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“I just don’t see the point!” James whined at his mother as they made their way through the crowds in Muggle London. “Why have house colours when most people don’t even meet their soulmate until they’re ancient?”
And by ancient, James meant in their late twenties or later.
His mother sighed, wrapping her arm around James’ shoulder. It was an argument they’d had time and time again, ever since his parents had told him about Hogwarts and colours and soulmates. James just couldn’t understand the logic behind it and no adult could provide him with a suitable explanation. They seemed confused by the fact James was even questioning it, so ingrained in their brains that it was the right thing to do, that they couldn’t comprehend the fact that he couldn’t understand why.
“Let’s just say it helps the professors, sweetheart,” his mother said with an exasperated sigh before trying to smooth down his unruly hair. “Now hurry up. We’re going to be late.”
James’ protests were right on the tip of his tongue. What if the professors hadn’t met their soulmates? How did colours help them anyway? The school was for learning magic, exploring, having fun – not worrying about soulmates.
But before he could argue, his mother ran at a wall and promptly disappeared. James turned to his father to ask where–
He’d gone too.
…Leaving James alone in Muggle London. He grinned. The temptation to run off to have an adventure was high, but he knew the real adventure was on the other side of the wall. He just had to run head-first into the unknown!
James gripped his trolley tightly, took a deep breath… and charged.
As he burst through onto the other side of the platform, he looked around at his new surroundings. His gaze landed on a boy with dark-looking hair…
No.
Black hair. It had to be black – the darkest colour of all.
The world around James was suddenly swirling with colours that he couldn’t identify - reds, blues, greens, yellows. He was sure they were all there. It was stunning, but none more beautiful than the boy in front of him.
“What the–?” the boy muttered, looking as confused by the turn of events as James, but not nearly as pleased. “I- you?”
James stuck his hand out in a rush, beaming at his new soulmate. “Me! James Potter! Good to meet you, soulmate.”
The boy’s greyish (grey didn’t do them justice but it was the only word James had) eyes narrowed, almost glaring at James’ hand like he didn’t trust it. Then he glanced back at his parents before turning to James with newfound determination. “Sirius Black.”
Black? As in the pureblood snobby family that James’ mum told him to stay away from Black??
Well… fuck.
“Come along, James!” his father called from further down the busy platform.
“Find me on the train, Black!” James yelled to his soulmate before running after his parents.
“I’ll find you,” promised Sirius.
And he always did.