Magical Mischief: Year One

xv. 11 Year Olds Are Smarter Than You Might Assume

James hadn't gotten much sleep after last night's revelations, but no sleep was not uncommon for an 11 year old excited for Christmas Day. He lounged in the Potter's living room, reading the book that Peter had gifted him—Twelve Foolproof Ways to a Witch's Heart. His father sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet.

A knock sounded on their front door. James looked up in surprise as his father opened the door to reveal the rather intimidating form of Professor Warren.

"Elias! Merry Christmas, my friend. What brings you here to our neck of the woods?"

"Hello Fleamont," he greeted Mr. Potter. "I heard about the attack last night, and I heard you were heading up the investigation. I was wondering if I could be of any assistance."

"I could certainly use someone to bounce theories off of." Mr. Potter stepped aside. "Come on in. Would you like a Butterbeer?"

"Yes, thank you." He spotted James and nodded at him in greeting.

Mr. Potter turned to James. "Why don't you head on up to your room?" James crossed his arms and stared at his father fiercely, making it clear he was staying. His dad sighed. "Oh alright. I suppose you already know everything anyways."

"He's just like you, Fleamont," Warren chuckled. "I think he'd make an excellent Auror someday."

Mr. Potter smiled, but it quickly faded. "It was the Death Eaters. From what I hear, they're approaching pureblood families, looking to recruit."

"Why?" James asked. "Why do they only want to recruit purebloods when half-bloods and muggleborns can be just as strong? Unless..." His eyes widened as it dawned on him. "They want to get rid of everyone whose blood isn't pure." he breathed.

Mr. Potter pressed his lips together grimly. "Precisely."

James thought for a moment. "Do you reckon they're still out there trying to recruit?"

Professor Warren and Mr. Potter shared a glance. "It's entirely possible," said his dad. "Why? Is there something you'd like to share?"

James paused to consider this. He knew Sirius didn't get on with his family, but would he be angry if James put them under the scrutinization of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? He thought of what happened to Frank Longbottom and made his decision.

"My friend Sirius Black says his family is really into the Dark Arts, and they're purebloods. Would that put them high on the list of people that those Death Eaters will want to... visit?"

Professor Warren raised his eyebrows. "A solid theory."

"Who's this friend Sirius?" James' dad asked with a frown.

Warren waved his hand. "Not to worry, he's as every bit a strong character as your son here. How he could come from a family that favours the Dark Arts is beyond me."

"I've heard of the Blacks, but I can't say I know enough about them." said Mr. Potter. "What can you tell me?"

"Orion Black — that's Sirius' father — he's a dodgy character. Spent a few years in Azkaban two decades ago for attacking a Muggle. Their entire family strongly believes that purebloods are superior to everyone else and that non-magical blood is a disgrace."

A tap sounded from the window, and they looked over to see the Black family's elegantly dark owl perched on the sill with a small package in its beak. James rushed to the window to retrieve it and the owl gave a loud hoot before flying off.

He went up to his room, leaving his dad and his teacher to continue their discussion. He sat on his bed and ripped the parcel open. Inside lay a small mirror and a note.

Happy Christmas, mate! I had a dickens of a time nicking this from my father, but I think it will prove very useful. Just look into the mirror and say my name.

Your brother, Sirius.

James shrugged and held up the seemingly ordinary mirror, staring back at his own reflection. "Sirius."

Suddenly, Sirius' grinning face appeared in place of his own. "Am I good? Or am I good?"

"This is fantastic!" James whooped, smiling from ear to ear. "How have you been?"

"I've been alright," Sirius laughed lightly, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck. "My parents are still on my case though."

"Did you get to the Muggle store like you wanted?"

"Yeah, it was crazy in there! I guess Muggles go pretty hardcore around Christmas." he chuckled and continued on excitedly. "Anyways, I tried to find a record player like you said. I couldn't actually buy it because I don't have any Muggle money, but I found out that it's a contraption that plays music. The man in the store let me listen to some songs, and they were fantastic! There are a lot of really talented Muggle musicians and bands, like Led Zeppelin. And don't even get me started on the Beatles..."

Sirius continued to rave over his newfound interest in Muggle music. James listened intently and smiled at him, grateful that his best friend had found something that made him so happy, especially with everything he was dealing with.

"I'll have to get you to listen to them at some point," Sirius was saying. "Anyways, how's your Christmas going?"

"I actually have some news," James said slowly. He proceeded to tell Sirius everything that had happened the night before, from the attack on the Longbottoms to his concerns about the Black family being next on the Death Eaters' recruitment list.

"Don't feel bad," Sirius said coolly when James had finished. "I wouldn't be surprised if they got involved. It's right up their alley." He exhaled, blowing a piece of his long hair away from his face. "So only Frank and his mum escaped?"

James nodded sullenly.

"Blimey. I say we should look out for him when he gets back. I reckon he could use the support."

"I agree. We should do that for everyone, actually. We haven't made many friends outside the four of us." said James. "Besides, we're stronger united."

"Against what?"

"Whatever's coming our way."

Sirius grinned. "You sound like a leader, James."

"If the robe fits, Sirius," James said, grinning back. "You with me?"

"I'd follow you to hell, James. I'm in."