InsaneJournal

“Do you have your books?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Your robes?”

“Yes.”

“Your wand?” Effie asked, her tone suddenly alarmed as if she thought they really may have forgotten it.

“Effie, love, we must have checked his trunk a dozen times this morning alone…” Fleamont reasoned, resting his hand on the small of his wife’s back. “Our boy is ready,” he assured her gently.

“I don’t know,” Effie frowned, straightening James’ robes.

“Mum,” James groaned. “You're embarrassing me, there are people everywhere. People who I’ll be going to school with!”

“Oh, you think I care that I’m embarrassing you?” asked Effie. “You’re cute,” she retorted and pinched his cheek, then tried to smooth his hair down. “Honestly, James, why don’t you ever use your father’s potion? He invented it for your stubborn type of hair, you know.”

“Mum,” James practically growled.

“Ah, the boys nowadays want to look like this, Effie,” explained Fleamont. “In my day, it was all about the slicked back look. Very difficult for me to manage.”

“Yeah, well, your day was in the nineteen-teens, Dad. It’s the seventies now.”

The Hogwarts Express blew out a warning whistle. Effie looked frantically around the platform, as if beseeching it for more time. Fleamont inhaled deeply, his eyes fixed on his son.

“Oh, darling,” Effie pulled James into a tight hug. “We’re going to miss you so much, sweetheart--” she said, her voice catching.

James had another groan ready at the back of his throat, but when he heard his mother’s voice crack, his own heart clenched. He hugged her back tightly. “I love you, Mum.”

Effie released him, only for the sake of passing him off to Fleamont, who wrapped his arms firmly around James.

“Be good, son. I love you,” he told him, kissing James’ forehead.

“Write to us as soon as you’ve been sorted! And everyday after that!” Effie instructed.

James smiled wanly at his mother. “I will,” he promised her, and he meant it. James understood this was hard for his parents; they’d long since retired, so he was their whole world. His mother kissed his cheek, and finally, James managed to break away from them. There was another boy still on the platform with his parents and a younger boy who looked quite a lot like him. A tall, thin woman--his mother, James thought--spoke sternly to him.

“You must always think of our reputation, Sirius, in everything you do and say,” she hissed at the boy as James passed the lingering family to board the train.

As he filed through the train, James peered out the windows and caught sight of his parents waving enthusiastically. He smiled and waved back.

“Are those your grandparents?” the boy from just before, Sirius, asked him.

“No, my parents,” James corrected. It had taken him a long time to realize his parents were a bit older than normal; today, next to everyone else’s, he’d finally realized they were quite a lot older.

“Oh,” Sirius said simply. He watched them for a moment more. “They seem nice,” he admitted, as if relenting this fact.

James observed him curiously as he paused before a near-empty compartment.

“I’m James Potter,” he introduced himself.

“Sirius,” the black-haired boy responded.

James raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the compartment, “Want to share this one?” he asked.

Sirius shrugged, aloof, “Alright,” he agreed.

When they entered, there was a red-head girl already sitting pressed into a corner. It was obvious she’d been crying pretty heavily. She looked up at them, startled.

“Hi, there,” James greeted.

“Hullo,” she muttered, sniffed, then turned back to staring out the window morosely.

James exchanged a look with Sirius, who rolled his eyes, but they took a seat across from her nonetheless, as everywhere else was full.