"How is it with you exactly, Potter?"
It's an ordinary Tuesday and the Marauders are walking along one of the corridors on the third floor, talking about something and waving their hands eagerly, laughing until they are stopped by the voice of Severus Snape, their Slytherin peer, at first they ignore it, he is just looking for a taunt but when he continues...
"Do you think you are a mudblood or more of a halfbread?"
He asked a question that seemed very stupid, but it stopped the Marauders in their tracks.
"And what exactly are you talking about now, Snape?" Remus rolls his eyes, being the first to deal with this trouble.
Severus Snape and Remus Lupin were not friends. They would never be friends, and their relationship was almost hostile.
"Leave us alone," Peter asked quite calmly. He always tried to stay calm and neutral, not liking getting into trouble
"Do you recognize the name Potter?" Sirius huffs."Sacred twenty-eight? Purebloods? Let me remind you, my friend, that James is a Potter," Sirius explains like to a small child.
"Except he isn't, is he, James?" Snape asks something terribly mean in his proud smile.
They just want to leave, because what nonsense is Snape talking about here? What is his point, isn't there anything better to do than inventing...
but wait a minute.
James doesn't say anything. Sirius looks at him with a frown, tugs on Remus' sleeve to get his attention too, and in fact, he does, watching James worriedly. Peter is confused, but it only lasts seconds.
Seeing James in such a state... he is terrified, he is shaking slightly and barely breathing, his eyes are wide, and it looks like his whole world has started to collapse.
He looks like a deer in the middle of the road when a speeding car is heading straight for him, and he has no chance to escape.
"I heard a rumor that-" Severus continues, extremely proud of the fact that he found something that was able to hit this James fucking golden perfect boy Potter and prove that he wasn't so perfect and good after all.
The boys wanted to ignore him, but...
James has tears in his eyes, and that little thing is enough to make each of his friends raise their wand and point it at Snape.
"But it is really interesting," Snape smirks, ignoring the wands, "isn't it that you, James -"
"Fuck off!" Sirius pushed him. No one has the right to make James cry. He won't forgive, he won't let go. He punched him in the face.
James already has tears on his cheeks, like a little child rubbing his eyes with his T-shirt. He turns back on his heels and after a while he goes running.
Remus is too busy trying to get Sirius away from the Slytherin boy to run after him, so Peter does.
James had his little crises which he tried to hide at all costs and maintain his image as a sunshine boy, but boys sometimes saw when things were bad and now they were bad.
It was very bad.
<<>>
Ten years ago:
James ran into the kitchen giggling, he was a kid who enjoyed running.
He had so much energy, as if he were constantly full of sugar. This child had no off switch and it was hard to keep up with him.
James ran, raced, jumped, yelled, danced, much more energetically and more often than the other children.
He loved any type of physical activity because it made him feel better. He couldn't stand or sit still for a second, he was constantly spinning, bouncing and fidgeting, and he constantly needed the stimulation that physical activity gave him, so he likes sports.
He ran into the kitchen with his navy blue shorts covered in mud, his hair was messy and his shirt was wrinkled.
There was a wide smile on his lips. Oh, may this child be blessed, he smiles so beautifully, so sincerely, and does it so often... may they guard that smile at all costs, may they never let him lose it.
James tilts his head curiously, stops in his tracks and stands on his tiptoes to see what's on the kitchen counter.
His little hands are brushed off the clean counter, and James immediately rushes to wash them. Better to quickly fix something he did wrong before he gets punished for it.
He washes his hands thoroughly, with soap and warm water, wipes them with his towel and runs to the counter again, shows his clean hands, stretching them up with a proud smile.
He looks carefully at the white bowl and the white mixer that beats the eggs. He tries to look into the bowl, standing on his tiptoes as high as he can, almost, just a little more... James loses his balance and falls, his hand slides across the counter, moving the bowl but luckily not tipping it over. But it's still bad.
James lands with his face straight into the adult's stomach, hitting his chin against the sharp buckle of his trouser belt, it hurts. The man hissed, catching him before he hit his head on the tiles.
"Be careful" somehow these words don't sound like a request but a reprimand. James drops his head down with a sad face and apologizes.
"Can I help?" he asks politely, daring to look up.
Sometimes when he helped, they were proud of him, they were less angry when he did something for them, when he did something well.
Sometimes when he helped them he could eat dinner, sometimes he avoided punishment.
James liked to help because it came with a reward. The reward is a little smile or no bruises, but still a reward.
James likes the kitchen in this house, it's quiet, but not quiet in the sense that makes his head buzz and wants to cry, just the peaceful silence.
There was something about kitchens that made James feeling warm and safe.
Maybe his mum used to hugs him in the kitchen and humms songs for him. James liked to think so.
He couldn't help but think she kissed him on the forehead before he went to sleep, and then he smiled at her.
He liked to think that there was a time when he was very happy.
"You can measure and pour in the flour," the man suggests, pointing to the flour and a glass bowl.
"I'll do it!" he assured excitedly, quickly running towards the bowl.
He reached for the box of flour, making sure how much there should be, and slowly and precisely measured out exactly what he had been told, and then moved the bowl closer to the eggs.
"Can I put this in a bowl?" he asked hopefully.
James liked to be useful, he liked to help, he liked to make others happy.
The man agreed and James jumped with happiness. This is a rare thing, because they don't often give him what he asks for, he is very happy to be allowed to do this little thing.
He stretched his hands out in front of him and confidently grabbed the bowl on both sides, he tried to lift it, but its weight definitely exceeded the capabilities of his small hands.
I can do it - he repeated in his head with all his strength trying to lift the bowl a little higher.
He's almost there, he's got it, all he has to do is tilt it and...
and the bowl fell out of his hands, hit the other bowl, chipping it, turning this bowl over, and suddenly it also fell to the ground with a huge bang, scattering flour and pieces of glass all around.
There will be no dinner, the pancake dough will not be finished.
Kudos to James.
James stares at the floor in shock at the shining shards of glass while the man shouts at him.
"Do you have to ruin everything! Do something right for once!"
"I just wanted to help" James whispered.
He stares at the floor, his lip bitten to the point where it's bleeding, tears glistening in his eyes that he's desperately trying to hold back.
"Apparently it didn't work out!" the man's voice is raised.
James really doesn't like being shouted at, it makes him feel so small and helpless, his heart clenches, his throat tightens and tears appear in his eyes. Always.
"Brats like you are useless" the man almost spat as he hissed it at him. James tensed, losing his breath along the way.
The little boy trembled at these unpleasant and harsh words. The man's hand went up, he's angry but he's just searching for his hair to straighten it, but James flinched before the punch that was never supposed to come anyway.
"Fix this mess right now, I don't want to see it when I get back here," the man gave him a task almost impossible for a seven-year-old to accomplish. "You better listen to me," he hissed, James flinched again, the man left.
James, being the little helpless boy he was, sat on the ground crying.
He just wanted to help make dinner in the kitchen where he felt safe...
○○○
"Hello little sunshine, why are you sad?" he suddenly heard above him, a nice woman crouches next to him.
She is beautiful, she has long dark hair, warm dark eyes and a beautiful smile. She is wearing a colorful dress, these colors are calming in a way. James doesn't know why, but they are.
She is beautiful, she looks different than most people James has ever seen or met, her skin is darker than anyone he has ever known, even darker than his, she is beautiful. She's not slim, tall, with pale hair and blue eyes, she's beautiful in a completely different way.
She is just very beautiful. As much as a seven-year-old's words matter.
Is she a ghost? Is she a figment of his imagination?
"Are you worried about this mess?" she points to the floor next to him, to the broken glass, spilled flour and egg stains.
He shouldn't talk to strangers, he knows that. But she's here. She's in his kitchen, which means she's not a stranger.
There's something warm, something nice about her, something that tells James to trust her, so he nods, sniffles, wipes his teary red eyes with his T-shirt, and sniffs again.
"Oh, it's a little thing, look," the woman assured with a small smile, it's reassuring.
She pulls a stick out of her hair, Until now, this stick had held her hair up, creating a beautiful bun.
She says something strange that doesn't sound like English, and moves the stick waving her hand.
James watches her skeptically, but when she moves the stick once and the mess disappears, he's curious.
How did she do it?
"Sunshine, maybe you'd like to make some new dough with me?" she offers him, he denies, scared, but she gives him a second chance. James gets up and dusts off his shorts, he looks at her uncertainly and finally nods, he wants to make pancake batter, he wants to be good "I'll help you, we'll learn some things, okay?"
"I would like that," James nodded solemnly.
He usually has a hard time keeping his attention, but this woman does everything in a way that makes him want to stand there forever and just watch without moving.
He just wants to be here.
There's such a nice warm aura around her, something so good that James wants to be close to it. This strange thing is a sweet smell, some flowers, hot chocolate and cookies, something pleasant.
"Let's look for the ingredients," she suggests, they read the list together and James looks for the necessary things in the cupboards, sometimes with the help of the lady.
When they are all on the table, James smiles proudly.
"I did it!" he says happily, the only form of reward and praise he can provide himself are his own words.
"Yes, you did it, great job, boy." The woman smiles and James looks at her with slightly wide eyes.
What did she say?
"Thank you, ma'am," he says shyly.
She waved her hand as if it meant absolutely nothing, while to James it meant absolutely everything.
He just got praise from an adult, and it wasn't sarcastic or forced. This is the best day of his life.
"There's not a lot of color here," the woman looked around the room, waved that funny stick again.
The earth spun like a carousel and James chuckled. He laughed as he watched the golden rays transform the white, sad, boring kitchen into one so full of colors.
"So beautiful! Woah!" he chuckled she smiled widely at that, as if she had just received the best compliment in her life.
The kitchen took on colors, there were plenty of them everywhere, orange, yellow, green and witty patterns.
It's beautiful.
"First, let's add the flour," she suggested. James starts shaking his head, He'll do it wrong again, and what if he does it wrong and the lady stops being nice? "Oh, my boy, hmm, look, we'll use it," she pulls out from her pocket a red strainer (how did she fit it there?), which makes a funny noise, James decides to try it.
He sifts the flour, scatters some of it on the table and panics, he began to tremble and his eyes filled with tears, he was doing something wrong again, he was hopeless and useless, and no one wants useless children.
"Don't worry, look," she waves the wand. picking up every crumb of flour. "Keep trying, you're doing great," she assures.
James didn't believe it but she was nice so he tried as she asked.
He added eggs, milk water and salt he did it a little wrong, but it didn't matter because it was his first time doing it and he was seven years old.
The woman praised. She approached the bowl again, waving the stick and this time she made the mixer work itself, it magically floated in the air and mixed the ingredients until smooth.
At this time, the woman reached for a pinch of flour and, having it on her finger, wiped it on James' nose, leaving a white stain of flour on it.
James chuckled happily.
<<>>
The next week she showed up again, this beautiful lady appeared out of nowhere like last time.
James had the impression that she was jumping out of the fireplace in the living room, but that wasn't possible.
James was crying, locked in the bathroom.
He was playing on the playground and at that moment he was covered in sand and mud, they didn't want to let him into the house and when they did, they locked him in the bathroom and told him to take a bath and not to come out until he was clean enough.
James couldn't do it, the water was constantly too hot or too cold and if he used too much they would be angry with him again.
He didn't know which bubble bath he could use, he couldn't read yet.
Everything was wrong.
He was scared.
He was locked and James didn't like being closed, the rooms seemed to get smaller and tighter on all sides. James didn't like closed spaces, they reminded him of those moments when he was locked in a closet or in a cupboard under the stairs and then he panicked.
What if he never leaves this place? What if he stays here forever? What if he'll never be clean enough for them?
James was afraid, and when children are afraid, they cry.
Suddenly he heard something strange that sounded like "alohomora" and that nice lady who recently helped him make pancakes came through the door.
"Oh sunshine, what's wrong?" she asked with a tender smile.
Very few people asked James how he was feeling, few people cared about his needs or noticed when something was wrong. He was usually ignored when he cried.
So he wasn't used to being cared for.
"I can't bathe well all by myself yet." He admits shyly, wiping his tearful face with his T-shirt.
"Is that why you're sad?" she asks tenderly.
"I don't like taking baths," James adds quietly.
"Oh and why is that?" she frowns.
No, please don't do it, don't frown, it means James did something wrong, oh no. He did something wrong.
"I-I, it hurts," he confesses, his eyes full of tears again.
"Taking a bath hurts?" she asks, surprised.
"Mhm" he muttered quietly. "They always scrub really hard" he shuddered just thinking about it "They say that with time I will definitely become lighter," he looked at his hands, tightening and loosening them. "and then people will like me more," he says quietly.
"They are doing- What?" She is shocked and angry but she takes a deep breath, James will be afraid if she gets angry. and she doesn't want to add to his stress. "Oh sunshine, you are suffering so much," she presses her lips into a thin line. "Let me show you something." She smiles slightly.
She waves the stick again, the bathtub fills with water, and a lot of foam is created. A dolphin suddenly emerges from this foam. James must have imagined it.
The lady throws various toys, rubber ducks, boats and others into the water.
"And it's ready," says the woman, clapping her hands in satisfaction.
The bathtub becomes deep, really really deep. James holds his breath but the lady shows him that he can breathe normally, James tries, he really can.
He hesitantly opens his eyes wider and looks around.
It's like he's in the ocean now.
He laughs and giggles as see all sorts of water creatures. He swims with turtles, waves at dolphins, touches water flowers and plays pirates.
It's magical.
It's beautiful.
That's nice.
This lady is so nice.
○○○
"Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" James was hitting his forehead with his notebook.
He was so stupid. Why was he so terribly dumb? He couldn't even read properly. Other children his age could already do it, and him? He was useless.
He was nothing but a failure, he was an idiot and he couldn't even read.
James didn't want to be stupid, he wanted to learn, he wanted to read books and other things but- but he couldn't because he was useless.
The teacher told him that he was a terrible case and that if he didn't master it by the end of the week, he would be sent back to kindergarten.
James was crying.
He was already in second grade, he knew the letters, so why couldn't he combine them into words?
He was just an idiot.
"Hey hey, what's going on?" It's that nice lady again, but how dare James look at her now? It's so embarrassing. What if she thinks he's stupid too? James doesn't want her to stop being nice.
"I'm so stupid" he sobbed, hitting his head on the table.
"Hey, hey, no, no, calm down, James," she asked, "everything's okay, tell me what's going on," she suggested. James hesitated.
"I can't read," James sobbed again, "but everyone else can and I'm the only one who's so inept and it's not fair and I want to be able to." He sniffs.
"Oh, love" she whispered tenderly, placing her hand on his head. "You can handle it, I think you just need a little help." She smiles.
James looks at her hopefully. Maybe she could really help him.
The woman opens one of the books, takes out her wand and taps the book with it. The letters, words and pictures start jumping, flying and spinning in the air, it's colorful and fun and James chuckles.
"What's that word James?" She asks, pointing to the closest flying ginger cat with a "c" "a" "t" just below him. The cat made a loud "meow".
"It's a cat!" he said cheerfully, it was really simple.
"Look, what's that?" She pointed to the word without a picture, James frowned.
"C-cat, it's also a cat!" the boy smiled proudly.
"Exactly, honey," the woman smiled and they practiced like that until the evening.
She's so nice.
○○○
James was already a big boy. He was seven, almost eight and he was already big and mature.
So he realized that magic did not exist.
He hasn't believed in Santa Claus for a long time, he doesn't remember him ever visiting, but he knows he doesn't exist. He didn't believe in the tooth Fairy, he didn't believe in the Easter Bunny, he didn't believe in ghosts or monsters.
He was already a big boy and definitely didn't believe in magic either.
This nice lady who visited him must have been some ridiculous figment of his imagination.
She didn't exist.
Or maybe she even existed, but he exaggerated it and made up some wild stories. There was no magic in it, he just added it himself because his childish mind-
"Why are you crying, love?" and suddenly she appears next to him and asks.
Why does she always seem to show up at his worst moments? Whenever James cries, she appears. Why?
It was as if she wanted to help him, as if she wanted to.
"Other children are mean to me" he confesses.
Children don't like him. They are mean and rude to him. James has no friends at school and James would really like to have friends, at least one, one friend would be enough. Really.
James needed people, he needed love.
"And why is that?" She asks worriedly,
Muggle children are strange and complicated, they laugh at all sorts of things, skin color, which she couldn't understand, was one of those things.
And she was worried about little James.
But what he told her had nothing to do with the fact that he didn't read as fast as other children, or that he was different from them. It didn't involve anything that she could think of. This reason hurt much more, James said...
"I don't have a mom"
And here she has no idea what to tell him.
"Oh, love," she whispers with tears in her eyes and hugs the boy.
What more can she do?
○○○
"Why don't you write?" The woman looks at James worriedly.
"I'm sorry ma'am," he purses his lips "I tried, but it didn't work," he sighs "I spent three hours working on it and I still failed, and, and," he holds back tears. "And I failed again, and, and," he sniffs "I'm so terribly sorry, I didn't want to. Please believe me, I really tried, I really, I tried ma'am," he assures her eagerly, fearing that she will be angry and that all their previous learning will be wasted.
"It's okay," she comforts him calmly "as long as you try your hardest my dear"
James looks up at her uncertainly. He wipes his face with his shirt to get rid of tears.
"The letters merge into one and jump, and it's stupid but-" he tries to explain it to her, but it's so stupid, he's eight years old, he should be able to read aloud, write, and spell, and he had trouble spelling even the simplest words.
She just smiled tenderly at him, assuring him that she would find a solution.
"Oh Jamie," she smiled weakly, seeing the crying boy again. "Try to write with this quill, okay? Try this" she suggests giving him a beautiful feather, it's special, charmed and very expensive pen but she gives it to the boy to help him do better, to help him with his dyslexia.
○○○
"Oh, love, what happened?" She asks, crouching next to the boy sitting in the corner of his room after a long day at school.
"He shouts at me again, because I can't concentrate and sit still for the entire lesson, I'm already big boy and I should-" James says panicked. He really doesn't want to be a problem, but it's stronger than him. He doesn't want to seem like a problem to this nice lady, he doesn't want to admit his mistakes, but...
"It's harder for you than for other children, James" she speaks calmly and strokes his hair "don't apologize for something you have no control over."
She slowly showed him how he should take care of himself, how he should love himself.
Little James had a lot of love in him, he had to give it to someone, and the best person to do that was himself, right?
○○○
"I wish you were my mum" James whispered as he fell asleep in her arms after another long day.
His little weak arms covered in bruises, his ribs bruised, his lips cracked. Everything hurt him.
There was still some blood in his hair, but he didn't have the strength to take a bath.
The woman held him in her arms, kissing his head, stroking him and soothing him, holding him close to her with tears in her eyes and singing to him.
James had the impression that he was feeling better every moment, he feels as if he was healing, but that was impossible.
When he woke up, there was no trace of his wounds but... but it's impossible, right?
○○○
"Flea, I want a child," Euphemia says one sunny morning.
It's a usual statement, it's not like she hadn't thought about it, she had been thinking about it for months, ever since she met the sunshine boy.
Fleamont blinks slowly as if not hearing or understanding her words at first, his eyes widen and then his eyebrows furrow.
"But Effie, we-" he tries to remind her gently. He's sensitive about it.
It's a big pain for them, information that they could not have children, even though a child was their greatest desire and dream. They tried for years, but with poor results, when they sought help from doctors... well, they couldn't have children, not in this universe.
"Look" Effie takes his hand and squeezes it lightly, and together they teleport to the sunshine boy's house. This time it wasn't to save him and comfort him.
"Hi, sunshine!" Effie called to him happily. James ran up to her and hugged her tightly.
"Hey," he grined happily.
Oh, what a beautiful smile he had.
"I have something for you my dear" she smiles mysteriously and then takes out a balloon from her purse.
An ordinary blue flying balloon.
James was jumping up and down with happiness, thanking her every now and then.
Some time later he took to the air, laughing and giggling as he held the string of his balloon.
"Oh Merlin" Fleamont smiles, looks at his wife's dreamy smile and something warm spreads in his heart, he looks at the little boy and a smile spreads on his lips, he was the one Euphemia had been telling her husband about for the last few months.
When Effie came home one day a month ago with tears in her eyes, Flemont hugged her and asked her what happened and she told him about how the floo went wrong and she found herself in some muggle house and there she met a wonderful sad boy whom she wanted to help with at any cost.
"And?" Effie smiles softly.
"We're taking this kid" it's a quick decision, but one look, one moment is enough for him.
Fleamont knows he will do anything for this boy, he knows he loved him the moment he first saw him. "He'll love Quidditch" he was already planning to buy a broom for his son.
<<>>
Now:
Sirius was hitting him.
He has always had an unbridled nature where he acted first and thought later. He was rather careless and risky. And when it came to his friends and their pain, he could be violent and cruel.
He could, for James he could be anything.
"Don't you want to know how your best friend lies to you?" Snape asks, spitting saliva mixed with blood next to them, the smile still not leaving his lips.
"James would never!" Sirius defends his best friend immediately.
"You think so? These are very confident words from someone whose best friend hasn't even told them his real name," Snape laughs. "He's not who he says he is," he snorted.
"Sirius let it go," Remus insists, finally pulling him away from Severus, he would love to punch him in the face, but he takes a deep breath and calms down, it's pointless. "It's not worth your time."
Severus wipes the blood from his mouth.
"Not his name?" Sirius frowned "fuck" it was anxious. Sirius just came to a certain realization and his eyes widened. "You are cruel" he says and started running in the direction where James had run earlier.
Remus didn't run, unless there was a full moon, but now he was running after Sirius, because if anyone knew where to look for James, it was him, and James needed them, so he run.
By the time they found him, James was already quite composed, his face still covered in tears and small sobs falling from his lips from time to time, but he was really getting better.
"So what are you, like, trans?" Sirius asks an that make James laughs through tears.
"Sirius" Peter sighs.
"I guess no, I'm more like adopted." James sniffs softly. It's not something he ever told anyone, it's something no one knew except him and his parents.
"And? Like- " Sirius frowns, he doesn't understand what's going on, what's going to change, why James is sad, after all-
"Why did he say you weren't a Potter?" Peter frowns.
"Doesn't he know about wizarding law?" Sirius huffs. If Snape made James cry just to bring back bad memories - oh, it wouldn't end with bruises.
"What is this wizarding law?" James asks curious.
He still has a sad look on his face, but now he's a little more curious.
"Like, did you sign the papers? Like with blood and everything?" Sirius asks, James nodded "so you are totally a Potter, you have their blood and you inherit everything, you belong to the family, not only by law but also by blood. Like... it's complicated, but the moment a pair of wizards adopt a child, it is theirs without any waivers, shortcomings or exceptions." He shrugs.
In the world of magic, adopted children were treated completely differently than in the Muggle world.
"Isn't it like you got your magic when you officially got their name? You inherited it, so yours had to change or appear depending on whether you were magical before." Peter adds, interjecting.
Yes, there actually was such a thing, James remembers.
"I think I got it. I had three years to control and master it before going to school." James remembers.
"In three- three years?" Peter's eyes widen in disbelief.
"Yeah?" James frowns.
"You mastered pureblood magic in three years?" Sirius makes sure, looking at him in disbelief and shock.
"Is that bad?" James pouted.
"It's bloody brilliant! You're a genius, James!" Peter laughs.
"You know how magical children have their tantrums, right? It's uncontrolled magic, and it like happens from the age of three to ten. You did it in three when others need seven, " Sirius explains.
"Oh really?" James smiles.
"It's strong magic, mate," he nodded approvingly.
"Maybe it was because of my ADHD," James shrugged. His brain was working at higher speeds. Maybe it helped him understand magic better.
"You have ADHD?" The boys stare at him, blinking slowly.
How many things do they not know about their best friend?
"You were like 8 years old when the Potter's-" Peter stopped what he was saying. He didn't want to upset James more.
"It's okay," James shakes his head. "I was seven when I met my mum. She was amazing," he smiles.
Everyone laughed at James in the first years of Hogwarts, saying that he was a mama's boy, not realizing that these were the first years when he even had a mum and mother's love. That it was the first time he had a mom in his life.
"Do you feel comfortable sharing with us what came before? We would like to understand better." Remus smiles softly.
And James told them stories from the moment he remembered.
Have you ever wondered why James understood Sirius and his difficult (violent) family situation so much? Because he once faced something similar.
Effie had a certain gift for finding sad, hurting children and taking them under her wing and giving them love.
Maybe that's why she so easily took in Sirius (who had stolen her hair braiding technique).
<<>>
Nine years ago:
Being in a magical house for the first time, James felt strangely good and calm. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt surrounded by love.
James liked this man with glasses, he looked different than this nice lady but he was just as nice and what's more, he was nice even to James.
James really wanted to live with them as soon as he could. This lady gave him something he couldn't name, but it gave him solace, joy, happiness, and security (was it love?).
He wanted to stay here forever.
The kitchen in this house was probably its heart. James could have stood there for hours. After the first week spent on this beautiful property, in this warm house, many people gathered in the living room.
Were wizards real?
A book was opened in front of James. He was supposed to sign it with a golden pen, so he did, and then something strange ran through his body.
Suddenly, he felt more alive.
He felt his blood rushing, but also, for the first time, he felt so calm and soothed.
It was magic.
After Euphemia and Fleamont Potter also signed their names, each of their fingers was pricked with a gold needle, and their fingerprints were placed under the signatures.
It seemed to James as if his fingerprints were starting to change shape, but that's probably not possible.
When James stepped off the podium, he staggered, hitting the chair in front of him.
"Oh little guy, do you need glasses?" someone laughed merrily.
"Apparently, he inherited not only blood and magic, but also a visual defect." someone else laughed too.
"Huh?" James frowns.
"Are things blurry? This might help. " Monty puts gold rings on his little nose. "Better?" He asks.
"I see!" James chuckled happily.
He got a real family.
○○○
"I really didn't want to ruin it," James cried, hiding in the corner of his room.
This is the first month with the Potters, where he started to show the first symptoms of magic and being a wizard. These are short bursts or light blasts of magic, but he can't control them, and today, he hit Euphemia with his magic.
He really didn't want to.
"Hey, hey, you didn't ruin anything," she assures quickly.
She strokes his cheek and kisses his forehead to calm him down.
"I hurt you," Jamss sobbed.
"You didn't do it on purpose, it's okay, I know you, James, I know, you're sorry, and that's enough." She smiles.
"I'm so sorry, please don't stop liking me," he almost begged.
Please, please, please, please, please don't stop loving me.
Please, please, please, please don't send me back.
Please, please, please don't leave me.
Please, please don't hurt me.
Please...
But she just hugged him and told him she loves him.
Every day, James felt more and more like a real family member.
James loved learning about magic and hearing about it. He loved flying on a broom.
And he liked calling Euphemia and Fleamont his parents.
He loved saying Mom and Dad, it sounded so nice.
James was homesick for a place he wasn't sure ever exists, one in which his heart is full, his body loved, and his soul understood.
He seems to have found one.