James found himself watching the rest of the first years get sorted with Teddy sat to his left, and another first year to his right. Trying to be surreptitious, he studied the unfamiliar boy, and wondered if they would end up friends.
The boy was around the same height as James, with pale skin, and hair such a dark brown that it was almost black. And, he noted with some relief, the boy wasn't staring, or stealing glances at him at all: instead, he realised with some amusement, the roles had been reversed, and he was the one staring.
Knowing how annoying he himself found the unwanted attention, James turned back to the front of the hall, where there was only one student left to be sorted.
"Emily Whithers."
As the lone girl stepped forwards, he recognised her as the girl who had commented on his similarity to his father, and sighed with relief when she was very quickly sorted into Hufflepuff. Judging by the look on her face however, he concluded that she wasn't so pleased with her new house.
Once Emily had taken her seat and the stool had been removed from the hall, Professor McGonagall rose from her seat in order to address the pupils. Having heard his family enthuse about Dumbledore's start of term speeches, James turned his attention to the Headmistress in anticipation of what might follow.
Clearing her throat, she began to speak. "Welcome to all of you, especially our new students. I have just a few announcements to make before we begin the feast.
"There have been a few changes to the staff this year. I am pleased to welcome Professor Moneypenny to the staff, who will be teaching transfiguration. In addition to this, as a returning pupil, she accepted my offer to take on the role of Head of Slytherin House. I wish her the best of wishes for the coming year." Here, she paused, and the students took their cue to applaud. James, however, found himself to be clapping harder than many of those who surrounded him; of course, he already knew of the tenuous relationship between the Slytherins and the other houses, but he hadn't realised the reality of the hostility. Shrugging it off, he continued with his enthusiastic applause, earning him a few raised eyebrows from some of the students sat nearest to him.
"Also, I am pleased to announce that Professor Longbottom, our Herbology Professor, will also be taking on the Head of House role for his old house. For those of you new to the school, and thus previously unexposed to his fierce patriotism," McGonagall was briefly cut off by the laughter from the older students, and Professor Longbottom turned a delicate shade of pink. "He will be the new Head of Gryffindor." The applause this time was distinctly warmer, and James couldn't help but feel a little awkward – the behaviour was so contrary to the way that he had been raised.
"Other than that, there is very little else for me to say, only to remind of a few rules. Bullying will not be tolerated, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that, forbidden, and no magic is to be used in the corridors.
"Now that everything of pressing importance is out of the way, may the feast begin!" she finished with a distinct flourish.
James knew it was coming, he knew that the plates before would magically fill with food. Everyone, especially Uncle Ron, had taken great pleasure in describing it to him. But knowing about it and seeing it were apparently very different things. And so, he could hardly be blamed when his chin all but hit his chest.
His reaction, however, was nothing compared to that of the boy whom he sat beside. He let out an excited squeak, and before anyone else could comment, came in with the least expected comment possible.
"How on earth did that just happen?"
There was a shocked silence from those nearest him, and it was Teddy who eventually broke the silence.
"Um, well, you are at a school for magic…"
"Oh, yeah… I mean, I knew that, but it still hasn't really sunk in, you know?" Judging by the blank looks he was receiving, they didn't. "I didn't know magic existed until I got my letter – muggle-born I think they called me. Is that a bad thing?" he asked, and James could detect the undercurrent of fear in his voice.
"Not all," he responded honestly. He had a feeling he was going to get on well with this boy. "I'm James Potter, by the way." He said, offering his hand.
The boy shook his hand enthusiastically, in a way that reminded James somewhat forcefully of his Uncle George. "I'm Matt Foster."
The two boys were still talking animatedly when remnants of dessert finally faded from the plates.
"…I cannot wait to see it played. It sounds so much more exciting than muggle sports!"
James flashed the boy a grin, and turned to scowl at the people who were still staring at him. Matt followed his gaze, and voiced the question that had been lurking in the corner of his mind since he first met James.
"Um, I hope you don't mind me asking, but why do people keep staring at you?"
James turned back to Matt, and shrugged. "I don't really know, I've been wondering about it myself. The best that I can come up with is that it's because of Mum – she's quite a famous quidditch player, turned columnist. It's certainly nothing I've done, and I really doubt it's got anything to do with Dad; he's too much of a family man to have ever done anything to get himself that well known." He looked at Matt and shrugged again.
Matt nodded knowingly, and took a final gulp of his pumpkin juice before both boys rose to follow the prefect who was calling them all to follow them.
"First years, follow me. The common room's this way. Please try and remember the route, I do not want to spend the year giving out directions."
The group walked along in near silence, everyone too full and tired to make much attempt at conversation now that they were on the move. James amused himself by watching Matt's astonishment every time they came across anything vaguely magical – he knew that the map he had hidden away meant that he didn't have to worry about remembering directions just yet.
Finally, the group arrived at the painting that masked the entrance to the common room, and James smiled as he noticed Sir Cadogan – about whom his father had warned him profusely, muttering incoherently about "quests" and "pompous attitudes" – lurking unobtrusively in the corner of the frame.
"This term's password is 'Gillyweed'. Again, please try to remember that." And with that, the painting swung forwards to reveal the tower that would be James' home for the coming year.
Climbing through the hole into the round room, he took in the red curtains, the roaring fire, the comfy-looking sofas, and the subtle gold décor. Yes, he thought to himself, I can definitely see why everyone loves the school so much.
Later that evening, James smiled to himself as he snuggled deeper into his bed. In the bed next to him, he could hear Matt doing the same thing. Knowing that it was Sunday tomorrow, they had stayed up later than strictly necessary enthusing over everything they had seen that day.
Quiet snores emanated from one of the other two beds, and nothing but the deep breathing of sleep could be heard from the other.
James amused himself by trying to guess who was making each sound. The snores, he reasoned, were probably coming from Daniel Reading. James had found that, despite the fact that he stared at him more than he was comfortable with, he really enjoyed Daniel's company. The boy, he had learnt, came from a wizarding background, had indecent amounts of energy and enthusiasm, and was an avid fan of old muggle sci-fi movies.
Therefore, the quiet sleeper was Michael Fisher, the other boy they shared the dormitory with. Michael was a quiet boy, who only said what was necessary, but James found that it seemed to draw people towards him – Michael and Daniel certainly looked well on the way to becoming best friends. Despite his quiet nature, they had, in fact, learnt quite a lot about Michael: like Matt, he was muggle-born, but unlike Matt, he had always entertained the idea of the existence of magic, ergo, his favourite book was, and always had been, Lord of the Rings. He had, under pressure, admitted to reading everything about the magical world he could get his hands on since receiving his Hogwarts letter, and thus had reacted with much less shock to the many surprises of the school that Matt had. He also, much to the confusion of James, had looked at him with a sense of recognition when they first met, but had not, apparently, felt the need to stare at him in the way that so many others had.
James smiled to himself as he ran the day's events through his mind. Rolling over, he let out an excited giggle – which he would deny the next morning when Matt raised it – as he considered the coming year.