James Potter woke up early to the sound of his alarm clock. It was a chilly day in March, and the sun was just beginning to peek behind the gray clouds of morning. He could hear owls hoot occasionally in the distance, and each one had him on edge.
He was a skinny boy, with dark hair that was never neat or flat. His eyes were a striking hazel and were surrounded by round glasses. James' family was different from most--and not in the way most people would imagine.
James' parents were wizards.
And so would he, he knew. Today, on his birthday, his Hogwarts letter would arrive. He was certain of it. He opened his window, searching for some sign of a flapping wing, but there was no sign yet. He felt the icy air that heralded the coming of spring ruffle his hair.
James rushed down the stairs. His mother Euphemia's wand lay on the table. It reminded him of a time when he was very small and he had gotten hold of it, and managed to make a snail explode before she found him and had snatched it back.
A clattering coming from the room beside him told him that his father was up early again--or late. The door opened, and a disheveled-looking Fleamont Potter appeared in the doorway. He was a tall, square-jawed man with hazel eyes like James. He wore blue, stained robes, which James knew meant he had either slept in them or had not slept at all. Normally, he kept himself well-groomed, except for the days when he spent long hours in his workshop tinkering around. James often wondered what he did in there, but he was never allowed to look. ("Dangerous potions") he was always told. Of course, that didn't stop him from taking a few peeks when he was alone, but he still never knew for sure what his father was up to.
Fleamont paused before he noticed his son. He grinned. "Happy birthday, my boy," he said, throwing his arms around James. "Eleven."
"Eleven," James repeated. He knew his father could guess his thoughts; he was never up early unless he was expecting something.
"What have you been doing in there?" James inquired, craning his neck in an effort to see behind Fleamont's large frame.
"As a matter of fact, I'm glad you asked." Fleamont turned around, seized a small bottle behind him, and held it up to his son's view. "I found my original prototype for my Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. It might even work on you," he added, ruffling James' perpetually messy hair before setting it down again and shutting the workshop door.
Fleamont reached for his wand and waved it. A pan emerged from one of the cupboards and began to heat up on the stove of its own accord. It wasn't long before James' mother appeared into the staircase. She didn't question Fleamont's appearance, as it was a common occurrence.
"Morning," she greeted them. "Happy birthday, James. No owl yet?"
James shook his head.
"It'll turn up. I don't have any doubt that you have magical blood in your veins."
James' mind again returned to the snail explosion. Not wanting to remind her, he smiled and turned his eyes to the stove, where eggs were now beginning to scramble on their own.
In a matter of hours, a particularly large tawny owl appeared on the windowsill with a letter clamped in its beak. Euphemia Potter took it and handed it to James, smiling.
James' fingertips tingled with anticipation. There was no mistaking the yellowed parchment and elegant dark green ink. On the back was the red wax seal, the Hogwarts crest, with the lion, snake, badger, and eagle. He didn't stop to read the address, instead tearing it open to read the letter inside.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRYHeadmaster: Albus Dumbledore(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
The second page was much longer. Finally, his letter.
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at . Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Do I have to send something back?" James asked. "What does it mean by 'we await your owl?'"
"It's a confirmation that you're coming," his father responded. He waved his wand again and a fluffy feather quill zoomed across the room. He took the letter in his hand, turned it over, and began to write something on the back in neat, loopy handwriting. Taking the parchment, he began to fold it over again.
"Open the list they sent you," Euphemia urged him.
The third piece of paper contained his school supplies. For the first time in his life, James would be able to visit Diagon Alley...
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves ( hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.COURSE BOOKSAll students should have a copy of each of the following:The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Wizard Provisions
Fleamont handed his letter to the owl, who once more took it in its beak and leapt out of the window. James set his list on the counter, his only disappointment being that he wouldn't be allowed to own a broomstick.
The famous Diagon Alley was a long, thin strip of cobblestone road flanked by many shops. Some were small and cluttered, others larger, some dingy and with objects in the window like beetle eyes and toads' legs. Some of the shops were grand, with enormous doors and elegant signs. He recognized them from the pictures he had seen in The Daily Prophet and in books. In the wizarding world, photos were enchanted to move, and he had seen people's cloaks being whipped back by the wind in them.
At the end of the main stretch of road were the giant, snow-white pillars of Gringotts wizarding bank, run by goblins. James' father went off ahead there, while he himself took his mother's arm as she led him down the road, eyeing his list.
"Robes... We can get those at Madam Malkin's. Hat. Gloves. Your wand, of course, will come from Ollivander's, there's no other shop for that. Come in here."
Euphemia led him into a larger shop first, with a sign outside that read Flourish and Blotts. It was bustling inside, many kids James' age, others older. The wizard bookstore had quills and inkwells stacked high up against the walls, and books towering everywhere else. The shop smelled of fresh parchment.
"Show them your list and pay for what you need," said his mother, handing him a sack of coins and his list. "I'll go get some other things."
"Alright," James replied, trying to take in his surroundings. He was jostled by the people next to him as he squeezed his way to the front, suddenly feeling less experienced than he thought. He found a wispy old witch near the back and asked her about his books.
"First year at Hogwarts, I see. I can help you with that. And you too?"
James turned behind him. There was a boy his age clutching a list too. He had dark, curly hair that fell almost to his shoulders, and the robes he was wearing gave James the impression that he was from one of the older and richer wizarding families. He nodded silently, glancing at James first and then looking at his list.
"You're going to Hogwarts too, then?" James asked him.
"Yeah," the boy responded.
"I'm James Potter."
"Sirius Black," said the other boy, extending his hand to shake James'. He smiled, a jaunty sort of grin. "I suppose I'll be seeing you at Hogwarts then. Got your wand yet?"
"No, this is our first stop."
Sirius nodded. "I see."
The elderly witch dropped a large pile of books into James' arms, almost making his knees buckle. "There you go, my dear. And for you as well." She handed Sirius his pile.
With a free hand, James reached into the sack and pulled out a handful of Sickles, which were silver coins. As he turned toward the door, he couldn't help but notice how many Galleons, or gold coins, were in Sirius' bag.
James met his father as he was passing Eyelop's Owl Emporium. Fleamont took his books and steered him inside the dingy shop which smelled musty and of owl feathers.
"Now that you're beginning your first year, I think it's time you've had an owl," Mr. Potter told him. "Go on, pick whichever you like."
James had never seen so many owls in one place. He could hardly imagine how many were in the Owlery at Hogwarts. Many of them sat on perches, preening themselves, others dozing off with a head under one wing. Some were barn owls, others tawny, still others snowy. A handsome barn owl caught his eye in the back of the shop, with beetle-black eyes.
James and his parents travelled home by Floo Powder, which you threw into the fire and spoke the place you wanted to go. He hauled his wizard's things up into his room, including his new wand. It was eleven inches and made of Mahogany wood, with a core of dragon heartstring. The wandmaker, Ollivander, was the only wand seller that James knew of. Everyone James knew that was old enough to have a wand had gotten their wand from him, and according to them, the old man remembered every wand he had ever sold.
Compared to most, it had a quite simple design, with some vague engravings in some sort of rune he didn't understand. He was tempted to wave it and try to perform magic, but he couldn't--not until he was at Hogwarts. It took every fiber of his being to place it on his bedside table and not try to make his clock fly around the room. Then, there was the not-so-simple matter of the 6-month wait before he took the Hogwarts express.
The four houses of Hogwarts were Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. James detested Hufflepuff. In his mind the only people in Hufflepuff were the people who didn't fit in anywhere else. And then there was Slytherin, the house that You-Know-Who himself had been in. Because of that alone, there was a certain stigma around the house, although it was rarely spoken of. People were becoming more afraid of him day by day.
The only house for him, he knew, was Gryffindor, "where dwell the brave at heart." Ravenclaw, in any case, would still be a step up from Hufflepuff or Slytherin, but it was nothing compared to the house his parents had been Sorted into.
His dream was to be Gryffindor's Seeker for Quidditch. Quidditch was a wizards' sport, with seven people on broomsticks and four different balls. One of these was the golden Snitch, which ended the game once it was caught, and added a hundred-fifty points to the team that caught it. It was the Seeker's job to catch the Snitch, and it was one of the most difficult too.
With these thoughts in his head, he fell asleep.