A Marauder Named James
By Jessiqua
I do not own any of the Harry Potter world, that belongs to the incredible JK Rowling. The Banner was made by me. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it - and please do comment! If there are any similar stories I apologise. This story is based on my own thoughts about James. Meet Prongs: Chapter One
27 March, 1960 Mr. and Mrs. Potter were proud to announce the safe arrival of their son, named James Potter. They were only now starting a family, at 40, but they were only ready now. They held him in their arms, Mrs. Potter red and sweaty from the labour, and Mr. Potter red eyed from tears of joy. They smiled at the cameras getting their photo taken.
Little James squirmed in his mothers arms, and started crying. Mrs. Potter, having read many books and been to many birthing classes, knew what this cry was. He was hungry! She gave him a feed, and burped him and then rocked him to sleep. Mr. Potter took him from her and held him for hours. He was so proud to have a son, another Gryffindor like him he hoped. Although if he was in Slytherin like his mother, that would be okay. He looked up and saw Mrs. Potter was sleeping, so he put James in his crib and sat back down. The nurses had given him a pillow and blanket, apologising they didn't have a spare bed, to sleep with. It was uncomfortable, but he did not care. He had his wife and his son.
28 March, 1960
Mid-afternoon, when James was one day old, the proud parents were discharged and they were driven home in a Wizard Cab. They settled the sleeping baby in his nursery and watched him. He was such a beautiful baby, with dark eyes and black hair which, despite them smoothing it over was very messy. Already he had them wrapped around his little finger. Mr. and Mrs. Potter vowed to cherish their son and give him the best life they could. They would bring him up in a wizarding family, where he would be free to be himself, and they would be kind to all of his friends. They would buy him things when he needed them, and buy things for him even when he didn't. Little James Potter slept, being watched by his loving parents.
27 March, 1971
There was a light knocking at James' bedroom door. Today was his eleventh birthday! He knew what that meant. Apart from the piles of presents his parents always gave him, and the day full of his favourite foods, he was going to get his Hogwarts letter. There was not a strand of doubt that he wouldn't get the letter. Once when he was 5 he might have had a brief thought, but that was before he had accidentally started a food fight on his sixth birthday. He didn't even touch the food, but it was thrown by him. His parents were too happy to be angry - their son had shown his first sign of magic.
He groaned as he woke up and stretched. Sitting up in bed, he put his slippers and dressing gown on and opened the door. The breath was knocked out of him as his parents embraced him in such a tight sandwich, kissing him on his cheeks and forehead.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMES!!!" They yelled, slipping a party hat onto the middle of his messy black hair. It was getting long now, he could almost reach it with his tongue.
"Thanks," he said. "Has it come yet?" he asked.
They shrugged, but the look on their faces told him it was here. His face lit up and he ran out his bedroom and down the stairs, taking 4 at once. There, on the table in his usual spot was an envelope, addressed to Mr. James Potter. He didn't even look at anything else, but ripped it open. His acceptance letter into Hogwarts. He screamed, and jumped up and down. The cat screeched as he jumped on her tail accidentally, and he bent down to offer her a treat. "Sorry Tootsie," he said scratching her behind her ears. She started purring and he knew he had been forgiven.
His parents came in to the room then, both slightly greying. They told him to sit down, and put plates of food on the table for them to dig into. He scoffed down 4 eggs on toast, 8 rashers of bacon, 3 glasses of pumpkin juice and a mug of hot tea. His mother and father started giving him his presents, and after about an hour of unwrapping them he came to the last one. As soon as he saw the packaging he knew what it was. "OH YOU GOT IT!!" he yelled happily, ripping open the paper. It was a broomstick - the best one out! A Nimbus 71. He ran outside, his parents at his heels, and mounted it, kicked off and flew up into the sky.