His Masterpiece

Chapter 2

Some text taken from The Magnificient Ambersons by Booth Tarkington (published 1918).

*****

The Potters, like so many old Pureblood families, had married themselves almost to death.

The Gaunts had all but disappeared, retreating into some hidden, backwoods cottage where, if rumours were to be believed, they married sisters to brothers and fathers to daughters. The Malfoys had somehow managed to limp along into the 20th century and now all hope fell upon just a single heir, a boy named Lucius, the last of that once great family. Walburga Black was the envy of her social circle for having produced not one, but two living sons. Probably got them with Dark magic, the Blacks' less than charitable neighbors would sometimes gossip, their eyes green with jealousy.

The Potters were all expected to go extinct within a decade or two. An entire family had been whittled down to just two brothers, Fleamont and Charlus. Charlus had managed a son with his wife Dorea, but the boy, Benjamin, was born with a cephalic disorder and was not expected to survive to adulthood. Euphemia, Fleamont's wife, had five miscarriages. By the time James Potter came along, the family was thought of as the walking dead and spoke about in hushed whispers as if they were already laid out in their caskets.

Euphemia Potter was forty-seven when she gave birth to her son James. Her living, beautiful, healthy son. Her miracle baby. There could never be a more perfect child in her eyes than him. He must be something special, he must have a greater purpose; after all the pain and suffering she went through, to finally have the one thing she always wanted, it was a fairytale come true. James was a blessing, her gift from God. All of this to say, the child was spoiled rotten.

By the age of nine, James Potter had become a princely terror, tearing through public places - both Wizarding and Muggle - on his broom, bringing fines down upon his father's head and a backlog of work for the Obliviators. During one such occasion, while his parents were visiting Bathilda Bagshot in Godric's Hollow, having turned their son loose out on the neighborhood while they chatted over tea, a little boy sitting on old Diana Knighton's gatepost spotted James flying by and shouted out, "Hey, Four-Eyes! Close your mouth before you swallow a fly!"

James, despite being only nine-years-old, responded crudely, "Bet your sister swallows!"

The boy, not exactly knowing what it meant but not liking it at all, yelled back, "I dare you to get down off that broom!"

James jumped to the ground and the other boy did as well, though he descended inside the gate. "I dare you to come outside that garden," said James.

"Yeah? Well, I dare you to come in here! I dare you-"

James immediately vaulted the fence. Four minutes later, Diana Knighton, hearing strange noises, looked out from her window and saw her grandson looking well-tenderized underneath young Master Potter's flying fists. A quick Incarcerous, followed up with a Wingardium Leviosa, soon brought James Potter back to his parents.

"Stop! Do you know who I am?" James fiercely demanded as he struggled to escape the ropes he had been wrapped up in. He floated about half a metre behind Mrs Knighton.

"Yes, I do know!" The angered Mrs Knighton retorted. "I know who you are and you're a disgrace to your mother! She ought to be ashamed of herself to allow-"

"You shut up about my mother being ashamed of herself!"

James Potter was deposited at his parents' feet, his broom thrust into their hands, and the elderly couple received a dressing down by Mrs Knighton, who had gone to school with both of them and hadn't thought much of them then either. As soon as the old lady left, Euphemia released her son from his bindings and said, in a sorrowful voice, "Jamie, is it true? Did you beat Mrs Knighton's grandson?"