Up To No Good

Chapter One

James Potter woke up early to the sound of his alarm clock. It was a chilly day in March, and the sun was just beginning to peek behind the gray clouds of morning. He could hear owls hoot occasionally in the distance, and each one had him on edge.

He was a skinny boy, with dark hair that was never neat or flat. His eyes were a striking hazel and were surrounded by round glasses. James' family was different from most--and not in the way most people would imagine.

James' parents were wizards.

And so would he, he knew. Today, on his birthday, his Hogwarts letter would arrive. He was certain of it. He opened his window, searching for some sign of a flapping wing, but there was no sign yet. He felt the icy air that heralded the coming of spring ruffle his hair.

James rushed down the stairs. His mother Euphemia's wand lay on the table. It reminded him of a time when he was very small and he had gotten hold of it, and managed to make a snail explode before she found him and had snatched it back.

A clattering coming from the room beside him told him that his father was up early again--or late. The door opened, and a disheveled-looking Fleamont Potter appeared in the doorway. He was a tall, square-jawed man with hazel eyes like James. He wore blue, stained robes, which James knew meant he had either slept in them or had not slept at all. Normally, he kept himself well-groomed, except for the days when he spent long hours in his workshop tinkering around. James often wondered what he did in there, but he was never allowed to look. ("Dangerous potions") he was always told. Of course, that didn't stop him from taking a few peeks when he was alone, but he still never knew for sure what his father was up to.

Fleamont paused before he noticed his son. He grinned. "Happy birthday, my boy," he said, throwing his arms around James. "Eleven."

"Eleven," James repeated. He knew his father could guess his thoughts; he was never up early unless he was expecting something.

"What have you been doing in there?" James inquired, craning his neck in an effort to see behind Fleamont's large frame.

"As a matter of fact, I'm glad you asked." Fleamont turned around, seized a small bottle behind him, and held it up to his son's view. "I found my original prototype for my Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. It might even work on you," he added, ruffling James' perpetually messy hair before setting it down again and shutting the workshop door.

Fleamont reached for his wand and waved it. A pan emerged from one of the cupboards and began to heat up on the stove of its own accord. It wasn't long before James' mother appeared into the staircase. She didn't question Fleamont's appearance, as it was a common occurrence.

"Morning," she greeted them. "Happy birthday, James. No owl yet?"

James shook his head.

"It'll turn up. I don't have any doubt that you have magical blood in your veins."

James' mind again returned to the snail explosion. Not wanting to remind her, he smiled and turned his eyes to the stove, where eggs were now beginning to scramble on their own.

In a matter of hours, a particularly large tawny owl appeared on the windowsill with a letter clamped in its beak. Euphemia Potter took it and handed it to James, smiling.

James' fingertips tingled with anticipation. There was no mistaking the yellowed parchment and elegant dark green ink. On the back was the red wax seal, the Hogwarts crest, with the lion, snake, badger, and eagle. He didn't stop to read the address, instead tearing it open to read the letter inside.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRYHeadmaster: Albus Dumbledore(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)