-- (Kenmare Kestrels vs. Cairo Basilisks) --
Ron, Ginny, and the twins were completely siked. They had been in Egypt visiting their oldest brother, Bill for the past month or so. Today, Bill was taking the entire family to see a Professional Quidditch match. Apparently, a friend of his had owed him and given Bill eight tickets to the game. They had just taken their seats, comparing and contrasting the two teams.
“Kenmare may have more experienced Chasers,” Ron was arguing “but Cairo has one of the best Keepers and Seekers in the Nationals. Both have already been to the World Cup.”
“Yeah, but Kenmare is supposed to have a new Seeker this season. They’ve kept his identity quiet for a pretty long time. Did you know the Kestrels all but placed the Fidelius Charm over their practice pitch in order to keep the press out? They’ve done everything possible to keep their Seekers identity a secret. I heard that they aren’t even going to hand over the rooster to the announcer until the last possible second.”
“That’s all talk,” said Ron, dismissively. “They’re just trying to fake out their opponents. Nina Ishtar is the third best Seeker in the League. I doubt this new guy can beat her.”
“Kenmare’s Seeker can fly circles around Ishtar,” said a familiar voice behind the red heads. They turned to see a bushy haired brunette smiling back at them with two people who were obviously her parents.
“HERMIONE!” they shouted together.
“What are you doing here?” sputtered Ron.
Hermione didn’t answer, instead she turned towards the announcer who had just finished with the Basilisks lineup.
“And now the starting lineup for the Kenmare Kestrels. Leading the team is Captain and Center Chaser, number 7: O’Connor. Right Chaser, number 16: McConkey. Left Chaser, number 4: O’Connell. Beater, number 61: Ogalla. Beater, number 17: O’Hara. Keeper, number 45: McAdoo. And finally, making his début, the youngest Professional Quidditch player of all time. Seeker, number 22: Harry Potter!”
The stadium erupted in cheers as Harry flew out of the waiting area, fist raised high in the air. He leaped off his broom to perform a double back flip in midair before flying off to join the formation with his fellow players.
The Weasley’s, with the exception of Bill, all looked like fish out of water as they goggled at the raven haired wizard they had come to think of as kin.
When the initial shock had worn off, Ron turned to Hermione. “You knew!” he screeched, stupidly.
Hermione nodded, “Not for long, mind you. He told me last week. Imagine our surprised when we arrived at the top of the Eiffel Tower and there was Harry, waiting with a cocky grin and nonchalant attitude.” Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she looked back on that day with fondness.
-- (One Week Earlier) --
Hermione Granger was an inquisitive young woman; a girl who was fascinated by her surroundings and always seemed to be searching for more to learn. She had taught herself how to read before she could even walk. She had memorized the route to the local library half way across town before she knew how to get to the recreational park, four blocks away. She was an all round bookworm and proud of it. So, naturally, she had been thrilled when her parents told her they were taking a tour of France for the summer and had read up on as much French history, be it magical or muggle, that she could get her hands on.
Hermione wasn’t what you would call a girly girl by any means of the phrase, but even she was giddy about going to what was considered one of the most romantic spots in the entire world: The Eiffel Tower.
As soon as they reached the observatory of the tower, Hermione sprinted over to the railing to look out at the heart of Paris. Completely oblivious to the raven haired boy standing right next.
“It’s beautiful,” breathed Hermione.
“Not as beautiful as you,” said a playful voice next to her.
Hermione jerked her head sideways, startled at the voice. There, standing not two feet away from her was Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Savior of the Wizarding World. Defeater of Dark Wizards and Slayer of Basilisks. Heir to Godric Gryffindor and, by extension, Rowena Ravenclaw. Holder of numerous other pointless titles. None of that mattered to Hermione, because he held a title more important to her than all the others combined: her brother. It was the one fact she had yet to get her head around and it always brought a smile to her face thinking about that.
He was leaning with his back against the railing, arms folded across his chest. Wearing a black Dave Mathews Band T-shirt and camouflage shorts. His hair was cut short and spiked up. What really drew her attention, however, were his eyes. His emerald green bore into her hazel with an abnormal intensity. She couldn’t understand what seemed so different about his eyes, but they were definitely different.
“Hey, sis,” he said, nonchalantly.
“HARRY!” Hermione shrieked in joy as she flung her arms around her brother who returned her embrace.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as they broke a part, her parents causally walking over to join them.
“Twas in the neighborhood and decided to do some site seeing,” smirked Harry.
“You just happened to be in Paris the same week we are and decided to do some site seeing?” asked Hermione, disbelievingly. “Some how I doubt that.”
“You’re right,” admitted Harry. “Actually, I just came from Dublin.”
“Ireland?” asked Hermione’s mother, Jane Granger.
“That’s the one,” smiled Harry.
“What were you doing in Ireland, if you don’t mind me asking?” inquired Robert Granger, Hermione’s father.
“That’s actually why I’m here,” said Harry, drawing an envelope from his pocket.
“Oh really, I thought you were just in the neighborhood and decided to see the sites?” smirked Hermione, rolling her eyes.
Harry stared at her and shook his head. “We really are a bad influence on her. She wasn’t this sarcastic when I first met her,” Harry informed her parents.
“So you’re to blame for her recent behavior. Let me guess, you’re also the one who taught her to swear,” asked Robert, teasingly.
“Nope. That would be Ron,” smiled Harry. “I’ve only sworn around her a handle full of times. He swears around her like every day.” Harry handed them the envelope.
Hermione peered at the contents in confusion. “Harry, why have you given us Quidditch tickets?” she asked.
Harry shrugged, “Thought you might want to come and see my first Professional Quidditch match.”
It took a full minute for his words to register. When they did, though, Hermione jaw dropped. “WHAT!”
Smirking, Harry said, “You’re looking at the new seeker for the Kenmare Kestrels. They recruited me after the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.”
“AND YOU’RE JUST TELLING ME THIS NOW!” shrieked Hermione in indignation.
“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, I promised to keep it quiet until the game. My teammates had to keep it a secret, too. They can’t even tell their families. You wouldn’t believe the wards and protection that were put up around our practice pitch,” explained Harry, shaking his head. “Anyway, the match is a week from now in Cairo, Egypt. Against a team called the Basilisks, ironically. If you want to go, I can have transportation arranged for you and your parents.”
“Of course we want to go,” exclaimed Hermione before she whispered “Do you think I’d miss my brother’s first Professional Quidditch match?”
“I thought as much,” said Harry. He gave Hermione one last hug and kissed her on the forehead.
“See you in a week, sis,” said Harry before disappearing in a burst of flame.
“Damn it!” swore Hermione in frustration. “I hate it when he does that!”
“Hermione Jane Granger!” shouted her parents in unison.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.
-- (End Flashback) --
An hour and a half into the match proved beyond a doubt that Professional Quidditch was played at a much higher and faster level than Hogwarts Quidditch could ever dream of playing at. The score was already in the seven hundreds for both teams. Even the Bludgers seemed to be moving faster.
Harry was currently hovering about twenty yards form the opposing team’s hoops. He was subtly tracking the Snitch’s every movement. At this point, he could catch it any time he felt like it. Harry liked to fake out the Egyptian Seeker, though, by diving at nothing causing her to follow him. Then pulling up at the last minute. The Wonksi Feint was fast becoming Harry’s signature move. That and when he got bored, he’d stand up on his broom and ride it around the arena as if it was a surf board. A lot like he did in his first match of his first year. This stunt always got the crowd going.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Snitch idly floating behind the Nina Ishtar, Egyptian Seeker’s, head.
Harry slowly flew over to her until he was an arms length away. Harry stared at Nina and Nina stared right back. She put on a flirtatious smile that probally would have caused Harry to go weak at the knees and fall of his broom, if it wasn’t for the fact that mentally he was nineteen, almost twenty years old.
Harry made a show of pretending to be embarrassed by blushing and looking down. While Nina was distracted, thinking she had succeeded in psychologically affecting her opponent, Harry took one last glance at the Snitch’s position. It was hovering right by Nina’s ear.
Harry looked back up, still allowing himself to blush, and gave a sheepish smile. All of a suddenly, Harry’s hand jerked out. Nina scrunched her eyes tightly shut and the crowd gasped. Obviously, everyone thought he was going to hit her. However, when she didn’t feel the impact, Nina opened her eyes.
Harry’s fist was closed to the side of her head. Harry moved his fist to just in front of her face, opening it slightly so she could see a glint of gold.
Nina’s eyes widened in shock as she recognized the object in his hand and Harry smirked at her. He raised his fist into the air and opened it up so that the stadium could see he had caught the Snitch.
The Irish fans erupted in earsplitting cheers as Harry’s teammates surrounded him and forced him to the ground at the bottom of a dog pile.
Nina Ishtar could only stare blankly at nothing. In shock as her couch yelled and berated her for being out done by a thirteen-year-old. For stupidity at not knowing the Snitch was so close it was practically up her nose.
Later on, the Grangers and Weasleys arrived at a private room for an after game celebration for the team and their families. Harry was currently talking to a teammate and his family. What caught the group’s attention, however, was the large black, grim-like dog standing at Harry’s side.
“You were bloody brilliant, mate!” shouted Ron, clapping Harry on the back.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley! Watch your language!” scowled Molly.
“But he was bloody brilliant, mum,” agreed Percy, once again shocking all those present who knew him.
“Who are you,” started Fred.
“And what have you done with Percy Weasley?” finished George causing the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione to laugh.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Richard O’Connell. He’s our captain and center Chaser. This is his mum and dad,” Harry said gesturing to a couple roughly fifty years old. “And this,” Harry said pointing to a dark haired boy in his late teens, “is his younger brother, Derek. He goes to the New Jersey Academy for Gifted Children in America.”
Derek acknowledged the new arrivals with a nod.
“As for this lot, if they got red hair: they’re a Weasley. The brunettes are the Grangers. They are pretty much my family in every way that matters,” smiled Harry. Molly and Jane both got teary eyed at his words and wrapped Harry in bone crushing hugs.
Once the after game celebrations were over, Harry took everyone back to his hotel suite. It was a beautiful room, roughly half the size of a football field. The room came complete with three bedrooms with king-size beds and a TV in every room, two bathrooms, a widescreen TV with surround sound in the sitting room, a Jacuzzi, a bar, and unlimited pre-paid room service. Something that Ron immediately took advantage of.
As they were all lounging around the sitting area, watching TV and just talking; Fred called from the Jacuzzi. “Oi mate, I meant to ask you earlier. What’s with the dog?” he asked gesturing to the baby bear currently finishing off its third slab of barbeque ribs.
“Oh, Padfoot? Picked him up at a pet shop. I always wanted to have a dog and the sales clerk said he had been there for years. She couldn’t understand why no one had bought him. She said he was such a ‘sweet heart’.”
The dog smirked at Harry, well… as close to a smirk as a dog can make. Harry, however, wasn’t finished.
“But now I know why she sold him to me so cheap. He’s eating me out of house and home. He eats about as much as… well… about as much as Ron.” Everyone got a good laugh at that. Ron looked like a deer staring at headlights when he heard his name which only made everyone laugh harder. Padfoot glared at Harry and growled.
“So,” asked Hermione “how are the Dursley’s taking your disappearing for most of the day?”
“Well, actually… I got a flat in London. I only stay at the Dursley’s on weekends. I’m coming and going at all hours of the day and night, you see, and didn’t want to deal with Vernon after a five hour practice. It’s nice, though, to have my own place to crash after practice without having to worry about the crap I normally would at the Dursley’s,” explained Harry.
“How were you able to buy a flat? I didn’t think they allowed minors to do that?” asked Robert.
“How?” repeated Harry. “Same way an eleven-year-old could travel to over a dozen different countries when he should be at school. Fake I.D.”
“You got a fake!” exclaimed Fred.
“Can you buy us Firewhisky?” asked George.
“FRED! GEORGE! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG!” shouted Molly.
“She’s right,” said Harry. “Besides, all you got to do is wait a year and then you’ll be able to go to France and buy it yourselves. Drinking age is sixteen over there. In fact, Percy could by it for you right now if you could convince him to.”
“Not bloody likely,” came Percy’s voice from the bathroom followed by a loud fart causing everyone to chuckle.
All in all, it was a fun and relaxing night.
-- (Flat in Downtown London; 10 hours later) --
Harry unlocked the door to his flat. Padfoot bolted inside and began to run around in circles. Harry chuckled at the Animagus as he came in, shutting the door behind him and relocking it.
Soon as the door was closed, the dog immediately began to shift. Within seconds a wizard in royal blue robes stood where the dog had once been. His long, black hair was combed and tied back into a ponytail. A short goatee was growing on the end of his chin, otherwise, he was cleaned shaved and looked almost nothing like the wanted murder that was on the run after spending the last eleven years incarcerated at the most fortified Wizarding prison in the world.
Sirius Black enveloped his godson in a tight hug. “You were brilliant, kiddo. James would be proud of you,” he said, referring to the match of the previous day.
“Thanks, Sirius,” said Harry. He pulled away and picked up that mornings edition of the Daily Prophet and wasn’t surprised at all that he had made the headlines.
Boy-Who-Lived Goes Pro!
By: Marissa Clearwater
Yesterday at twelve o’clock noon in Cairo (ten o’clock A.M. London time) the long awaited identity for the Kenmare Kestrels was revealed. The Irish shocked the world with the announcement of their new Seeker: Harry Potter.
Breaking three records in one day, Potter showed Nina Ishtar (Egyptian Seeker) how it’s done. Any skepticism people may have due to Potter’s youth, I can tell you right now: they’re baseless. Potter proved that he had what it took to fly with the big boys and even out maneuver some of them. His daring to fly at high speeds and to perform near vertical dives will only make him a force to be reckoned with as his career continues.
The most obvious record Potter broke yesterday is the record for being the youngest Quidditch player since Lenin Vonbrawn, who started his career at the age of eighteen in 1905. The second record is for the shortest time to catch the Snitch for a new seeker; record was held by Vladimir Oakley who caught the Snitch two hours and ten minutes into his first game in 1961. The last record is highest successful Wonksi Feint. Potter climbed to an attitude of three hundred and fifty feet, before plummeting like a rock towards the ground with Ishtar hot on his tail. Potter pulled out of the dive when he was barely three feet off the ground. While Ishtar did manage to pull out of the dive in time (five feet of the ground), she lost her balance and was thrown from her broom sustaining only minor injuries.
Potter, while young and having only finished his second year of Quidditch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; played as if he had been doing it all his life. When he wasn’t looking for the Snitch, he entertained the crowd by doing stunts such as riding his broom like a surfboard (as seen in the picture above) and other aerial acrobatics.
“From the moment I saw him fly at our first practice, I knew he was a natural,” said Potter’s coach, Justin McCaskey. “He has talent that I haven’t seen in many years. I foresee great things ahead in Potter’s career. Regardless of whom he plays for.”
With three records shattered in the first game, we can only help but wonder what Potter’s future holds in store for him.
Harry put down the paper and Sirius gave it a once over.
“Well, at least they wrote up a nice article this time,” commented Sirius.
“The reporters are like Vultures, Padfoot,” said Harry idly. “They will make a person seem all nice and good for as long as it sells. People, though, get bored of nice and good and want to hear about celebrates getting in trouble and all that other dirt. The can be with you one minute then they’ll have their head so far up your ass they can spit out your mouth. Reporters are only positive if it sells. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, at this point if my name is on it will sell; regardless of what they actually say.”
Sirius gazed at Harry amusedly as he continued to mutter about the idiocy of newspapers in the Wizarding World while sorting through his mail. Eliminating the important stuff from the junk and fan mail.
“I’ve got to learn how to block unwanted owls,” muttered Harry as he threw a dozen letters and a box into the fire place before setting it all ablaze. All of a suddenly, the box exploded sending a flaming liquid into the room as Harry and Sirius dove for cover.
“Ah… come on Harry,” wined Sirius, sniffing the air. “I think that was Firewhisky.”
“Well how was I supposed to know that?” asked Harry, also a bit peeved at the thought of wasting good alcohol.
“Could have opened it before chucking it into the fire,” grumbled Sirius.
“If I had opened it, with my luck, it would have been a bomb. I just got a new plasma TV. Those things aren’t even out to the general public, yet. Do you have any idea how much it cost me to get a hold one?” said Harry in annoyance, picking himself off the floor.
“And what would the difference have been between opening it up at the table and chucking it into the fire?” asked Sirius, also getting up.
“Fine, next time I’ll put a shield around the fire before burning things,” grunted Harry. “Dobby!”
There was a pop and Dobby appeared besides Harry.
“Mast- I mean, Harry! You is being home!” shrieked Dobby, throwing himself at Harry.
Harry returned the embrace.
“It’s good to see you too, Dobby,” laughed Harry.
“What can Dobby be doing for you?” asked the house-elf.
“Can you clean up this mess I made? Then I want you to try and find a way to block unwanted mail-”
“Unless it contains Firewhisky,” interrupted Sirius.
“To block ALL unwanted mail,” continued Harry. “That’ll be all.”
“Yes, Mas- Harry!” squeaked Dobby before disappearing, taking the mess made buy the burning Firewhisky with him.
Harry picked up and opened his Hogwarts Letter. The usual stuff like a cauldron and robes, Harry skipped completely. Instead, he focused on the books and began to write out his own list of books he needed in alphabetically order according to class.
Ancient Runes Made Easy
Numerology and Gramatica
The Astrological Guide to the Galaxy by: Wolf Peterman
Care of Magical Creatures:
The Monster Book of Monsters by: Author Unknown
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by: Newt Scamander
Defense Against the Dark Arts:
Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by: Quentin Trimble
Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Beginners Guide by: James Evans
The Difference Between Dark and Evil by: James Evans
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by: Phyllida Spore
History of Magic:
A History of Magic by: Bathilda Bagshot
Reign of Darkness by: James Evans
Standard Book of Spells, Grade: Three
Harry shook his head and looked at the list again. Three more of his books were now on the Hogwarts curriculum. That meant that by the time a student graduates, they will have bought a total of five of his books.
Sirius looked over Harry’s shoulder at the list and frowned.
“Who’s this ‘James Evans’ and why haven’t I heard of him if three of his books are needed for Hogwarts?” he asked.
“He’s a relatively new author, just started publishing books last year. No one knows much… well actually… no one knows anything about him. He came out of nowhere so many believe that the name is just a penname. Here, I’ll get you some of his books.” Harry moved towards his ever growing bookshelf trying to hide a smirk. He wasn’t sure if he was going to tell Sirius yet or not.
He grabbed the necessary books and returned to Sirius, holding them out to him.
“Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Guide for O.W.L. Students, Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Guide for N.E.W.T. Students, Defensive and Offensive Spells, Hexes, and Curses for Aurors and the Auror Bound, Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Beginners Guide, and The Difference Between: Dark and Evil. I take it he must be an expert on D.A.D.A.” Sirius began leafing through the books. He paused in the beginning of “The Difference Between: Dark and Evil” and frowned. Sirius began to read a passage silently.
‘Wizards are among the most racist beings to walk the planet. It was once and, to a degree, still is common practice for wizards and witches to slaughter those they consider inferior. At the top of this coalition are the so called ‘Pureblood’ extremists and radicals.
The ‘Pureblood’ radicals believe themselves to be better than others just because they are married to someone who is related to them. So if you want to be in the good graces of the ‘Purebloods’, all you have to do is marry your sister/brother. What these ‘Purebloods’ don’t realize, or refuse to acknowledge, is that with every generation of inbreeding, they grow magically weaker instead of stronger. By diluting their own bloodlines, they are insuring that their children will never be able to reach the full potential they could have had. Thus, the muggleborn’s that hate so much are actually more powerful then their kin.
The ‘Pureblood’ extremist, however, have a far darker and bloodier history. They are responsible for the acts of genocide against muggleborn’s and those who fight alongside them, the ‘Blood Traitors’ and other ‘inferior races’. The two most notable wizards of the last millennia to hold an all out persecution of muggleborn’s are Gellert Grindelwald and Tom Riddle, later known as Lord Voldemort. Both, however, went about it in two very different ways. Grindelwald raised an army and started a full blown war against the ‘Blood Traitors’ while Riddle preferred to use terrorist tactics against his enemies, fighting in the shadows and retreating when the playing field was equaled. Between the two, millions of the people belonging to the ‘inferior races’ were hunted down and slaughtered.
Beings like werewolves, vampires, giants, goblins, and interbreeding of the four with humans are also often persecuted by the ‘Purebloods’. Why? Because these creatures have the ability to surpass any normal wizard or witch in power, intelligence, and age.
A perfect example of this would be the werewolf known as Fenir Greyback. While Greyback may be a psychopath, he has embraced his inner werewolf instead of trying to hide from it. Thus, he has achieved the ability to stay in complete control of himself during a full moon without the aid of potions or spells. He is estimated to be twice as strong and fast as both a normal werewolf and a wizard.
Vampires also surpass wizards in age. The average vampire lives for half a millennia. Far beyond the reach of any wizard and the closes thing to immortality achieved thus far by any creature. With their age comes knowledge. A vast majority of vampires spend their life searching, studying, and documenting making them the most intelligent race on the planet.
Giants are depicted as blood thirsty and ruthless since the beginning of time. Yet, there are few records giants throughout history until the sixteenth century. Even then, it’s only sporadic occurrences in which the giants are fighting with wizards against the muggles. So where were these so called ‘blood thirsty’ and ‘ruthless’ beings for the millennia and a half prior to the height of the Wizard/Muggle Wars? Living alone, at peace in what are now the Appalachian, Smokey, Himalayas, Rocky mountains and in the area known as Tibet.
Goblins were intelligent from the beginning. The Elder Goblins placed themselves in direct control of financing for the Wizarding World. Ninety percent of our economy is in one way or form tied to the goblins. They are the miners of the ores for our gold and weapons. They are experts in the Old Magic which very few even know about and far less are able to understand, let alone use.
The book you hold in your hands will fully explain the thin line between creatures who are consider dark and those who are considered evil without bias opinions of politics, racist, or misinformed scholars.’
Sirius looked up at Harry with an expression that was half amused, half incredulous.
“So… what made you decide to buy this book?” he asked looking at Harry carefully.
“The title caught my eye and after reading that first part, it got me hooked. Having read some of his material prior, I knew James Evans was a brilliant author and wanted to see his outlook on this particular subject. What do you think?” asked Harry with a neutral expression.
“I think… it’s a good thing no one knows who this guy is. He basically just declared war on most of the Dark Pureblood families. Not to mention, the Minister of Magic and a majority of the Ministry. You’re defiantly going to cause an uproar,” said Sirius, keeping a close eye on Harry.
“That was kinda my point, Sirius,” said Harry, not thinking as he put the books away. All of a suddenly, his words registered and he winced, slowly turning to face Sirius who was smirking at him.
“What gave it away?” asked Harry with a sigh.
“When you said that James Evans was probally a pen name. James Potter. Lily Evans. Not to hard to see where you got that from,” smiled Sirius. “Then, that entire first part was almost identical to a rant James went on in a class during our seventh year. He and this other bloke Stanley Gardner, who later became a Death Eater mind you, got in a huge row during History of Magic. It was one of the rare occasions that Binns didn’t talk about just goblins. He was talking about the Great War of 18… I want to say… 78… when just about every magical creature was at war with someone. The wizards and house-elves were fighting against the goblins and centaurs that were also fighting against each other. The merpeople were fighting the grindylows. The giants were fighting the trolls. The vampires were fighting the werewolves. The dragons were fighting anything that got in their way. It was a huge mess. Anyway, the wizards and house-elves formed an alliance with the merpeople and were able to beat the centaurs, goblins, and grindylows. The three armies let the giants and trolls just duke it out with each other while they put a stop to the werewolf/vampire war by cutting their population in half. Gardner, the ignorant prick, started on about how wizards did all the work in the war and how all these other creatures had done ‘shit’. James had always been close to the Hogwarts house-elves and actually all house-elves in general, so he was already at his ropes end with Gardner; plus the idiot was a Slytherin so that didn’t help much. James finally lost it when Gardner went on to say that we wizards should just slaughter every last werewolf and vampire because they were ‘useless, inferior creatures,’” Sirius whistled. “Merlin was James pissed. He went on for the rest of class on how much of an ignorant bastard Gardner was, saying much the same things as you said. It got to the point were the two of them got into a fist fight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lily so proud of James in her life. Even Snivellus looked impressed for a moment there,” Sirius smiled as his eyes clouded over. His head filled with memories of old. “Anyways, I can’t even begin to describe how proud of you I am. I can’t believe you’ve written five books!”
“Actually… I’ve written seven,” said Harry sheepishly. “And they’re all best sellers.”
“SEVEN!” cried Sirius. “Sweet Merlin, five is hard enough to believe. James, but especially Lily, would be proud of you.”
“Thank you, Padfoot,” smiled Harry. “Well, I got practice in three hours, so I’m going to go take a nap.”
Sirius watched his godson walk to his room and close the door. Sighing, he lowered himself to his chair and put his head in his hands.
‘He doesn’t need me. He’s doing great on his own. I’m not sure what more I can do for him.’
He could almost hear what Lily would say, ‘Come on, Sirius. He needs you as much as you need him. His life has been just as rough as yours for the past twelve years.’
James voice took over. ‘Even if he doesn’t need a full time parent figure, he needs someone close to him. Who he can talk to when he can’t talk to his friends. We picked you to be his godfather for a reason. It was because we don’t know who else is capable of guiding him the way we would want him to be. You’ve haven’t had much of a choice up until now. You’ve been given a chance here. Don’t screw it up. Make us proud, Padfoot.’
“I will, Prongs. I will,” Sirius quietly vowed. “I will.”