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"𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍, 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖!" The boy in question shot up. His eyes snapping open at the sound of his mother's bellowing voice. The world around him stayed blurry whilst reaching out for his much-needed glasses. Placing his circular frames on, the golden rays pouring through the window now blinded his vision. After a few seconds, his eyes began adjusting, the brightness now toning down to a tolerable level.
Sitting upon his bed, his feet made contact with the floor beneath. Despite it still being summer, the coolness of the boards spread brief chills up his body. Casting his eyes around his messy room, everything seemed ordinary, as it always had been this past summer.
James Potter is, in a way, still an average teenage wizard. Born and raised a true Gryffindor, which he got from his parents, he unconditionally loves his time at Hogwarts. Being apart of the Marauders – in which he was, without a doubt, the group's mother – there was never a dull moment with the four boys around. Hogwarts never got a break from the boys endless list of pranks.
Apart from pranking, and his infatuation with a certain redhead, another obvious passion was his love for quidditch. James' fascination with the sport, and the aspiration to play as a professional, began from a young age, unquestionably being influenced by his parents. It all started when he accompanied his parents to witness the Chudley Cannons play the Appleby Arrows, which likewise happened to be his first game. From that day on, when Chudley conquered Appleby, his whole family's favourite team has permanently been the bright orange.
Playing a Chaser for Gryffindor, ever since his second year, students and teachers all collectively agree that James is one of, if not, the best player the Gryffindor team has had. But what everyone is oblivious to is soon, that title was bound to change.
Remembering his mother's threatening call, he instantly began his descent from his room to the kitchen.
"Why good morning to my favourite parents-"
"We're you're only parents James." His parents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, jokingly announced back to their son.
James' parents, Monty and Mia for short, are both Hogwarts alumni; just like Cassiopeia's parents, they too met at school. However, instead of their love blossoming from hatred - similar to that of Shakespeare's Montague-Capulet odium - James' parents were close friends from the start. Over the years, their friendship unfolded, blooming into the warm, delicate feeling of love. Fitting together like two matching puzzle pieces, their love was the depth of the sky's blue, and it took only their schooling years to finally notice its hue. But unlike most things in the magical world, love is surprisingly not magic, yet it is still the feeling of liberty of being fixed within cupid's spell.
"Son, could you floo quickly down to Diagon Alley so you can pick up your new broom from Quality Quidditch Supplies?" Monty questioned.
James was currently in possession of the Nimbus 1500, but yesterday, since the announcement of the company's new Nimbus 1700, Monty knew his son would want it. Though regardless if he plays with the 1500 or 1700, the young boy is still a remarkable opponent, one feared by many of the houses.
"Sure thing, dad!" James shouted as he made his way up to get changed. Seeing as he is only collecting one item, and won't be there for long, he didn't bother to make himself look all too presentable. Putting on some loose fit dark jeans and an old shirt; he made his way back down to the fireplace.
Standing in front of their fireplace he placed a pinch of the powder and watching in awe as it erupted into green flames. Entering the harmless fire, he spoke 'Diagon Alley' and watched as the world around him turned into his desired destination.
Making his way through the never-ending crowds of people, he looks for the store, hoping to get a glimpse of it amongst people's heads. Darting his eyes across the streets, he finally spots the sign high above the building. As his sight travels down the front of the store, he spots a large crowd huddled out the entrance; their voices all shouting and overlapping each other. It was practically impossible to decipher what the commotion was about; so, James made his way nearer.
Standing behind the large crowd of people, he began pushing his way towards the front, muttering a few sorry's and excuse me's. Finally, reaching a spot where he could see what was occurring, he was left speechless. Standing there, amidst a crowd of entirely random witches and wizards, was THE daughter of Leonardo and Evelina Dalton; Cassiopeia. Rubbing his eyes, James thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But opening them again, he knew it was no mistake; she was there.
The only girl James ever had ever a crush on, apart from his dear lily-flower, was standing only a few metres away from him; breathing the same air as him. This is the closest he had ever been to her. James felt the colour of his skin turn pale as if he'd been painting with whitewash. His mouth hung slightly ajar; all the commotion surrounding him disappeared for a split second as he stood in a fixed trance, staring into the overwhelmed girl.
Noticing her numerous attempts to escape the unexpected ambush of fans, a feeling overwhelmed him. An indescribable feeling. It was similar to pity. But instead, he put himself in her position. Remembering the quote, his friend, Remus John Lupin, told him once that: you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view. So that's exactly what James did. He looked like a fool doing so, as he was standing there gazing at the girl, studying her every move, word and facial expression. All as if she was his opponent, he was trying to figure out her next move. But within this process, he instead came to the discovery of his next move.
"SHE IS NOT EVEN THAT GOOD OF A PLAYER EVERYONE. STOP FUSSING OVER HER." From a bystander's perspective, it would seem as if the boy has a death wish. Shouting such a bold statement while being surrounded by people who seemed to worship her. It was a stupid idea on the façade. But James knew what he was doing, hopefully.
As if a switch went off in every person's head, all their attention now turned towards that young boy. Voices overlapped each other again as people began shouting. James, however, remained composed, as instead, he began looking in the cracks between the crowds of people. Hoping to get a glimpse of the girl.
That's when he saw her; she now stood facing the backs of everyone, closing her eyes and allowing relief to wash over her complexion. Re-opening them, the two made eye contact. James mouthed to the girl 'go' and tilted his head to the side, indicating it was free to move without the crowd realising. Darting her eyes to the side, she too noticed the coast was clear for her to make her escape. 'Thank you so much' she mouthed back to the stranger and discretely rushing out of the situation before anyone noticed. When James began looking back to mouth, 'You're welcome' he saw she was already gone. But, what James didn't know, was that the unexpected is to happen in less than 48 hours.
❃❃❃
The second James stepped foot back in his house; he didn't think twice before he hollered for his parents, saying he had big news. The three now all sit comfortably in the living room, his parents awaiting James' news.
"You guys know Leonardo and Evelina Dalton? Wait, of course, you do; sorry, that's a stupid question. But basically you'll never believe who I just met at Diagon Alley. Their daughter; THE Cassiopeia Dalton." James blurted out, not wanting to hold it any longer as he felt any second; he was to burst out of excitement.
"YOU WHAT!" His parents exclaimed in unison.
"YES, it was so crazy, oh you guys should have been there," he proceeded to tell the two a recount of the event and once finishing, they stared at the son in awe.
"Imagine if she ends up going to Hogwarts this year with you. Maybe that's why she was at Diagon Alley?"
"Wait, so you're telling us you met a Dalton dressed like that? Oh James, no wonder she ran away before you could say anything else." Fremont teased, watching his sons face to grow crimson out of embarrassment.
"Well, regardless of how I look, it would definitely make it a year to remember if she went." James muttered.
And, he was right, it was bound to be a year he would never forget.
