Over the next few weeks, Mrs. Potter forgot her anger towards her son. In fact, her exasperated feeling morphed into something James really couldn't understand. True, she had made him waste all his birthday money on buying ants, but now that Dumbledore, St. Mungo's, and even the Bulgarian wizarding school Durmstrang had placed an order with Mrs. Potter, James had been treated like a little prince.
Never before allowed into the storeroom where his mother kept the potions ingredients, every day James was asked by his mother to venture into the dark cupboard and pull out this ingredient and that jar of dragon's blood and so on and so forth.
James's tree house had been finished for a while now, and he liked to invite some of the other children who lived in the village to come play in it. Unfortunately, however, James was the oldest child of the group, and so he was forced to play Hogwarts with seven year olds who were still attending Muggle school. But every day, Mrs. Potter would give the boys a bit of money and they would run to the ice cream shop just down the street, with Viggy in attendance as well.
Mrs. Potter's BERP potions were going well; in fact, the family had earned quite a bit of gold from it. Mr. Potter continued to be his wife's assistant, and was very busy helping her as the end of July came to a close. In fact, Mrs. Potter ran out of the kitchen on the morning of August first just after a large tawny owl had arrived, waving a scrap of parchment and yelling excitedly.
"James, James!" she called, and James stuck his head out of the tree house door, just as he was pretending to teach the younger boys how to brew a potion that made you lucky.
"What is it, Mum?" James asked, giggling slightly as his frizzy-haired mother ran out into the yard.
"A letter, a letter from Dumbledore!" she cried, and James almost fell out of the tree with excitement.
"Dumbledore?"
"Yes, Dumbledore!" his mother yelled. "The boils are still going round Hogwarts and the staff has run out of BERP potion and he's asking me if I would be kind enough to make him another batch! Can you believe this? BERP is sky-rocketing!"
James hurriedly climbed out of the tree house, leaving the boys behind and completely forgetting about them. "Can I read the letter?" he asked, holding out a hand. Mrs. Potter, still beside herself with excitement, nodded and handed over the letter.
Dear Mrs. Potter,
I can't tell you how grateful the staff at Hogwarts and I are. Your ingenious potion has cured almost all of the boils the house-elves have had. However, the amount of BERP potion (what a hilarious name) I originally requested from you was not enough to cure the entire population of elves here at the school. Would you be kind enough to brew us up another batch and have it ready by tomorrow? I've heard it doesn't take that long to make. I'll drop by your home tomorrow to pick it up, as I have a delivery for young James as well.
My kindest thanks,
Albus Dumbledore
James's eyes widened at the mention of a delivery for himself. If it was from Dumbledore, James knew it had to be his Hogwarts letter, it had to be! His mother snatched the letter back and read it greedily again.
"He's coming today?" James asked.
"Yes!" Mrs. Potter cried happily. "I've got to get things ready, you understand!" James stood there, a little dazed, and shocked, but then his mother grabbed his wrist and began to tow him towards the house. "You, James, you'll help!"
"Where's dad?" James asked, fully not wanting to help at all.
"He just got a job at the Muggle post office," Mrs. Potter said absentmindedly as they entered the house. "He's there now. Here, take these," she said, and levitated some glass vials towards him. "Put one spoonful in each vial, that's enough for one curing dose. I know what you're thinking. 'How could Dad get a job at the Muggle post office?' well, I'll tell you…" Mrs. Potter drug on, while James filled vial after vial with BERP potion and stared at the magical clock hanging just above the oven.
An hour passed…then another hour…then another…and James began to wonder whether Dumbledore was coming at all. But just as he thought this, there was a knock at the door. The two fell silent, and turned to look at each other with frightened looks. Mrs. Potter hurriedly smoothed down her hair and ran to get the door. James fell still, wondering if the crinkling sound of paper coming from the doorway was James's Hogwarts letter.
"…so glad you're here, Headmaster," Mrs. Potter said, entering the kitchen, and James's eyes widened incredibly when Dumbledore walked into their kitchen, carrying a box that he set down onto the kitchen table.
James stared at the old man. Dumbledore smiled at James, and the twinkle in his blue eyes made James feel more relaxed. "James, dear, this is Professor Dumbledore," Mrs. Potter said, leading James to Dumbledore, "and he is going to be your headmaster at Hogwarts this year."
"Hello," James said, bolder than he thought he was going to, and held out a hand for Dumbledore to shake.
The old man laughed. "Charming boy," he said. "And speaking of Hogwarts…" This is it, James thought. He's going to give me my letter. And, sure enough, Dumbledore reached into his box and pulled out an envelope made of yellowing parchment. "I wanted to deliver your acceptance letter in person." Dumbledore handed the letter to James, who took it in great awe. Dumbledore laughed again. "I suppose you've been waiting for that letter for a while, my boy."
"Have I," James said in a hushed tone. He smiled widely at the Hogwarts crest on one side of the envelope. "I'm so excited about school, I've been wanting to go ever since forever, I was just out in the yard playing in my tree house when Mum—" But James fell silent as he turned over the letter to see his name in the address spot. But instead of Mr. J Potter inscribed on the paper, Dumbledore's hand had written something else.
Ms. L Evans, the envelope read.
"What is it, son?" Dumbledore asked, helping Mrs. Potter cap some of the other vials.
James felt like he was on the verge of tears. This wasn't his letter. He wasn't getting one. This L. Evans person got to go to Hogwarts and James didn't. Why was life so unfair? "This—this isn't mine," James said, his voice trembling a little.
Dumbledore silently took the envelope from James. When he saw the name, he laughed again. "So it isn't," he said, and rummaged around in his box some more. "I'm sorry, I'm visiting young Lily Evans just after this and I think I handed you her letter by mistake. Here we are," he said, and drew out another envelope, this time with James's name on it. James excitedly ripped open the letter, and two sheets of parchment fell out.
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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress"Excuse me, Professor," James finally said, "but today is August 1. We—I mean, I am—a day late."
But Dumbledore winked at James and said, "Don't worry about that, Mr. Potter. I knew I'd be delivering the letter to you personally, so I've got everything under control." He smiled at James, who was busy reading the rest of his letter. He pocketed Lily's letter, picked up his box (which was now filled with glass vials of BERP), and said, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Potter. You'll have the entire living population of elves cured in no time."
"They're all ill?" James asked, looking up from his paper.
"No, no, of course not," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Well, have a wonderful evening."
"You, too, Professor," Mrs. Potter said with a smile, walking him towards the door.
"And I shall see you, Mr. Potter, on September the first." Dumbledore smiled again, his eye twinkling, and walked out of the room. A few minutes later, Mrs. Potter closed the door and walked back into kitchen, where she once again began slaving over the cauldron.
"Go tell your little friends to go home now, James, all right?"
James was still reading his letter. "What?"
"Your friends. Tell them it's time for them to go home."
James had completely forgotten about the other little boys in his tree house. "Okay," he told his mother, and went to go outside. He could still hear them giggling inside the tree house, but James stopped in the middle of the yard. He had his letter now. He was eleven years old, practically an adult. James couldn't be seen hanging around with seven year olds. What would the other Hogwarts kids say? James shuddered.
He placed his letter back inside the Hogwarts envelope on began to march towards the tree house. Something changed in young James Potter that day. He was better than those little children playing inside his tree house, he decided. And besides: it was going to be a whole year before he saw them again.