James Potter and the Boy Who Lived
I don't own anything.
Chapter 2 The Magic Begins
About eleven years had passed since the Potters became three and a lot had happened since then. The Potters had moved into a nice house nearby the burrow, where Mrs. Potter's parents lived. Two more Potter children were added along with a number of red-headed Weasley cousins. The sun rose up and crept into the Potter's living room, which lovely décor shown many photographs, muggle and wizard alike.
Eleven years ago, there had been lots of pictures of a large red-haired family and a few pictures of a raven-haired man with a green-eyed lady holding a small baby. Many photographs of a multi-colored Teddy Lupin and many of those who passed on in life in the years before joined them year after year. Soon two more messy raven-haired boys with their red-headed little sister joined them as did many Weasley cousins. You could almost always find a portrait of a child or passed elder chatting up with the painting aside it.
"James! Get up! Quick!"
James woke with a start. His little sister, Lily shouted with amusement in her voice awakening him.
"It's your Hogwarts letter," she said much quieter. James heard her wander off towards the stairs and then the sound of a window opening to let in a screeching owl. He jumped up quickly. It was here! Here! He'd been dreaming of it his whole life and now it was really here!
His sister was back at his door.
"Are you going to get up before Teddy opens it?" She demanded.
"What?" He jumped up, wrenching the door open.
Lily laughed at him, her brown eyes taunting him as if she knew something he didn't. "Get a move on, Albus and Teddy are opening the letter. You better hurry, they've already eaten all the bacon and drunk the pumpkin juice."
James pushed past her, careful not to hurt her, Mum and Dad would have killed him, and dashed down the stairs not at all worried about breakfast like he normally would.
"Dear Mr. James Potter," he walked into the kitchen to see his brother and Teddy reading the envelope of his Hogwarts letter. "We are pleased to announce you are unable to attend-"
"What?" He gasped running to Albus and Teddy.
Was it true? He jumped at the letter Teddy now held high above his head aching to see the truth while Lily and Albus mindlessly giggled in amusement.
"Teddy!" He glared at the much older, stronger boy.
Perhaps it was in his genes but he had always been small and skinny for his age. James had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and chocolate brown eyes. But he was pretty fast, but that didn't mean he could get his Hogwarts letter from eighteen year old Teddy. He was only eleven.
"Hold on a bloody minute," he said. "You should have been expecting this."
Yes, he should have. You can't hide anything—that was the first rule for a typical life with the Potter-Weasley clan.
James grinned as his father sauntered in, mum at his side both yawning, a sign that they were still tired.
"What is it this time?" His father hastened to straighten up the messy black mop on his head, glasses dangling from his nose.
About once a week, dad and mum would be awoken early in the morning by arguments broke out between the three, or more than often four children. They couldn't help it, each of the children were complete opposites in personality.
"Teddy's stolen my Hogwarts letter," James told his father. "Tell him to give it back."
"It's not like it would even be worth reading, you can't go. They say you'd cause too much harm, damaging the brains of innocent staff and students," Teddy chuckled tossing the letter to him before his Godfather could say a word.
Hours later, bellies full with delicious foods, hair combed as decent as possible, night robes swapped with clothes appropriate for a day out, the Potter-Lupin bunch were out the house and piled into the families' muggle car, riding away to Diagon Alley.
Firstly they stopped off at Gringotts, James in a daze the whole time remembering the feel of opening the magical letter.
Mr. J. Potter
The Second Bedroom
3rd House
Ottery St. Catchpole
Deven
As they left the goblin run bank and then left Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions to head towards Flourish and Blotts James dreamed of playing Quidditch. He knew no one in first year would be allowed onto the team, his father being the only exception but one could dream. The Gryffindor stands would raise in praise for him, captain hopefully—not to brag of course, he didn't want to sound like his cousins Joy and Carter, daughter and son of Dudley and Mary Anne Dursley. But that brought him to something, a deep pain of nervousness down in his stomach. What if he wasn't in Gryffindor? Or worse…what if he was a Slytherin?
Of course, that wouldn't change a thing of the way his parents loved him. They wouldn't mind if he was a Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. His brother even held the name of a great Slytherin for his middle name and Andromeda, Teddy's Grandmother was a Slytherin but the house of Slytherin held those who were evil. What if he went…evil?
"…James?" His mother waved a hand in her face.
"What?" He said suddenly brought out of his daze.
His mother shook her head. "I need your list of books."
"Oh," he said. "Here," he pulled the letter out of his pocket.
"Silly child," laughed his mother. "Alright here we go Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot-I honestly can't believe they're still using that dreaded book, only Hermione ever read it, A Theory of Magic by Adalbert Waffling edited by Albus Dumbledore," his mother paused, smiling as she lifted the book from a by standing cart on display and handed it to his father. "A World of Herbology by Pamona Sprout and Neville Longbottom-oh Neville, Transfiguration Through the Ages by Martha Diggle, Beginner's Potions by Severus Snape-I never knew he wrote," his mother gave a confused look. "Look another one! A Survival's Guide to Protection of the Dark Art by Severus Snape-look at this, Harry," she thrust the book in his father's arms. "And lastly A Glimpse Through the Eyes of a Beast by Marcus Brown."
James was curious, he knew Neville. The awkward Professor was very friendly, often dropping by to visit. And Severus Snape, the man Albus Severus Potter was named for, what was so strange about him writing a book? If he asked he'd probably get a quick answer...or, more likely 'You'll understand when you're older'. But when would that be?
After purchasing the books they left the piles of books, ready to by cauldrons and other much needed supplies. James was anxious to get a wand nearly jumping up and down as they neared the last stop of the day and sighed annoyingly as his father stopped them whispering something to Teddy, whom nodded after taking a few galleons from him then disappeared with both Albus and Lily.
"Where are they going?" James asked with curiosity.
"To get ice cream," was the only response he got as he was pulled toward Ollivander's.
A magic wand…this was what James had always dreamed of.
The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a small place, very nearly empty. James eyes found the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly up to the ceiling. It seemed to tingle with secret magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. James jumped, his mother smiled at him. An old man stood before him, his pale eyes wide smiling at the trio.
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I hope you're doing well," his father shook hands with the man.
"Ah yes, very well," said the man. "It's so nice to see you Mr. Potter, I am forever grateful to you. I've been wondering when I'd see your eldest son." The man's eyes flickered to James and his mother. "It's nice to see you Ms. Weasley, or should I say Potter."
"I remember the very wands I gave the both of you, hol-" Mr. Olivander seemed to be distracted all at a sudden, in an odd daze before clearing his mind and grabbing several boxes off the shelves.
Mr. Ollivander came so close to James, almost nose to nose.
"A number of wands I'd say could go to you, Mr. James Potter. But the wand has always shown to choose the wizard so—let me see," he pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Right," answered James clearly.
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured James from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
James suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Holly and phoenix feather. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
James took the wand waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
"Willow and phoenix feather. Twelve inches. Quite whippy. Try -"
James tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
"No, defiantly not -here, mahogany and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
James tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination – mahogany and phoenix feather, eleven inches, pliable."
James took the wand desperately hoping it would work. What if nothing worked? Could that happen? He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. His parents whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... I guess we can conclude you're much like your namesake."
Nearly fifteen minutes later the Potters left Mr. Ollivander's shop, paying seven gold Galleons and chatting a bit before exiting happily.
James expected to be taken back to where they parted with Teddy, Albus, and Lily but instead the three waited for them outside, a beautiful owl with snowy white feathers and jewel bright eyes. James couldn't believe it when his mother and father hugged him claiming it was an early birthday present. His very own owl! He named her Peggy (more like Lily had forced the name upon him but it was better than Piggy) and they adored the young, sleeping owl. Dad even told him he had an owl that was nearly the exact in looks like Peggy. Now he'd have his very own owl to send letters off to his parents and Aunt Hermione and his many Uncles. This year was going to be great.