Fly Me to the Moon
If ever a boy stood on the moon,
Carrying all of his treasures from the stars
To a rainbow which leads to where we are
Together we'd chase the sun
-"Where is the Love" Celine Dion
James Potter was five years old when his grandfather died. Mr. Potter left his son and daughter-in-law a large fortune as well as ownership of his magazine and the empire it created. James didn't understand what this meant, all he knew was that his parents wanted to move into a different house. James hated packing, and his mother said he had to do it himself, and that meant no magic. Mr. or Mrs. Potter could very easily pack up James's entire room in minutes with a few waves of their wands, but if James were to pack by hand it would take weeks. Maybe I'll ask Dad later, he'll help me, James thought.
Unfortunately James was wrong. After begging his father for a good 2 minutes, James was still packing his many possessions up by hand the next day. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had started taking things over to the new house, which James was told was twice the size of their current house and located near London. It also had a pool and a large open field where James could learn to play Quidditch.
By the fifth day of packing, James was no where near finishing and his mother finally gave in. She told him to go make himself lunch while she finished up his room. With Mrs. Potter packing up her son's room, everything was boxed up within 24 minutes. Her son's bedroom was now completely empty of the dirty socks, toys thrown once thrown everywhere, books laying unopened, and a wide array of dirty laundry strewn across the room.
Within a week, James was fully moved into his new bedroom in his new house. This bedroom was twice the size of his old one and he had his own study (or playroom) and bathroom. It took a grand total of 13 minutes for James to make a mess of his new bedroom, and by the time he went to bed that night, it was just as messy, if not worse, than his previous room had been. Mrs. Potter just shook her head as she walked through the room that night to say goodnight to her son.
As James grew up, he didn't get any cleaner. In fact, he got messier, if that is even possible. Mr. Potter taught his son how to fly, and turned him into a die hard Quidditch fan, Puddlemere United being his favorite team. Mrs. Potter would occasionally go outside and watch the men in her life fly around the yard, passing a red ball back and forth to each other.
James and his father went to several Puddlemere Unites games. Mrs. Potter, who wasn't a big Quidditch fan, never came along. The Potter men grew very close through their love of Quidditch.
It wasn't until James was old enough to care about magazines, and to care enough about Quidditch to read up about it, that he learned that the magazine Quidditch Weekly was owned by the Potter family. It was the magazine that his grandfather started years ago, which grew from a quarterly magazine (Quidditch Quarterly) printed by hand into a weekly magazine produced by the finest printing processes and brought in millions of Galleons a year for the Potter family. James like to brag about this to whoever he met, but as he was only eight years old at the time, most of the people he met were family members, or already knew where the family fortune came from.
James was delighted to meet a new person at his eighth birthday party. His name was Frank Longbottom, and their fathers had been mates in school. Frank was eleven and would be starting at Hogwarts in September. James used the moment Frank said this to pull the Quidditch Weekly card.
"Do you like Quidditch?" James asked, knowing that any boy in the Wizarding world is bound to be a Quidditch fan.
"Of course I do! My mum thinks its rubbish, be me and my dad both love it. Dad reckons I could even make my house team at Hogwarts in a few years." Frank answered, very enthusiastically.
"Yeah, same here." James said meekly. "Do you know the magazine Quidditch Weekly?" Of course he would, everyone knew it, or at least everyone who followed Quidditch knew it.
"Course I do!" Frank answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and anyone who didn't know Quidditch Weekly wasn't worth associating with.
"My Grandfather started it and now my dad owns the whole thing! Someday it will be my magazine!" James said, a huge smile spreading across his face as he realized nothing Frank could say would top this proclamation. Frank seemed to realize this and said a small "cool" before abruptly leaving, saying he wanted to find his mother for something.
James walked around the party trying to find someone else who would talk to him. Unfortunately, there weren't many kids his age there, and he had already scared away the one that would actually talk to him. He hated family events because all of his cousins were either adults themselves or much too young to have actual conversations with.
When Mrs. Potter brought out the birthday cake, James let out a groan. She made the cake, which was alright because his mum was an excellent cook and she always made his favorite, chocolate with chocolate frosting, but written on Mrs. Potter's masterpiece in big red letters was "HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY JAMIE" and if he had to pick one thing he hated more than anything it was being called "Jamie," or "Jimbo" but only Uncle Rupert called him that, and Uncle Rupert doesn't come around much.
Mrs. Potter couldn't seem to get it into her head that James hated being called "Jamie." James hated telling his mother off, but as soon as everyone left he would have to have a talk with her about the "Jamie" thing again. He was getting sick of having that talk. His mum would say that she has been calling him Jamie since he was a baby, and James would ask why she didn't just name him Jamie then, and then Mrs. Potter would think he liked it, he just didn't think it was really his name, and James would get upset because she was missing the point completely. James didn't want to have this conversation again, but if it meant that maybe she would finally understand this time he had to do it.
James had the conversation with his mother that night, when most of the family had left. The Longbottoms were still there, but Frank wouldn't talk to James anymore and Mrs. Potter had called him into the kitchen to help clean up. James saw this as the perfect opportunity to talk to her. Mrs. Potter seemed to have memorized her lines of the conversation, because it was exactly how James remembered the last one going. He left the kitchen an hour later feeling defeated.
Mr. Potter got James involved in a youth Quidditch league when he was ten, where James made several friends, most of them a few years older or younger than him. Naturally, this league became the perfect place for James to boast about his family's fortune and the magazine that brought it all. The younger kids in the league all looked up to James like he was a hero, but the older kids just thought he was and arrogant little brat. When September rolled around, most of the older players left for school and James was left with his admirers. Maybe this played a large factor in developing James's superior attitude, or maybe it just helped bring out what was already there.
The summer of 1971 had James checking the skies for post every day. He was anxiously awaiting his Hogwarts acceptance letter. The wait came to an end one cool afternoon in mid July. A large official looking owl delivered an official looking letter to James Potter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Mum! Dad! It came, my Hogwarts letter came today!" James shouted, running through the house in search of his parents.
Mrs. Potter stuck her head out of her study to say, "Congratulations dear!" and give her son a big hug. James continued on until he found his father writing out a long letter in his study. James showed the letter to his father, who expressed his congratulations and ruffled his son's hair playfully. James went to his bedroom and read over the supplies list.
Uniform
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
Course Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guild to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scmander
The DarkForces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Other Equipment
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
Of all the things on this list, it was the lasts sentence that nearly broke James's heart. He wasn't allowed a broomstick his first year? That was completely horrible! What was James going to do if he couldn't fly for an entire year?
"Dad," James said to his father, interrupting the letter writing once again.
"Yes James?" Mrs. Potter answered, setting down his quill and parchment.
"I was reading the supplies list for Hogwarts and it says at the bottom that I can't bring my broom this year!" James said, sounding like this was the end of the world.
"What would you be needing a broom for your first year anyway? First years never make the house teams, and there really is no other reason to have a broom with you at school."
"But dad—"
"No James, you can't break the rules before you even start school. No broom!"
James recognized defeat and left his father. He went back to his bedroom where his broomstick was laying on a peg his father and put on the wall.
"I guess you'll have to stay here this year." James said to the broom, treating it as if it was a living thing rather than a broomstick.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter took James to Diagon Alley for his school supplies a few days after his letter arrived. They bought him his robes and books, as well as the other required equipment before allowing him to wander around in Quality Quidditch Supplies before meeting back up at Ollivander's for James's wand in 25 minutes. James eyes the latest make of the best racing broom gloomily, knowing it would be useless to beg his parents for it. He didn't even bring up to any of the shoppers that his family owned the magazine displayed proudly at the counters.
James met his mother and father at Ollivander's Makers of Fine Wands, where he was fitted for a wand. After trying out nearly half the store, James found the perfect wand, 11", mahogany, very pliable, excellent for transfiguration.
After paying Mr. Ollivander, the Potters went to Eeylops Owl Emporium where Mr. and Mrs. Potter bought their son his very own owl for communication back home. James picked out a male snowy owl which he named Oscar.
When the Potters left Diagon Alley, James was loaded down with supplies for school. Unfortunately for the anxious little boy, he had an entire month before leaving for school. And that month absolutely dragged on.
After what felt like a millennia, the morning of September 1st arrived, and James was on his way to Hogwarts.
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A/N: I'd just like to remind you all of my request from the first chapter for a sorting hat song. I will seriously love you forever if you write me one!
response to reviews:
Jennie-I'm glad you like it so far! And i felt bad for poor Sirius, but from what he says in OotP that's how it was...poor Sirius. But don't worry things look up for our favorite dog later in the story! Thabks for reviewing!
quizgirl-Of course I read your story! And if I have time sometime I might go back and read your longer ones bacause the one I read was really good. I figured as sisters growing up so close in age they would have to be best friends (well not have to but its pretty likely) but as you can tell they are very different. I wasn't really sure how to explain Petunia's reaction, so I guess I just kind of stuck it in.Thanks for reviewing!
DISCLAIMER: I do no own any of this nor am I making any profit, this is just my way of passing boring summer nights, and I'm sure eventually it will become another way for me to procrastinate once school starts up again. All names, places, ect. From the Harry Potter world belong to JK Rowling and the publishers ect. and the song quotes belong to their respective artists and the correct rights owners.