James Potter could imagine nothing more thrilling- nothing more positively exhilarating- than being James Potter.
That is, until he woke up, bright and early, on the morning of September 1st, 1971.
Early as it was, the morning was already crisp and golden. The air wafting in from his window smelled sweet, and he was struck with a vivid mental image of an apple. At first, he questioned why he had woken so early. After all, the sun was still rising, slowly but steadily, over the treetops.
Then he remembered.
Hogwarts.
Finally, after years-years-of plotting and scheming and waiting around twiddling his thumbs, it was finally here, finally about to happen. His life was about to start, even though air had entered his lungs for the first time eleven years ago. Now was when his life started, now was when he was going to do something with his life.
No longer was he Jamesie, the little boy, who hadn't gone to school yet, who had rich parents, who had life handed to him on a silver platter! No, sir! He was James Potter, the one, the only, making his way on his own! He was on his way to freedom, to glory, to becoming a man worthy of being!
He swelled in excitement and practically floated out of his bed. He hurriedly threw on the jeans and shirt laid out for him- being the son of a renowned Auror, he knew how to go incognito. Besides, his robes were much too warm for weather like this. No, he would change on the train.
He paused in front of the mirror, but shrugged at his hair. He liked it the way it was-wild.
James dove for the door and flung it open, revealing his parents, shuffling about drearily, taking large gulps of steaming coffee.
"Hello! Lovely morning, isn't it?" he asked cheerily. His parents were usually already gone by the time he was even considering getting out of bed, and as such, the expressions on their unwashed faces were those of surprise.
"James!" his mother exclaimed. "What are you doing, being up so early?"
James pointed out, "You lot are up." But at his mother's steely glare-she was not at all a morning person-he added, rather defensively, "It's September first."
His father laughed, "Are you really that eager to be rid of us?"
"Yes." Both of his parents spewed coffee all over him, laughing, as James wiped the hot coffee from his glasses. "Not funny," he huffed.
James was dropped off at Kings Cross a few hours early. His mother was distressed at the notion of not seeing him off, on his first year, but James honestly preferred it this way. As much as he loved his dear old mum, he didn't want her to blubber about her "big boy, all grown up and off to Hogwarts" when there were lots of people. He would much rather it be when there were only a few people, huddled in their corners.
There was hardly anyone there, even for a few hours early. Just two other boys, a girl, and their families. One boy was sallow, greasy, and dressed in clothes much too large for him that appeared to have belonged to a woman at some point in time. His mother, or at least who James presumed to be his mother, had a beaky nose and a distasteful expression on her face as she eyed the girl and her family. James couldn't help but notice that both of them had bruises, though the woman had considerably more, and they stood out darker against her pale skin.
The girl, who had a mane of dark red hair, was having a whispered argument with an older girl, probably her sister. Her sister looked like a blonde horse. Their parents were staring at the last family with an odd expression, concern, maybe a little fear.
James, too, turned his attention to the other family. Again, it was just a boy and his mother, but they were lurking in the shadows. Clearly, the boy was being scolded for something or other. The woman was bent over, shaking a finger in his face and saying something that was obviously not to the boy's taste. He had a bored expression on his handsome face, and he tried to move away with his trolley, but the woman, who looked rather vulture-ish, grabbed his ear and pulled him back, upsetting his trolley. The owl cage on top of the trolley teetered and fell, rolling as the poor bird inside squawked. James raced to pick it up, feeling not only for the owl, but for its owner as well, who was rubbing his ear while he glared at his mother.
James carried the owl over, whispering comforting nothings to it. He caught a snippet of the mother's scoldings when he approached. "-better not do anything, if you disgrace our family one more time-" she stopped short when she saw James. "What do you want?" she snapped.
James, rather taken aback, stuttered, "Your owl fell, ma'am-"
The boy turned, his expression guarded. "Thanks," he said cautiously, taking the owl. "You okay, buddy?" he murmured to it softly. He stroked the owl's feathers and placed it back on top of the trunk, where he continued to fuss over it.
The woman pulled him by his shoulder roughly, forcing him to face her. "You remember what I said," she threatened ominously before stalking away.
The boy waited until he was sure she was gone before letting out a breath he had obviously been holding in. "Thanks again, mate," he breathed gratefully. "Life-saver, you are."
James shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm James," he offered. "James Potter."
The boy smirked. "Why do people do that?"
"Do what?"
"Say their first name twice before saying their last name."
James blinked. It had never occurred to him. "I... Don't know..." he trailed off, frowning. He stared at the scarlet steam engine, trying to find an answer.
"Well, I'm Sirius," the boy continued. James' eyes snapped back to Sirius' gray ones. "Say, isn't Potter the last name of one of those Aurors that was investigating the Ottery St. Catchpole killings?"
James nodded. "Yeah, my dad is heading it."
"How many dead? Eight, wasn't it?"
James scowled. "It was twenty."
Sirius started. "Twenty? The Prophet said-"
"Yeah, well the Prophet doesn't think that the loss of Muggle lives is enough to make the papers, now does it?" James growled.
"That's..." Sirius trailed off, a troubled look in his eyes. "That's awfully suckish of them," he finished lamely.
James grinned and pushed his circular glasses back up his nose. "Yeah, Dad was having quite the time, ranting about the 'corruption of the British wizards' law system'..." He cast around for a different subject. "Say, what do you think they're so upset about?" he asked, pointing at the sallow boy and his mother.
"Dunno about the kid," began Sirius, "but the mom might be upset about having to be seen with a greasy haired kid like him in public for the next... Hour? Hour and a half?"
James laughed, and as people began to filter in through the barrier, they spent the next hour and a half making up the most ridiculous backstories and names for all of them.
Sirius and James were among the first to snag a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. They soon launched into a conversation about Quidditch, James steadfastly defending the Kenmare Kestrels against Sirius' accusations that the Falmouth Falcons were going to win the Cup next. A knock on the door interrupted them.
James looked up to find a tall, thin boy standing in the door frame and a short, plumper boy standing just behind him. "Do you mind...?" asked the tall one, who it seemed had been the one to knock.
James beamed. "Come, join me and my merry men! ...well, man," he corrected himself. The tall boy's scarred face split into a grin, his dark green eyes lighting up. "My name is James Potter... Notice that I didn't say my first name twice!" he shot at Sirius, who smirked.
"This time," he conceded, before turning to the boys who had just seated themselves. "I'm Sirius."
"Remus Lupin," the tall one clarified as he struggled to remove something from the pocket of his jeans, which, unlike James' and Sirius', were not ripped. Finally he succeeded in extracting a small paperback book from the evidently large pocket and settled back into the corner, his nose buried in the book, which was called A Thousand and One Nights.
The smaller boy introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew, and they delved back into their discussion of Quidditch. Remus held out for nearly ten minutes before giving up peace and quiet to read as a hopeless case and joining in, insisting that the Hollyhead Harpies would trump all.
As they persisted in friendly banter, a girl drifted in without asking. She sat down next to James, her curtain of wine red hair hiding her face from view as she stared out the window. Their conversation halted as they stared at her, before James broke the ice by stating, "Usually, I don't allow maidens to join my hunt, but you are welcome to be Maid Marion-"
The girl turned with a glare that could freeze lava. "I'm not interested in being anyone other than myself, thanks," she snapped. James blinked, staring at her. Her startling eyes were green, but not the warm pine green that Remus' were-they were a piercing emerald, and, at the moment, red-rimmed.
"Well, then, who are you?" Sirius asked.
She turned her glare to him, but replied "Evans" before turning back to the window as the platform began to fall behind them.
Confusedly, Sirius asked, "Isn't Evan a boy's name?"
She began to reply hotly, but Remus interrupted. "It's her last name... Right?" he clarified, turning to her. She hesitated, but nodded, looking less hostile. "I'm Remus... This is Sirius, James, and Peter."
"I'm sorry if I offended you..." James offered. "I didn't mean to."
"No, it's fine... I'm just..."
"You were arguing with someone on the platform."
James could practically see her mental guards flying back up as she narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your business, I'm afraid, so please keep your long nose out of it."
Sirius, Remus, and Peter held back laughs as James pouted, "It's not that long..." An uncomfortable silence settled on them, before Peter continued the former conversation, leaving Evans to continue to stare out the window all by her lonesome.
About half an hour into the trip, the pale boy began poking his hooked nose into all of the compartments. He had already changed into his robes, probably eager to get out of his too-big Muggle clothes. He stopped at theirs, and entered. Without asking, the nerve of him. He sat down across from Evans, watching her expectantly. She glanced at him and looked away quickly.
In a voice that was hoarse but strong, Evans stated, "I don't want to talk to you."
"Why not?" the boy asked. James didn't like his voice much. It sounded rather like he spent a lot of time sneering.
"Tuney h-hates me." Tuney? "Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore..." A letter from Dumbledore?
"So what?" Merlin, this guy isn't very nice.
"So she's my sister!" Oh, Tuney is the horse. James lost interest, because Peter was reciting the scores of the Tutshill Tornadoes, in a very good attempt to convince them that the Tornadoes would win the Cup. James was actually almost convinced that they would at least make it to the finals.
Suddenly, a statement from the boy caught James' attention. "...better be in Slytherin!"
"Slytherin?" he asked incredulously, interrupting Remus' well-reasoned argument that the Hollyhead Harpies had a better chance at the Cup. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I would leave, wouldn't you?" he added, turning to Sirius, who was now sprawled upside down in his seat.
Sirius said sulkily, "My whole family have been in Slytherin." Oh...
"Blimey, and I thought you seemed alright!" Sirius grinned at him.
"Maybe I'll break the tradition." Yes. Yes, do that please. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"
James stood proudly, hefting an invisible sword. "'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!'" He dropped the sword, adding, "Like my dad." The boy made a small noise, rather disparaging. James scowled, lifting the sword again and pointing it at him. "Got a problem with that?"
"No," he sneered, completely unconcerned at the imaginary sword digging into his skinny little neck. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy-"
"Where are you hoping to go," Sirius interrupted, "seeing as you're neither?" James laughed, his sword dropping again.
Evans shot up, her face a little pink. "Come on, Severus, let's find a different compartment," she snapped, eyeing James and Sirius with great dislike.
"Oooooo..." James sat back down, imitating her lofty voice. He stuck out a foot as 'Severus' passed. Unfortunately, he didn't trip.
"See ha, Snivellus!" Sirius hollered after them as the door snapped shut. James roared with laughter, tears streaming from his eyes, Peter joining in with his own, sort of high-pitched, giggle. Remus quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, returning to his book.
"Oh, come on, Remus, you have to admit that was clever," James said, wiping his eyes.
Remus raised both eyebrows, not looking up from the pages. "It may have been clever, but it wasn't very nice," he stated bluntly. James squirmed in his seat, but Sirius seemed bored by the admonishment. "And, if my instincts are correct, Miss Evans isn't one to make an enemy of."
James snorted, "Yeah, sure. I'm scared of a girl."
"Don't judge a book by its cover!" Remus sang before settling into his corner and continuing to read, his pine green eyes flicking across the page.
James hopped down from the train, his robes swirling about his feet. "Woah..." he breathed, stopping dead in his tracks.
"Move it, will you?" Sirius grumped, shoving James out of the way so he could pass. "What's got you-" Sirius, too, halted, staring at the giant form that was transfixing James. "-staring..."
Remus followed, his skinny frame towering half a foot above them. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that's Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" Peter asked, tumbling onto the platform. "What's-oh. Who is he?"
James, who had been thinking along the lines of what is he, shrugged. Sirius, this time, answered, "Isn't Hagrid the gameskeeper?"
"Yeah, I think so..."
Hagrid was massive. Three times as tall as James, and at least five times as wide, he swung a lantern from a fist the size of a small dog. "Firs' years!" he called, his deep voice emanating from behind a dark, bushy beard. "Firs' years this way!" James scrambled up to him.
"Why are you so tall?" he asked.
Hagrid looked down. "Well, that's none o' yer business, now is it?" he asked, but his black eyes crinkled up. James grinned as Sirius, Remus, and Peter joined him. "Firs' years, this way- oh good, yer here. Follow me!" With that, Hagrid turned, lantern swinging in his grasp, and stumped away towards the lake. He led them to a fleet of tiny boats floating on the glassy surface of the Black Lake. Dear Merlin no... James thought forlornly. He felt sick to his stomach, just looking at the tiny wooden structure bobbing in the water. "Four to a boat!" Hagrid clarified, though he took up an entire boat by himself. Sirius was the first in the boat, followed quickly by Peter, Remus, then James, who had spent thirty seconds steeling himself.
"Everyone in?" yelled Hagrid, checking to make sure. "Right, then-FORWARD!" With a lurch that sent James' mind to dark, gloomy places, their boat began to chug forward, leaving ripples in its wake. James clutched the side, knuckles white, stomach protesting. Trying to keep from being sick, James focused on the castle, which was looming ever closer. The windows were lit, giving the turrets a cheery, homey glow.
James was startled by Hagrid's sudden shout of, "Heads down!" The first boats had reached the cliff. James stuck his head between his knees and took deep, steadying breaths as he felt a curtain of ivy brush over his back. He heard Sirius snigger. "Shut up," he moaned forlornly. When he looked up, they were exiting a dark tunnel into a sort of underground harbor thing. James leapt from the boat and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into a bush.
"Well that was attractive." James turned, hastily wiping his mouth, to find Evans wrinkling her nose. He was pleased to see that she, too, was a delicate shade of green. He began to retort, but she spun away, her hair flicking his nose. Remus came up behind him.
"Come on," he said, steering James towards the castle. "Sooner we get food in your stomach, the better..."
"Why?" Peter asked. "Won't that make him more sick?" Personally, James agreed. Remus, on the other hand, shook his head.
"It'll settle his stomach. As long as you eat fairly bland foods, and not to fast or too much, you should be fine." Remus prodded James along, giving James the impression of a mother hen. Sirius laughed at James' predicament, insisting that he had been "green as a fresh pickled toad". James had been all too happy to shove him into the nearest wall.
Hagrid led them up a passageway that let them onto the grounds. As they stood in the castle's shadow, Hagrid raised a massive fist and knocked on the thick wooden doors three times.
The door swung open immediately, as if it had been expecting them. It probably had. A very stern looking woman replaced it. Her entire appearance exuded strictness; from the firm lines around her mouth, to her black hair in a tight bun, not a single hair out of place. Her tall frame and rigid posture reminded James of his mother.
Hagrid announced, "Firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Oh, this is Professor McGonagall! His father had spoken fondly of this woman; she had been at the Ministry a lot when Charlus had begun working at there. Something having to do with cats?
"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said. "I will take them from here." James was bursting with excitement, and he could feel Peter trembling next to him. When he looked over, Peter's face was shining with amazement. Sirius was tapping a foot impatiently. Remus merely studied the Entrance Hall, which was massive. It was lit with flaming torches that lined the walls. James could barely see the ceiling, and a marble staircase faced them.
Instead of leading them to the large doors from behind which James could hear voices, Professor McGonagall led them to a rather smaller, very empty chamber. They all crowded in, much too close for James' comfort, and waited. "Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began. "The start-of-term banquet is about to start, but before you can take your seats, you must be Sorted into your Houses. Your House will be like your family while you are here at Hogwarts. You will go to classes with the students in your House and year, sleep in the House dormitory, and you may spend free time in the House common room. Triumphs will earn House points, but any rule-breaking will lose points. The House Cup is awarded to the House with the most points at the end of the year. I should hope a each and every one of you is a credit to whichever House you are Sorted into. The Houses are Gryffindor,-" here, James elbowed Sirius, "-Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Sirius pulled a truly comical face, and James stuffed a fist into his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Professor McGonagall eyed them, her gaze lingering on James' messy hair. "I suggest you all clean yourselves up as much as you can-the Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes, and I should hate to see one of you made a fool of in front of the whole school because you trip over your shoelaces." Here, there was much head bumping, as the entirety of the first years suddenly looked down to check their shoelaces.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," she finished, whisking out of the antechamber and shutting the door behind her with a sharp snap!
Peter was shuffling from foot to foot, twisting his fingers. "How do you think they Sort us?"
"My mum told me I had to wrestle a troll..." Sirius replied nervously, triple checking his laces.
Remus, who was smoothing his second-hand robes, snorted. "Don't be thick, they wouldn't do that." Satisfied that his robes were u wrinkled, he glanced over James. "I think it's some sort of test... And James, your fly is down," he added helpfully.
James felt a rush of panic and hastily looked down, only to find that his robes covered his pants. He glared at Remus, who was laughing. A test?! James didn't know any magic yet... This wasn't very fair of them.
All of the sudden, James felt quite cold. He shivered, and found a ghost floating in front of him. It appeared that the ghost had floated through him. James studied the ghost with interest. With a ruffly collar and tights, the ghost looked as though he belonged in a Shakespeare play. "What are you doing here?" the ghost asked. James tilted his head.
"The Sorting-"
"Ah, yes, of course, my mistake." The ghost began to drift off. "Hope to see you in Gryffindor!" James beamed.
"Come, now. The Ceremony is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned, and, with her, James' excitement. "Form a line and follow me." She spun on her heel and marched into the Entrance Hall, through the large doors, and led the first years to the front of the long hall.
James waited impatiently, staring at the grandeur around him. Four long, dark, wooden tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, each filled with students. The staff table in front of him was raised higher than the other tables. Candles floated above their heads, and the ceiling-
"Woah," breathed Sirius. "How long do you think it took to paint that?" The ceiling was an expanse of inky blue, sparkling with silver constellations.
Remus laughed, "It's enchanted, genius. To look like the sky outside." James, Sirius, and Peter stared at him. "What? It's in Hogwarts, A History." James rolled his eyes. Of course Remus read the textbooks before school had even started. A clunk rang out through the hall, drawing James' eyes back to Professor McGonagall. She had just placed an old four-legged stool in front of the staff table, and was placing a raggedy old wizards' hat on top. The poor old thing was patched and frayed and looked hundreds of years old, like it would fall apart if touched in the wrong place.
James glanced around to see that everyone was staring at the hat, so he did, too. Maybe the students had to pull a rabbit out? Silence, and then a seam on the front of the hat split, and the hat burst into song.
The hat sang of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. It sang of the four founders. It sang of unity, friendship, and strength. It capped it all off with a very ominous warning of what lurked beyond Hogwarts' walls. James was impressed, and immensely relieved.
"We just have to try on the hat!" he shouted over the applause. "I'm going to kill you, going on about wrestling trolls..." Sirius grinned at him, and suddenly silence fell again. James was barely nervous anymore. He knew where he belonged, he wouldn't be sitting there four hours while the Sorting Hat tried to figure out where he belonged. Professor McGonagall strode forward, unfurling a parchment. "I will call your name, and you will come forward and place the hat on your head. Now, let's see... Abbot, Rosen!" A boy with ridiculously protruding ears and hair like straw detached himself from the line, trembling. He sat on the stool, which began to shake with him, and the hat was placed on his head. After a moment in which no one dared breathe- "HUFFLEPUFF!" Rosen Abbot rose to his feet unsteadily, took off the hat, and ran to the table that had begun to cheer.
"Black, Sirius!" Black? James thought, looking at Sirius. Sirius had closed his eyes at the sound of his last name ringing through the hall. No wonder... The Blacks were an old pure-blood family that was notorious for Muggle-hating. James vividly remembered an instance last year when his mother had come home furious, bearing the news that Walburga Black's cousin, Araminta Meliflua had tried to force through a Ministry bill to make Muggle-hunting legal. James would hate his last name, too, if it were Black.
Sirius pushed his way through the line, glancing to his left. He paled and looked away quickly. James glanced over and saw that the Slytherin table had prepared to clap. James scowled and focused on Sirius, who jammed the hat on his head and sat down, his posture rigid. His eyes were screwed shut, his brow was scrunched up, and he was biting his bottom lip. Please, James thought desperately. Don't put him in Slytherin, he would hate it. Please don't put him there. After six entire minutes, six heart wrenching, panic inducing minutes, the hat opened its mouth- "GRYFFINDOR!" James cheered for Sirius, who had visibly relaxed. He sprinted over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, twisting around to watch the rest of the Sorting. He turned a delicate shade of green when he saw the Slytherins, but gave James a thumbs-up that he readily returned.
"Bones, Amelia!" A strong-jawed girl made her way to the front, pushing her glasses up her nose. "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. It continued in such a fashion until-
"Evans, Lily." James snapped to attention. Lily was her first name, eh? Her tiny red-headed form ran up the steps and jammed the hat onto her head. She was clearly eager to get this over and done with. The hat considered the contents of her brain for a moment, then Evans, Lily joined Gryffindor House. James let out a small groan. He heard someone else do the same, but didn't catch who. Sirius scooted over to make room for her, and she sat, then obviously recognized him from the train and huffily turned away from him. James smirked as Sirius made a face at the back of her head.
"Lupin, Remus." Remus made no move to go up; he had frozen. James prodded him gently, and he began moving forward stiffly. "Don't panic-calm down-you'll be fine-" he was whispering under his breath. James crossed his fingers. Remus sat down on the stool, wincing as it creaked-the hat fell over his eyes-the Hall was silent. "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat announced, almost immediately. James clapped ecstatically. If Peter was placed in Gryffindor, then they would all be there! He could deal with Evans if it meant he could have all of his friends with him, always. He had never really had friends before; he rather liked the experience.
It continued slowly, until, "Pettigrew, Peter." Peter clambered up the steps, tripping on the last one. James had to admire the dignity that he picked himself up with and continued forward like nothing had happened, despite the laughter and jeers (those were from Slytherin). James glared at them before returning his attention to Peter's Sorting. After a few minutes consideration... "GRYFFINDOR!" James cheered wildly.
There was silence. Who's next? he thought, glancing around. Then he realized everyone was staring at him. His eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "Oh!" before running up to the front and jamming the hat over as much of his face as he could.
James Potter.
Yes?
Where to put you...
Gryffindor. Duh.
Well. You've definitely got nerve, I'll give you that. Better be- "GRYFFINDOR!" James heard the hat shout that out to the rest of the hall. He grinned and leapt up, beginning to race to the table at which his friends were seated. He was halfway there before realizing that the voice shouting Put me back! was the hat, screaming in protest, still on his head. He spun around and brought it back, then ran twice as fast into Sirius, then seated himself beside his friend. The only downside was that he was sitting next to Evans.
He twisted around to watch the rest of the Sorting. "Snape, Severus!" Greasy boy Snivellus strode forward, looking just as much like a bat as ever. The hat barely touched his slimy head-good thing, too, otherwise it would be forever tainted-before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!" Snivellus joined the unpleasant looking crowd that was Slytherin.
Good thing, too, James thought, or else I would have to put up with him a heck of a lot more.