James Potter and the White Horse

James Potter and the White Horse

Chapter 1: Dawn

A young boy sat alone on a tall black rock, surrounded by ocean. He gazed intently at the slowly brightening horizon, staying completely still except for the slight motion of his black hair as the wind blew through it. The gentle movement of the water around him reflected random patterns of light from the red sunrise onto his face. The only sound was the soft splashing of the water against the lone rock and the occasional flap of the boy´s long black cloak when the wind blew a little stronger.

He had been sitting there, his knees hugged to his chest, for hours. The stars, once clear and bright, were slowly fading as the morning sunlight crowded them out. The boy watched them disappear, focusing on a single star until it faded so much that it became indistinguishable from the sky around it, then choosing another. As the last star vanished from the boy´s sight, something finally stirred on the horizon. At first, it was just a small dark fleck, only visible as a tiny shadow in the now burning sky. The point of darkness gradually grew large enough that the boy did not have to strain his eyes to make it out; the shadow was clearly flying towards him.

He rose, a long branch, which had previously been concealed by his cloak, steadying him on the rock. As he stood, the sun finally appeared over the horizon, further brightening the scene. The intensity forced the boy to turn away for a moment. He extended his free hand to cover the rising sun so he could find the dark shape in the sky. Squinting against the glare of the sun on the water, he could just make out large wings beating infrequently as they glided swiftly toward him.

Soon James could see brown feathers, great black eyes, and a squarish tail; it was a large barn owl. Just when it was close enough that all its features were clearly visible to the boy, the owl began to dive towards him, screeching loudly. The large bird was still several yards above him when its wings lowered and it seemed almost to pause in midair. At that moment, it released something small and flat from its talons. It then pivoted quickly in the air and glided back in the direction from which it had come.

In a flash, the boy mounted the branch he had been holding and took off into the air himself. The many twigs bound tightly to the rear of the branch quivered slightly in the wind. He deftly caught the falling object before it had gone so much as a few feet. The boy pivoted quickly, turning westward, away from the sunrise. He held up the item where he could see it and smiled broadly. It was an envelope of ancient-looking, yellowed parchment sealed with red wax. On the front was written in beautiful, vivid green manuscript that glinted in the bright sunlight:

Mr. James Potter

Black Rock off the Coast

Azkaban Island

He tucked the envelope securely in the folds of his cloak and pressed forward with ever-greater speed. Not far ahead of him, a lone island jutted up from the ocean. Sheer cliffs dropped dramatically from great heights along the entire coastline. The cliff faces were as beautiful as they were impressive. Countless layers of stone were visible in them, each a distinct colour. Vibrant veins of red and orange rock cut through the thicker layers of brown and grey and black. In a few places, natural walls of rock extended from the island, unwilling to crumble to ages of erosion. These created great pools of swirling ocean water which crashed, often quite violently, on the island´s sides. Away from the island itself stood several natural towers of stone. The black rock where the boy had been sitting was the furthest of these from the island.

As if the island weren´t impressive enough for its natural features, it was crowned with walls and towers made by men. They were so skilfully fashioned that they seemed the almost inevitable extensions of the island´s steep contours. The stone and brick of the fortifications were unmistakably worn, both by time and by the scars of ancient battles. Despite the wear, it was still a solid and commanding fortress. As imposing as it was, it was also majestic, brightly lit by the morning sun and contrasting sharply with the dark blue morning sky behind it. The simple motion of a few flags on some of the higher towers flapping in the breeze seemed to give life to the otherwise unmoving scene.

This fortress was clearly the goal of the young broom rider. He soared swiftly and steeply towards it. His hair blew wildly in every direction as the ocean air raced through it. As he came to the fortress walls, he zoomed between the battlements, with only inches between him and brick on either side. Then, dropping suddenly into the courtyard, he deftly zigzagged through a maze of hedges in the garden and under a stream of water issuing from the mouth of a cement dolphin in a large fountain. When he finally came to the entryway of the keep at the centre of the island´s fortifications, he once again turned upward, scaling the side of one of the lesser turrets. When he reached its peak, he grabbed hold of the flagpole and used it to spin himself towards the centre of the building. He soon reached the tallest tower, which he began to circle as he ascended. Near the top he began shouting at the top of his lungs, "It came! It came!"

After a few moments, a tower window opened, revealing a very tired-looking man. Despite his apparent fatigue, he stood tall and erect, his broad shoulders firm beneath dark blue robes. A great mane of long, black hair hung just past his shoulders; a few strands of greying hair betrayed his age. His face was pleasant and kind, but noticeably creased in places. He took a deep breath of the chill morning air and exhaled slowly.

When the boy came around for his next pass, he stopped his broom in midair directly in front of the window, happily shouting, "Dad, it finally came!"

"All right then, James," his father replied, stifling a yawn and a chuckle, "Very good. Come in and we´ll have a look."

When his father turned away, James saw his chance. He smiled and turned his broom towards the open window. Before he could make any real progress, though, his father pulled a wand from the folds of his robe and spoke the word "Fecharus." Immediately, the windows closed securely in front of James and he bumped the broom soundly into them. His father turned, smiled at him through the glass, and pointed downward.

James sighed and then seemed to fall headlong off some unseen platform, spiralling as he descended. Down the edge of the tower he sped, hugging the stone wall. Abruptly, he turned horizontal, now hanging beneath his broomstick, his head arched back so he could see where he was going. When he reached the outer edge of the keep, he headed steeply downward again. Only moments from the ground, the boy froze, suspended upside-down in the air. He let his feet fall backwards over his head and landed securely on the steps leading up to the entryway of the keep. Catching his broom as it fell from above him, James began climbing the stairs. The great iron portcullis and wooden doors opened for him as he approached and closed behind him when he had entered the front hall of the fortress.

No matter how many times he entered the front hall, James felt a sense of awe. The fortress had been in his family for generations and hadn´t been used for military purposes in ages. Although he knew it had once figured importantly in several wars and other conflicts, James could barely imagine the corridors of this building filled with soldiers and echoing with the horrible sounds of death and war. It was such a comfortable and hospitable place to him. Grand torches kept the halls and chambers warm and bright. The walls were decorated with art collected by the Potters over centuries.

The front hall was the one exception. It was kept well lit, but was rarely at a comfortable temperature. It was also sparsely decorated; only a single piece of ornamentation was visible in the room. At the top of the staircase that led from the front hall into the rest of the fortress hung an enormous and ancient tapestry. It depicted the famous battle known as Als Chæm´s Bane, in which Pharsicos, an ancestor of James (although he could never remember how many generations back), held off a weeklong siege by hordes of goblins without reinforcements to his small group of men. That victory was a turning point in the conflict and effectively ended the rebellion. Pharsicos was rewarded for his success with the deed to the fortress he had defended so bravely. The fortress soon came to be known by the same name as the battle. Over the generations it became simply Azkaban.

As James climbed the steps towards the tapestry, it suddenly began to unravel. In just a few seconds, the entire image had unwoven itself. Just as quickly, the tapestry was whole again. However, this time the image was quite different; instead of the vast battle scene was the coat of arms of Pharsicos. The shield in the centre of the arms was red, split by a black chevron. A tower and an open-palmed hand, both gold, were displayed above the chevron. Below it was an ascending phoenix with wings outstretched, also golden, clutching three broken white arrows in its talons. A black helmet with a golden chaplet rested on the shield. A lion on his hind legs to the right of the shield and a hippocampus on the left seemed to support the shield. A long white ribbon below everything else bore the family motto, "Even from the ashes, we will rise again."

Tapestries that spontaneously came undone were hardly strange to James. Nearly all of the artwork in the fortress was magically bestowed with life. There were sculptures that changed shape when they thought no one was looking, suits of armour that wandered the halls at night, rugs that would occasionally get up and beat the dust out of themselves, and paintings whose subjects moved and even talked. Confined as the paintings were to the walls of the fortress, they all knew each other´s stories by heart. Conversation among them was therefore largely confined to whatever titbits and rumours they could glean about the unpainted world. Anything new was a worthwhile opportunity for fresh gossip and spread throughout the fortress in a flash.

As such, word of James´ letter reached nearly every inhabitant of the Potter art collection within minutes of his brief conversation with his father. As James passed by, portraits of various great-great-uncles and third-cousins-four-times-removed shouted congratulations to him.

"Fine job, boy," said a pleasant painting of a blonde woman with a parasol.

"Stay out of mischief," instructed an imposing portrait of a tall man with a long black beard.

A nearby portrait of a minstrel seemed offended. "He wouldn´t be our James if he did that, now would he?" he retorted. "Don´t get me wrong, James," the minstrel continued, turning to the boy, "You´re a bright boy and should mind your studies, but there´s no reason not to have fun as well. You only get this opportunity once, and not everyone even gets that much." James promised he´d do his best and continued onward.

The many well-wishers significantly slowed his progress, but he quite naturally enjoyed the attention. Although the people in the paintings were mere echoes of their true-life counterparts, James was pleased that these shadows of his ancestry were pleased with him. Accordingly, he didn´t mind the delay, at least no too much. One particularly long-winded painting was a few minutes into a detailed account of when he had received a letter of his own when James was forced to interrupt him and continue to the great room of the fortress.

The commotion in the great room was audible even when James was still at the other end of a large corridor from it. At first it was just a faint murmur, but as he approached, it grew steadily loader and more distinct. He was soon able to make out the occasional burst of laughter; then he could distinguish a man shouting, "Hello!" and a woman shrieking, "I can´t believe it!" When he reached the door, he could clearly hear part of a conversation just on the other side of the large double doors. "Well, of course we all pretty much knew," commented a male voice, "still, it´s quite an honour, and a good excuse to get together and celebrate."

"Quite," responded a voice James immediately recognized as belonging to his grandfather. "And I have the distinct feeling that the guest of honour is at the point of arriving." Just as he said this, James had caught hold of the great brass door handle. For all its size and apparent weight, the young boy was able to swing the large wooden door open without any difficulty.

As he opened the door, the first person he saw was his grandfather, who was looking directly at the door, arms outstretched, evidently expecting James´ entry. "Well, don´t just stand there," he said, "come give your old grandfather a hug." James´ grandfather had been a very tall and powerfully built man in his youth. Age had decreased his physical stature somewhat, but when James went to hug him, the old man was able to lift the young boy off the ground with apparent ease. He set James down and smiled broadly, the smile further creasing his very elongated face.

In leaning to embrace the boy the old man´s hat had fallen off, revealing that he was almost completely bald; only a small amount of short white hair covered the sides of his head. James bent down to pick up the small green hat, which was made of some sort of reptilian hide that felt a good deal softer and smoother than it looked. Without a head to support its shape, it had folded and collapsed flat on the ground, reminding James a little of the parchment hats his grandfather sometimes made for him. But this hat wasn´t pointy like the paper ones; the seam where it had folded was round. As James parted the rim of the hat and placed it on his own head, he realized that it also reminded him of the flat pita bread he often used for sandwiches. The boy´s unkempt hair compensated somewhat for the small size of his head, helping the hat maintain its shape. Despite this, the creased fold in the hat made a more pronounced ridge on the boy´s smaller head than it had on his grandfather´s.

The old man smiled and put his arm around James, who grinned widely as he looked up at his grandfather and then around the room at the half dozen or so visitors there. Before he could say hello to any of them, he felt something moving on top of his head. At first he thought it was his grandfather tousling his hair, but suddenly remembered he was wearing a hat. The movement continued and he peered upward, only to see the head of a medium-sized lizard looking back at him over his forehead. Both the boy and the lizard seemed very alarmed at what they saw. James immediately jumped, jostling the lizard from its perch in his hair and onto the floor. It quickly righted itself and began running frantically across the floor.

It hadn´t gotten far when James´ grandfather flicked his wand and said "Accio." The lizard´s legs moved more frantically trying to get away as it lifted off the ground and began floating backwards. Even as it floated through the air, the transfiguration began to loose its hold and the lizard began to change shape. Its legs retracted and eventually disappeared completely. The animal´s spine became more and more pronounced as it turned again into the hat´s creased seam. By the time it got back to its owner the hat had completely returned to its original state. James´ grandfather replaced it on his own head and winked at James. Truth told, the hat did seem less out of place with his elegant green robes than it had with James´ plain black cloak.

"You two are exactly the same," laughed a nearby young man, "completely incorrigible." James turned to see who had spoken. It was his uncle Pell, who had been talking with his grandfather just before James had come into the room.

Both James and his grandfather stared at him with exaggerated mock indignation and replied simultaneously, "I am nothing like him!" The three of them laughed and continued together to the centre of the large room.

The rectangular room had once been the war room of the fortress where leaders would gather to plan and strategize. It was situated in the most fortified part of the keep, being also the room of last retreat, and as such it had no windows. Despite the lack of natural light, it had been converted in to a very pleasant living area. Four enormous brass chandeliers floated in mid-air, lighting even the lofty heights of the room. Brass supports attached to the walls of the room held shallow stone bowls that were perpetually filled with white flames. The most impressive light in the room, however, came from the large fireplace, situated in the centre of the long north wall. Three large sofas and two overstuffed chairs surrounded the giant brown bear rug at the foot of the fireplace. The eclectic variety of furniture around the periphery of the room spoke of its many uses. In one corner stood a grand piano; opposite it on the south wall was an oak cabinet with a handsome silver tea service. A large, patterned tapestry covered most of the wall between them. An impressive wooden chess table, perhaps in homage to the room´s original use, stood in front of the tapestry with comfortable chairs on either side. Several paintings, an antique globe that rotated on an invisible axis, and other decorations completed the room´s atmosphere of comfortable elegance. Even with all of this, there was plenty of room for the large assembly of people who had gathered there.

James scanned the familiar faces of the gathering, smiling and waving when they looked his way. His uncle Caliborne and aunt Fann were with their twins Bridget and Brian talking with his aunt Ganieda, Pell´s wife. The twins were three years older than James and looked like they would rather talk with him than be stuck with the adults. James just grinned and shrugged when he caught their eyes. As he continued to explore the crowd of faces, he saw his three-year-old sister Katherine sitting on a large couch playing with their maternal grandfather, Blaise Ambrose. His wife, James´ grandmother Guenevere, was at the far corner of the room sipping tea and chatting with his three great-aunts, Joyce, Evelyn and Edith Potter.

All of the three sisters were older than James´ grandfather, Alfred (whom they still called their "kid brother"), but they had all aged very gracefully. James had been told that they had been stunningly beautiful in their youth, besides being full of vitality and energy. They had always been the life of any party and had more suitors than they could count. It came as a great surprise to nearly everyone who knew them when, one by one, they each married widowers who already had children of their own. What caused even more astonishment was the fact that all their husbands were "Muggles"; in other words, they possessed no shred of magical talent. Despite the gossip that inevitably followed, Joyce, Evelyn, and Edith each in turn left--some said abandoned--the magical world to marry Muggle husbands, raise Muggle families, and lead Muggle lives. Many years had since passed and now that their husbands had passed away and their stepchildren had moved out, they had been able to reintegrate into magical society. They were once again as social as ever...at least until someone mentioned how odd it was that they should all have followed the same unexpected path. Anyone so foolish had to deal with a very sudden, very awkward silence. They were very serious about keeping their two worlds separate. No one in the magic world had ever met their Muggle families, who were in turn completely in the dark about the existence of magic, particularly the fact that their dearly loved matriarchs were in fact witches.

James for his part simply couldn´t fathom what it would be like to grow up completely ignorant of magic. He took it for granted not only that it existed, but also that every adult in the room was a trained witch or wizard. Although he hadn´t yet been trained to create his own magic yet, James had been using enchanted objects (like his flying broom) his whole life. Occasionally he did make things happen on his own, but only when he lost control of his emotions. Once, when he was younger and still deathly afraid of water, he had turned his bathwater into mud before his mother could get him in it. Another time, he fell off his broom and would have smashed himself on a large rock if it hadn´t suddenly turned into a cushion. Even these occurrences were fairly unremarkable in the only world James had ever known. He was occasionally startled by something magical, but that was pretty rare (unless, of course, Grandfather Potter was around). It didn´t surprise him now that his father, Henry, appeared out of thin air behind one of the sofas, that his sister was now chasing a chocolate frog across the room, or that his mother, Matilda, was carrying on a conversation with a head in the fireplace.

The head in the intense flames of the fire belonged to James´ aunt Diane, who lived in London. A magical connection between the fireplace here and Diane´s own fireplace allowed the two women to converse face to face without either leaving home. "We´ll be over as soon as Lee gets back," James overheard Diane´s head say. "He was called away seven hours ago on another...emergency." Her expression became noticeably more strained as she spoke.

James´ mother gasped. "Goodness, Diane. Again?" Diane just sighed and nodded.

There was a brief pause as Diane bit her lip nervously. "He´s never been gone this long on a middle of the night call before," she whispered. Her head then pivoted sharply, appearing to look at the back of the fireplace. "I think I just heard him pop in," she said turning back towards James´ mother. "We´ll be there in a flash."

"Take your time," she replied. "The letter´s not going anywhere. We´re still waiting on Keaton and Laura, so..." Matilda paused as a realization struck her. "Oh dear! They´ve got to use the fireplace to get here with Gavin and I´ve been tying it up all this time. See you soon, Diane,"

"Bye," she said quickly before disappearing with a faint, but audible, pop.

Only a few seconds later, the fire suddenly turned bright green. James´ mother barely had time to move out of the way before an eight-year-old boy emerged from the fireplace. "Hello Gavin," she said cheerfully to him as she took hold of his hand and led him out of the way.

"Our fireplace spat me back out six times before I got here," said the young boy. "Knocked Dad over the first time."

"I´m sorry Gavin," she apologized, although she thought he was more likely bragging than complaining. As she spoke, a rather short man popped out of the fireplace. As much to him as to the boy, she explained, "I was talking with Aunt Diane and forgot I was blocking the fireplace."

The man just smiled as he stepped away from the fire and said, "Figured as much. I was going to just pop in here and find out when we could make it through the floo, but Gavin wouldn´t hear of it. Insisted on trying again and again until it worked."

A moment later Gavin´s mother came through the fireplace, completing the young family. James father approached her with his arms outstretched. "Laura," he said to her, "It´s wonderful to see you."

As they embraced, she replied facetiously, "I was beginning to think my own big brother was trying to keep me out of his home."

"And risk the wrath of the best Beater in British Quidditch?" he retorted with mock shock. "Not likely!"

"Henry always has had a way of flattering his way out of anything," she said, turning to James´ mother, who then winked at Henry.

"Don´t I know it?" she laughed.

Just then, two rather loud pops announced the arrival of Lee and Diane Potter. Diane still looked rather worried and Lee looked positively beat, like someone who has survived a disaster and is just regaining consciousness. Nevertheless, they both wore smiles, evidently determined not to let whatever was affecting them disturb the happy occasion.

"Well, it looks as though we´re all here," said James´ father loudly enough to overcome the noise of the continuing conversations. When they died down, he continued, "We´re always pleased to have family in our home, but most especially today. Thank you all for making the effort to be here with us for this most exciting event in young James´ life. You all know I could easily keep talking for hours, particularly when it comes to my son, but I will forbear." Several people chuckled quietly and nodded. Henry turned to his son, "James, this is your day. We´re all here for you."

Everyone clapped as they moved to sit down or stand near the sofas. James was left to sit in a chair that his father had brought in front of the fireplace. He was surrounded by his extended family. This was a moment he had been waiting for as long as he could remember, his first rite of passage into young adulthood. There were many important people in his extended family and it was no small task to get them all together. James knew he had to savour this experience because it was a once in a lifetime occasion.

When he had carefully scanned the room, trying to fix every detail in his memory, he reached inside his cloak to pull out his letter...but it wasn´t there. He stood and began frantically trying to find it elsewhere in the folds of his cloak, but was unsuccessful. Just as he seemed about ready to panic completely, his grandfather Potter, who had been walking towards him, arrived at his side. He reached his hand behind the boy´s left ear and when he brought it back, he was holding the letter. James snatched it from him and tried his best to look angry. He failed miserably.

"Forgive me, James," said his grandfather, chuckling "I couldn´t help myself. Didn´t even use magic; just sleight of hand."

James then turned the back of the envelope towards himself and, sliding his finger under the flap, broke the crimson wax seal. He opened the envelope and pulled out two folded sheets of parchment. After unfolding them to reveal script written with the same iridescent green ink that addressed the envelope, he read the text aloud:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

------------

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confe. Of Wizards)

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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Arabella Figg,

-Deputy Headmistress

Everyone applauded vigorously; several of them (particularly Brian) cheered loudly for James´ acceptance. James, although grateful, was somewhat uncomfortable with all of the attention. Trying to direct it away from himself, he turned to Grandfather Potter. "Isn´t Albus Dumbledore my dad´s godfather? I know I´ve heard you mention his name before."

"Yes, James," he replied, "Albus is a close friend of mine from ages ago. He´s a great man who will teach you a great deal if you will pay close attention. His lessons are often...subtle. Don´t think that you´ll get special treatment from him just because you´re my grandson, though. He will let you earn or lose his respect on your own merits." He paused briefly, then said, "But that´s enough of that. You´ll meet him soon enough yourself. On to your supplies, James."

James smiled broadly, knowing what was coming next for him. He pulled out the second sheet of parchment and began reading:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

------------

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for daily wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils´ clothes should carry nametags.

COURSE BOOKS

First-year students will require:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Aldalbert Waffling

A Beginner´s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 set brass scales

Students may bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

Due to safety concerns, first-year students are discouraged from bringing their own broom.

"Good ol´ unchanging Hogwarts," said James uncle, Pell Mercer. "They haven´t hardly changed anything since I got my own letter." He stood and made his way eagerly to James, pulling a large package seemingly out of nowhere. "Let me be the first to offer a token of my family´s congratulations. We´re proud of you, James." He handed the neatly wrapped gift to James, who eagerly began unwrapping it. Pell just stood there, looking almost more enthusiastic about the whole event than even James. Since he was the only magical member of his family and had only recently married James´ aunt, this was the first time he had seen a relative accepted at Hogwarts. He was clearly enjoying the experience.

Once James got past the rather overzealous wrapping job, he was able to open the box. Inside, he found some folded black cloth, which was hardly surprising since Pell was a magical clothing merchant. What did surprise James was how much of it there was. He had been given everything he needed for his uniform: robes, hat and cloak. They were of superb quality too. "Best stuff I got, James," said his uncle proudly, "hand-tailored just for you. Guaranteed to fit perfectly and never wrinkle or tear. The fabric´s light as a feather too, but don´t worry, it´ll keep you right comfortable no matter the weather. Go ahead; try it on. See if that´s not the best robe you´ve ever worn." He began to help James into one of the robes, then stopped in mid motion, "What´s gotten into me, acting like a regular salesman here, when it´s not called for. You don´t have to try it on; it´s a gift for goodness sake. The point is, it´s the best we have to offer and we´re just as pleased as can be to do it."

"No, I want to," said James, pulling the robe on the rest of the way. "It´s wonderful, and it makes it all feel more real somehow when I put it on. Thank you--and you too Ganieda."

James´ cousin Brian came up next. "Complements of the Caliborne and Fann Ambrose Family," he said in an exaggeratedly formal voice, handing two packages to James. "Bridget and I helped Dad make them," he said with pride.

"Don´t worry," called Caliborne, who was a metalworker by trade, "I didn´t let `em help too much. Everything should be perfectly safe." The twins tried their best to look annoyed at their father. James was too busy opening the first box to notice. He already had a sword made by his uncle that he had learned to fence with and was looking forward to his gift. When he looked in the box, he had to hide a little disappointment. It held what appeared to be a plain pewter cauldron.

"We got Dad to add a hidden compartment," whispered Brian, "completely impervious to heat. Bridget and I took the liberty of stocking it with Filibusters." He winked conspiratorially at James, whose smile widened.

"Thanks," he replied and began opening the smaller package. It contained a short silver scabbard with attached to a black leather belt. The scabbard had been beautifully crafted in the shape of an icicle. He pulled it out carefully.

"I´ll explain this one," said Caliborne, "Your wand will be your most precious and valuable tool as a wizard, James. This scabbard, besides having great beauty thanks to your talented aunt, has important function given it by me. It will hold your wand securely, whatever its size, where you can readily retrieve it. And it will only release the wand into your hand."

James was impressed. "This is great," he said. "Thank you."

Gavin wasted no time in making his way to James. He was carrying a small package under his left arm and holding up what was clearly a covered birdcage. James smiled in excited anticipation. Gavin´s small arms were obviously taxed by his burden, but he was doing his best not to show it. James´ father sent a small end table to him with a flip of his wand. Gavin set the cage down on it and pulled off the covering. "Wegotchyanowl!" he said excitedly.

The bird in the cage was a magnificent medium-sized owl. Its feathers were a randomly scattered assortment of shades of brown ranging from nearly black to nearly white. Downy whitish feathers swept away from its bright yellow eyes and thin, black beak in a smooth heart shape, which was in turn bordered by longer and browner feathers that completed its facial disk. The owl was quite round, with no visible ear tufts disrupting the smooth, spherical contour of its head. It seemed to lean forward on its perch, as if ready to take off at any moment.

"It´s an Asio flammeus," said Gavin´s father Keaton. "Otherwise known as the evening owl. Trained him myself, I did. Bit of a troublemaker, this one, but I never saw a bird that took more joy in flight. Takes his job seriously too. Knew at once that he ought to be yours. Take good care of him, James, and I know he´ll never let you down."

"He´s perfect," said James, entranced. As far as he was concerned, there could have been no better pet than this owl. The fact that it could carry his post for him was only an added bonus. He reached for the latch of the cage so he could reach in and pet the bird.

"Best wait `til you´ve opened the other package," interrupted Keaton. James pulled away from the cage and the owl cocked his head slightly and hooted softly. James thought he sounded disappointed. Gavin then presented the other package to James, who quickly opened it. It held a pair of brown leather gloves. "Those´ll be useful when you handle him," continued James´ uncle. "He´s got a mighty strong grip." Keaton had begun subconsciously massaging his own wrist.

"They also happen to come in handy when you´re playing Quidditch," added Aunt Laura. "No glove has a better grip."

James put the gloves on and again reached for the latch. He was a little disappointed not to be able to pet the owl´s soft feathers with his bare hand, but decided to follow his uncle´s advice. No sooner had his hand begun entering the cage than the owl lunged forward and bit his hand. "Ow!" shouted James as he jerked his hand back. It hadn´t really hurt, but had startled him somewhat. He soon realized that had been the owl´s intention. As soon as James´ hand was out of the way, it flew out of the cage and up to the ceiling. It flew with amazing precision in the close quarters of the room. A band of dark feathers was clearly visible near the edges of its lightly coloured underwings. Its soft hooting sounded something like a distant steam engine. A single loop around the room seemed to satisfy its need to be admired. It returned to James, landing gracefully on his left wrist.

"See?" said Keaton, "He knows who his friend is now. Go on, James. He´ll never hurt you...on purpose." With that encouragement, James pulled his right glove off and stroked the owls head gently. The owl hooted appreciatively.

"All right," said James to the owl. "It´s time for you to go back in your cage." He began to move his hand back towards its door. Before he made it there, the owl took off again, this time into the cage. As if to show it could be civil, it sat quietly on its perch and appeared to nod respectfully to James. The boy smiled at his new owl as he closed the latch.

"Well," said James´ uncle Lee, "It appears our gifts are next. I´m afraid that as practical as I am, they won´t excite you nearly as much as those you have already received...at least not yet." He began walking with an armful of packages towards James. "There is an often underappreciated power in even common magical substances, many of which have several uses." James knew that a good part of Lee´s renown as a magical physician was his knowledge of the magical properties of countless substances and his ability to use them creatively in unusual situations. "The best way to learn this," continued Lee, "is through personal experience and experiment." He handed the packages to James, who excitedly opened them to find a mortal and pestle, brass scales, a set of crystal phials, and a wide and generous supply of various magical powders, extracts, herbs, animal innards, etc. Some were quite common, others rather hard to come by.

"Wow," said James once he had finished looking through everything. "This is like my own private apothecary. Any ideas on where to start?"

"A wise question," replied Lee. "Start simple and go from there. You might begin with beetle eyes, for example. If you run out, they´re pretty easy to replace." Lee returned to his wife´s side and James thanked them both.

James´ great-aunts decided they would go next. They had all chipped in to get him an elegant silver pocket watch. The front face opened to show the time and date and included a chronograph that could be used to time things. What made this watch somewhat unusual was that the rear face opened as well. It was a celestial timepiece that showed the phase of the moon and a small, but minutely detailed depiction of the constellations currently in the sky. "Even if clouds, or walls, or the sun´s own brightness shield the stars from your eyes," said Evelyn, "you will always know which are above you." James expressed his gratitude to them for the coolest watch he had ever seen.

Grandmother Guen, who had been sitting next to the three sisters, was the next to stand. Her tall, slender frame was draped in silvery robes, almost the colour of the moon. She was a powerful and renowned enchantress who, even in her advancing age, maintained an air of nobility and authority that quite frankly intimidated young James. She had received important (and often very confidential) commissions from magical individuals, governments, and other enterprises worldwide. However, none of this had made her very wealthy. She chose her tasks based on their necessity and challenge, refusing monetary payment of any kind. Instead, anyone who accepted her assistance owed her a favour comparable to her service in time and effort. Experience had long since proved to her that even a poor man´s help is often more valuable than any amount of gold. Early on, there had been some who had tried to take advantage of this arrangement, but they came to regret it. Now, witches and wizards of all walks of life were willingly in her debt.

James was fascinated by the prospect of perhaps receiving an enchanted gift from his grandmother. He had of course received many presents from his grandmother over the years, but had always been deemed to young for anything that had genuinely required the breadth of her talent and power. Something about the gleam in her intense eyes at that moment told James he was about to receive something exceptional. "Your grandfather and I had a difficult time deciding what to get for you, James," she said, walking toward him with a small package in her hands. "This is a time unlike any other in a young wizard´s life. You are becoming a man. We felt you ought to have something extraordinary, a gift that would have great value to you, and would reflect a portion of each of us. Ultimately, we wanted to feel a part of your magical development in a personal and memorable way."

Now James´ mind was racing; what gift could possibly reflect both Grandmother Guen the enchantress and her husband, Grandfather Blaise the writer? As long as James could remember, his grandfather had never given him anything but books. Not that he minded, Blaise had a gift for picking exactly those books that would captivate James´ interest and imagination. He had anticipated receiving several required textbooks from his grandfather and perhaps an intriguing additional book or two. Now, given this introduction, it was clear he was about to receive something much more remarkable.

The aging woman walked slowly, but deliberately. When she finally reached James, she paused for just a moment, statue-like, just long enough to let the weight of her presence impress on the boy the importance of the event. Then, she smiled down on him and produced a box. James accepted the package from his grandmother and carefully unwrapped the tissue paper from it. Pulling the box open, he saw it contained a thin stack of parchment and a black quill, held together by a ribbon. He pulled it out so everyone could see, then looked to his grandmother for further explanation. "This is much more than simple parchment, James," she continued, "as I´m sure you have already guessed. It´s called Vacuous Parchment. You see, certain magical books and scrolls require enchanted parchment that not only records the words that are written on it, but also responds to written instructions. Mass-produced books like that horrible Monster Book of Monsters, which has instructions to behave like a beast, require only crude parchment for crude effects. This is relatively easy to prepare and has very limited usefulness beyond entertainment. I suggest that you obtain and practice with some of that material because the parchment we are giving you is incalculably more rare and potent. You now have ten sheets of it as well as your grandfather´s favourite magic quill. Use them carefully and wisely."

James was at a loss for words; his mind now raced with the new range of possibilities that were available to him. He set the gift gingerly back in its box as though handling it might cause it to crumble. He managed a "Thanks" and a smile towards his grandparents when Guen had again sat down.

The reverent silence in the room was abruptly broken when Grandfather Alfred stood. "Well, James," he began, "I knew I couldn´t possibly compete with the other gifts you would receive, so I decided not to bring one." Alfred sat down and waited for James´ expression to go from sceptical amusement to confused disbelief and finally to a bad attempt at hiding disappointment before continuing. "However, I see that you still don´t have a wand, which is hardly surprising since none of us could very well pick one out for you. It occurs to me that I have to go to London tomorrow in any event. I don´t suppose you would like to come with me to visit my friend, Mr. Ollivander, in his shop on Diagon Alley?" James excitedly indicated that he would. "Now, I´m afraid I can´t return until evening, so you´d be stuck with an odd old man all day. Still interested?"

"Are you joking?" laughed James. "You´ll really take me to London for the whole day?"

"Who said anything about restricting ourselves to London? I just said we wouldn´t be back here until evening." James smile widened almost to the point of causing pain. Alfred turned to his son Henry, "You´d better give James your gift and cheer him up before he gets any more depressed."

"I was just thinking the same thing," said Henry who stood and began walking to the door. "I´ll be right back with it." He opened the door and walked quickly away without closing it behind him.

"James," said his mother, "you know we´re very proud of you and excited to see you growing up into a fine young man. At the same time, it´s difficult for parents to see their child leave their care. At Hogwarts, you will often be supervised by adults, but will be more on your own than you have ever been. Your father and I believe you are up to the responsibility and have decided to give you a family heirloom as a token of our trust."

At that moment, Henry swirled into view immediately in front of James. The boy was used to people popping into existence, but this entrance was quite different. He soon realized that his father hadn´t magically Apparated into the room. He had entered the room imperceptibly, hidden by an invisibility cloak, only becoming visible when he took it off. He now extended the cloak to James. "This cloak has been in the Potter family for generations," he said. "Now it belongs to you."

James took the now visible cloak from his father´s hand. It was a beautiful silvery colour that reminded him of what it looked like when the full moon shone through his bedroom window, sparkling off the dust particles floating in the air. He thought that if someone could weave those rays into fabric, it would look and feel like this. Standing, he wrapped the cloak around himself and disappeared completely. The cloak draped quite loosely around him. It would clearly take some time for him to really grow into it.

He carefully took the invisibility cloak off and set it carefully on the chair behind him. He gave his father and mother each a big hug. He was completely speechless. No Christmas, birthday, or other day he could remember could compare with this day. And not just because he had gotten amazing gifts (although they were also beyond belief), but just standing there surrounded by people who clearly cared so much for him, everything seemed right with the world. James wanted to freeze that moment and never let anything change. He couldn´t ever imagine being happier.