Chapter 2

The Letter - James

James Potter lay in bed, the blankets over his head, trying to hide both from the summer sunlight coming through his window and his mother's shouts.

"James! Post!" Mrs Potter shouted, for the sixth time. James groaned, and pulled his pillow over his head to block out the sound. After a few moments, his mother seemed to have stopped shouting, so he put it back. At that moment, his bedroom door opened and his mother came in, brandishing a letter.

"James! Do you not want to go to Hogwarts in September?" she asked. James shot up.

"I got my Hogwarts letter?" His mother rolled her eyes and threw the letter at him.

"Just read it. And be downstairs soon, we can finally go to Diagon Alley to get your supplies."

Yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, James tore open the letter and skimmed through it.

The family had taken it for granted that James would be accepted into Hogwarts – after all, the Potters were an old pure-blood family, and James was definitely magical. But as July had dragged on, and no Hogwarts letter had come, James had began to get nervous. Not that he'd shown it. To his family and his friends, he'd been completely confident – even more so than usual, which was a hard thing to do. But now, at last, he was in.

He read through the supply list and his mouth dropped open at the last line:

PLEASE NOTE THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

No broom...suddenly the prospect of going away to school didn't look so bright. James and his friends played Quidditch as often as they possibly could – and now they weren't allowed to have brooms. One of James' favourite dreams was the one where he was playing Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team – and he was certain he would be in Gryffindor – winning the Quidditch Cup, the House Cup...and now he'd have to wait for next year.

But still, he would be in Hogwarts. He could have a proper wand at last, learn how to do real magic. It was what he'd been waiting for, for the past several years. He wasn't going to let a little thing like not being allowed his broom to stop him having fun, he decided. And with that, he jumped out of bed and started getting dressed.

After a rushed breakfast and a quick journey by Floo powder, James and his mother arrived in Diagon Alley.

"Do you need to go to Gringotts Mum? Can I come with you?" James asked. Mrs Potter sighed.

"Yes, James, I do need to go. But we need to be quick, and if you..."

"I won't hold you up, I promise!" James said.

"Oh, all right. But hurry up, I haven't got all day!"

James followed his mother to the wizards' bank. Mrs Potter had only let him come with her to Diagon Alley a few times and only then because he needed new clothes. He had only once been into Gringotts, and he was eager to have another journey in one of the carts.

He surveyed the goblins with interest as they made their way across the marble floor. He paid no attention to his mother's conversation with a goblin, and only remembered where he was when his mother pulled him behind her.

"What did I say about hurrying, James?"

They emerged from the bank half an hour later, James feeling faintly sick from the motion of the cart, and made their way to Ollivander's to buy his wand.

This was the shop James had been looking forward to. Most of the other shops in Diagon Alley he had been to before – and after all, there was nothing very exciting about the robe shop, or Flourish and Blotts. A wand shop, on the other hand...

"Wave this, please," Mr Ollivander instructed him, thrusting a wand into his hand. James waved it, but nothing happened. Mr Ollivander snatched it away. They repeated this a few times, until, finally, a shower of sparks emitted from one of the wands.

"Excellent," Mr Ollivander said. "Mahogany. Eleven inches. Pliable. Excellent for transfiguration." James looked at his mother, who smiled faintly, and paid for the wand.

"He is a bit odd, isn't he?" she said as they left the shop. James nodded.

James spent the last few weeks of the holidays very bored, and very excited. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, and quizzed his parents constantly about the school, and which other wizarding children would be in his year.

"I think one of the Black boys is due to start this year," his mother told him. "Is it Regulus who's James' age, darling?" she asked her husband.

"No, he's a couple of years younger. It's Sirius who should be in James' year." Mr Potter looked at his son over the top of his Daily Prophet. "Not that you should be mixing with that family, James. They're a bit of a bad lot, you know."

"Not as bad as some," his mother replied. "They're not in with You-Know-Who yet..."

"Who's You-Know-Who?" James asked, as his mother realised what she'd said.

"Nobody dear. Now go to bed."

"Why? It's still early. You just don't want to tell me what's going on. You don't even let me read the paper any more..."

"James, you have to get up early to get to the train station in the morning...so GO TO BED!" James sat resolutely in his chair, not moving.

"James..." his father said warningly.

"I want to know what's going on. Who's this You-Know-Who you mentioned?"

"James, I've already told you," his mother said.

"Darling, maybe we should tell him. He's going to find out once he goes to Hogwarts anyway. People will be talking about it." Mr Potter said to his wife.

"What?" James demanded.

"Well, James, there is a wizard who has, well, appeared in the last year or so. He calls himself Lord – Lord..."

"Voldemort," Mr Potter finished for his wife. "He started gathering followers, saying he wanted to purify the magical community. At first it didn't seem that it would make much of a difference, but lately...Muggles have dyed mysteriously, people have been acting strangely. Of course, the Ministry will sort it out soon, they've started sending Aurors after him and his followers...it's nothing to worry about." He looked at his wife, who looked at the clock.

"Now you really should go to bed, James. Have you packed all your school things?"

"Yes Mum. Night."