, which was nothing like the mischievous grin that he received in return.
"Cool. But Knockturn Alley's not so great. Pretty boring." He lifted an eyebrow in dramatic flair, and James stared. This boy had been to Knockturn Alley? It was the ultimate dare; one that no one he knew had really ever had the courage to pull off. This boy, on the other hand, said it was boring. Now, he grabbed James's arm, and whispered "Come with me, I want to show you something, okay?" The look he gave made it clear that this would be exciting. James nodded. He probably would've followed this wizard to rob Gringotts if he had asked.
The two boys walked calmly into Quality Quidditch. The sales people gave them absolutely no notice, since they didn't appear to have much money. Boys their age came to gawk at brooms all the time. No one noticed when the tall boy in the dark robes stole a key from one of the saleswizard's pockets, walked calmly to an oak door in the back, and opened it.
"This is where they keep the best stuff. Most of these brooms haven't even been released yet," he whispered once James was inside.
"Whoa," whispered James, staring at the perfectly shaped broom in front of him. Cleansweep what? "What I'd give for a ride on that!"
The other boy chuckled, his shining eyes slightly luminous in the dim light of the back room. "That's a whole new line. Nimbus. Built for speed. Makes me wish first years were allowed to have brooms," he sighed. "I bet dad would even buy it for me."
James glanced at his friend. "Hey, you're going to be a first year? Me too!" he whispered. The other boy grinned and nodded. "So, maybe we'll even be in the same house!" James said, more to himself than to the other boy.
"Oh, yeah, maybe," said the wizard carelessly. James wondered about his last statement. Mrs. Potter had introduced him to most of the new students from wizarding families she knew, but this boy knew far too much about Quidditch to be muggle born. And he had said he'd had an uncle in the broom business, didn't he?
James knew of only one polite way to find out. "So, er, what's your name?" he said slowly in a low whisper.
The other boy frowned, and then smoothed back his hair in a carefree sort of way. He raised an eyebrow. "'M Sirius Black," he said finally, in a dramatic tone.
"Oh," said James, in a short, cold whisper. Of course. That's why he'd been to Knockturn Alley, that's why James had never been introduced before, that's probably why he liked a vulgar, brutal team like the Falcons. James had been brought up in a good family. They even had ties to Gryffindor himself, and lived in Godric Hollow, a well-known neighbourhood for families belonging to Gryffindor house. He knew all about people like the Blacks. Dark wizards.
Despite James' cold tone, Sirius's cool demeanour didn't drop a notch. He displayed a toothy white grin, as though waiting for some reaction. "And you would be?" he finally asked, his tone suggesting that it mattered very little.
"Why?" Asked James sharply. "Want to make sure I'm a pureblood? Well, I am. James Potter. The Potters. Heard of us? I can trace my bloodline back to the first class of Hogwarts. To Gryffindor house." He kicked the ground in anger.
Sirius exhaled sharply, and rolled his dark eyes in mild annoyance. "Well good for you," he responded casually. "Congratulations, then, I'm sure you're very proud. I expect they'll throw you a party when we get to school. Not every day Hogwarts is graced with the likes of a Potter." The word Potter was dripping with sarcastic reverence. "Well, I won't be bothering you anymore, your Gryffindor-ness," he muttered. James wouldn't have cared, but he realized Sirius's perfect confident manner seemed slightly shaken. This aroused James's curiosity.
"What's your problem?" he snarled. "I'm not the one who. . ." Sirius gave him a smug look, and James realized that Sirius hadn't actually done anything other than say his name and ask James's. "Well," continued James, "At least I have something to be proud of. My grandfather nearly died fighting Grindelwald, and two of his brothers did. I bet your grandfather was fighting on the other side," he said smugly.
"Actually, he was completely batty. Duelling injury, see. Thought he had been turned into a toad. He used to try to escape all the time to go catch flies." Sirius grinned, then, remembered the conversation. "But you're wrong, because my Uncle Alphard was fighting right alongside Dumbledore. They were friends, and still keep in touch. You know, if you'd ever spent more than two minutes in the presence of one of us so-called dark wizards, you might find that not only are most of us dark wizards, but gits, too. And I wouldn't mind. But you don't even know, so keep your big fat mouth shut. We Slytherins are noted for sticking together."
James didn't really have a suitable answer for that one, because part of him knew Sirius was right. He was the first of that kind of family James had ever talked to, and he had at first seemed nice. But James's father had spent plenty of time among Blacks, Malfoys, Lestranges and all the others to know a thing or too. He'd said he'd never met a Slytherin alumnus that could be trusted. Maybe Sirius seemed a little nice, but James knew that sooner or later, he'd start practicing dark magic and start up with his pureblood mania. "I don't have time for this," said James coldly, and he stormed out of the room, ignoring the bewildered look from shopkeepers he was getting.
He walked outside into the cobblestone streets and took a deep breath, calming himself. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and he knew who it would be without even looking. "Go away," he snarled.
"Fine," muttered Sirius. He ran his fingers through his hair, gave James a cool, unperturbed glare, and walked off in the direction of Gringotts. James figured he was probably going to Knockturn Alley, where he'd feel more at home.
James kicked the ground, grunting in anger. Fingering his galleons in hand, he noticed that it was nearly one-thirty. James could've cursed himself for wasting his freedom with Sirius. He turned and headed off towards Flourish & Blotts.
James normally would've enjoyed Flourish & Blotts. The little store was filled with all sorts of books that mum and dad would never let him buy- books on interesting hexes and gory Transfigurations. The perfect tools of revenge for both annoying cousins and stupid Slytherins. But right now, James was determined to be in a bad mood, so he stormed down the aisles, and suddenly found himself sprawled out on the floor of the shop.
He glanced behind him, and realized that he had tripped over a young boy who was sitting in the aisle, reading. The boy was so absorbed in his book that he hadn't even noticed James trip over him. He calmly turned the page.
"Hey!" snapped James. "Try to stay out of people's way!"
The boy glanced up from his book, and James shuddered slightly. There was only one word to really describe this new boy- creepy. He had pale, pale skin like a vampire's, and hollow eyes surrounded by deep lines, and brown hair that looked like it had been sapped of colour. He could've been a corpse, except for the clear blue eyes that peered at James intently, completely silently, as though he were trying to solve a particularly complicated puzzle. The look also had the uncanny ability to make James feel guilty.
"Sorry," the boy finally said, stood up, and slipped away silently. James shook his head. Judging from the book he was reading, this boy was another first year. James really hoped the creep wouldn't wind up in *his* house. He purchased a set of books quickly from the store manager, and plopped them into his book bag. As James left the store, he saw the creepy boy again. He was lurking right outside the shop, sitting on the ground in the shadows between the bookshop and Florean Fortesque's and reading the same book. James could've sworn he'd seen the boy's eyes watching him, but the creep practically had his nose wedged between the pages so intent was his focus on "A Beginner's Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Ten after two found James hurrying down the cobbled walkways. He hadn't thought that Ollivander's would be so hard to find! It was nestled away in a tiny crook of the alley, a dusty old shop with opaque windows. The faded words "Ollivander's" were just visible. James's father was standing just outside the shop, a grin on his face as he saw his son struggling to make it on time.
"Sorry I'm late, dad," said James, out of breath. "It was really far away, and I thought I could make it, but I got sort of lost. Don't tell mum!"
"Don't worry, James," chuckled Henry Potter. "Frankly, I expected you to be far later than this. Since you were a little slow in arriving, Mr. Ollivander is working on another little customer, but we'll just wait inside, alright?"
James nodded and followed his father inside. He was actually relieved- Ollivander's was just a bit scary, and although James certainly wasn't afraid of getting his wand, he would appreciate seeing how the whole getting-a-wand thing worked.
James and his father sat down on old wicker chairs cluttered somewhat randomly towards the front of the clustered shop. Decades of dust rose in the air around him. He was trying to be silent, but it didn't seem to matter, since Mr. Ollivander was busy in a frenzy of testing wands out on a girl James's age. If he liked girls at all, which he absolutely did not, he would've thought she was kind of pretty. She had really nice long hair that was dark, dark red and sort of cool green eyes. But James really didn't care.
Suddenly, one of the girl's wands lit up the room with golden sparks. Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, "Yes! Ten and a quarter, swishy, made of willow. The perfect wand for a young lady sure to excel at charms." He smiled at her, and the red-haired man with her tried to pay for her wand, but he was paying in odd paper money.
"Sorry, but we don't accept pounds here," said Mr. Ollivander. "Why not see the exchange goblin at Gringotts?"
The man looked extremely flustered, and Mr. Potter stood up and walked over to the counter. He laid several galleons on Mr. Ollivander's desk. "Don't worry, I have it covered." Mr. Ollivander took Mr. Potter's money, and then began tidying his wands.
"Oh," said the red haired man gratefully. "I suppose you're a wizard, then. My wife comes from a magical family, but apparently there hasn't been a witch or wizard in it in years. All this has come as rather a surprise to me, of course," chuckled the man. "My girl Lily, a witch. I still can't imagine." He shook his head disbelievingly, and then glanced at James's father. "Well, thank you, Mr. . ."
"Potter," responded James's father. "Henry." He held out his hand, and the red haired man shook it vigorously.
"George Evans," responded George, grinning broadly. Then, he glanced at the serious faced girl standing at his side. "Oh, and this is my daughter Lily. She'll be eleven in two months. How old is your boy?"
Henry Potter glanced over at James. James took great care to not watch them, instead, staring very interestedly at the dust on the floors. But it was of no avail, for James soon heard his father call. "James, come say hello to Lily!" He turned back to George. "He's eleven, so they'll be in the same year." Henry glanced at James again, who was still sitting, pretending not to have heard. "James, get over here."
James trudged over, still looking at the ground. His father put an arm around the boy's back and guided him towards Lily. James cast a glace upwards, his shoulders slouched protectively. Lily was watching him expectantly. She had very clean pink skin, a neat ponytail, and a perfectly tidy skirt and blouse. There was even a stupid blue hair ribbon binding all that long dark red hair. It matched perfectly, of course. Trust a girl to be so stupid.
"It's nice to meet you, James," said Lily. Her voice was very much like her clothes- controlled and neat in a way that was somehow infuriating. He shrugged his shoulders further up, but Lily kept on talking, oblivious. "It's good to meet one of my classmates- I'll admit I'm a bit nervous about starting." She held out her hand to shake, but James didn't take it. She probably had cooties.
George Evans jabbed James's father with his elbow. "Well, look at these two, eh?" he winked. James's father chuckled and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like 'He's usually not so shy.' Shy? They thought he was being shy? The horrible realization dawned on him. They thought he liked her! Couldn't they see how awful she was? He'd rather be friends with Sirius than with her!
"Well, James," said James's father with a grin in his voice. "Maybe you'd like to show your little friend around Diagon Alley after you get your wand? She's never been here before, so I bet she'd appreciate it!"
"That would be very nice," said Lily politely. She smiled a friendly sort of grin at James. He was disgusted. That stupid Slytherin Sirius would see, and he'd make fun of James and tell the whole school Lily was his girlfriend. And then mum and dad would prattle on about how cute they were and then he'd have to kiss her and it would be awful.
"No!" shouted James. "I'm not going to be friends with some stupid girl!" He stormed away from Lily and sat grumpily down on his chair, refusing to look at any of the others. Mr. Potter sounded very shocked and very angry.
"I don't have any idea what's gotten into him. He's usually much better behaved." Henry Potter shook his head and sighed. Mr. Evans smiled understandingly.
"It's alright. Boys will be boys, after all. We should get going." The tall man took Lily's hand, and let her out of the shop. Lily clutched her new wand tightly in one hand, and James stole a look at her face. She looked angry, indignant, and hurt. At least she wasn't crying, although James still felt a little bit bad.
"It's better this way, daddy, he was very immature," said Lily deliberately as she passed James, in a very haughty tone, refusing to look at him. James shook his head. Guilty? There was nothing to be guilty about. She was so stupid. He made a face as she passed, and Lily stuck her nose up in the air exaggeratedly.
Mr. Potter shook his head. "James, it wasn't nice of you to be so rude to that girl," he sighed. Then, the wizard noticed Mr. Ollivander putting away the last of Lily's discarded wands. "We'll talk about this later. I guess you'll need a wand if you're going to Hogwarts, right?"
"Right," said James grouchily. He trudged towards Mr. Ollivander. Hogwarts had sounded so exciting, but if these were the kind of people he'd meet there, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go.
Author's Note~ So? What did you think? I know its slightly unlikely that all five of them were in Diagon Alley on the same day and met up, but this isn't about realism so much as I thought it would be fun. You've read thus far, do me a favour and review? You don't have to say much, just drop a note to let me know you've read. However, I would like to know whether or not you liked it and what specifically was good or bad if you could.