12:01

The alarm clock by Harry's bed blinked over into the new day. July 31st. Harry was 16 years old. As always, Harry had stayed awake to watch the clock turn over to his birthday. Soon, the owls would come flying in while Hedwig was still out scrounging for dinner because Harry hadn't been able to sneak any table scraps away that night.

Harry rolled out of bed and walked towards the window. 16 years. 1 year to go. He always had anticipated the day when he could tell Dudley where to put his Smeltings stick. To pull up all of Aunt Petunia's flowers from the well-manicured front garden and fly his Firebolt in circles around Uncle Vernon's head before bidding adieu to number 4 Privet Drive forever. Harry sighed and leaned against the window frame. He could still see the jagged marks of the outside frame from where Fred, George, and Ron Weasley had pulled the bars of the window nearly 4 years ago. Leaving the Dursleys now seemed near impossible after hearing what Professor Dumbledore had told him. Living under Aunt Petunia's wrath had been the only thing keeping him alive all these years. What would happen once he was 17 and out of Hogwarts?

It was during these moments that Harry truly missed his parentsmore so than usual. Even if he was 16 and the savior of the wizarding world it didn't make up for the fact he had no real family. What would James and Lily say to comfort their son? Harry knew that if his parents were here he wouldn't need reassurance. After all, if he hadn't been born they wouldn't be dead.

Before Harry could wallow further in self-pity there was a rapping at the window. He opened the window so Hedwig could fly in. She swooped through the frame, circling the bed and dropping a package before settling into her cage.

"Hey, Hedwig," Harry muttered, stroking her snowy head. Hedwig hooted in acknowledgement and eyed the package expectantly. Harry sat on his bed and turned the package over in his hands. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and twine with no label anywhere to be found. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper to reveal a thick, wide leather album. As Harry opened it a letter fell out and into his lap, but before he could bend to read it his eyes scanned the first page. Like the album Hagrid had given him after his first year, this one was full of wizard photographs—stern faces, warm faces, children making faces, children playing with toy brooms, families posing for portraits. Many of the pictures seemed to be of the same family of four—a father, a mother, a son, and daughter—and something about them was vaguely familiar to Harry. He studied each of them—their eyes, their noses, their build—and the way the father and son looked so familiar. Harry turned another page to find three pictures—the brother and sister hanging upside down from a giant tree, waving and laughing; the father with the children, the son by his side and the girl on the father's shoulders; and finally, the mother trying desperately to get the boy's black hair to lie down straight, despite the struggles of the son to get away. That's when it hit Harry—the hair, long face; the slender build of the young boy…was James. Harry flipped frantically through the pictures until he reached the last page. It was another formal family portrait—the father's hand resting on the son's shoulder while the mother sat in the armchair with the young daughter perched on the arm of the chair. A caption below confirmed Harry's speculations:

The Potter Family:

Harold and Eleanor Potter with children James and Nora

Harold? Eleanor? Nora? Was this really James's family? Harry had never heard anything about his father's family besides the fact they were pureblood. If James had a sister then Harry had another aunt! Harry's head was spinning before he remembered the letter that had fallen out earlier. His heart raced as he tore the envelope to reveal a simple birthday card. The front looked like a regular card with a piece of cake and a candle, but the flame on the candle was flickering without actually burning. Just like a wizard photograph, Harry though as he turned the card over to read what was written.

Happy Birthday Harry!

Wishing you all the happiness you truly deserve today. Always remember that your friends and family are always here for you.

The bottom was unsigned. Harry folded the card back and set it next to the book carefully. Moving up further onto the bed he pulled the album into his lap and flipped on the lamp next to the bed. Flipping back to the beginning he began slowly examining the pictures. Imagining the family he never knew…


Sunlight poured through the windows of the dining room in the manor. Harold Potter was tipping his chair back on two legs as he read The Daily Prophet, occasionally reaching forward for his coffee. Eleanor was sipping tea while a quill set about making notes and checking her daily schedule when the dining room door swung open with such force it crashed against the wall and set the china on the table shaking.

Without looking up from her schedule, Eleanor spoke in a firm voice, "James and Nora Potter you march right back out that door and enter properly."

"It's your fault," James muttered as they slinked back through the door. He blew a patch of black hair out of his left eye.

"Uh-uh," Nora retorted. "You were the one who wanted to race!"

The children stepped into the room considerably more subdued than the first time and took their places at the table.

" Sorry, Mum." James said.

" Don't be sorry. Just don't do it!" Eleanor sighed, flipping a page. "It's bad enough you both go tearing around the house like banshees. You should be setting an example for Nora."

Nora smirked, "Yeah, James. Shouldn't you set an example?" She stuck out her tongue.

James glared as he helped himself to a plate of sausages. "You wait, Norbert, and I'll cut off your ponytail when you're sleeping."

Nora opened her mouth to protest, but a throat clearing from her father made her shut her mouth. So was the routine in the Potter household—brother and sister at odds until Harold got tired of the bickering.

"Are you going to the Ministry today, Dad?" James asked with a mouthful of eggs.

" James, your food—" Eleanor began. James snapped his jaw shut, rolling his eyes.

"Yes," Harold replied gruffly, setting his paper aside. He held up a hand as Nora and James both opened their mouths simultaneously, "And no, you cannot come with me today. I'll be in meetings most of the morning then lunch with Minister Bagnold. After that I have business to attend to in Muggle London regarding some investments."

James sat back dejectedly and chewed on a piece of toast. It looked to be another day of lessons and play with Nora. At 10-years-old, James often wished he had other wizard friends to play with besides his 6-year-old sister, Nora. There were children from the nearby town, but contact with them was infrequent—few townspeople would allow their children to play with the strange children from the house on the hill.

Harold gulped down the last of his coffee and called for Bax, the house elf. "Bax, my cloak and briefcase please."

The dining room door swung open and in bounded Bax in his pillowcase clothing, his large brown eyes eager to please and brandishing a long black cloak and leather briefcase.

"Here, Master Potter!" Bax squeaked. He held up the cloak with spindly little arms. "Will Master be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you Bax." Harold replied, fastening his cloak. Eleanor often told him that the black cloak made the gray streaks in his black hair more pronounced. Harold would only wink a hazel eye and make some remark about it making him look distinguished. At 44 years he had changed very little from the handsome, slender boy of his youth.

Harold bent down to give Eleanor a quick peck. "I'll be home for supper."

Nora scooted out of her chair and jumped up to hug her father. "Bye Daddy!"

Harold smiled as he gave his daughter a quick squeeze. "See you tonight, Nora. James." James waved half-heartedly from the table, still stewing over his father's denial.

Harold left the room and a moment later they heard a 'pop' as he Apparated to the Ministry.

James slumped in his seat. Lessons with Nora, he thought dismally. Even with Hogwarts only a year away, Eleanor Potter insisted on keeping her children up to speed with daily lessons in reading, grammar, history, and mathematics. Every now and again she would let her children watch as she made potions—prompting and encouraging questions as she did so. James and Nora wouldn't be experts, by any means, bout they would have a grasp at the basics by the time they started at Hogwarts.

"May I be excused?" James asked. His mother nodded and James trudged into the living room, flopping into a chair. The room was quite warm now with sunlight streaming in the large paned windows. The polished oak floors shone brightly and took away from the dulling effect of the dark green wallpaper. James had begun counting the flower patterns on the wall when Nora entered and sat in the other chair. She sighed and brushed her dark bangs away from her hazel eyes.

"We can play with Matt and Bridge." She said. Mathew and Bridget Rhodes were some of the few town children who would play with the Potters. Mathew and Bridget were also the same age as James and Nora, respectively.

"Not today," James replied. "Today is the start of term for their school." They sat in silence for a moment before James muttered, "I wish I were at Hogwarts."

Nora frowned and picked a piece of lint off her jumper. She knew better than to argue with James when he was in one of his moods. While James didn't mind playing with his baby sister or sitting through his mother's lessons all the time he still couldn't help but feel a genuine sense of loneliness and frustration regarding life at the Manor. James had grown up hearing stories about his parents' lives at Hogwarts—how his father was captain of the Quidditch team and was often in detention and how his mother was one of the smartest in her class. James wanted to play Quidditch, learn how to use a wand, and spend late nights in the common room cramming with other students for a Charms test. James just wanted to be around boys his own age.

After a few more moments of silence, Nora slid off her chair and left the room. James sighed. Great, he thought, now I've upset Norbert. With another heavy sigh, James stood up and made his way to the foyer. Nora was sitting on the steps, elbows on knees, and chin cupped in her hands as she studied the reflections in the polished marble floor. James leaned against the banister and started down at her.

"Oh, stop pouting, Norbert. I'm not leaving for another year yet and you'll—ow!" James was interrupted by Nora's fist colliding with his right shoulder. "What was that for!"

"For being a whiny git, that's what!" Nora replied. "Are you going to mope about the house like this all year? Ow!" James punched Nora back. "Stop it!"

"You started it!" cried James.

"Did not!" Nora shot back.

"Did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

Nora leapt off the staircase and tackled James. Between the exchange of punches and hair pulling, the two had managed to roll their way towards the middle of the foyer and dangerously close to the small table and crystal vase full of flowers. As Nora made it back to her feet she turned to face James who was kneeling by the table.

"SomeQuidditch—captain—you'll—be." Nora panted. "Can't—even beat—your own—sis—" As Nora began to walk by James he reached out and grabbed her right ankle. Nora, in a state of unbalance, fell forward into the table, sending the vase crashing to the floor. James jumped up, his jaw slack with shock as Nora flipped over and whispered in a horrified tone.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

"ME! It was you who—" James began, but before he could finish—

"JAMES! NORA! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME…"

Nora and James shot each other equally appalling looks before scrambling for the front door. James had nearly gotten his foot out the partially open door before it slammed shut with such force his hand jerked away from the doorknob.

"What you do that for!" Nora exclaimed.

"I didn't do it!" James shot back.

"I did." A steely voice said from behind them.

Slowly, the two of them turned to face their wand-wielding mother. Eleanor's dark blue robe sleeves were rolled up—her right arm extended, brandishing her wand. The left hand rested on her hip as she narrowed her brown eyes angrily. Grey streaked red hair was already fraying as she began the first of what she knew would be many reprimands that day. Without shifting her gaze from the children she gave her wand a quick flick and set the vase back to its previous state.

"Living room. Lessons. NOW!" Eleanor barked. At 'NOW' James and Nora had already scampered into the room.

By the afternoon the morning melee had already faded from memory as James and Nora were now back on peace terms. Since Eleanor had an afternoon tea appointment with friends, she left the children in the care of Gingy, the other house elf. While Bax often attended to most matters of the house, it was Gingy who saw to most of the cooking, gardening, and watching after the children. Also clothed in a pillowcase, Gingy kept a watchful eye on James and Nora outside as she set about mending a pile of clothes.

Potter Manor stood on the outskirts of a small Muggle village called Godric's Hollow in Hampshire. While at one time the property had been massive (most of the land had since been sold to the village) it was now a reasonable size, with a small wood just south of the property that stretched for miles. Harold often joked with his children saying that it was from these trees of the New Forest that the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts had been formed when Godric Gryffindor himself had lived near the village. Godric, wanting a memento of his home, brought with him 5 saplings from the wood and planted them near the school. Because of the concentration of magic (and the need to make Muggles steer clear) the forest grew at an exponential rate attracting strange and wondrous creatures of all sorts.

The backyard was expansive and housed a lush garden of flowers, herbs, and various potion ingredients. Eleanor's skill at potions was only second to that of her love of herbology. She had learned long ago that it was both convenient and practical to have fresh ingredients ready at her fingertips—while most of the flowers were simply there for her enjoyment and therapy. After a day of settling squabbles and picking dungbombs out of the sofa the only peace she could find was in a row of tulips or hydrangeas.

Today, the children were busying themselves with their most popular pastimescheming in the tree. Several yards from the house stood a giant oak tree which James and Nora had climbed up and down since they'd been old enough to walk. Either jumping or using one another as stepladders easily reached the lowest branch and there were two crooks near the middle where they would sit and ponder over their next quest to aggravate their parents. Today's conversation didn't have so much to do with their parents as it did their father's broom.

"If I could just get at it to practice," James said. " I know I could get on a house team my first year if I train up a bit."

"But you can't fly by yourself." Nora said, stripping a piece of bark from the tree. " Mum and Dad never let you near a broom by yourself. I'm not even allowed near their brooms! What makes you think they'd let you train for Quidditch, anyways?"

"Dad would!" James shouted. He lowered his voice at the sight of Gingy staring at them. "I know he would. It's just Mum we have to worry about." James's eyes narrowed as he lost himself in thought. It would be impossible to practice at night and even more so during the day—especially in the back yard. What he needed was a makeshift Quidditch pitch where he could practice every day. Not to mention a way to sneak the broomstick out of the house without his parents noticing—not that they would as they Apparated everywhere. If he could just fool them into thinking the broom was still in the closet…

"That's it!" James hissed.

"What?" Nora asked.

James leaned over to Nora's branch to make extra sure Gingy could not overhear them. " We just need to make it look like Dad's broom is still in the house. If he just looks in the closet and sees something that looks like his broom he won't even think about it!"

"Are you crazy, James? Dad will have your hide if he finds out you—"

"He won't find out! He never uses his broom anymore—all he ever does is Apparate, anyways. And remember that clearing we found in the forest last summer?" James asked. Nora nodded, "We could use that as a pitch to practice?"

"We? Whacha mean 'we', James?" Nora asked. Her eyebrows shot up. "You mean you want me to practice with you?"

"Well why not?" James shrugged. "You've only got five years until you start. Besides, I'll need someone to toss the quaffle around and release the snitch."

Nora's brow furrowed. "But what if we get caught? Not just by Dad…it's against the law for younger wizards to use magic."

"We're not really using magic." James explained. "'Cause we're not using a wand, are we?" He grinned. "Don't be a scaredy cat, Norbert."

Nora huffed, "Am not a scaredy cat. And stop calling me 'Norbert' or I won't help you. Alright then, if you're so brave, let's go now."

James's grin was wiped away. "Now?"

"Yeah now." Nora cocked an eyebrow. "Unless you're too afraid to go after it."

James's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed with determination as he clenched the branch. "Oh yeah?" James clamored out of the tree and landed at the base with a thump.

"Oh, I have to watch this." Nora muttered as she scrambled after him.

As the two approached the house Gingy had set aside her pile of socks and was twittering her fingers. "Will young sir and miss be needing anything?" she squeaked.

"Actually, Gingy, Nora and I are kinda hungry. We were going to get a snack and—" James began.

Gingy grinned, "Oh, Gingy can get food for sir and miss right away!"

"No, Gingy. Nora and I wanted to get it ourselves. We'll be right back." James explained.

"Oh, Gingy is sorry young sir—but Mistress asked Gingy to keep an eye on young sir and miss at all times! Mistress is afraid that young sir and miss will get into trouble." Gingy replied nervously.

James shot a glance at Nora who shot back. "Why don't you just wait out here, Nora? I can get the…snacks…by myself." James said with a warning tone.

"But I don't want to wait out here." Nora crossed her arms.

James pleaded with his eyes for Nora to stop whining. "I'll be right back. Besides, we can't get into trouble if we're both inside. Why don't you stay and keep Gingy company?" He prayed that Nora would take the hint. If Nora could keep Gingy outside then James would have nothing keeping him from the broom.

"Ohhhh." Nora said, finally understanding. "Alright…you go ahead. Gingy, will you push me on the swing?" As Gingy and Nora set off for the swing Nora glanced back and gave James a quick wink. After years of conspiring together they'd become quite in-sync when it came to planning their assaults.

James walked quickly through the hallway to the foyer. He stopped for a moment and listened before going further. Bax was still somewhere in the house and would tell Harold in a second if James had been going for his broom. Harold and Eleanor had learned long ago to use the house elves as another set of eyes—both Gingy and Bax had strict orders to report any misbehavior on James and Nora's part. Of course, that never stopped the children from trying to manipulate the house elves.

Once James was sure Bax wasn't nearby he went towards the dark paneled walls near the front door. The closet was masked to look like a part of the wall with the latch underneath where the decorative carvings hung over the panels. James felt along the edge until he felt the latch and lifted it up. There was a soft click and just as he thought the door was completely open it creaked loudly. James winced and quickly looked behind him expecting Gingy or Bax to come bounding up asking, "What is young master doing in the closet, sir?" When neither showed up James took a deep breathe and stuck his head inside. He sifted through the neatly hung cloaks and umbrellas and stretched his arm back against the wall, feeling his way against the cool wood until his fingers brushed against what he was looking for. James made a quick grab for the handle and pulled it out and quietly shut the closet door. With another deep breath he bolted up the stairs and sprinted towards his room, lifted up his mattress and tucked the broom underneath. A few moments later he was casually strolling out the back door, trying to conceal the fact he was out of breath. As he cleared the garden he saw Nora still on the swing with Gingy pushing. Nora grinned as James nodded.

"Where is young master and misses snack, sir?" Gingy asked when she noticed James was outside.

James's panicked for a moment before coming up with a quick excuse. "Um, nothing really struck me, Gingy. I think we'll just wait until Mum gets back."

Once James and Nora had clamored back into the tree they bent their heads together, determined to figure out a time and place for their first practice.