Chapter Four

On to the Train

The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears; they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other

~Sir. Francis Bacon

A clatter of activity rose from the lower levels of the house. It created a comforting hum in the background. James enjoyed the familiarity of it, even on this day where everything was about to change. Today was September 1, the day the train left, the day he officially started Hogwarts. For the past few weeks, his excitement had slowly been growing until coming to a peak the night before. Unable to sleep, James had flipped through all of his textbooks, re-read Hogwarts, A History, and practiced some simple spells.

Now, he lay on his bed, fully clothed and ready for his trip into London and, eventually, onto the Scottish Highlands and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was listening to his mother and the family house elf move about the kitchen, preparing food. It was a phenomenon that James had woken up to every day for as long as he could remember. His mother was an absolutely amazing cook and every day James had the luxury of her home made breakfasts. A slight pang resonated through him as he realised this would be his last homemade breakfast for several months.

"James?" a deep, silky voice asked from the other side of the door. "Are you almost ready, son?" The voice, which belonged to his father, had a slight catch in it. James recognized it as an excess of emotions that his father was trying to tamp down. As excited as James was to leave for Hogwarts, he could tell his parents were saddened. He was an only child, and absolutely spoiled by his older parents as a result. He was a major part of his parents' lives and his leaving would surely leave a large hole.

He felt another pang.

"Ready, father," James called out as he sprang up off his bed. Despite leaving his parents, and his mother's cooking, James was ready and excited to be leaving for school. He bubbled with the anticipation of learning spells, jinxes, and hexes, of learning how to brew potions and read the stars. He anxiously awaited being sorted –into Gryffindor, of course- and meeting his fellow house- and dorm-mates. He would try out for the house team as soon as there was an opening. He would surround himself with friends his age. All of it was endlessly exciting.

James opened the door to his bedroom to find his father. His face, obviously carefully schooled to not reveal the emotions his voice had nearly given away, was a mask of cheery joy. His eyes, though shinny with the potential of tears, still held the youth and joy that was not possessed by some men half his age. It was this youthful energy that had allowed James' father to teach him to fly and play Quidditch. It was the youthful look that his father always had in his eyes. He was obviously trying not to upset James over his sadness at the boy leaving.

"All packed then?" Fleamont inquired, looking around his son into the room. For the briefest of minutes, James saw the joy in his father's eyes slip and be replaced with the sadness that James had spotted under the surface of his face. However, this time he spoke, his voice did not shake, but remained steady, even a little cheery.

"In the corner," James responded before he bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He could tell his father was upset with his departure and trying to hide it from his son. James, not wanting to be the cause of any undo stress or pain decided to leave his father alone with his emotions.

He gleefully slid into the kitchen then stopped suddenly, nearly causing himself to fall over. His sudden stop had been caused by the extraordinary sight in the large Potter kitchen. Food of all types, colours, and smells covered nearly every available surface. It appeared that his mother and the family house elf, Strinkly, had made all of James' favourite foods, and then some. Doing some quick calculations in his head, James figured he'd have to eat non-stop for a week before all the food was gone.

"Mum!" he exclaimed, "I may be a growing boy, but you've cooked for a whole Quidditch team's worth of growing boys! How do you expect me to eat all this?" James' eyes grew wider at the sight as he moved through the kitchen and took in even more of the food. His mother appeared from the door off to the right, which led to the pantry. James suspected that the once full room was now very sparse, most of its food contents having gone into the feast that lay before him.

"You eat your fill, Jamie. Whatever is left is going to the church in town to help with those less fortunate than us." She wiped her hands on an apron adorned with Snitches and Quaffles that had been a Christmas present from James the year before. She took a moment to survey the kitchen and mirth coloured her expression right up to her ocean spray eyes.

"I may have gone a little overboard," she conceded, "but it's not every day your baby boy starts his first day at Hogwarts. It'll be a while until you're home with us again and I wanted to make sure you had all your favourites so you wouldn't be missing them. Of course, if you do, a quick owl home and I'll have a care package ready for the next days post."

Euphemia turned to look at her son. James had perpetually messy dark brown hair that would not lay flat no matter what spell or product his mother used. He had his father's dark brown, mischievous eyes. He was thin, though not scrawny despite the amount of food that his mother cooked for him.

Now, as his mother took in the sight of him dressed for the trip into London in trousers and a collared shirt, the mirth began to fade from her eyes. Feeling awkward because of the raw emotions in his mother's eyes, James quickly focused on the mountains of food.

A light nudging on the side of his leg drew his attention to the floor. Reaching to just below his hip, her large eyes wide and filling with tears, was the Potter family house elf, Strinkly. She was holding up a plate for James to take and fill. He quickly took the plate and thanked the elf. Strinkly then quickly disappeared into the pantry. James assumed the elf was crying out of sight and it made him embarrassed and more awkward.

Eagerly wanting to get away from the outpouring of emotion, James began filling the plate. He then left the kitchen and headed into the formal dinning room. His father, having brought down James' trunk, was sitting at the table, a full plate of food from the kitchen in front of him. He also had a steaming cup of tea and was reading the most recent edition of the Daily Prophet.

"I see you've got your fill," Mr. Potter spoke from behind his paper. James had always been astonished by his father's ability to apparently see through the newspaper or whatever else he was reading. James placed his plate down on the table and took his regular spot. He then quickly dug into his meal.

After a few minutes, his mother joined the table, though she only had a cup of tea. Throughout his eleven years, James had rarely seen his mother eat with him and his father at breakfast and lunch. She would often wait until the boys had their fill and then eat her meal in the kitchen. She continued this behaviour even though there was no possibility of there not being enough food. James smiled at the consistency of his family despite the irregularity of the day.

The Potter family quickly fell into their morning routine, with Mr. Potter reading and sharing the news stories with Mrs. Potter. She would then add information she had gleaned through her social circle. All the while, James would be shovelling food into his mouth and occasionally tuning in to his parents' conversations. The only difference on that particular morning compared to all the others was a near-constant clamour that resonated from the kitchen as Strinkly prepared the excess food for the small church in the muggle town just outside the Potter manor grounds.

"Alright," Fleamont Potter suddenly exclaimed, folding his paper. He stood from the table and gave his wife and son a look, "Time to get going. The train will be leaving soon." Mrs. Potter nodded in agreement and stood.

"Strinkly!" she called. Moments later, the elf's head poked out of the kitchen. "Would you please clean up the breakfast dishes and finish up with that food. I will take it to the church when I get back." The elf nodded, then quickly ducked back into the kitchen, tears once again filling her large eyes.

Feeling the enormity of the fast approaching events, James remained seated for a few more minutes. He pretended to be finishing up his food. In reality, he wanted to hang on to the normalcy and routine of the day for a few more minutes. He was excited to start at Hogwarts, to learn all the magic he possibly could and meet amazing friends and potential partners-in-crime, but he was still hesitant about leaving the familiarity of his home.

"You coming, Jamie?" his mother asked. Feeling he could no longer put it off, James stood and went to grab his mother's hand. As the dark pressure of apparation engulfed him, he took one final look at the welcoming dinning room. He was ready, he told himself, to begin this great adventure.

The Potters appeared in an empty side street a few blocks from King's Cross Station in London, England. James let go of his mother's hand; he was far too old and mature to be holding it in public. He turned to look at his father, who was standing a few feet away with James' trunk. The elder Potter nodded for his son to lead the way towards the station.

James eagerly headed out into the street and onto the train station. While James' parents had told him about muggles and as much of the muggle world as they knew about and understood, James had never really been in the muggle world. The village near his parents' estate, Godric's Hallow, was a wizarding village that a few muggle families had moved into; it wasn't a muggle village. Being in London, surrounded by muggles and their way of life was staggering. James found himself looking from side-to-side, trying to take it all in.

A chuckle from behind him made James momentarily stop his searching and turn towards the source. His mother was walking a few steps behind him, a gleeful expression on her face.

"As I've always said, Jamie, muggles are endlessly fascinating."

"If you can," his father added, "you should try and take muggle studies in your third year. I found it quite the illuminating subject." James nodded, always one to follow his father's advice.

After five minutes of walking, the trio arrived at King's Cross Station. It was full of people busily hurrying about, trying to get to their train on time. It was mostly a place of muggle transportation, but the wizards of Britain had built a secret platform to transport underage wizards to and from Hogwarts. James, knowing all about the magical properties of this platform, purposefully began to walk through the building.

A few meters from the platform entrance, he saw a foursome, two parents and their daughters, earnestly consulting a piece of parchment. At the top, James could make out the Hogwarts seal. This, he reasoned, must be a muggle family with a magical daughter consulting instructions on how to get to the train. Feeling confident in his abilities, James strode over to the family to offer his assistance.

"Hello," he spoke, his voice friendly if a little haughty, "are you trying to get onto the platform?" He kept his question fairly vague so as not to arose the family if they were not, in fact, looking for Platform 9 ¾.

"You know about the magical platform?" the man asked, lowering his voice to a whisper on the words 'magical platform.' James nodded his head, a smile breaking across his face. His ability to help this obviously confused family brought him great joy.

"Platform 9 ¾? Yeah, I do. I'm heading off on my first year!" The woman smiled warmly at James.

"Lily is as well. It's all very exciting for us!" she spoke, patting the red-haired girl on the head. Her sister, her hair a red-ish blonde that was much lighter than the other girl, scowled. Her face looked even more pinched at the expression.

"Well," James spoke, getting down to business, "the entrance to the platform is that pillar there, between 9 and 10. Just walk through it and you'll be there!" Both the man and the woman eyed the sturdy looking brick pillar with apprehension.

"Thank you, son," the man spoke after several seconds, "well, Lily, Petunia, come along now." He grabbed the older blonde girl's hand, Petunia, James assumed, while his wife grabbed Lily's. Then they headed very determinedly towards the platform entrance, pushing a trolley containing a large trunk in front of them. James watched as they disappeared through the brick.

"That was awfully nice of you, Jamie," his mother spoke, coming up behind him. "Now what do you say we get you onto the train and off to Hogwarts?" she offered James her hand and, despite the fact that they were in public, he gladly took it. They then also headed towards the pillar, his father close behind with the trunk and James' brand new tawny owl.

The threesome disappeared through the pillar and came out to an area filled with steam. As it cleared a little, James got his first glimpse at the Hogwart's Express. His adventure was truly about to begin.