Born to Run

Before the rising sun we fly

So many roads to choose

We start out walkin’ and learn to run

And yes, we’ve only just begun

September 1^st, 1971

The day hinted at the autumn’s arrival while still holding the warmth of summer. It was finally the day.

The Potters strolled through King’s Cross Station, weaving through the busy commuters. Fleamont Potter walked with a confident stride. He was a tall, muscular man with brown hair and a short beard. His eyes, hidden behind round glasses and reminiscent of pine needles in a deep forest, had a twinkle in them. Euphemia on the other hand, maintained an air of serene grace. She was wearing a beautiful sari in deep purple, with gold patterns, and gold jewellery; jhumka earrings, a nath, and several bangles on each wrist. Her long black hair was braided and adorned with marigolds. And then there was James, looking slightly dishevelled and practically bouncing with excitement, his hazel eyes wide with wonder at the sights and sounds around him.

“Are you sure you have everything, my love?” Euphemia asked, eyeing James with silent concern.

“Yes, Mum, for the hundredth time, I’ve already checked,” James said with exasperation, though he couldn’t resist opening his trunk one last time to ensure that his wand, textbooks, and new robes were all in place.

Fleamont glanced at his pocket watch. “We should head to the platform. It’s almost time.”

They approached the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and James’ heart raced. The platform was only visible to witches and wizards, who had to pass through the stone wall to reach Platform 9¾ from where students would travel to Hogwarts. 

“All right, James,” said Fleamont. He rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Just walk straight through the barrier. Don’t stop and don’t be afraid.”

James took a deep breath, gripped the handle of his trolley tightly and started walking. He eventually picked up speed and, to his amazement, passed through the solid barrier as if it weren’t there. He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, finding himself on the bustling Platform 9¾.

The sight that greeted him took his breath away. James had heard the stories about the wizarding platform but seeing it in person was something else entirely. Students were in their Hogwarts robes, parents were saying their goodbyes, and the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, was blowing clouds of steam that blurred his vision. Owls hooted from their cages and trunks were being loaded onto the train. James could barely hear his mother’s voice calling him above the chatter and the occasional whistle from the train. His parents appeared beside him.

“There it is, James,” Fleamont said softly. “Your first step towards becoming a great wizard.”

James grinned. He scanned the platform, noticing other first-years like himself. A group of older students were gathered near the train, laughing and joking. Their ease and sense of belonging were something James hoped to find for himself. He was taken aback as Euphemia flung herself at him, engulfing him in a tight embrace.

“They grow up so fast,” she whispered, sensing her eyes watering.

“Mum…can’t breathe,” James said. Her arms relaxed around him and he rubbed his ribs. “Uh, I think I broke something.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Euphemia said with a dismissive hand gesture and she wiped some tears from her cheeks. “I’m just going to miss you so much.”

“Mum, you're literally going to see me at Christmas break.”

“James, don’t mind your mother,” said Fleamont. “You know how sensitive she is.”  He high-fived James and they both laughed.

“All right, I get it,” Euphemia said, crossing her arms. “Father and son, both against me.”

“C’mon darling, don’t sulk,” Fleamont said, throwing an arm around her. “You know how much I love you.” He kissed her gently on her cheek.

James made a face. “Guys, please, I’m right here.”

Before his parents could say anything they were all interrupted by the announcement echoing on the platform.

“The train to Hogwarts will depart in ten minutes. I repeat the train to Hogwarts will depart. All students are kindly requested to get on board.”

“Okay, I suppose I have to go,” said James, suddenly feeling a pensive sadness settling in his chest.

Euphemia stroked his hair. “I suppose you do,” she said. “Remember what we’ve talked about. Study hard, make good friends, and above all, be true to yourself.”

“And a little mischief once in a while won’t hurt anyone,” Fleamont said, and Euphemia shot him a warning look. “But only a little,” he added quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.

Euphemia knelt down to hug James tightly once more. “We’ll miss you so much. Write to us as often as you can.”

“I will, Mum,” James promised, hugging her back with all his might. Fleamont approached and took them both in his embrace. The final call for boarding rang out across the platform. The family shared a last look before James headed towards the train.

“Good luck, James!” Fleamont called, waving energetically.

“We love you!” Euphemia said, her voice carrying over the noise of the platform.

“I love you too!” James shouted back and hopped on the train.

Sirius stood on the platform with his mother. Walburga Black bore the resemblance of all members of the Black family; a stern face with sharp features, eyes blue, piercing and cold, and raven hair. She held herself in a proud and aristocratic manner, her attitude revealing that, clearly, she was a woman not used to being disobeyed.

“I have to go,” Sirius said, deliberately avoiding her eyes. He was about to leave, but she grabbed him firmly by his arm.

“You will associate with Ixion Avery, Walden Macnair, Benedict Mulciber, and Odius Selwyn. They all come from noble pureblood families.” Her tone left no doubt that it wasn’t a suggestion. “Never—and I mean it—never associate with those filthy Mudbloods and scum blood-traitors. And don’t you dare to disgrace me. Understood?”

Sirius didn’t answer.

“Perhaps, I did not make myself clear enough,” she said, tightening her grip around his arm. Her long sharp nails dug into his flesh. “Do you understand me?” Walburga repeated, dragging each word.

Sirius’ face twisted in pain and he pulled his arm away. “Yes, Mother.”

“Good.”

They didn’t exchange another word. Sirius stepped forward, sensing her icy glare on his back. As he got on the train, he released a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.   

Students were standing in the crowded corridor, both new and returning, searching for seats or catching up with friends. As the train gained speed, James started walking in search of an empty compartment, peeking into each one as he passed. The first few were already crowded with groups of friends who had claimed their spaces early. He saw familiar faces from Diagon Alley and a few from wizarding families his parents knew, but none he felt comfortable enough to join uninvited.

Some older students were practising spells. A boy muttered something under his breath and his friend’s hair turned a bright shade of green as the others erupted in laughter. James couldn’t help but grin. He wished he had known that spell so that he could play pranks on his father. Some girls were talking about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, placing bets on the winning team.

James kept searching, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. It was seven to eight hours until they reached Hogwarts. Okay, I’ll manage, he thought, weighing his options. He could always stand in the corridor. Who am I kidding, I’ll probably faint from exhaustion. 

He was beginning to abandon all hope when he noticed a compartment with only one occupant sitting by the window. He knocked lightly on the glass door but there was no reaction. James hesitantly opened the door.

“Mind if I—”

His words hung in the air as he realised the boy was asleep, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. His hair was unruly with strands that seemed tousled and windswept, catching the sunlight in a warm golden-brown shade. Freckles were dotted across his tan skin, especially on his nose and cheeks, and large, worn-out clothes hung loosely on his lean body. James thought he was beautiful. He almost didn’t notice the many faded scars across his face.

He heaved his trunk onto the rack, trying to be as quiet as possible, and settled into the seat opposite the boy. He took a copy of “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnettout from his messenger bag and flipped through the pages, trying to find where he had left off. His mother always insisted on reading Muggle literature, and this book referring to British colonies in India and the power of magic hit close to home. He had already read a few pages when the compartment’s door opened. A familiar face appeared in the enclosed space.

“Hello, Potter,” Sirius said. He tossed his belongings near the door and sat next to James.

“Black,” said James with a polite smile.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, trying to mess it up as much as he could. “I was trying to find you. The compartments were loaded, and I almost thought you lost the train. You don’t strike me as a very responsible person.”

“Oh, you’ve been searching for me? How very sweet of you,” said James. The boy across them shifted slightly in his sleep, releasing a barely audible moan.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Sirius said. “You were just the least insufferable option to spend the long hours of our journey with.”

“Whatever you say,” said James.

Sirius shoved him lightly on his shoulder. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly? I don’t really know. I mean, I’m excited for sure but also a bit nervous about the Sorting Ceremony.”

“Have any preferences?”

“Gryffindor,” said James without a second of hesitation.

Sirius laughed loudly. The boy sleeping made a subtle sound, suggesting his annoyance.

“Of course, you’d say Gryffindor,” said Sirius.

“Oi! My father was a Gryffindor, and he always says they throw the best parties. And we have the best Quidditch team,” said James with a smirk.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Do you, now?”

“What about you?” James asked.

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know. Actually, I don’t really think there’s an option. All my family has been in Slytherin.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll make the difference.”

“Merlin, I hope not,” said Sirius. “I don’t think my poor mother’s heart will take it.” Or else she’ll take it out on me, he thought.

“Don’t worry,” said James. “Wherever you’ll be sorted, I’ll still beat you in every Quidditch match. Unless of course, we’re on the same team. Then I’ll just steal your spotlight.”

“Merlin, you’re so full of yourself,” Sirius laughed.

“Says you! Tell me, does your house elf comb your hair every night before you go to bed?” He reached for Sirius’ head, trying to mess up his still perfectly coiffed hair. “Does he sing to you as well?”

Sirius’ posture straightened and he tried his best to take his most serious expression. “For your information, no, he doesn’t sing,” he said. “I believe Kreacher would be extremely off-key.”

Unrestrained laughter escaped from James’ throat. This time, the boy sat by the window groaned loudly.

Sirius glanced at him with an annoyed expression. He leaned over to James’ ear. “How can he sleep on our way to Hogwarts?”

The boy swiftly straightened up. He took off his suede brown vest and tossed it beside him, unable to hide his frustration any longer. His eyes narrowed as he watched Sirius and James closely. “It’s quite simple actually,” he said. “You just close your eyes and drift away. That’s how people normally fall asleep. And I was doing just fine before you two came and started bickering like a married couple.”

The boys stared at him with sheer disbelief. Sirius was about to retort something in an equally biting tone but James grabbed him by his arm, holding him back.

“You’re right,” he said. “We shouldn’t have woken you up, you do seem quite tired. We’re sorry.” He extended his hand. “I’m James, by the way.”

The boy slowly blinked as if he hadn’t expected James to apologise. He reluctantly took his hand in his own. “Nice to meet you, James. I’m Remus Lupin.” He shot Sirius a dismissive glance. “And you are?”

Sirius crossed his arms and glared at him, and James shoved him at his side with his elbow.

“Sirius,” he muttered unwillingly.

Remus sighed, trying to compose himself. “I apologise too, for being harsh. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was hoping I could rest until we reach Hogwarts.”

“Did your excitement keep you up too, then?” James asked.

“You could say that.”

James watched Remus with unease. “Well, Sirius and I were discussing the Sorting Ceremony,” he said. “But I guess you’ve already heard that.” He tilted his head with an apologetic expression. “Are you nervous?”

Remus shrugged. “Not really. I don’t care where I’ll be sorted. I just want the classes to start.”

Sirius scoffed and Remus narrowed his eyes at him.

“You have a problem?”

“No, it’s just that you have a very sharp tongue for such a complete nerd,” said Sirius.

“Well, what can I say, some of us prefer to keep our heads above a book and not up to our arse.”

“That’s it—”

“Okay, okay!” James said, throwing his hands between the two boys. “Please don’t kill each other here. They’ll stop the train and it’s already an agonisingly long journey.” His nose wrinkled before a large smile appeared on his face. “I’ve got an idea! We can give each other a compliment to lighten up the mood.”

“Absolutely not.”

“There is no way in hell—” Sirius and Remus began at the same time. They turned their heads to glare at each other.

James’ mind lit up. “Okay, fine. How about this? We’ll tell two truths and a lie about ourselves and the others have to guess which is the lie. In that way, we’ll get to know each other better.”

Sirius crossed his arms firmly over his chest, and Remus leaned back on his seat lazily, staring at Sirius with mild disgust.

James sighed. “Okay, as neither of you seems eager to start, I’ll go first.” He cleared his throat. “So, I have a large collection of the rarest cards with Quidditch players. Until last summer, I would force my mother to read to me every night before bed. I’m half-Irish.”

“Your mother didn’t read to you every night,” said Sirius.

“You’re not half Irish,” Remus replied just as fast, their competitive spirit overpowering their stubbornness. 

James grinned. “All right, good guesses, both of you, but Remus is actually correct.”

A smug smirk appeared on Remus’ lips and his eyes twinkled with a mocking triumph. Sirius rolled his eyes with annoyance.  

“I did force my mother to read to me every night,” James continued. “Not something I’m proud of, by the way. And yes, I’m not half-Irish. My dad grew up in Godric’s Hollow and my mum’s from Bengal.” He turned to Remus. “How did you know that was a lie?”

“You have an accent. You try to hide it, but it’s not completely British and you don’t sound Irish either. I’m Irish, actually, so I would know.” He pointed at the copy resting next to James. “Your book confirmed my speculations. You seem like the sentimental type who would bring something to remind you of your home on our first day.”

Sirius muttered something like show-off but James was too stunned to speak. He didn’t know if Remus meant that as an insult or just as a fact but it was impressive nonetheless. He stared at Remus for a few seconds. He reminded him of that famous Muggle detective he’d read about, with great observational skills.

“You’ve read it?” James asked, taking the book in his hands.

“Yes, actually. But I’m not gonna spoil the end for you,” said Remus.

James smiled. “Sirius, your turn,” he said and poked Sirius, prompting him to carry on the game.

Sirius released a defeated sigh. “Fine.” His brow knitted thoughtfully as he tried to think of some facts about himself. A light bulb went off in his head, and a confident smirk appeared on his lips. “Oh, you’re so not ready for this. So, when I was younger, I would use my mother’s pencils for her eyes, because I liked how my eyes popped with black liner. My mother married her second cousin, so my father is practically my uncle. My brother’s name is Alaric.”

James and Remus took a few seconds to think through their options.

“You didn’t use your mother’s eyeliner,” James said hesitantly.

“Your parents aren’t cousins,” Remus said, sounding confident about his answer.

Sirius’ grin widened. “And... You’re both wrong.”

“What?” The others demanded.

Sirius turned his head to face James, still grinning. “You thought the lie was that I used my mother’s eyeliner. Lupin, you disagreed. Why?”

Remus raised his eyebrow. “You said you used your mother’s eye pencils because you liked how it made your eyes pop. And since you seem so vain about your physical appearance—”

“Okay, okay. You made your point,” Sirius cut him off. “You thought the lie was about my parents being relatives. James, you thought this to be true?”

“Well, I thought the liner one was more extreme, for sure,” said James as he scratched the back of his neck.

“More extreme than his parents practically committing incest?” Remus demanded.

“Are both of your parents wizards?” Sirius asked.

“No,” said Remus, his face changing to a guarded expression.

“Then that explains your reaction,” Sirius said as matter-of-factly.

Remus’ expression hardened. “Don’t you dare—”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Sirius said. “Not this time, at least,” he added with a small smirk.

Remus stared at him, his face unchanged as he searched for any deceit in Sirius’ eyes but there was none.

 “What I’m saying, is that since one of your parents is a Muggle, it makes sense for you to have a different aspect on certain things,” said Sirius. “James’ parents are both wizards. That’s why he didn’t really consider this to be a lie. We have different…ways of doing some things.”

Remus looked disgusted. “You seriously marry your close relatives?”

“For your information, my parents’ case is quite common,” Sirius said defensively. “It’s not illegal or unethical to marry your close relatives in the wizarding world. At least it wasn’t considered wrong till recently. It’s a way of inbreeding to secure the purity in a bloodline.”

James suddenly remembered his mother’s words about the Blacks and started to feel uneasy.

 “Now people frown upon this pratique more because it’s considered passée and less because of the inbreeding itself,” Sirius continued.

“You speak French?” James asked.

“Yes, my father’s from Èze in Côte d’ Azur,” said Sirius.

“I feel seriously disturbed right now,” said Remus, unwilling to let go of the previous topic.

James turned to Sirius. “And you okay with that?” 

“With the inbreeding?” Sirius laughed. “Merlin, no. It’s sick.”

James felt his muscles relax. “So your brother’s name is not Alaric,” he said, changing the subject.

“No, it’s actually Regulus,” said Sirius.

“That’s a nice name,” said James.

“It’s the brightest star in the Leo constellation,” Sirius said. “There’s a family tradition of naming children after celestial beings. Sirius is the brightest star—as I am, obviously.” He waved his hand, fingers fanning out. Remus and James rolled their eyes but there was a hint of amusement in their faces. “My cousins’ names are Bellatrix and Andromeda, and my father’s is Orion,” Sirius continued. “We also have Arcturus, Cygnus, Pollux, and Cassiopeia, to name a few.”

“That’s quite beautiful, actually,” said James.

Sirius nodded. “We also have names like Araminta, Narcissa, and Lycoris. They’re named after—”

“Plants. Amaranthos, Narkissos, and Lycoris,” said Remus before Sirius could finish.

Sirius’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s right,” he muttered.

“Okay, I suddenly feel entirely insecure about my own name,” said James.

Sirius fixed his eyes on Remus with a challenging look. “Now your turn, Lupin.”

Remus shifted on his seat. “All right, I’ve read one hundred and eighteen books—”

“My head tells me that’s a lie, but my heart begs to differ, as we’re talking about you,” James interrupted.

“Wait till you hear the other two,” said Remus. “I despise the moon with my whole being, especially the full moon. And my mother is a Muggle.”

“The books,” James instantly said.

“You don’t despise the moon,” Sirius said without hesitation.

Remus leaned to touch Sirius’ shoulder in a feign consoling manner and Sirius’ breath wavered slightly. “James is correct,” he said.

“Damnit it!” Sirius tapped his fingers to his forehead. “I knew it was the books. There’s no way you could have read—”

“Actually, I’ve read one hundred and nineteen books so far,” said Remus. “My mother is indeed a Muggle and my father is a wizard. He works in the Ministry of Magic in Magical Law Enforcement, as a member of the legislative drafting committee.” His eyes shone with pride. He glanced at Sirius. “And I truly hate the moon.”

“Who on Merlin’s name despises the moon?” Sirius demanded.

“Well, Black, let’s just say I don’t have a thing for celestial beings,” said Remus.

 “Hey, guys,” James began. He stretched his legs to ease the stiffness and stood up. “I think I’m gonna walk down the corridor. Wanna join me?”

“No, I’m good,” said Sirius.

“Same. But thanks anyway,” said Remus.

James watched them with suspicion. “You think you’ll manage without biting each other’s heads off?”

“I make no promises,” said Sirius.

“Don’t worry, I can take him,” said Remus.

Sirius scoffed. “Only in your dreams, Lupin.”

“Okay. I have faith in you,” James said. “Don’t you dare spill blood in our compartment,”

“Yes, Mother,” said Sirius.

James cast them a final glance and then closed the door behind him. He started walking and stretched his arms overhead, feeling the tension melt away.

His mind kept circling back to his conversation with Sirius. He seemed refreshingly amusing—certainly a far cry from what Euphemia had painted of the Black family. Sirius seemed…different. And though he and Remus exchanged several affronts without hesitation, he instantly apologised to Remus once he realised that his comment about his parents had insulted him. Yet despite these promising signs, James couldn’t completely shake off his mother’s cautionary words. Still, part of him remained slightly guarded, watching for any hint of the darkness that Euphemia had described. It wasn’t mistrust, exactly, but a cautious curiosity, a need to see more of who Sirius truly was.

The rhythmic clatter of the train filled the air as it sped along the tracks and James continued to walk down the corridor. He kept scanning the faces, curious about the people who would soon become his classmates. A few steps later, his foot caught on something soft but solid and he stumbled forward, barely catching himself on the wall.

“Hey!” James exclaimed, looking down to see what he had tripped over. There, sitting on the floor was a small, round-faced boy, with sandy brown hair a bit greasy and hanging limply over his forehead and into his watery blue eyes. His nose was small and slightly upturned, giving him a somewhat rodent-like appearance. An open chocolate frog box was resting on his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” James said quickly. He extended a hand to help him. “I didn’t see you there.”

The boy looked up, his eyes wide with embarrassment. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. He took James’ hand and stood up. “I shouldn’t have been sitting here anyway.”

James noticed the chocolate frog that had escaped from its box and started bouncing merrily down the corridor. With a swift motion, he reached and caught it, handing it back to the boy with a grin. “Here, I think this belongs to you.”

“Thanks,” he muttered as he took the chocolate frog. “I’m Peter. Peter Pettigrew.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter,” James said with a friendly smile. “I’m James Potter.” He looked over at the corridor and then to Peter. “Why were you sitting out here? Didn’t find a compartment?”

“Everywhere was full,” Peter said in a small voice. He looked down at his shoes. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

James felt a pang of sympathy for him. He remembered his mother’s words about how important it was to be kind to others.

“Well, there’s plenty of room in my compartment if you care to join,” he offered. “I’m just up the way a bit.”

“Really?” Peter asked, barely hiding his relief. “That would be great. Thanks.”  

James started walking and urged Peter to follow. He wracked his brain for a conversation starter to make the other boy feel a bit more comfortable, and he thought of the chocolate frog box Peter had been holding that came with a collectable card, featuring a famous witch or wizard.

“So, you collect chocolate frog cards?”

Peter seemed startled that James was eager to have a conversation with him. “Yeah, I’ve already found four of Grindelwald,” he said. “But I can’t find Morgana.”

James smiled. “Well, you certainly have patience, I’ll give you that.”

Peter lowered his head timidly. When they reached the compartment, he hesitated at the door. “Are you sure it’s okay? I really don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s fine, really,” said James. “Come on in.” He slid the door open. The others were where James had left them; Remus was reading a book and Sirius was staring out the window. “Hey, guys! This is Peter. Peter, these are Remus and Sirius.”

“Hello,” Peter mumbled, his voice barely audible. The others greeted him, and he sat right next to Remus. He caught sight of James’ book lying on the opposite seat. “Oi! Is this the Secret Garden?”

“Why has everyone read this book?” Sirius asked.

Remus closed his book and looked at Sirius with a flat expression. “As I said before, some of us—”

“Don’t,” Sirius interrupted him. “I thought we moved past it.”

“I see that you both survived my absence,” James noted.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Peter asked with genuine curiosity, glancing between the two boys.

 “Well Peter,” Remus said, “Sirius here was being a pain in the ass and I almost thought about cracking his skull open.”

“Oi! That’s brutal!” Sirius said.

James laughed. “Look at you, bickering like a married couple.”

Sirius stuck out his tongue while Remus threw his vest at James, aiming for his face but James ducked to avoid it. They all laughed.

The hours of their long journey ticked by pleasantly. Remus and Sirius eventually stopped fighting, James entertained them with tales about his family’s visits to India, and Peter occasionally joined the conversation in his own quieter way. An old lady with a trolley stopped by their compartment, asking if they needed anything and the boys bought some shared candies. Eventually, their eyes began to close.

After several hours, they were jolted awake by Peter’s shrill voice. “Guys, look!” he exclaimed as he eagerly lunged towards Remus and pointed excitedly to the window.

The setting sun painted the sky in pink and golden hues, casting a beautiful glow over the valley that extended in every direction, as far as the eye could see. Across the green fields, wisps of mist hovered above the lake. And there—through the shifting veil of trees—glimpses of the ancient castle emerged on the horizon, standing majestically against the fading light.

“I think we’re here,” said James.