The following morning found all four boys up surprisingly early, considering that it was a Sunday so there was no reason for them to be up.

They had gathered around the Gryffindor table, and were happily eating their way through every breakfast item conceivable. As was to be expected from any group of young boys in the wizarding world, the conversation had invariably turned to quidditch.

"…No. Way!" cried Michael, staring incredulously at the two boys who had just finished explaining the intricacies of quidditch to him. Apparently, he was not inclined to believe fanciful tales of nosedives which avoided near-fatal collisions with the ground with only inches to spare, or horrific injuries as received from over-enthusiastic bludgers (and beaters).

He turned to Matt, who had been surprisingly quiet, for support. Matt just shrugged, not quite sure whether he believed the two young wizards either.

"It's all true, I promise!" proclaimed James, "Trust me, I know everything about quidditch. Nearly everyone in my family plays it."

It was Daniel's turn to stare at James I disbelief now. Daniel, whose family had moved to America when the first war broke out, and only returned ten years ago, was unfamiliar with the quidditch prowess of the Weasley family. Even if he had been, he would have been inclined to disbelieve James, based on the sheer improbability of it – in America, where the wizarding schools were generally much bigger than Hogwarts, there were only a very few witches and wizards talented enough at quidditch to play for their schools.

Finally catching the looks of disbelief that he was receiving, James threw his arms into the air in exasperation, and collapsed onto the table (neatly avoiding his plate of eggs) with a mumbled cry of "Why won't anyone believe me?"

"Because you're a melodramatic little toe-rag at times," came the amused response from Teddy, who, unbeknownst to James, had just arrived at the table.

Ignoring the death-glare being sent his way be James, he slid onto the bench between James and Matt, warranting a hiss from James. Turning to the other boys, he addressed them with a slight nod in James' direction to indicate who he was talking about.

"Why's he sulking today then?"

If he had been expecting a response though, he was much mistaken. The others appeared to be struck dumb upon being addressed so familiarly by a seventh year. Either that, or they were distracted by the electric-blue hair Teddy had decided to model today.

It was Daniel who overcame his silence first. "He's claiming that his whole family played quidditch for the school." The spell broken, Matt and Michael both murmured their assent.

Teddy quirked an eyebrow, and turned to James. "Been telling lies again kid?"

James let out an indignant huff, and kicked Teddy's ankle under the table. "I have not! I said most of our family played quidditch."

Teddy laughed at James' apparent irritation, and smiled at the other boys. "Well, I can't say fairer than that." Catching their doubtful looks, he spoke again. "Come on, I'll show you."

"Where are we going?" asked Michael, walking alongside Teddy.

The usually quiet boy had found himself somewhat drawn to the older boy, despite his initial appearance. Though neither boy would recognise it, Teddy exuded much of his father's calmness, and it would always draw people to him, make them more comfortable in his presence. And so, Teddy was helping to draw Michael out of his shell, without having to do anything at all. In the weeks to come, a mutual understanding, a kinship of sorts, would arise between the two. Though they may not spend their free time together, Teddy would keep an eye of Michael as much as he did on James, and Michael would, in turn, turn to Teddy whenever he needed advice.

"To the trophy room," the older boy responded with an easy smile.

"Eurgh, why?" came the disgruntled reply from Teddy's other side.

"Because, James," Teddy replied with painstaking patience, "I thought that you liked it when you were proven right." James, apparently having no response to such logic, remained silent.

"I'm still not sure why we need to go to the trophy room though…?" Matt hesitantly pointed out from behind the trio, where he was walking with Daniel, who had been trying to explain why the portraits moved, as best an eleven-year old wizard yet to start his education can.

"I thought I'd show you guys the Quidditch Cup -" Teddy began, before James cut him off.

"- so that I can prove the alarming frequency with which my family members appear on it!" he finished with a cocky grin, very reminiscent of his grandfather's. "Now, come on!"

"…And most recently, the school year of '96-97, Gryffindor won the cup with Mum, Dad, and Uncle Ron playing. Therefore, that's, discounting cousins and all that, my Grandad, my Mum, my Dad, Uncles Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, and Aunt Angelina. Therefore, I wi-"

James turned around from where he had been inspecting the Quidditch cups with a look of triumph on his face, only to find a very amused Teddy (who already knew everything that James was saying), and disinterested Matt (who was studying some shields in the corner of the room), and no Michael or Daniel.

"Well," Teddy said, barely concealing his smirk, "It appears that you were right after all."

"Where did they go?" demanded James, ignoring Teddy's silent laughter.

"They got bored. And left. As I would have done, if I could get a word in edgeways…" With a good-natured ruffle of James' hair, much to James' displeasure, Teddy sauntered out of the room with a call over his shoulder of "places to go, people to see."

"Well," huffed James for the second time that morning. Turning to Matt, he found him still engrossed in his study of, as James surmised, some rather unexciting school awards.

James turned back to the quidditch section again, and was just beginning to lose himself in the familiar names, when Matt's voice broke the silence.

"Hey, James, what's your dad's first name again?"

"Harry. Why?" James responded, without much interest.

"And does his middle name begin with a 'J'?" came the response, which James didn't fail to notice didn't answer his question.

"Yes, but why?" he asked, interest piqued.

"Come and look at this."

James hurried over to where Matt stood, and looked at the shield he was pointing to. It wasn't prominent, tucked away amongst a few similar shields, which, James realised, were surprisingly few given the time range they appeared to span.

Leaning closer, he read the inscription upon it.

"Special Award for Services to the School

Awarded to Mr Harry J. Potter

In the school year of 1992-1993."

James' eyes widened in surprise – his father had certainly never mentioned receiving any such award whilst he was at school.

"That is your dad, isn't it?" asked Matt.

"Yeah…" The shield next to it caught James' eye now. "And that one next to it, was awarded to his best friend, my Uncle Ron. Whatever they got them for, they probably did it together, given that no one else has one…"

"I wonder what it was…" mused Matt.

"Hmm," James assented absentmindedly, as he ran the calculations through his mind, "They were only in their second year when they got them."

Matt looked at James, eyebrows raised. Clearly he was as impressed as James was. "And you're sure he never mentioned anything about it?"

"No…"

James had been running his conversation with Matt through his mind all day. He was certain that his dad had never mentioned anything about special awards, or doing anything of particular merit, other than quidditch, whilst he was at school.

But, said the little voice in the back of James' mind, haven't you always thought that there was something that they weren't telling you?

As much as James tried to ignore it, he had to admit the truth in the question. Recently, he had found himself wondering if there was something that his family knew, that he didn't. There had been odd little hints that he'd only started to pick up on as he got older; the way that conversations would stop as soon as he entered the room, the way that his family seemed to overreact to the simplest of occurrences, the looks they exchanged when something apparently innocuous was mentioned.

But James couldn't be sure.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he looked down at the letter he was working on. It was, he had to admit, somewhat difficult to concentrate when you're sat in one of the comfiest chairs in the common room, with a roaring fire before you, and your three dorm-mates engaged in an enthusiastic game of wizards' chess, their first for two of them.

Dear Mum and Dad (and Al and Lily),

I'M AT HOGWARTS! And the hat put me in Gryffindor! Of course, I knew it would, so I shouldn't have been too shocked ;)

I'm sharing a dormitory with three other boys: Daniel Reading, who's the only one apart from me who knew anything about the wizarding world, Michael Fisher (he's a bit quiet, but he seems to get on really well with Teddy, so hopefully Teddy'll look out for him) and Matt Foster. I get on really well with Matt – I think we're going to be great friends. Maybe we'll give Dad and Uncle Ron a run for their money…

James paused, and chewed on the end of his pen (he, try though he might, simply could not get used to using a quill. However, using a pen wasn't so unusual in the wizarding world anymore, as, since the war, wizard-muggle relations had made great advances). Now would be the opportune moment to ask about the special awards, but he felt somehow hesitant. His dad hadn't mentioned it, and he always had a good reason for doing anything questionable…

Instead, James decided to employ a more roundabout way of approaching the subject.

This morning, Teddy took us up to the Trophy room, to show us all the House and Quidditch cups. We were rather impressed at seeing how well our family was represented there – in the quidditch team lists, the head boy and girl lists, prefect lists…

He decided to leave the point there – let them make of it what they will. Glancing at the clock, James was shocked to see that it was much later than he had expected, and, knowing that he had to be up for lessons tomorrow, resolved to finish the letter there, and head to bed.

Anyway, I'm off to bed, so that'll have to be it for now.

Love, James.

Rolling up the scroll, James smiled to himself. It felt nice to know that he had something to send to his family; he was already starting to miss them more than he had expected, and he was just grateful that he already had family at the school.