I'm Potter, Malcolm Potter
SEPTEMBER 1, 1972
— “I’m going to Hogwarts today! It’s finally time to go home. Is Professor McGonagall still teaching? Am I gonna be a Gryffindor again? Can I be a seeker in my first year again?
Doubt it, mum’s not even going to let me bring a broom. It’s unfair! Jamie gets to be a chaser this year.”
— excerpt from Malcolm Potter’s journal before he boarded the train.
“Okay Mal, you can do this!”
A boy no older than eleven tells himself, slapping his cheeks as he stares at his reflection. September 1st and he still feels the jitters.
“You’ve done this before. No need to worry,” He tells himself, staring at his reflection. For a moment, he falters at his own appearance. No emerald eyes, no skinny and bony body, no scar. What replaced all of those were dark grey eyes, a body that was well fed and was raised well, and unblemished skin. So different yet so similar to the person he once was. He attempts to smile but it is far too crooked for his liking.
He sighs, trembling hands trying to adjust his collar. It felt too tight, he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t—
“Malcolm!”
Malcolm was shocked from his stupor, whipping his head around to catch sight of his fatherbrother. James popped his head into his room, grinning ear to ear as the Gryffindor tie hung from his neck. The older of the brothers was always the more optimistic one. With his hazel eyes that were exact replicas of their father’s and an aura that simply spewed charm and delight.
In Malcolm’s opinion, his brother was like the sun.
“Come on now, don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“‘Course not!” Malcolm denied immediately, knowing full well that he had been trembling ever so violently moments ago. “I’m just… would you be angry if I’m not in Gryffindor?”
They’ve always known that there was a chance that Malcolm wouldn’t be a lion. Not with him constantly visiting Potter Manor to spend time with Aunt Dorea. Their mum had looked jealous everytime Malolm talked about Aunt Dorea. What was so wrong about him spending so much time with his Aunt Dorea?
Malcolm can’t explain why he is naturally drawn to his aunt. He thinks it’s because of her magic. She was a dark witch, his mum was a grey witch that leaned towards the light. But how could he tell his mother that her second-born was a dark wizard? He never told anyone but he’s sure that Charlus and Dorea know. They have to know.
But Malcolm merely smiles as his brother tilts his head to the side, he grins, bright as the sun as per usual. “‘Course not. You’re my baby brother! Besides, where else will you go?”
Slytherin , Malcolm immediately thinks but says nothing.
“Yeah, you’re right,”
The brothers, ever so identical in appearances that they were often mistaken for twins. Yet even with that uncanny similarity between them, Malcolm has often been mistaken for the child of Charlus and Dorea. He doesn’t mind, but his parents do. So he tries his best to correct that mistake, hoping that it wouldn’t offend his aunt and uncle.
His mum is waiting for them outside, smiling brightly at them as she brings her boys into her arms. Euphemia was a wonderful woman of Indian descent and whatever features she had, her sons inherited it. Malcolm liked his mum. She was blessed by aphrodite if she was that pretty.
“You’ve got all your things?” She asked, patting their hands. Her smile turns bitter as yet another attempt of flattening their hair fails.
The two giggle just as their father enters with hair worse than theirs.
Euphemia pointedly glares at Fleamont, “I blame you for their hair.”
“Huh?” Fleamont rubbed his eyes, blinking at his wife as he put his glasses back on his face.
Ah yes, the wretched hair and eyes. Malcolm hums softly as he takes notice of his father’s dishevelled appearance and immediately assumes that he’s been in the potion labs again. Euphemia is scowling at the mess, sighing as she waves her wand to tidy up her husband’s appearance. It is then that she kisses his cheek and Fleamont turns as red as James’ loose tie. Malcolm and his brother blanche at the blatant display of affection.
Despicable , Malcolm thinks, giggling as he checks his things again.
“Ah! Mum, what about Nefeli?”
James tilts his head, “Still don’t get why you named your cat cloud . She’s a bloody black cat!”
“She can be a storm cloud!” Malcolm instantly came to defend his beloved cat.
“Tell me again why we got him a cat for his birthday this year?” Fleamont asked, not as quiet as he hoped. Malcolm pouted at his father who chuckled and ruffled his hair.
“Because our darling son managed to slip into a menagerie and found a cat that wouldn’t leave him. How could we not bring it home after Malcolm refused to part with it?” Euphemia turns towards her youngest, “Why don’t you try calling for her?”
Malcolm nodded, “Nefeli?” and he feels magic lacing his own voice.
The black kneazle kitten poked its head out from the kitchen door and meows loudly. The kitten ran towards Malcolm and jumped into his arms, its owner kissed her head and grinned. Nefeli, the cat, had been named cloud after Malcolm saw a cloud that looked like a cat on the day he got her.
“I can bring her with me, right?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t I get a pet?” James whined as Malcolm smiled at his kitten.
“Because,” Fleamont chuckled, patting his head, “Malcolm decided to pick up a cat one day and neither would leave without the other. I’m quite sure it’s his familiar now.” He glanced back at the black kitten that sits on his son's shoulders, “One day, you’ll find your familiar. Be patient.”
James pouted but accepted this.
“Come on now boys!” Fleamont grinned, picking up Malcolm the same way he did with James the year before, “We’ve a train to ride.”
The brother cheered.
Malcolm held Nefeli in his arms tightly, turning to his mother who was grinning brightly at them.
Ah yes, this life was happier than the last.
He remembers Ginny and how their marriage came to be.
A mere facade of two broken fools that found solace in the other. It wasn’t your typical marriage of love and lust. No. Harry and Ginny were married in a platonic manner. They had married to get the public of Harry’s back and to finally shut up Molly from her insistence of yet another marriage.
They had children, yes, but all three knew that their parents didn’t love one another like their Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. But Teddy accepted it, James thought it was the best kind of marriage there was, Ares understood their feelings, and Lily didn’t think if others would have found it unusual. Their beloved children only wanted their parents happy, regardless of the broken heart Ginny sported for the moon she could not have, nor Harry’s incapability to love someone in a romantic manner after the war.
But they were happy.
And for many years, Harry found satisfaction in the fact that his children were happy and were raised properly. He was happy to see his children, one by one, get on that scarlet train and experience the wonders that is the magic within the walls of Hogwarts.
The memory of being a parent sending their child off to Hogwarts, now safer than ever under Minerva’s rule, was a wonderful sensation.
But as a child, Harry had found no greater joy than boarding the scarlet train on the first of September for six years.
Malcolm refuses to stick to his brother when they get to King’s Cross. He vehemently insists to his parents that he needs to make friends of his own by himself. Of course, Nefeli is stuck to him like glue, along with James who refuses to leave him alone.
James looked upset but Malcolm couldn’t go star hunting with his brother tailing him like a lost puppy. He needed to do this on his own and thank the fates for Marlene because she was the best excuse he had.
“Marlene! Jamie is being clingy again!” He screeched towards Marlene. Marlene, his saviour with the most amazing blonde hair he’s seen (Luna and Draco are offended with him somewhere but he’ll ignore it).
Marlene grinned, “Hey baby Potter,” she said teasingly. Nefeli narrows her bright blue eyes at the girl, hissing under her breath and trying to snuggle into Malcolm's shirt.
The Potter brothers had met Marlene Mckinnon due to their parents' friendship. So they’ve known one another since they’ve been in diapers.
Malcolm was vicious with pushing his brother—who was hugging him like some bear—towards the girl with amazing hair. Marlene grinned, understanding his annoyance and aggressively pulling James off Malcolm, giving the older of the two a harsh blow to the back of his head.
“OW! That hurt!”
“Stop clingin’ to him. I’m pretty sure that Sirius would rather be the one you cling to.”
“Yes! Sirius! I gotta introduce them!” James insisted, shaking her violently as he tried to convince her .
“You can introduce them after the sorting, you prat.” Marlene yelled. Malcolm wanted to sink into the floor with how many eyes were looking their way.
But Malcolm was quick to escape his brother and immediately bolted away with his trunk being dragged along. Thank you dad for your feather-light charms . Nefeli meowed loudly as he ran, clinging to his shirt as he moved.
Whatever will he had, Malcolm finds himself in front of a compartment and is surprised to see a dark haired, pale boy sitting there with a book in hand. The boy stiffened, staring at him with caution and a subtle amount of fear. There’s not just a book in his hands, there’s a wand.
However, Malcolm’s breath is caught in his throat. Magic , so wonderful that he breathes it in and begs for more. The magic is from this nameless boy who looks and feels familiar. Malcolm’s own magic begins to cling to the others as if it were a lifeforce. At that moment, Malcolm decided that this person was going to be his friend. Nothing was going to stop him from befriending this boy.
“Sorry! I didn’t notice you in here,” He smiled, trying to appear friendly. He extends his hand to the other boy and hopes to be accepted, “Potter, Malcolm Potter.”
And Malcolm is struck with a sense of deja vu. Then he remembers, Oh no… Oh no no no no no no. I sound Draco!! The horror sets in and he almost doesn’t notice the other boy taking his hand.
“I’m Regulus,” He said, voice quiet and somewhat meek. “Regulus… Black.”
Malcolm froze for a moment. He immediately recognizes the name, but he then takes notice of the discomfort and fear on Regulus’ face. The way Malcolm froze as if the name Black was a stain. He had to rectify that immediately!
"Regulus! Aunt Dorea talked about you," he grinned trying to change the meaning of his reaction. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Aunt… Dorea?"
"Yeah! She's the little sister of Lord Arc— Black! Sorry, Aunt Dorea calls him by his first name…" he chuckled sheepishly, still standing outside the compartment.
Regulus also takes notice and immediately welcomes Malcolm into the compartment. He shoves his trunk under the seat and sits opposite to Regulus. There is a gentle smile on his face, trying to seem as friendly as possible to the other boy. Malcolm clenches his fist around his trousers, trying to calm his beating heart. He had… taken an awful notice and a sense of morbid understanding with Regulus' appearance.
Pale, thin, a gaunt look on his face. Those silver eyes that were shinier than his dark grey ones. Malcolm is reminded of who he once was and he feels his heart ache at the memory.
The atmosphere is awkward and Malcolm wishes he had better social skills. He wasn't like James, who found speaking and befriending people normal. He wasn't a natural at it, neither did he have much experience. Aside from Marlene that is. He was lucky enough to have met her first before James butted in and started talking.
Malcolm, ever the resourceful child he is, darts his eyes towards the book Regulus is reading. To his absolute joy, he has actually read “The Tale of Beedle the Bard”. After all, his family's story is in that book.
"Ah! You've read that?" He asked, petting Nefeli and carefully watching the way Regulus' eyes followed the movement. "Oh," he looked down at his familiar and presented her to the other boy, "Meet Nefeli! She's my familiar."
"A Kneazle?" Regulus tilted his head before he jolted, as Nefeli rested on his lap. The kitten was quite small, watching Regulus with bright blue eyes and softly meowing at him. "Ah… It… It likes me?" Nefeli simply replied to the question by rubbing her cheek against Regulus' hand.
“ She . Nefeli is a girl.” Malcolm informed, smiling as he watched his familiar show her immediate fondness to the boy.
“What story do you like the most?” He asked, gesturing to the children's story book.
Regulus' cheeks flushed red, very obvious with how pale he is. Malcolm highly suspected that he had barely seen the sun.
“The story of the three brothers,” he whispered, fondly pressing his hand against the cover of the book.
"Is that so? Who's your favourite brother? The wand, the stone, or the cloak?"
Regulus, surprisingly enough, is fairly expressive. Malcolm sees the way his eyes flash in surprise—he assumed it's towards the fact that Malcolm was being truthful about reading the book.
"Er… the… the cloak. The youngest was really smart to ask for an invisibility cloak," Regulus scratches his head, smiling at him.
"Really? Me too! It's really fascinating really. The book only said that the cloak was passed on, so if the story were real, then the cloak is someone's family heirloom. Brilliant, isn't it?" Malcolm grinned, knowing that the cloak was in the clutches of his mischievous brother.
“I never thought of that… What family do you think the brothers are from?” This time, Regulus was leaning forward and caressing Nefeli’s fur.
Malcolm shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “The Peverells, maybe.”
“That ancient necromancer family? Hasn’t that bloodline died out?”
“Don’t know…”
They continue to talk about the most random things that they could think of. From the fact that the two wanted to be seekers, to the unusual friendship that their elder brothers forged, to what subjects the other liked. Sometimes, Malcolm would see melancholy when Regulus talks about Sirius (and he doesn’t know how Regulus sees that melancholy reflected in dark eyes whenever the name James comes out of his lips). The connection between them felt unconventional but they were comfortable. The darkness of their magic lingered in the air, as if trying to get a feel out of the other.
Soon, the train stops and the two are forced to get changed into their robes.
Malcolm is then faced with the conundrum of coaxing his dear Nefeli into her carrier. The black cat hissed and writhed and it took both Malcolm and Regulus for her to calm down and settle in the crate. Malcolm had even placed her favourite toy rat in the carrier, as well as lengthy vows of getting her some tuna and salmon later on.
“She better be cared for…” He grumbled, fixing his black tie before glancing at Regulus, who also looked concerned for the cat.
“Is it wise to leave her here?”
Nefeli meowed after Regulus spoke.
Malcolm stares at his cat and then decides… his cat was so much smarter than other people, “Nah! Feli will survive. She helped me get my hand out of a jar once, so I’m sure she’ll survive.”
Regulus then stared at him, and Malcolm promptly ignored the absolute bewilderment in those silver eyes.
Malcolm’s eyes shone when he saw Hagrid, herding anxious first years into the boats under the night sky. Malcolm almost tries to grab at Regulus, but quickly decides that he shouldn’t do that. Once again, he is bitter at how easy it is to understand Regulus’ cautious nature.
Instead, he steps into the boat first and offers his hand to Regulus.
And Regulus?
Malcolm is absolutely ecstatic when Regulus accepts his hand once more, “Let’s be friends.” It is not a request, not a wish. Malcolm Potter has claimed Regulus Black as his friend and no one was there to stop him.
Malcolm’s memories of the sorting are muddled. He hears familiar names but pays no mind to them. That is, until the name Regulus Black is called and his attention snaps in place. The boy that stood beside him was trembling, looking around for any kind of support—then silver meets dark grey. Malcolm takes his hand into his own and squeezes, a small smile on his face.
“Go on… you’ll do great.” Malcolm whispered, “I’ll be your friend no matter what house you’re in.”
And he watches as Regulus hesitantly trudges towards the stool. McGonagall places the hat atop his head and it falls over his eyes. Malcolm chuckles, remembering how that happened to him as well.
It takes the sorting hat two minutes to yell: “Slytherin” and the students in green are cheering madly as another Black is sorted into their house. He grins right at Regulus, who is surprised that his reaction was actually positive. Again, he really needs to clarify to that boy that he wanted to be his friend.
Malcolm, as observant as usual, takes notice of another silver eyed boy looking distraught. But this boy is in red and not green. This boy is not being praised by an older girl with curly black hair and another girl with a particularly dark shade of blonde hair. No, this boy sits beside his brother and is being comforted by two others.
Malcolm pays little mind to others—until his eyes meet with green ones.
There you are! His eyes sparkle, waving at the girl who looks fairly confused as to why she’s being waved at by a stranger.
But once again, Malcolm’s attention waders and soon, his name is being called.
He doesn’t strut (he tries not to strut) to the stool. He flashes McGonagall an admiring smile before the hat is set on his head.
‘The master of death… how…peculiar…’ The hat says, its voice echoing in his mind. Malcolm winces, frozen as his hands clench on his lap.
Slytherin, slytherin please… something about being a gryffindor again bothered him. It bothered him and as he glances at the bright eyed lions, he knows that they don’t expect Malcolm.
‘So much doubt, so much resentment that you do not recognize…’
Resentment? Malcolm doesn’t resent anyone at the moment. What was the hat talking about?
‘No matter. You are not the same as the person who you were once before. So much more brave, so much more chivalrous, much more… something… better be—’
No, no, no, no!
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Malcolm feels fear and anxiety swallow him.
SEPTEMBER 2, 1972
— “I met Lily today. She was really nice to me and accompanied me to the Great Hall. She didn't compare me to James like the others. She was just… really nice.
We're gonna be friends. Yeah… we're gonna be friends. I wonder what sweets she likes”
— Excerpt from Malcolm's journal, an entry he wrote during charms class.
He was right.
His dorm mates swarmed him like mindless puppies, asking about his magnificent older brother who they had heard from others was fairly popular for a second year. Naturally charismatic, smart, funny, friendly, sun-like James! It felt wrong to form a dislike towards his brother because of the reaction of his dorm mates. As he slept, he tried to tell himself it's just his dorm mate. Just his roommates. No one else.
And yet he was wrong.
The next day, Malcolm found himself surrounded by people who liked James .
He hated them. Despised them and wanted to hex every single person who called him little James . The nerve! He wasn't James! Are these people blind? Sure, he and his brother were practically blind with the cursed eye sight that their parents were slowly fixing, but these people had perfectly good eyes. Why do they keep mistaking him for James? Little James ? It was like you looked like your father all over again.
"Bloody wankers… I'm not James. How many times do I have to tell them that?" Malcolm grumbles, immediately separating from his year mates and running off to the Great Hall by himself. Unfortunately for him, he bumps into someone along the way and begins to apologise for his clumsiness. That is, until his dark grey hues are met with forest green.
Malcolm froze, staring at the pretty girl in front of him and brightens immediately.
"Sorry again!" He tells her, sincerely apologetic and offering his hand to help her stand. "I'm Malcolm."
The girl stares for a second before returning his smile and taking his hand, "Lily Evans at your service."
"Ah, the girl James won't shut up about."
Lily grins bitterly at him, "Really?"
"Yeah… it's really gross," Malcolm shrugs and he hears Lily laugh. It's soft and bell-like. Malcolm decides that Lily has a really pretty laugh.
"Why are you alone? First years usually stick together."
Malcolm frowned, avoiding eye contact with her and clasping his hands behind his back. "They're idiots," he says and hears her gasp, "They keep comparing me to my brother. Some of the older students even call me Little James . It's insulting."
He didn't particularly expect for his own feelings to be hurt to this extent. Even in his previous life, people liked him for something he was not. Harry was liked for being the boy-who-lived and Malcolm was liked for being James' brother. It was a horrid experience that he didn't wish to go through, unfortunately, he had to suffer from that all over again.
"That's awful! Even back in my hometown, the kids never compared me to my sister…" Lily murmured and Malcolm winced at the mention of Petunia. "Don't worry. I won't do that to you," she promised.
Malcolm doubts it really. People who promise such things often fail to keep to that promise. He remembers Marlene bowing to never comparing the brothers to one another and yet he's heard her compare him to James in numerous ways. It was… it was sickening to an extent.
"Would you like me to accompany you to the Great Hall? I wouldn't want you to get lost."
Aw! She's really nice, he thinks and immediately accepts her offer. That'll show James— James… oh no. The crashing realisation fell upon him like an avalanche. If he arrived with Lily Evans, more comparisons would be made. He could practically hear it: The little Potter's got a crush on Evans! Just like his big brother.
On one hand, people would compare him to James, even more. On the other hand, he gets to spend time with Lily…
Lily it is.
They chatted throughout the walk and the two had many things in common. First of all, was their rocky relationship with their elder siblings. Whilst Lily had an envious and bitter sister, Malcolm was sick of the constant comparisons that people made between him and James, as if they were the same person. As if Malcolm was just some carbon copy of James.
Still, the walk seemed longer than he thought. By the time they arrived at the Great Hall, Malcolm had been far too immersed in a discussion regarding charms. He had taken notice when Lily practically guided him to a seat close to hers. He blinked, surprised that he was already sitting and turned as red as his robes. Lily giggled, patting his head with green eyes filled with amusement. It's… it's warm and nice, and Malcolm's magic reaches for hers. He feels himself melt, absolutely ecstatic to feel it.
Soon enough, the Great Hall is filled with students, some of the younger Gryffindors whispering, grinning, and pointing at Malcolm who sits beside Lily. He shrinks in his seat, trying to seem as invisible as possible. Thankfully, Lily was fierce and glared at everyone who had rudely pointed at him like some circus animal. She had even yelled at another second year who called him, Mini-James. Malcolm thinks that Gryffindor might as well start a cult about James. And lo and behold, his brother enters with his ragtag crew.
The marauders, Malcolm remembers the name. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. A tightly knit group of four troublemakers that almost the majority of Gryffindor adore. Malcolm doesn't understand why, considering the fact that they were troublemakers .
"James! Look, it's baby brother with Evans!" He hears someone yell, he's pretty sure it was Sirius.
Malcolm dares to look at his brother, who looks exceedingly surprised to see him with Lily. He meekly waves as James, slack-jawed, waves back at him.
A hand slapped his shoulder and Malcolm jolted, snapping his head towards a familiar blonde. "Lookie here! Baby Potter's made friends without Lily." Marlene grinned, turning towards Lily who looked almost murderous. "Just like—"
"Marls, sit down." Lily demands, on her feet as she crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at her.
Malcolm doesn't understand why she's already so protective of him. Perhaps it's because they were the younger siblings but that didn't particularly made sense. Malcolm simply lowers his head and picks at his food as Marlene slowly sits somewhere close to them. Lily is back on her seat, eating her food as if nothing was wrong.
"Why did you…"
Lily stops, turning to him with an assuring smile. "Being compared sucks, right? My parents used to do it with me and Tuny, that's what I call my older sister, Petunia." She begins to explain, "Sometimes I ended up crying because of that. She called me a… erm… a freak. The other girls would believe her and stay away from me."
Malcolm remembers, immediately he feels the sick feeling of nostalgia. He remembers Dudley doing the exact same.
"Really… don't worry, I won't be like them." She promised again, "Let me introduce myself again. I'm Lily Marie Evans. I like charms and skating—either on ice or dry ground, I like skating."
Malcolm blinks, finding her rather peculiar. "Hi, I'm Malcolm Charlus Potter. DADA is going to be my favourite and I like to fly. Nice to meet you, Lily Marie Evans who likes charms and skating." He grinned, unable to contain his glee
Lily laughed loudly at his words, grinning back at him and the two high-fived. Yeah… Malcolm was going to make Lily his friend.
But his eyes trail towards the Slytherin table and he is once again met with the prettiest pair of silvery eyes he's ever seen. He smiles, waving at Regulus who still looks surprised to see him so friendly. Regulus, to his joy, waved back, although very meekly.
It didn't take long for James to ambush him.
"What did you and Evans talk about?" His elder brother asked, eager and excited to hear what Malcolm would say. Malcolm sighs, knowing that James must have thought that Malcolm was complimenting James to Lily.
"Nothing much. I bumped into her when coming to the great Hall and she offered to accompany me. We're friends now!" He declared, smug and triumphant as he saw James pout.
" Mal! C'mon, help me win Evans over! Please… for your big brother," James begs, pouting and clinging to Malcolm.
"Lily says you're really annoying and that she hates it when you bother her for no reason."
"But—"
"Didn't mum say that we should respect other people's boundaries?"
James is immediately reminded of the numerous lessons and lectures their mother had given him. Constantly telling them to respect others and not to invade their personal space. If they like someone, they should be patient and allow themselves to befriend that person and try to get them to like them back. Unfortunately for James, it seems he's forgotten such lessons due to his infatuation with Lily.
"Oh… right… oh no! Don't tell mum!"
"You keep talking about Lily, I'm pretty sure she already knows."
James groans, frowning, "I messed up, didn't I?"
"You're being too aggressive with your approach. Too obvious," Malcolm told him, although he didn't have much intention of helping his brother with his crush. Still, he wanted to remind his brother of the manners their mother had drilled into them at a young age. "Be nice, don't force her to like you back. Be her friend first."
James grinned, hugging his brother, "Brilliant! Brilliant baby brother of mine. I love you sooooo much!" James kisses his cheek, loudly.
Malcolm was immediately disgusted and pushed his brother away. Yuck, he wiped his cheek with his sleeve, glaring at James who was far too enthusiastic and affectionate. Malcolm doesn't know how he survived the living embodiment of the sun for eleven years.
"Love you, Mal!" James declares again.
"You're gross Jamie." Malcolm rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out before running away from his brother who was about to smother him with even more affection.
Nope, not today Fate.
SEPTEMBER 3, 1972
— “Aunt Dorea is a genius and no one can deny that. Mum is also amazing and I love them both.
I have absolutely no idea why James asks advice from Dad and uncle Charlus. Mum and Aunt are so much better.”
— Excerpt from Malcolm's journal after he analyses the advice he's received from his aunt and mother with his uncle and father.
Malcolm hums softly as he eagerly awaits a letter. He had rushed to the owlery in the afternoon yesterday and had sent three letters. To his mother, his father, and the last was to both his aunt and uncle. The letter to his mother was him assuring her that he was adapting well to life in Hogwarts, but also hinting that he was uncomfortable with people thinking he was just another James.
The second letter, to his father, had been numerous questions about potions and transfiguration. Again, he told his father that the constant staring and comparisons, as well as the reasons they were approaching him, had made him exceedingly uncomfortable. He wasn't James, did he have to stick that on his forehead?
The third letter to his aunt and uncle were… different. First of all, he told them that he was okay, but he then turned to address Charlus. He asked questions on how he was able to befriend his aunt Dorea, who was a Black and was sorted into Slytherin. Next, he asked his aunt Dorea what Regulus liked. He couldn't be more obvious with those two things.
To his absolute joy, a familiar owl flew into the Great Hall carrying three letters. Him and James shared a look and the owl landed just in front of Malcolm. It had always preferred him, considering Malcolm had fed it multiple times.
"Hey there, Peridot," Malcolm cooed and accepted the letters from the owl. Peridot initially belongs to his Aunt Dorea, who spoiled the damn bird as much as she could. It quite literally never had to hunt of itself.
"Thank you," he grinned, reading the names on the three letters. The Potter seal was visible with it's red was sealing the paper. He saw the golden calligraphy of James' name on one of the letters and his on two. "Jamie, mum and dad sent you a letter!" He said, handing it to his brother who looked rather skeptical about the two in his hand.
"Why'd you get two?"
"I wrote to Aunt and Uncle as well, they replied," he shrugged, going back to his seat and reading the letters.
The first was a shared letter between his mother and father. They sent their well wishes, along with their usual words of wisdom and some advice to not get in too much trouble. His parents knew their sons well enough to know that getting in trouble was inevitable. It was a Potter thing, really. His father had also shoved some parchment filled with some notes and pointers regarding potions, such as what was wrong in the standard book he would be studying.
Well, his parents also told him not to bother with people who couldn't distinguish them.
Next was the letter from his aunt and uncle.
The letter read:
To my dearest nephew,
I am absolutely delighted to know that you've befriended Regulus. He's a wonderful child, sweet and patient. You're uncle was laughing hard when you sent him that letter, asking him how he befriended me. Nevertheless, your uncle has promised to write you a set of instructions on how to befriend a Black. Rather absurd but I suppose you'd need it. Us Blacks are fairly difficult to woo into any kind of relationship.
And regarding the likes and dislikes of our Reggie… from the times I've met the boy, I learned that he enjoys to read. He is also quite fond of animals, unfortunately Walburga is too dimwitted to allow her son to have a pet. I assume that Nefeli and your own fondness of books can coax him into a friendship. Do be be gentle and kind, I expect for you to understand his situation with how he looks.
I am also proud of you. Regardless of the fact that he is a Slytherin and you are a Gryffindor, you still wish to befriend him. 5hank you my dear, and I hope that your friendship will thrive.
Love, dear aunt Dorea.
Malcolm grinned, "We're gonna be best friends."