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Important! Please Read:

Okay guys, here's what's going to happen. I'll update every Monday. If for some reason I don't do this (unless I notified you guys in advance), I will post two chapters that week. Sound good?

I was reading a book when it happened. Typical. I had it propped up against the milk jug and I was halfway through the fifth chapter when Petunia came running down the stairs screaming her head off about killer pigeons.

Pet's easily excited so I didn't think much of it - that is, until a rather large something crash-landed into the milk jug with a splash that left the formerly pristine kitchen looking as though a large hurricane of milk had hit.

It was eerily quiet, then. I wiped milk out of my eyes and took a good look around. My book was ruined, of course, and Pet was standing stock-still in a corner. The avocado goop she used on her face in the mornings had come off partway and the milk streaming down her face was making quick work of the other half. Oh, yes, and she was glaring rather hatefully at yours truly.

"M-MUUUUMMY!" Petunia's face screwed up as she howled. It was getting harder and harder not to burst out laughing.

As my mother came running to console my hysterical sister, I slowly approached the milk jug, holding my book high above my head as a means of self-defense. A very flimsy one, mind you, but it never hurts to be prepared.

Just as I was about to look into it, a sopping, fuzzy grey something stuck its head out of the milk jug. It looked at me imperiously, before slowly righting itself and beginning a rather impressive attempt to escape. I rolled my eyes.

"Honestly," I murmured, carefully extracting the thing (which was proving to be an owl) from the milk jug "it's so much easier this way."

The owl hooted, as if in agreement, and flew unsteadily out of my arms. Somewhere in the background, Petunia's screams grew in volume, but I didn't really hear them. There was something more important that merited my attention: the letter tied to the owl's leg.

The letter addressed to me.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Evans,
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

The next few days were rather interesting, to say the least. Pet refused to even look at me, let alone talk to me. I caught Mum and Dad speaking in hushed tones and sending odd glances towards me more than once.

And me?

I spent hours holed up in my room, fingers running across the smooth pages of spell books as I chanted their teachings under my breath. I kept a box full of pens next to me and made frequent notes: by the time I was finally ready to go to Hogwarts, the margins of my books were crammed full with my neat, curly handwriting.

And always, always my wand was by me. My beautiful willow wand, that swished so beautifully as I practiced carefully in the confines of my room.

The day I went to Hogwarts was damp and chilly. The wooden floors of our house felt like ice beneath my feet as I crept downstairs, hoping to get breakfast before Petunia did, and in doing so avoid her for most of the day. Normally I was not an early riser. However, I reassured myself with the thought that I was sacrificing my sleep for a noble cause.

To my surprise, the kitchen light was on and I could smell the pungent smell of cinnamon wafting towards me. Inside, my parents were standing in their robes together, making breakfast. My dad had a kettle of water boiling on the stove and my mum was pulling a sheet of cinnamon scones from the oven.

"What's all this?" I asked, pleasantly surprised.

My mum looked up at me and smiled. She tucked her gingery hair behind her ears and swept me up in one of her famously comforting hugs.

"We wanted to give you a proper send-off, sweetheart."

My dad came over and wrapped his arms around the both of us. "You know we're proud of you, don't you Lily? We think it's absolutely wonderful to have a witch in the family. I know things have been hectic and Pet's been a bit difficult –"

I snorted at this, but to my surprise my father, the diplomat of the family, tactfully ignored it and continued on.

"But your mum and I are just absolutely thrilled and proud of the way you've been handling things lately and we really haven't gotten a chance to tell you that."

My mum pulled back a little and tipped my face towards hers. Green eyes identical to my own stared back at me lovingly, and I felt better than I had felt ever since I had gotten my letter. "I've seen you studying your books, darling, and I'm just amazed at your dedication. I know you'll do great things, no matter what world you belong too."

My mum's words still echo in my head as I write this. I wish you had known your grandparents, Harry. They were amazing people and now, looking at you, even though you are only a year old I can understand the pride in my mum's voice that morning. I repeat her words to you now, to have years from now: "I know you'll do great things, no matter what world you belong too."

When I got my Hogwarts letter it was a happy occasion, but not a very surprising one. The Potters were a very old, prominent, notably powerful wizarding family. My parents, for instance, were two of the top Aurors at the ministry.

I was outside with my father in the small Quidditch pitch we had on the grounds. In his Hogwarts days he had been the captain of the Gryffindor team. Even now, at age fifty, he still enjoyed a good Quidditch game and had taught me everything I knew.

At the moment, I was losing rather spectacularly.

"Another goal!" my father crowed happily, pulling his broom beside mine and ruffling my hair. "You're going to have to do better than that, Jamie!"

I grinned. "What, you mean like this?" I grabbed the quaffle and pulled my arm back, aiming at the goal. Dad tried to grab it from me and we were engaged in a playful chase around the Quidditch match, when I saw Dad stop his broom. I looked at him questioningly. An owl was hovering insistently beside him, and he was waving at me, beckoning me towards him.

"I think he's looking for you!" he yelled, pointing at the owl.

Excitedly, I flew over, completely forgetting about the quaffle. I rarely got mail. Not even birthday cards. My parents were both only children, so I had no aunts and uncles. They had also had me rather late in life, and both sets of grandparents had passed away before I was born.

I pulled my broom to a stop in front of the owl. It hooted and stuck its leg at me, to which a letter was attached. Carefully I pulled it off.

James Potter

Potter Estate

Quidditch Pitch

"Odd," I said softly, flipping the letter over. When I saw a familiar crest I whooped out loud. "Dad! Hey Dad, look! I've got my Hogwarts letter!"

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

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

"I guess this is it, then." My mother pulled me into the millionth hug that morning. I squirmed.

"Er, Mum," I began, not sure how to put it. "I love you, but it's just – not cool to be hugged by your mum, you see."

She pulled away, laughing. I was rather miffed. "This is serious business, Mum. You could completely damage my image before I even step on the train."

"James!" My father said warningly.

Mum laughed, wiping her suspiciously red, wet eyes. "It's fine Harold. You were the same at his age."

Dad's face softened as he looked at me and reached out to ruffle my hair like he always did. "I've got to tell him something, Janine, could you -?"

"Oh!" Mum looked at Dad, and an understanding glance passed between the two of them. She ran a hand through her graying black hair and stepped off a little ways, glancing over at me and Dad every now and then, with a knowing smile.

"Here," Dad said, his voice low. "This has been passed down through many, many Potters to their firstborn sons. I got it from my Dad. Use it well. I'm sure you'll find lots of use for it at Hogwarts," he said, winking and slipping a soft package into my hands. "You should probably get on now, don't want to miss the train!"

I passed through the cabins of the Hogwarts express. After stumbling in on a make-out session between two seventh years, a cabinful of Slytherin boys eager to pick on a first year, and an obnoxiously giggly group of first year girls, I was ready to collapse into the next open cabin I found.

"Erm, this seat taken?"

A boy looked up at me from the window. The sunlight shining through the window fell on his soft black hair, and he had a scowl plastered firmly upon his face. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he said casually, shifting some of his things when I paused beside the seat next to him. "Go on, I promise I don't bite – often." He grinned mischievously and I grinned back, sliding next to him.

"I'm James Potter," I said, thrusting my hand towards him.

"Sirius Black," he said, taking mine and shaking it firmly.

I paused slightly. The name Black had come up with my parents once, while I was talking with them about their jobs. "Bad blood," my father had said, shaking his head. "They've got powerful friends and are filthy rich to boot, so although the lot of them should be in Azkaban right now, they're not."

Sirius looked at me hard. "Potter, like the Aurors?"

"My mum and dad," I said.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not like the rest of my family, alright? I don't know what you've heard from your parents, but honestly, I think my family's the biggest group of nutters ever."

I studied his face for a moment. He was looking at me rather defiantly, as if daring me to walk out of the cabin, shouting insults as I left.

I laughed, clapping him on the back. "I think we're going to be good friends," I told him.

"Yeah," said Sirius, looking rather relieved. "Yeah, me too."