Chapter 1 : Prologue
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 8|
Background: Font color:
Beautiful chapter image by sanadamaiko @ TDA.
A/N: As much as I would love to be J.K. Rowling, I’m not. This is her world, I’m just writing in it. Enjoy the story!
James II POV:
"Finnegan, Hailey!" McGonagall's voice rung out through the Great Hall. It was my first year, and I stood among my classmates, waiting to be sorted into my House.
Not that I needed a hat to tell me what House I’d be sorted into. I was a Gryffindor through and through. My room at home was already decked out in maroon and gold. Both of my parents were Gryffindors, and so were both sets of grandparents, and according to all of my parents’ friends, I was just like my grandfather and namesake, James Potter. We even looked identical, I had noticed, looking at pictures. Both had dark, uncontrollable hair and brown eyes. So Gryffindor was clearly in my future.
As these thoughts were running through my mind, a small brown-haired girl ran up to the stool in which the Sorting Hat rested and quickly sat down, anxiously awaiting her fate.
After a few moments of deliberation, the hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"
The little girl ran to her new House table, where the blue and bronze group of “knowledge seekers,” as the Sorting Hat had so nicely called them, awaited her, applauding. Among the clapping Ravenclaws, I saw two of my cousins: Dom Weasley, a fifth-year, and Louis Weasley, a fourth-year. Since they were so much older than me, I never really talked to them all that much. I mean, I loved them and all, but in general I preferred the company of my younger cousins like Rose, and my brother Albus. However, they were each a year younger than me. The only other family member I had here was Fred, who stood right next to me.
I had heard that name before. The Flints were a notorious pureblood line, and a particularly nasty one, at that. Even though most of the pureblood families, like the Malfoys, had lessened their pureblood mania after the fall of Voldemort, – my father always said to speak his true name – the Flints had held tightly to theirs. Marcus Flint had been six years above my father, and it was jokingly rumored that his sneer could curdle fresh milk. I had heard about him many times in my father’s animated retellings of his very first Quidditch match.
However, the young girl that moved eagerly towards the Sorting Hat looked nothing like her father. Her golden blonde hair hung down her back in ringlets, and as she sat down, I saw her bright blue eyes flashing with excitement. Even my eleven-year brain registered that she was quite pretty. Nonetheless, all the Slytherins looked expectantly at the girl, preparing to add her to their ranks. Even though the Second Wizarding War ended Voldemort’s reign, the prejudices regarding Muggles were too deeply ingrained in some families to be properly erased. Slytherin was still the House that collected the children with those ideas, since the prejudices originated from the original Founder, Salazar Slytherin himself. In all due respect, the House overall had improved over the years, according to my father, and most of the kids in Slytherin were actually relatively decent.
However, after a few moments of though, the Sorting Hat surprised everybody, by crying out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Apparently she was unlike her parents in more than just looks.
Her eyes widened in shock; obviously, she had expected the same result as the Slytherins. The entire Hall suddenly got much quieter, as the girl blushed furiously as she stood up off the stool.
After the painstaking silence, the Gryffindor table finally starting clapping for their new members, welcoming her to their ranks. As she went to sit down, she looked over, and we locked eyes. Holy cow. My heart picked up pace, and suddenly my hands felt clammy. As a little kid of the ripe young age of eleven, I had no idea what this could possibly mean.
All I knew was I was suddenly looking forward to being in the same House as Madison Flint.
It was second year when I first realized I liked Flint.
How could I not? She was beautiful, with her gorgeous hair, stunning eyes, and priceless smile. She was smart, easily the best in the class, always knowing the answer when the teachers asked, and scoring high marks on all her work. I wasn’t expecting much academic rivalry in school, but she was clearly on my level, and her hard work pushed her far ahead of me in classes. She was witty, always coming up with a biting remark to send back at anyone who chose to insult her, usually Slytherins, who insulted her for going against her family. She was athletic, being the only second-year on the House Quidditch team, besides me, of course. Basically, she was my dream girl.
I watched her intently, as she sat bent over her Charms essay in the common room, with her best friend. I couldn't quite remember her name.
Fred nudged me, and I looked at him. “Surely you’re not staring at Flint, James?”
I avoided his eyes, and mumbled, “No.”
“Bollocks,” Fred replied. “Does Jamesie-poo have a crush?” He sing-songed.
“Shut it, Fred. Now what prank did you have in mind this time?” I asked.
By turning the subject to his favorite, I avoided having to answer the question. He began to prattle on about our next greatest scheme, as Gavin and Liam, our best friends since the Start of Term Feast in first year, listened with rapt attention. I stole a glance back at Flint, who was laughing at something her friend had said, before tuning in to Fred’s monologue.
I wondered if I’d ever have the courage to ask her out.
It was third year, and I was finally going to do it. I was going to ask Flint to go to Hogsmeade with me. Surely she’d say yes? After all, I was James Potter II. My parents were famous, I was pretty attractive, if I do say so myself (three time winner of Witch Weekly’s Best Smile Award, not that I care…), and my friends and I were the most popular blokes in our year. I mean, she couldn’t say no to me.
With this new burst of confidence from my mental pep talk, I approached Flint. She was sitting by the common room fire, reading a book and absentmindedly twirling a piece of her long blonde hair, which was swept up into a ponytail.
"Flint?" I asked, attempting to get her attention.
She looked up at me, confusion clouding her eyes as she realized who was speaking to her. "What do you want?" Her words were slightly accusatory, and I felt my confidence take a deep dive.
I tried to sound confident as the next words tumbled out of my mouth like a case of word vomit, "I was thinking you’d like go to Hogsmeade with me."
She raised her eyebrows at me. "Excuse me?"
"Hogsmeade? The town nearby?" I clarified, wondering why she was so confused.
"I know what Hogsmeade is, Potter, I was referring to the fact that you assumed I said yes." By this point she had set her book down and was standing up, and even though she was a good deal shorter than me, she was still rather intimidating.
"Well, wouldn't you?” I replying, my voice wavering as I saw where this was going.
"No, I wouldn't as a matter of fact." She stared me straight in the eyes, raising her voice all the while.
My eyes grew wide and my mouth fell agape, as did some of the other kids in the common room, who had all started watching as soon as they had seen Flint stand up. I had never expected her to reject me, especially with the crows of people listening.
The next words flew out of my mouth like more word vomit. "But-but, why?"
"Because you're an arrogant toerag, that's why! I can’t believe you just assumed I’d say yes! It’s a wonder your broomstick can hold up that massive head of yours!” She yelled, and upon seeing nearly the entire common room staring at her, she blushed a brilliant pink.
She gathered her stuff and swiftly left the common room, retreating to her dormitory most likely, as I stood there dumbstruck.
When I told Dad the story, he found her final comment particularly funny, but I still don’t know why.
After the initial sting of rejection, I steeled my resolve. I liked Madison quite a lot, and would do anything to go out with her. So I decided to ask her out constantly, until she said yes. Okay, I might throw in the occasional prank to see her get all riled up and fiesty, but the plan generally stayed the same. After all, she couldn’t avoid me forever.
A/N: Really short, I know. PLEASE REVIEW AND I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER. :)
Other Similar Stories
by Bella Bug
Over My Head