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James sniffled as he wrapped the wool blanket tight around himself. It felt scratchy against his skin and smelled faintly of pumpkin juice. He wondered if some other Gryffindor had spilled some on it in all the ruckus. When he’d stumbled into his dorm, newly Sorted, stuffed from the Feast and clutching his Transfigured Gryffindor robes and tie, the rest of the boys had already descended on their new living space in a raucous herd. It was only when a tired, cranky Prefect poked his head in and barked at them all to hush up, go to bed and do not leave the dorm under any circumstances ‘til morning that they finally settled.
He swallowed and clutched the blanket in his knuckle-white grip.
He’d been at Hogwarts less than six hours, been a Gryffindor less than five and he was already breaking the rules.
Uncle Ron would probably get a laugh out of it, he thought morosely. Father and Dad? Maybe...not so much. He tried to keep his footsteps light as he crept past the dozing portrait guarding the entrance. Down the stairs, past the painting of the centaurs playing polo...
This didn’t feel like the adventures he’d heard so much about. As he stared at the vast passageway stretched out before him, James Sirius Malfoy-Potter felt very, very small. Uncle Ron had so many stories... about all the times he, Dad and Aunt Mione would sneak out and he always made them sound so fun. James didn’t feel very adventurous right now; just overwhelmed and a little queasy.
Maybe he just wasn’t a very good Gryffindor.
The thought made his stomach twist. He tried very hard not to think about how disappointed Dad would be in him right now. But he just...he couldn’t help it.
He thought he was ready for Hogwarts. He’d been waiting for this his whole life. When he was little, it was all anyone talked about. He grew up on these amazing tales — visions of a wonderful, mysterious castle with secret passages, ghosts and moving staircases, a magical place where his parents had lived, learned and made friends and even found each other. He’d wanted to come here, to be here ever since he was old enough to understand what Hogwarts was. And right up until he stumbled on to the Hogwarts Express, he couldn’t wait to say goodbye to his waving, smiling parents and start his very own adventure.
But right now? Creeping through a dark corridor in the middle of the night, all he wanted was to go home. He missed Dad and his puttering about the kitchen. He missed Father and the scratching noises of his quill as he did the morning crossword. He missed Al and Scorpius too — even if they were small and annoying and had just discovered a new game of who could scream the loudest. He missed his bed and his room and his books and his small, cluttered life.
He didn’t...belong at Hogwarts. He knew that now. He’d felt it in the pit of his stomach as he walked down the Great Hall with a thousand eyes watching him. He felt it even when the Hat sorted him in Gryffindor. He knew he didn’t belong because in that one moment he had never been more frightened. Staring into that sea of a thousand cheering faces… he didn’t feel like he would ever be one of them. This place… it was too much. Everything was new and different. There were too many people and almost all of them were bigger than him. The castle was so huge, he figured it would take him all seven years just to learn how to make it from one end to the other. And then there were classes and points and passwords that changed every week and...
He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t. He would fail his classes or get laughed off the Quidditch Pitch or… or die in Herbology or something just as horrible and embarrassing. And then he would lose a thousand House Points and then he would get expelled ...
He needed to get out of here. He needed to leave. And he had a plan, he did.
He just needed to get to the Owlery.
Surely, if he wrote home and explained to his parents that he was sick with Dragonpox, they would come pick him up? They couldn’t make him stay here if he was sick, right?
Yes, he decided firmly. This would work. He just needed to get there and find an owl.
The only problem was he didn’t exactly remember where the Owlery was. For Merlin’s sake, it was his first day! It was dark and all the corridors looked the same! He bit back a groan of dismay and paused to take a look around. Was he supposed to go to the third or the seventh floor? Or maybe it was the...
“Now then! Who goes there?”
James nearly stumbled. He paled rapidly and ducked into the nearest alcove, his heart pounding in his chest. Oh Merlin, no. This was bad. He couldn’t get caught sneaking out — on his first night in the castle, no less! He would lose at least a hundred House points for this! All the Gryffindors would hate him.
Honestly, he would rather die in Herbology.
“I think it came from somewhere here, Sir Nicholas,” a voice spoke up.
James sunk deeper into the alcove and huddled in his blanket as the spectral forms of two ghosts floated over. He’d only seen them briefly at the Feast, and if it wasn’t for Aunt Mione’s copy of Hogwarts: A History, he probably wouldn’t have recognised them. But that was definitely the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly-Headless Nick. And the one with him was the Fat Friar.
Oh Merlin, he was done for. Maybe they wouldn’t notice him crouching in the dark?
“Ha! A miscreant out for a midnight stroll, eh?” Nearly-Headless Nick declared, bobbing in excitement and predictably wobbling his head off his shoulders. James grimaced and tried very hard not to look as the ghost righted himself. “We’ll soon put a stop to that, won’t we?”
“Now, now,” the Friar sighed, floating placidly alongside him. “No need to cause a stir, old friend. I’m sure it’s just the wind. Or some child’s familiar prowling about. The little ones aren’t even unpacked yet, you know how the first week is.”
Oh. Oh, good. James held his breath, praying they would move on soon. Another inch to the right and the Friar would surely spot him.
“I know what a Kneazle sounds like,” Nick huffed, sounding affronted. “I assure you, Friar, I may be dead but I’m no simpleton! There’s someone here, I’ll stake my application for the Headless Hunt on it!”
The Friar seemed less than impressed. “My word, not the fifty-seventh one, surely?” he muttered. But then he relented with a sigh. “Very well, be a good chap and check the corridor then. I’ll take a look in the...”
James sneezed. It came on so suddenly, he couldn’t even prepare to stifle it. His heart lurched and he cursed his luck. Of course. Of course, this would happen to him! There was no way he wouldn’t get caught now. The ghosts startled and turned in his general direction, floating mid-air as they peered into the darkness of the alcove.
“Ah,” the Friar remarked softly.
James whimpered. This would cost him a hundred points at least. In one night, he had ruined his entire First Year. Probably all seven.
“Well, Sir Nicholas,” The Friar declared in the tense silence. “It seems I was right. It was just a Kneazle after all.”
“What?” Nick sputtered. “But that was clearly...”
James stared, baffled as the Friar gave his friend a stern look. Nick trailed off, looking rather nonplussed himself. And then his expression turned to one of dawning comprehension.
“Oh? Oh. Yes, a Kneazle,” he nodded hastily, nearly displacing his head again. “Quite right, Friar. Clearly nothing worth bothering the Prefects with.”
Wait, what? James’s jaw dropped. He could hardly believe...were they really just going to let him get away with it?
“We should move along,” the Friar declared, cheerfully but firmly. “We wouldn’t want to linger in the hallways too long, now would we?” The portly ghost glanced into the alcove again. James could swear the Friar flashed him a small smile before proceeding to herd his companion off.
“Indeed,” Nick agreed. “Although,” he paused, took a furtive look around and cleared his throat meaningfully, “if any homesick children were to be found wandering the hallways after curfew, I, for one, would certainly chastise them greatly for breaking rules. If, that is to say, I was to encounter them. Which I have not.”
“Of course, Sir Nicholas,” the Friar agreed genially.
“And I would certainly not inform them about the fireplace next to the Great Hall which is always lit and operational for emergency Floo Calls.”
“I would imagine not. And you wouldn’t mention the jar of Floo Powder right behind the gargoyle statue either, would you?” the Friar added, nodding along. “That would be most irresponsible. Now perhaps we should head to the fifth floor? I do believe that’s Peeves playing dominoes with the suits of armour again.”
James stared, still a little disbelieving, as the ghosts obligingly floated up and away through the ceiling. He crept out of the alcove cautiously. Were they… telling the truth? Was there really a fireplace? What if… but no, the ghosts had no reason to lie to him. If they’d wanted to get him in trouble, all they had to do was get a Prefect.
It was worth the risk, he decided.
James crept through the corridor as quickly and quietly as he could, trying to recall all he could from the little he’d seen of the castle. At least the Great Hall was gigantic and not too hard to find. He made short work of heading down the Grand Staircase and...
There it was.
James gasped in relief and delight as he spotted the orange flickers of the fireplace. The gargoyle statue observed him with a stony, not entirely approving expression as he dug around behind it and retrieved the Floo Powder. He turned the jar in his hands, still considering. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to tell his parents he didn’t want to be here, in this wonderful magical school that every wizard and witch dreamed of attending? Would they be angry? Disappointed?
We love you so much, Dad had said at Kings Cross, pulling him into a hug. I know you’ll make us proud.
The memory brought a fresh ache to this chest, but he couldn't turn back after all this. It was now or never, he decided. With a quick breath to steel himself, he settled down in front of the fire and tossed a pinch of powder into the flames.
“Godric’s Hollow.”
It was only when the flames turned bright green and morphed into what he immediately recognised as Father’s study, that James considered his parents may not even be awake at this time of night. He needn’t have worried though because while blurry, that was definitely Father seated at his desk, scouring a Potions tome with an all too familiar expression of intense concentration.
Just seeing him and home again made something tighten in James’s throat.
“Father?”
Father looked up. His grey eyes went wide as saucers. His aghast expression might have been funny if James didn’t feel so utterly awful.
“James?”
The Potions tome dropped to the floor with a thud as Father hurried over quickly. He looked absolutely frantic, and James felt even worse somehow for worrying him so.
“What are you… how are you… what has happened?” Father took a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself. When he spoke again, he sounded forcibly calmer. “I mean, is everything alright?”
“I...”
He struggled for words but they wouldn’t come. Instead, his eyes were prickling and his throat felt too tight and heavy. James swiped his sleeve over his eyes angrily. This was so stupid! All this trouble and now he couldn’t even say what he needed to say!
“James.” Father pursed his lips, crouching as close to the fire as he could. “Son, I need you to talk to me, alright? Can you tell me where you are right now?”
“Hall,” James managed in a small, teary voice. “Near the gargoyle.”
He knew that wasn’t particularly helpful, but he didn’t care. Now that his father was here, the stress and confusion of the whole day were weighing him down like a ton of bricks. He didn’t want to talk it out or suck it up, he wanted his parents to come here and take him home.
“I see,” Father murmured. His eyes softened as he took in James’s teary, mournful expression. “I know you don’t want to talk a lot right now. But we need to, just a little. Can you answer some questions for me?”
James nodded and wiped his face with his sleeve. It was a testament to Father’s worry that he didn’t even wince.
“First of all, are you hurt? Are you injured in any way?”
He shook his head but the blanket pulled tighter around his shoulders.
“Well, that’s the most important thing,” Father said firmly. A faint smile played on his lips as he settled down, making himself comfortable. “As long as you’re alright, we can take care of everything else together.”
James shrugged and picked at the blanket. Somehow, he didn’t think they could make this better. But Father was talking to him, calmly and reassuringly, and that always helped. James did his best to focus on his questions.
“I gather you’re outside your common room after dark? And that this call isn’t exactly authorised by your Head of House?” He hunched his shoulders guiltily, but Father just looked grudgingly amused. “I’m going to guess you weren’t placed in Slytherin then.”
“Gryffindor,” James mumbled. “Is that okay?”
Father frowned. “Of course it’s okay,” he said finally, after a bemused span of silence. “James… is that why you’re calling, love? Did you think I’d be upset with you?” He looked so troubled by the thought that James nearly burst into tears on the spot. If only, if only that was the worst of it! How was he supposed to tell Father the truth? That it wouldn't matter if he were in Gryffindor or Slytherin or the others, he still wouldn’t belong at Hogwarts? It wasn’t the House that was wrong, it was him!
“Jamie,” Father spoke up softly when he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything. “You’re really starting to worry me.”
“I… I can’t...”
And something inside him cracked. He didn’t know if it was the stress of the whole day or seeing his Father’s worried face and knowing he was miles away or just the empty, empty space inside him that missed home so much, but whatever the reason, it was suddenly too much. He squeezed his eyes shut as the first of his pent up tears tracked their way down his face.
“James.” Father looked utterly stricken by this point. “I...can you please try for me? Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”
It came out in a rush of tumbling, stuttering words that he had absolutely no control over.
“I d-don’t like it here, F-father! Can I come home? Please?”
The deafening silence that followed only made him cry harder. Father must be so very disappointed in him.
“Oh, love.”
James finally dared to look up. Father didn’t look angry or disappointed or disgusted with him. Just...sad. His grey eyes were soft and gentle as he regarded James, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to climb through the fireplace right there and then.
“I imagine it was all a bit much for the first day,” he murmured.
James nodded and wiped his burning face again. Embarrassing though his breakdown was, at least someone was listening now. “I don’t want to be here. I want to come home.”
“I know you do.” Father hesitated a moment before speaking up again. “I think we’d better get Dad in for this talk, hm? Can you wait a moment while I fetch him? I’ll be gone for a minute at most.”
Honestly, a part of him just wanted to scream no and throw a tantrum like Al and Scorpius. If he could have clung to Father’s robes and made him stay here with him, he probably would have. Perhaps it was a good thing the fireplace wasn’t primed for travel; he’d embarrassed himself enough for one night. Besides, he did want to see Dad. Really bad. So James nodded grudgingly and settled back to wait as Father disappeared from his green-tinted view.
It was only a few moments later that he heard dual footsteps returning to the fireplace. Then Dad was crouching to peer at him, worried and confused and running an agitated hand through his messy, black hair.
“Jamie. What’s wrong? Are you...”
“Honestly, Harry. I just told you what’s wrong. Now stop crowding him and budge over.”
There was some grumbling as Dad rolled his eyes and shifted over to make room. James cracked a reluctant grin despite himself. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d missed the sounds of bickering and family. Everyone he loved was so far away...
“Oh, kiddo.” Dad tutted gently, his green eyes bright with concern. “Rough day, huh?” James mumbled in agreement and huddled further into the blanket. Dad smiled and tilted his head. “I heard you got Sorted into Gryffindor. That’s great, you know. We’re so proud of you.”
“Both of us,” Father added quickly. Dad grinned and squeezed his hand, and James made a face on pure instinct.
The mention of Gryffindor didn’t help either.
“It’s wrong,” he declared sullenly. “The Hat is wrong. I’m not supposed to be here.”
“In Gryffindor?” Dad asked carefully.
“Yeah,” James mumbled. “And… and at Hogwarts.”
There. He said it. It was out in the open now.
His parents exchanged looks. Father arched an eyebrow, Dad hummed thoughtfully. James tried very hard not to sigh in annoyance. The silent conversations… that was one thing he didn’t miss. Right now, he just wanted them to say something . Even if they were going to yell at him.
“I suppose I’ll ask the obvious question,” Father spoke up after a span of silence. “Why do you think you don’t belong in Gryffindor?”
James scoffed. “Because I’m scared. Aren’t Gryffindors supposed to be brave? Well, I’m not.”
“Of course you’re scared. James, you’re on your own for the first time in your life at a thousand-year-old institution with hundreds of your peers. It’s natural to be nervous, surely you didn’t expect to manage everything perfectly from day one? That —” Father sighed and shook his head, “— is an impossible standard to set for yourself.”
“Awful habit. I wonder where he gets it,” Dad muttered, giving Father a sly side-eye. James bit back a snicker at his answering glare.
“It might interest you to know,” Father went on smoothly, “that your Dad was a wreck when he came to Hogwarts too. Not to mention, he spent half his Second Year convinced the Hat had made a mistake and he should have been Sorted in Slytherin.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As if.”
“I would have made a fine Slytherin, I’ll have you know,” Dad retorted.
“Of course, dearest.” Father smirked and turned back to James, his expression going from playful to appropriately serious in an instant. “And as for you, young man… you would have made an exceptional Slytherin. And you’ll make an excellent Gryffindor. I have no doubt in my mind that you would have done both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw proud as well. You have every quality the original Founders valued in their charges. Courage. Ambition. Compassion and intelligence.”
“If anyone belongs at Hogwarts, it’s you,” Dad agreed with firm conviction.
They sounded so sure. So convinced he could do this. How could they know? How could they possibly know he wouldn’t mess this up?
“What if I fail all my classes? Or I don’t make any friends? Or die in Herbology?”
“You could fail every single class and we would still love you,” Father replied without a moment’s hesitation.
“And you’ll have more friends than you’ll know what to do with,” Dad added. He grinned and laced his fingers with Father’s. “Of course if you’re really lucky, you might even have an arch-rival.”
“Sap,” Father accused with an eye-roll. But he smiled anyway and let Dad loop an arm around his shoulders. “And you’re not going to die in Herbology. As much as it pains me to say, Professor Longbottom is an expert and you couldn’t be in safer hands.”
“And don’t forget, Teddy made Head Boy this year,” Dad added with a proud smile. “You know you can always go to him if you need help.”
“Assuming he’s not too busy mooning over a certain Miss Weasley,” Father smirked.
Dad blinked. “That’s happening?”
“Last summer. They think they’re keeping it a secret.”
“You never tell me anything.”
James managed a shaky laugh despite himself. He actually had forgotten about Teddy in all the chaos. Maybe he wasn’t so alone after all. And as he stared at his family, framed by the flames, he figured things could be a lot worse. Even if things didn’t work out here, at least he would always have people who loved him and believed in him.
“You really think I can do this?”
His parents smiled.
“Ten times over,” Father promised. “You make us proud every day.”
“We just need you to remember one thing,” Dad said, just as firmly. “No matter what happens, you can always come home. Can you do that? Can you remember that for me?”
“Mhm.” James sniffed, even as a reluctant smile broke out on his face. “I’ll try.”
“That’s my boy. Now, do you still want us to come get you or do you want to give this thing another try?”
James considered it. A part of him still missed home, and he knew it wouldn’t just go away. But that sick, heavy feeling in his chest was lifting by the minute. For the first time since he set foot in Hogwarts, he actually felt like he could make it here. Maybe… maybe even grow to like it in time. It would never replace home but… maybe it could be a second one.
“If it helps your decision,” Father spoke up, “your brothers are still playing the screaming game.”
Right. That was an easy one then. James winced and managed a shaky laugh. “I guess one more week can’t hurt,” he mumbled. “But I’m coming home for Christmas and Easter.”
“Like we would have it any other way,” Father said with a smile.
“You’ll be home before you know it,” Dad agreed. “And we’ll be right here waiting for you. Always.”
“I know.” His heart surged, even if his smile was a bit watery still. “Love you both.”
“And we love you. So much,” Father replied softly. “Now get to bed before you’re seen. We don’t want you getting detention on your first day.”
“Write to us every day, okay?” Dad put in, even as the flames started to waver. “Owls only. No more sneaking around the castle at night.”
The last thing James heard before the flames flickered and they faded away was Father’s sarcastic ‘Awful habit, I wonder where he gets it’ and Dad muttering ‘oh, you’re hilarious’. He bit back a laugh and hoisted himself up, gathering up the blanket. It was time to head back.
As he made his way through the halls, he found they weren’t as dark and empty anymore. James grinned and hurried back to his common room with a spring in his step.
His new adventure was just beginning.