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Heir James Potter leans up on his tip-toes to kiss his mother goodbye. Many of the other students might think it’s too childish to show such affection, but he never will. His mother, Lady Dorea Potter, is everything a pureblood witch should be. And James knows exactly how difficult it was for her to carry him to term.
James is her miracle baby. Her gift from Mother Magic.
He’s never going to shy away from his mother’s hugs or kisses to the forehead. He’ll never be too old for affection or care. She deserves better than that from him. A mother’s love, his mother’s love, isn’t something to be ashamed of.
“Write to me tonight, after your Sorting, okay?” Dorea says as she brushes his fringe back from his eyes.
Like always, the wild black hair falls right back into his face. Like him, it’s untameable. Or at least that’s what she’s told him over and over. ‘The Potter hair is as untameable as your spirit, James.’
“I will, Mum. Promise,” James replies.
“That’s a good lad,” Lord Charlus Potter says as he ruffles James’s hair.
“Charlus!”
Charlus laughs and grins at Dorea. “It’s not like I could possibly make it worse, darling.”
James’s cheeks hurt from how wide he’s grinning. And if he blinks rapidly to keep back tears, well, there’s no shame in that. He’s going to miss them. He’s going to miss them so, so much. James has never been away from his parents for so long before. He had refused to be Fostered, even though it’s traditional, because he walked past the lounge one afternoon when he was almost five and overheard his mother sobbing to his father that she didn’t want to part with him so soon.
Six years after that, James knows his mother still doesn’t want to part with him for school. He’s determined to make it as easy as possible for her. He’s going to write to her every single day. A little less sleep is something he’ll get used to easily enough.
The whistle on the Hogwarts Express blows.
Loud goodbyes and well wishes fill the air as students rush to board the train.
James steps closer to his dad as Charlus crouches down to be at his height. His dad is the best dad in all of everything and everywhere. His dad doesn’t care what’s “dignified public behavior” or all that rot. He’s never been afraid to meet James at James’s level. Even in a very public setting.
Charlus sets a hand on James’s right shoulder, his grip firm and comforting, and says, “I don’t have to tell you to do me proud, James. I already know you will. Remember to be patient with yourself when you’re struggling. Remember that I’m only an owl away. Remember to listen to your magic. Can you do that for me, Son?”
James nods sharply. There’s a huge lump in his throat like he’s swallowed an entire melon, and words aren’t going to come out.
His dad chucks him under the chin and smiles at him with hazel eyes full of love and pride. “That’s my boy.”
The whistle blows again, steam billowing from the engine of the train.
His mother strokes his fringe away from his eyes one final time, so she can kiss his forehead, and then says, “Have fun, James. I love you. Now run along. Adventure awaits.”
James grabs one of the handles on an end of his trunk. It Levitates behind him, Feather-Light, as he hauls it toward the Hogwarts Express. He steps onto the train and then spins around. His parents haven’t moved from their spot. He waves his free arm frantically, beaming as they wave back just as enthusiastically, uncaring of what the prissy purebloods will think of them.
“I love you! I’ll write tonight!” he yells as the train starts chugging away from the station. “I’ll see you at Yule!”
He doesn’t stop waving until his parents are out of sight.
James swallows around the lump in his throat. Yule is almost four months away. That’s … that’s a long time. It’s over one hundred days. He … he just left and he already misses his parents horribly. He’s going to be so lonely at Hogwarts, isn’t he? He’s not going to have any family there at all. Most of the other pureblood students at least have a brother or sister or close cousin. He doesn’t have any of that. He’s not going to have familial magic to huddle inside with someone. He—
Beloved Child, that is not your fate.
Magic bursts out of James like a cloud, if a cloud were bright and made of starlight. It’s so bright he has to squint his eyes. It’s warm and safe and he would recognize it anywhere. It’s his magic, after all.
Pounding footsteps sound down the corridor.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“Look out!”
James releases his trunk; it obediently hovers behind him as he spins to face the yelling. A dark cloud, as dark as the night sky that stars sleep inside, slams into him. Small, warm arms wrap around him.
The dark cloud dances with his bright cloud, magic twining and spinning together. It’s … Merlin, is this what James thinks it is? Is Mother Magic giving him a brother? A twin?
That’s impossible, right? This boy clearly has Dark Magic! James’s Magic is Light. Won’t their Magic hurt each other? Won’t—
The future is precarious. I will need Paladins. You are of the Light and the Dark. Twinned, you will stand for me in the balance. Protect and guard one another. Be each other’s stability. I gift you a brother closer than blood could ever create, that all might not be lost. James Charlus Potter and Sirius Orion Black, be Twinned. This is My will.
James shudders as his magic cycles through someone else, as foreign-yet-not magic fills him. It’s Dark. He knows it’s Dark. But it doesn’t hurt at all. And if he casts with it, he’s absolutely certain—though he doesn’t know why he’s sure—that it will be Neutral Magic.
A delighted, wicked grin appears on the face of the boy before him. His twin. His Mother Magic-gifted twin. Shining gray eyes (the same shade their magic will be when he casts with the shared Dark Magic or his twin casts with James’s own Light Magic) are almost squinched closed because he’s smiling so widely.
“Black. Heir Sirius Black,” he says before laughing in such a way that it reminds James of Crups barking. “Your Twin.”
James lunges forward and hugs Sirius as hard as he can. He hasn’t even gotten to the school yet, and he’s managed to get his parents another son. They’re going to be so happy. His mother is going to cry, and then drown them in care packages.
“Heir James Potter,” he says to Sirius’s shoulder.
“When’s your birthday?” Sirius asks.
“March 27. Why?” James asks as he leans back far enough to see Sirius’s face.
“Yes!” Sirius punches a fist into the air and then pats James on the head. “Mine is November 3. I’m still the oldest!”
“Still?”
Does … does that mean what he thinks it means? Because—
“We have a baby brother named Regulus. He’s too little for Hogwarts still. He’s a spoiled brat and we love him more than anyone in the world who isn’t us,” Sirius says, well, seriously.
Two brothers. James went from being an only child to having two magical brothers in a matter of minutes thanks to Mother Magic. It’s … it’s a lot to process.
“Tell me about him?” James asks.
Sirius grabs James’s trunk and marches confidently down the corridor, rambling non-stop about their baby brother. James’s grin grows wider and wider as their magic circles between them. He might be away from his parents for the first time, but … he’s not going to be alone in familial magic at Hogwarts.
He’s never going to be alone again. He’s Twinned.