Author's Note: These oneshots will by no means follow in chronological order. The last "chapter" was from Albus's first day at Hogwarts, and this is from one year earlier, James's first train ride.
Brax
James hadn't really known what to expect, but it wasn't this. He stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express morosely, depressed at the emptiness of the compartment he was sitting in.
He had imagined everything much differently. He had imagined finding a compartment packed with other students, walking in and introducing himself, telling a joke and making everyone laugh and instantly becoming friends with everyone. He had imagined himself surrounded by people who thought he was interesting, cool and funny.
Instead he was sitting in a compartment by himself.
He'd tried finding a place in a compartment with other kids in it - he'd walked into three actually, with the intent to introduce himself and make friends - but they'd all been full, and he had been turned away.
If he wanted to, he supposed he could go find one of his cousins - Merlin knew they were scattered all over the train - but he didn't want to force his presence on them and their friends. As fun as that was at Grandma Weasley's, he didn't want to earn himself a reputation for being the annoying tag-along kid his first day.
"Hey, give it back!"
James looked up at the shout from the train corridor. He moved to the door and slid it open curiously.
"C'mon, give it back. It was expensive."
"Expensive, huh? Maybe I should just keep it for you. You know, so it doesn't get broken."
"No, seriously. Please give it back."
"Please give it back. Yeah right."
James watched the exchange with furrowed eyebrows, trying to make sense of what was happening. A boy about James's height was standing in front of a taller boy already wearing his school robes. A look at his tie told James he was a Slytherin.
The taller boy was holding a large glass bottle. Closer inspection showed it to have a miniature Quidditch pitch inside, complete with little figures zooming around on tiny broomsticks. James had heard of those; he had begged his father for one for his birthday last year.
"That thing would last two minutes in our house," Harry Potter had replied, much to Jaems's chagrin. He'd gotten a new broomstick instead though, so he hadn't complained.
"Please give it back," the smaller boy was saying now. "My dad gave it to me for my birthday."
"My daddy gave it to me for my birfday," the boy mimicked. Then he laughed. "You know what? Tomorrow is my birthday. This can be your gift to me." He reached out and ruffled the other boy's hair before turning to walk away.
"No! Give it back!" The boy launched himself at the Slytherin, sending him sprawling to the floor. The Quidditch pitch in a bottle went rolling down the corridor. James slipped out of his compartment and trotted after it.
After retrieving it, he set it gently on a seat in his compartment before going back into the corridor.
The Slytherin was sitting on the other boy's chest now, his wand pointed in the kid's face.
"Hey, leave him alone," James spoke up. Both boys looked at him in shock, not having realized he was there.
"Make me," the Slytherin sneered. James heaved an almighty sigh.
"I don't want to," he warned, completely deadpan. "My dad always tells me I shouldn't hurt people with my magic."
The Slytherin faltered just slightly. Then he seemed to regain composure. "You're bluffing."
James shrugged. "Fine. I'm bluffing then. If you're really willing to take that risk." He stared the older boy down, daring him to call him a liar.
"I don't believe you," he said, standing up and striding over to stand in front of James.
James sighed again. "Well have it your way then. But I should warn you, my brother spent an entire week in St. Mungo's once because he broke my toy broom. In my defense, I was six at the time and couldn't control my magic. But last summer, my little sister stole my favorite Quidditch robes and I got so mad, and...poof," he said, making a little explosion motion with his hand.
"Poof?" the Slytherin asked skeptically.
"Yep. She just disappeared. Took us three hours to find her. I'd accidentally sent her to the bottom of the pond in the woods. Good thing she can swim, huh?" James said, shaking his head sorrowfully.
"I'm not scared of you."
"Suit yourself," James said, pulling out his wand. He raised it as though to cast a spell, eyeing the Slytherin experimentally. When the boy's expression didn't waver, he brought his wand down. The boy smirked.
"Was that supposed to scare me?"
"No," James admitted, still completely serious. Then, lightning fast, he whipped his fist back and slammed it into the boy's nose. Just as quickly, his hands were back in his pockets.
"What the hell?" the boy howled, covering his face with his hands. James gave him an innocently horrified look.
"I did it again," he said, despair tinging his tone. "Dad keeps telling me I need to learn to control my magic, but it's just so difficult!"
While the boy's face was covered, James's leg shot out and caught him behind the knee, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Oh, shoot! I'm really sorry, mate! I just can't figure out how to rein myself in, you know?"
The older boy gave him a murderous look and struggled back to his feet.
"That wasn't funny," he snarled, grabbing James roughly by his shirt front. James looked him in the eye very calmly for one so close to receiving a beating.
"It was an accident," he said solemnly. "I'm trying really hard not to let my magic set your hair on fire right now," he added.
The Slytherin gave him a calculating look. He set him back down on the ground, eyeing him somewhat warily.
"Watch yourself, kid," he said at long last. He turned to leave, and James let a grin crack his calm exterior. Then the boy whirled back around and landed his fist into James's boy's gut. He doubled over in pain, struggling to breathe.
"I'm letting you off easy this time," he snarled. With one last well-aimed kick to the ribs, the Slytherin left, shoving the boy with the glass bottle into a wall as he passed.
-o-
"Are you okay?"
James looked up to see two curious bluish eyes staring down at him. He struggled into a sitting position and shook his head to clear it.
"Yeah," he said at long last. "I'm alright." He winced as he tried to take a deep breath - those ribs would be sore for awhile - but otherwise found himself unharmed.
"That was pretty brave, going after a third year like that," the other boy added, offering James his hand to help him up.
"Yeah, well you did it first," James replied, standing and leaning against the wall.
"But you didn't have to. You don't even know me."
James looked at the other boy, finally getting a good look at him. He was just slightly shorter than James was. He had dark hair that was sticking up in strange places due to his scuffle with the Slytherin and the air of one who was very well-off. James took an instant liking to him.
"Well, your Quidditch in a bottle was too cool to let him have it," he answered, stepping into his compartment. The other boy followed and scooped up the glass bottle eagerly.
"You saved it! Wow, thanks! My dad would have been so mad if I'd lost it." He glanced at James and the around the compartment furtively. "I wasn't supposed to bring it to school," he said softly. James grinned.
"Yeah..." he said with a shifty smile. "I wasn't supposed to bring this either." He pulled something out of his pocket and laid it in his palm.
"A broom replica?" the other boy asked, looking confused. James shook his head and pulled his wand out.
"No," he answered. He touched the tip of his wand to the broom. "Reducio," he whispered. The broom grew until it reached its normal size.
"Is that the Bliksem 360?" the boy asked in awe. James grinned.
"Sure is. But don't tell my dad I brought to school. He'd be pretty mad," he said. He murmured the shrinking charm again - something he had worked tirelessly on over the summer just for this purpose - and stuck the broom back in his pocket.
"I'm Brax by the way. Braxton Orwell."
"James Potter," James replied. Brax's eyebrows went up curiously, but he didn't comment.
"You play Quidditch then?" he asked instead. James grinned.
"I love Quidditch! I want to be Seeker for Gryffindor - just like my dad," he answered proudly.
"Gryffindor? Maybe we can be on the team together then," Brax said with a smile. "Cuz if I don't get put in Gryffindor, I think I'll just leave," he added.
"Oh, I know right? Gryffindor or bust, that's what I say!" James exclaimed, raising his fist in the air. The two boys laughed.
The future Gryffindors spent the remainder of the train ride talking about Quidditch and getting to know each other. It wasn't quite what James had imagined, but it was still pretty good as far as train rides went.
And so James Potter and Brax Orwell became best friends.
A/N: In case you're wondering, yes I named him after George Orwell on purpose. Mostly because his last name fits really well with Brax...and because I'm quite fond of his writing. :)