Chapter 1 : Rainfall
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A young James Potter lay in bed, awake, listening to the sound of the rain hit against his bedroom windows. Pitter patter, pitter patter. He sprung out of bed and ran to his dresser, scrounging through the drawers for some clothes and changing, all while the lightning struck and thunder clapped outside. James was nearly eleven years old, with jet black hair that stuck out in every which way. His mum always told him to brush it, but as soon as he knew she wasn't looking, he would ruffle it back up to the way he liked it. He glanced in the mirror, his clear blue eyes examining his hair, before running out of his room and down to find his mum.
He loved the rain; loved going outside to splash in the biggest puddles he could find. Sure, he was getting older now, but he still loved it. His mum thought it was childish and his dad told him to grow up, but there was only one thing he loved more than the rain and that was Quidditch. When it rained, he wasn’t allowed to fly on his broom in the field behind his house, so instead he ran around, splashing in puddles; making sure he could get as filthy as possible before he was called in.
“Where are you off to James?” His mum asked as he ran past the kitchen, towards the door that led to the yard. He stopped dead in his tracks, turning around and making his way back towards his mum.
“I wanted to go splash outside, before the rain stops!” James answered, standing in front of his mother.
“Don’t stay long though, you’ll catch a cold,” She started as James turned around quickly, “You better roll up those pant legs James. Also, take off those trainers; your father just bought those.” James sighed, moving to sit in a chair as he did what he was told. He walked barefoot to the back door, gingerly placing his trainers down beside the exit, before running outside.
It wasn’t pouring like he thought it would be, but it wasn’t sprinkling either. He ran around, watching the ground in search of a stick; anything that looked like a wand. He was going to be getting his letter from Hogwarts any day now, then he would finally be allowed to get a real wand. Until then, he was stuck with fancy looking sticks on the ground. He didn’t mind pretending. He didn't care that it was just one more thing that everyone called him childish for.
Another clap of thunder sounded through the sky as he found the biggest puddle of all. Splash! In he went with all the enthusiasm in the world; water and mud splashing all the way up to his knees. This was the feeling he loved, the squelch of the mud underfoot and the water all around.
He sat down in the dirt, and indulging in his favourite daydream. He imagined walking proudly up to the Sorting Hat, ready to be put in Gryffindor. He was so absorbed in this indulgent dream he hardly noticed a speck on the horizon that was growing larger as it approached his house. His heart skipped a beat as he realised it was a large, tawny owl headed straight for him!
He jumped up and ran as fast as he could back to the house, hoping that today would be the day his letter arrived. He threw open the door and ran inside, water and mud dripping everywhere. He stood, transfixed, in the kitchen doorway, watching his mother give the owl something to eat before he ventured out into the rain again. When she turned and saw him, her smile quickly faded and was replaced by a scowl as she saw the mess he had created.
“James Potter! How dare you make such a mess in my house! Didn’t you have enough sense to clean yourself off before you tracked mud every where!” She chastised as she waved her wand over him and the mess he created, efficiently vanishing it into thin air. She had also dried his clothes so he no longer was soaked to the bone. The discipline bounced right off him, though, as he ruffled his hair a bit, fixing it to its usual mess before looking at her expectantly.
“Sorry mum. Is that my letter? Is it for me?” He asked, excitedly, peeking behind her, searching the counter for the letter.
“Take a seat at the table and I shall give it to you,” She replied, gesturing to the dining table. He ran over, pulling out a chair, quickly plopping down. His mother sat down across from him, handing him the letter, smiling softly as his eyes lit up. The letter felt heavy in his hands as he ran his fingers over the red seal pressed onto the back. Turning the letter over in his hands he noticed his name and address were written in slanted writing, the emerald ink softly shimmering in the light. He excitedly ripped it open and pulled out a couple sheets of parchment, opening the first one to find what he had been waiting for anxiously all summer.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He stopped reading there, excitement coursing through his veins. It’s not like he ever doubted getting in, but this was just proof that he would finally be attending school in the fall. Jumping out of his seat, he ran through his house, shouting to his father all the while. He knew his dad did not like being interrupted when he was in his study, but James couldn’t help it. Bursting into the room, he found his father facing the door with a stern look, waiting to reprimand him for causing such a commotion. Before his father could get a single word in, he rushed forward, an absolutely euphoric expression stamped on his face.
“Father, father, I’ve got it. I got my letter to Hogwarts!” He exclaimed, placing the letter on his fathers’ desk. His father glanced down at it, his expression softening. He placed a hand on James' shoulder,
“I’m very proud of you son. You just better hope you are in Gryffindor,” His father said, a broad smile forming.
James was ready and grinning ear to ear. He would finally get to start school in the fall.
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