The Brave
One day the sun will consume the Earth, it's inevitable. It may not happen today, or in fifty-years, but eventually our great, great, great, grandchildren will be consumed by a massive star. People look up at the sky in awe, wondering how the universe was so perfectly created so that everyone could survive. Of course, not everyone does. It's funny what strange things people think of when they're about to die. Most think of their family, their friends, of all the people they're leaving behind. They say your life flashes before your eyes, and maybe that's what happened to James Potter on that stormy Halloween night in 1981. He didn't think of his family, not of Harry or Lily in the room upstairs, nor of his friends, Sirius and Remus, who would not find out about his fate until the next morning, instead he thought of an extremely sunny afternoon in late July, 1971.
"Euphemia! Stop that, you'll smother him!" Fleamont Potter scolded, as he looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet to see his wife, Euphemia, aggressively scrubbing their son's face with her apron.
"Hold on, I've almost got it." She said, She brought the corner of the apron to her mouth as she held James' head firmly in place, she dabbed it against her tongue and scrubbed furiously at his cheek again.
"Ew! Mum, that's disgusting." He exclaimed, pushing her away and going to take a seat next to his father on the table. He leaned over as he buttered his toast, trying to get a look at the paper, but Fleamont flicked the corner down, instantly blocking James' view. "I don't know where your apron has been." He reasoned, going back to irritating his mother, as it seemed his father wasn't budging.
"Well, I wouldn't have to clean your face with my 'disgusting' apron, which is clean, by the way, if you didn't come running into the kitchen, traipsing mud everywhere!" It was true, James had just come inside from his expedition in the woods. Euphemia had thought, since James was awake early which was a rare occasion, it was a good idea for James to work up his appetite by running around outside. She, of course, had not accounted for the fact that this was James and he would see this short trip to the woods as an adventure into the great beyond. For most of the journey he had remained relatively clean, it was when Euphemia had called him back inside for breakfast that he got truly muddy. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until she called and found himself running back to the house, and he may have fallen over. A lot.
"Sorry." He mumbled, feeling slightly bad as he saw the brown footprints that he had left behind. Euphemia tutted, pulling out her wand and waving it at the dirt, washing it away without speaking a word.
"Did you find anything in the woods, son?" Fleamont asked, placing his paper face down on the table so James couldn't see it, and taking a piece of toast for himself.
"Nah, I didn't get further than the river today."
"Oh, well, better luck next time."
"There won't be a next time if you keep showing up like you've just had a bath with a horde of hippos." Euphemia chipped in. She flicked her wand, sending three fully-stocked plates towards the table, one flew towards James and landed carefully in his place, the other went towards Fleamont, and the final one set itself down in the place opposite his and next to James.
"Blimey, Effie, are you trying to fatten us?" Fleamont commented, looking over the food in front of him. "If you're not careful, we'll end up looking like the Pettigrew's soon."
"Monty!" Euphemia exclaimed, astounded at what her husband had just said. James laughed, covering it up by accidentally choking on the piece of toast stuck in his throat. He quickly grabbed his water and drank it, trying to avoid the wrath of his mother. However, when he looked up, it was clear that Euphemia was also trying to conceal her giggling. Fleamont chuckled, smirking at his wife cheekily.
"Speaking of..." James started, clearing his throat. "I was wondering if I could go around to Peter's later?"
"Have you checked with his parents?" Fleamont asked.
"No, but I only want to collect him, so we can go and explore the woods together."
"What have I just said about you going in the woods?" Euphemia said.
"Come on, mum. It's not as fun if I'm on my own. Besides, where's the fun if I've still got clean fingernails?" He batted his eyelashes at her in an attempt to get her to give in, but she just shoved her hand into his face, pushing him away.
"You don't understand, Euphemia, the mud will wash away but the memories will last forever." Fleamont looked at his wife expectantly, as if challenging her to argue with his logic. For six agonisingly long seconds, James watched as his mum stared at his dad, clearly having a battle with herself, until she finally relented.
"Oh, alright, then." She said, James and Fleamont whooped in victory, giving each other a high-five. "But ask his parents permission first!" She argued over the cheering, pointing her finger at James.
"Thanks mum." He said, leaping out of his seat to hug her. She grunted, not expecting it as James came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck.
"You're welcome. Now eat your breakfast." She said, patting his arm. He went back to his seat and tucked into the egg on his plate, letting the yolk spill over onto his bacon. Euphemia and Fleamont watched him with nothing but love in their eyes, not knowing the fate that awaited their son in just ten years.
The rest of the breakfast carried on with much of the same things, Fleamont making witty comments, James trying to contain his laughter, and Euphemia glaring playfully at him, or scolding him for being rude. They were broken out of their usual routine when a tapping noise filled the room.
"That'll be the post." Euphemia said, moving out of her seat and going to the living room, where the noise was coming from. James and Fleamont continued to eat their breakfast, however after Euphemia didn't return Fleamont set his fork down and went to investigate.
"Effie? You alright? Have you died in there?" James stayed planted at the table, waiting for his parents to return, when they did they both had smirks plastered on their faces and Euphemia was hiding something behind her back.
"What? What is it?" Seeing his extremely confused face, Euphemia shifted ever so slightly so he could just see the corner of an envelope. His eyes widened in excitement as he hurriedly looked at the calendar in the corner of the room. 24th of July. Today was the day he got his Hogwarts letter. He looked back at his parents, a renewed sense of excitement on his face.
"What do you say?" Euphemia asked, teasing him.
"I'm sorry for traipsing mud all over the house."
"And?"
"And I promise that I won't come back from the woods covered in mud again."
"And?"
"And, I love you both very, very much. You're the best parents anyone could ever ask for."
"Hmm." Euphemia considered his words, before giggling at his face, scared that she wouldn't give him his letter. Finally, she brought her hands forwards, presenting him with his letter. He grabbed it from her hands and tore it open, letting the envelope fall to the floor. Fleamont and Euphemia looked eagerly over his shoulder, reading the letter with him.
'Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1st of September.'
"Yes!" James leapt from his seat, almost knocking his father down as he did, and began to dance around the kitchen. Fleamont and Euphemia chuckled before joining in, not caring about the muddy footprints that James was leaving on the floor again. James suddenly stopped dancing abruptly, knocking into his mother.
"What's up, honey?" She asked, breathless from all of the dancing.
"I need to talk to Peter, make sure he's got one as well." He explained, before rushing out of the room, with his muddy boots still on his feet, leaving mud patches in the previously pristine carpet.
"No, James, take your shoes off." Euphemia rushed to catch up with him, but he was already up the stairs and away when she finally got to the hallway. "JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!" She shouted, before waving her wand at the carpet returning it to its original state. She returned to the kitchen where her husband was standing in the middle of the mud-stained floor, clearly trying to contain his laughter. "You're a bad influence on him." She scolded, moving to clear the plates away. Fleamont cleared his throat, brushing off his laughter, however a smirk was still evident on his face as he cleaned up the floor.
…
"Peter, do you copy? Do you copy? Peter?" James spoke into the walkie talkie he was holding. After years of speaking through the floo network James and Peter had decided it was too much hassle to do that every time they needed to talk, well, James had said it was too much hassle, and Peter had merely agreed. So, they went to James' father, who, surprisingly, knew quite a lot about muggle things, and he had told them about an amazing invention called a walkie talkie. James and Peter were immediately invested in the idea, and set out to get some. "Peter, do you copy?"
"I copy, what's up?" Peter's crackled voice came from the speaker, making James jump with excitement.
"I got my Hogwarts letter!" He exclaimed excitedly. It was silent for a moment, before Peter replied.
"Wow. That's amazing." Despite the encouraging words James could hear the disappointed tone in his voice.
"Has your's not come yet?"
"No."
"Well, that's okay. Mine's only just arrived, I'm sure yours will be there soon."
"Yeah, maybe." Peter replied, sounding happier. James couldn't deny, there was a chance that Peter would never get a letter, the Pettigrew's were notorious for producing the most squibs of all of the pureblood families. Whereas James had actually used magic before, but only when his emotions overcame him completely, which was very rare, he had never heard of Peter doing anything even slightly magical in his life.
"Anyway, do you want to go out later and see if we can get further than the knotted tree?" James asked, trying to think of ways to keep Peter's mind off the chance of his letter never arriving. They often went on adventures together. Godric's Hollow was a mixed village, with both muggles and wizards, however Peter and James were the only magical children, except Peter's younger sister, Holly who was barely able to form a comprehensive sentence, so they were fast friends, mainly for lack of a better option. At first, James hadn't liked Peter and believed that he was a kind of person he would never be friends with, but over the years, they had grown closer.
"Yeah, sounds fun! I'll see you in an hour?"
"Yes, that's good. See you then. Over and out." James said, turning off his radio. He left his bedroom, moved across the hall to the bathroom where he peeled off his clothes, letting the dried mud peel off and fall to the floor, and stepped into the shower. He let the cool water rush over him, it was a relief from the scorching late summer sun that had previously been shining down on him, and let himself daydream of all of the years that were about to come.
James never asked his friends what it was like when they got their Hogwarts letters. He imagined that Peter's mother smothered him in kisses, simply relieved not to have turned out another squib. It was probably the only, and last, time that Sirius' parents were proud of him. He had no idea what it was like for Remus, he imagined that it would've been a little different for him. He wondered, as the pain filled his chest and he fell to the floor at the foot of the stairs, whether they felt as he did that day. Whether they knew that their lives had finally begun.