35Disclaimer: See first chapter
A/N: Sorry this is late.
"There," she said. She rocked him back and forth. "There, you foolish, beautiful boy who wants to change the world. There, there. And who could keep from loving a boy so brave and true."
Kate DiCamillo - The Magician's Elephant.
James' parents meet at a party neither of them had wished to attend.
Charlus Potter calls it The Pureblood Club Social. He is not a blood traitor, but he makes no secret of his wish to be one and, as a result, is not particularly popular. He receives invitations to them because he is a high-society pureblood, because it is only right he should be there, but were he to politely decline, he would not be missed. He attends because he knows his presence irritates a great number of people.
Dorea Black, by virtue of her name, is asked to every event in the Wizarding social calendar. She goes to them too. All of them. It makes her feel less lonely when she's standing in a room full of people who know her name.
She intimidates people. Other then members of her own family, she speaks to no-one. So she is surprised to find Potter at her side, nursing a drink, and looking out at the crowd milling around them.
"Social outcast?" he asks.
She raises an eyebrow. "I'm a Black."
"Ah, then it'll be fear."
"What are you doing here then if you ought to be afraid?"
He smirks. "Gryffindors don't run from anyone."
Dorea purses her lips. She knocks back her glass and reaches for another.
"Are you always this tetchy?" he asks her.
"Are you always this rude?"
Potter nods. "Though I tend to prefer 'blunt'."
"Then go and be blunt to somebody else."
Potter frowns. "You know, I'm not sure that makes grammatical sense."
She merely looks at him. Another man might perhaps have found it terrifying.
"Come on, Black. Lighten up. I'm buying you a whiskey."
Their son is born years after they had come to terms with remaining a childless couple. His mother is forty years old and convinced something might be wrong with him.
But James is a healthy child. He has inherited her jet black hair, its untidyness from his father, and her swan-like neck. His father's dark eyes have been lightened to hazel by her silver. Their hue changes with the light; brown, green, and gold.
He is a beautiful baby; his mother's miracle.
James grows used to being worshipped by his parents. He wants for nothing. His very existence "earns" him gifts. His mother is warm and doting. She is there to hold him when he is afraid in a storm. She is there to administer Pepperup Potion when he catches a cold. She is there to bandage up her little soldier and kiss his battle scars better when he trips.
His father takes him to see the world work. James thinks his dad is the cleverest man who ever lived. They watch Muggles build skyscrapers, climb mountains, and play Sunday morning Quidditch, working up an appetite for a lunch that could feed an army.
While he is young and malleable, they teach him how to be a Potter; where to place his cutlery if he intends to have seconds, the appropriate occasion for Silver Needle tea, and how to hold court from a sick bed. By the time he is eight, James is an undersized adult at social engagements. His upbringing has resulted in a precocious child who, when he can get away with it, is louder, ruder, and messier than most boys his age.
From an early age, he is taught the difference between right and wrong. His father encourages him to think for himself, but does not emphasize the importance of the grey area. James thinks in black and white. He does not readily give second chances, at least not to anyone but himself. Regardless of the consequences, he allows himself several attempts to learn the same lesson. His patience with others, however, quickly wears thin.
He does not have much of a temper. James wants to be a hysterical creature who throws things around a room for effect, but he doesn't have to. At the first signs of his displeasure, his parents fix the problem. Besides, throwing terracotta vases at the walls looks exhausting.
Despite the affluence in which he is raised, and the indulgence of his parents, he manages to be extremely, steadfastly loyal. It is the trait that comes to be quintessentially James. It is difficult to earn James Potter's friendship, a task made no mean feat by his firm belief that he deserves the very best both in his friends and from them. Once gained, it is just as difficult to lose his trust which, James thinks, makes the effort worthwhile.
His father has little time for those who believe in pureblood supremacy and makes no secret of it in front of his son. James learns very quickly that comments that may impress the crowd of die-hards on his mother's side of the family, do not impress his mother very much either.
Fulham is a busy area of Muggle London and his location is all James knows of Muggle culture. He recognises scaled-down Knight Buses, painted red. He knows what a traffic cone looks like. He is vaguely familiar with Muggle money. He doesn't know how many pennies make a pound, but he can pick out a couple of coins.
His father asks him to watch what he thinks are contemporary Muggle films with him. James takes a liking to Jane Russell and is amazed to find she is now nearly fifty.
He doesn't pay much attention to blood status. He has no cause to. He is an only child, educated at home. He has very little contact with other children and, for several years, assumes they are all very much like him.
He's a quick learner and demonstrates magical ability extremely early in life. He is able to control his emotions, and therefore the wandless magic related to them, earlier than most children too. His parents refuse to buy him a wand before he is eleven on principle, but it doesn't stop James pestering for one. His father thinks it'll do him good to be refused something, but it's a little too late for that. He is adored and treated like the Second Coming.
James is not a spoiled child. James has been positively ruined.
His parents see him off at Kings Cross. His father, for the first time, does not embrace him, but shakes his hand. His mother cries as she kisses her little darling goodbye. James doesn't stick around long. He takes his own trunk and owl to the baggage cart and proceeds to find an empty compartment so that he can be ensured a seat by the window.
He's surprised to look up and find a sheepish looking boy peering in at him. He raises an eyebrow and the other boy scuttles off.
It's not long before someone else appears there, but this boy doesn't even knock before making himself comfortable as far away from James as he can manage. He says nothing for several minutes. He ignores James' blatant stares.
"Oh, hello," says James, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Pleased to meet you. Nice of you to introduce yourself."
The other boy offers him a withering glance. "I'm sorry. Do you own this compartment?"
James leans back in his seat. He's never been challenged before. He sizes the other boy up. Though thin in the extreme, he is evidently healthy and well cared for. He's also very tall for his age. James decides he's not going to press the issue. He raises his eyebrows pointedly and opens the Sport Supplement, pretending to be deeply engrossed in it.
The train has already started moving by the time the other boy gives in. James looks up to find him standing over him, his hand outstretched. James takes it.
"Sirius Black."
"James Potter."
"Who do you think's going to win?" Sirius asks, nodding toward the Quidditch League Tables.
"The Appleby Arrows, I hope."
"Nah. Smart money's on the Caerphilly Catapults. Everybody knows that."
James frowns. "You don't sound Welsh."
"I'm not, but I like to back a winner. I'm just fickle."
James laughs. He's pleased that Sirius takes the seat across the way from him. It's not long until they're joined by other boys, but though he and Sirius are a part of a group, they're taking part in their own private conversations.
He doesn't let on, but James fervently hopes they end up in the same house.
The next time James Potter boards the train back to King's Cross, he doesn't remember the group of rowdy first-years who sat with he, Sirius, Evans, and Snivellus on the first day. He's sitting with three other boys who feel more like his family than his friends, all of whom were once people James wished to avoid.
Peter Pettigrew is a Potions whiz; the only person he knows who can touch Snape and Evans' blatant brilliance in the subject.
Remus Lupin is little and willowy, but his quick, sometimes sharp, tongue refuses to acknowledge this.
Sirius Black is larger than life, infinitely more trouble than he's worth, and in possession of a mind James thinks is almost as brilliant as his.
And he is their glue, their leader, because really, James knows he's the only one of them with any hope at all.