James Potter’s seventeenth birthday should have been just another excuse for mischief—extra sweets, extra pranks, extra dodging of Lily Evans’ exasperated sighs. It was his first day being an adult after all. This birthday should be exciting. Just like it has been for every single year since they met. But this year, something was off.
It all started with the owl.
James had just about finished his bowl of oatmeal with sprinkles and way too many candles—a tradition his friends had started way back in fourth year for birthdays—when a sleek brown screech owl swooped down, dropping a small parcel onto the table. He frowned. “That’s not one of ours,” he muttered, eyeing it he owl.
“Whose do you think it is?” Peter asks.
Sirius leaned in. “Secret admirer?”
Peter gasped a bit too dramatically. “Evans finally declared her undying love for you!”
James snorted. “I’m very doubtful about that.”
“Prongs, today would be the day, if she ever wants to.” Peter states, as if it were common knowledge. “You’re 17, and what better birthday present than this?”
James sighed, “I don’t know, Peter, I don’t know… I honestly don’t know if I still like Lily-“
“Woah- what?” Sirius exclaimed. “What the hell do you mean? You’ve been crazy about her since like, second year!”
“I know…” James answers, seeming… disappointed in himself? “It’s just that, I just don’t know if I’m still in love with her…”
He didn’t say he’s in love with his brother. If he had to choose between telling Sirius he liked Regulus, and kissing a cactus, he’d choose the cactus. Well, maybe. That’s a really difficult thing to choose between.
“James-“ Sirius started, but before he could continue his thought, Remus started talking, and he nudged James and he pushed the present closer to him.
“Well? Open the present!”
James untied the package. Inside was a book—small, leather-bound, old. No nice note, no explanation, just his name embossed in gold on the cover: James Fleamont Potter.
His stomach twisted. Something about it felt… deeply personal…
“Whoever gave you has so much money.” Peter stated.
“What?” Remus responded. “Why in hell do you think that?”
“Because that’s like, real gold. I can tell by the way it reflects in the light.” Wormtail says, and he gets cut off by moony.
“How do you know, you’ve probably never seen real gold-“
“Woah woah woah moony, that’s enough-“ James says back.
“Awww, my Moony’s being aggressive!” Sirius put emphasis on the my in my moony. “I love when your an aggressive little wolf.”
”You know what I want for my birthday? I want you two to stop flirting 24/7.” James sounded over the whole ordeal.
“I’m not the one flirting, that’s Siri.” Remus tries to change the subject by asking about his present: “What’s that?”
“A book? What you and wormy were arguing about earlier?”
”I know it’s a book James, but isn’t there a note?” Remus rolled his eyes.
”No note, no nothing. It’s… empty.”
James seemed disappointed. Why would this random person with a brown owl send him a notebook, and one that cost so much? If Peter was being serious, that’s real gold on there, and that’s really expensive. James couldn’t even imagine getting anyone other than flowers or something, let alone real gold.
Sirius peered over his shoulder, and makes a statement on the book. “That’s… sexy?”
James responded, “Pads! There’s nothing sexy about a notebook!”
“Buts it’s empty! That’s so ominous, and discreet. Nothings more sexy than that!” Sirius replies.
“Whatever you say, Siri.” James hesitantly said.
James hesitated, then flipped to the first page. The ink was faded, but the words were clear:
Seventeen is an age of choices. Some good, some terrible. Some doors open only once—be sure you walk through the right one. Happy birthday, Jamie.
The Marauders exchanged glances, as James couldn’t help but blush. Jamie. Whoever sent him that gift must know him pretty well, because holy shit he has a soft spot for that nickname. Not everyone gets to call him that, you know. Only people he likes and trusts, like his friends and Lily.
“Well,” Sirius said, grinning, “this just got a whole lot more interesting.”
As the day went on, James found out the diary was enchanted. Each hour, new entries appeared, speaking to James like a whisper across time.
It told of hidden places in Hogwarts, of old magic buried within the castle walls.
He lied to his friends, saying ‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom,’ and instead heading to the spots it lead him to.
It also, inexplicably, kept leading him to Regulus Black.
At first, James thought it was a mistake. A trick of the magic. But every clue, every puzzle, every whispered hint led him deeper into the castle’s secrets—and deeper into something James had tried desperately to ignore.
Because the truth was, James had spent far too much time thinking about Regulus. It was easy to pretend it was rivalry, or curiosity, or the simple fact that he was Sirius’s brother. But James knew better.
The way his stomach tightened when Regulus met his gaze across the Great Hall.
The way he memorized the sharp cut of his jaw, the way candlelight flickered against his cheekbones.
The way his lips looked—
The way he dreamed—Merlin help him, dreamed—of what it would be like if they weren’t on opposite sides of everything.
And now, the diary was forcing him to face it.
Find the first marker near the Astronomy Tower, the next entry read. Follow the shadows. You are not the only one looking, Jamie.
James had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who else the diary meant.
This diary, journal, book thing, kept calling him Jamie. How it knew, he didn’t know. Hexxed, he thought, or cursed.
He found Regulus that night.
Alone, beneath the open sky, moonlight catching in his short, dark hair.
James should have turned back. Should have left, should have ignored whatever fate kept pulling them together.
But he was seventeen now. A ‘new age of choices’ as the book put it.
And for the first time, James thought—maybe, just maybe—he was ready to make the right one.