Many of the rooms were dirty, lacking a “woman’s touch,” as it were. A silver-frosted broomstick lay discarded on the sitting room floor next to the couch, and a Chocolate Frog had leapt to freedom underneath James’s bed only to be forgotten and crawl around until the spell wore off. The mantelpiece was crowded with pictures showing the passage of time, the occupants all waving happily when someone entered a room. Photographs that might all be from one big family, though it was closer to about three in reality despite the fact only two people lived here.
One stood in precedence, however, in the centre of the mantelpiece, all the other photographs moved back out of respect to give it room. A black-and-white young James stood with his arms around the waist of a beautiful woman with long curly hair, both of them smiling down at a stirring bundle in her arms.
Harry Potter, now eleven years old, sat up straight in bed, sniffing. “Dad?” he shouted, feeling for his glasses and putting them on as he got out of bed. A cloud of smoke greeted him when he opened the door, and he coughed. “Dad?” he said again when he had the breath. “What’s going on?”
“Er, nothing!” James shouted from the general direction of the kitchen. “Good morning, Harry!”
Harry scratched his head, further messing up the hair he had inherited from his father, right down to the part in the back that always stuck up, but even though his hair was now much longer than it had been when he was only a year old, the lightning scar on his forehead was still easily visible. His green eyes were his other distinguishing trait, exactly like his mother’s where everything else looked exactly like his father.
He cautiously stepped out in the hallway, covering his mouth and nose with his Snitch-patterned pyjama sleeve, but still coughing. Once he descended the stairs, it became slightly easier to see, since so much smoke had already invaded the upper floor, but he could barely see the outline of the kitchen door. “Are you okay? What happened?” He squinted, his eyes watering.
“I’m fine! Everything’s fine!” The doorbell rang. “Look, someone’s at the door; would you get that?”
Harry shook his head but passed the kitchen by and went to answer the door. Black smoke billowed out when he opened it, causing the pair on the doorstep to back off, coughing.
“What’s going on?”
After blinking the tears out of his eyes, Harry beamed. “Uncle Sirius! Brenna!” Sirius Black and his daughter Brenna stood a few feet away, Sirius currently eyeing the house like he expected it to explode. Though Sirius was actually only James’s best friend, and not actually Harry’s uncle, he had been calling Uncle Sirius that as long as he could remember, and the idea of calling him just “Sirius” seemed a bit strange to him.
Sirius grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him out of the smoke. “Oh. Thanks,” Harry said, though he didn’t really know what he was thanking him for.
“I would say ‘happy birthday,’ but looks like you got a great present already,” he said dryly.
Harry shrugged. “Dad insisted he’s fine. I dunno what happened.”
“You two stay out here where you can breathe; I’ll go rescue James,” he said and pulled out his wand, casting a quick Bubble-Head Charm to protect at least his lungs from the smoke before stepping in and disappearing.
“Hullo, Brenna,” Harry said.
“Morning,” she said, grinning at him. “I love your pyjamas.”
Harry looked down and felt his face heat. “I just got out of bed two minutes ago and was a little distracted by the smell of smoke.”
“Oh, don’t apologize. They look lovely. Happy birthday.” She was three years younger than him and had clearly inherited her father’s lazy good looks and long black hair. Her eyes where a light shade of sapphire, and though she was much smaller than Harry, she had a knowing look about her that Harry blamed on her dad.
“Thanks, Brenna. Really.”
“You’re welcome!”
The smoke suddenly disappeared, and the pair cautiously re-entered, looking around. They caught half of something Sirius was saying as they approached the kitchen, “...can’t believe you didn’t think to just Vanish the smoke, James....”
“I was busy, okay?”
“Harry could’ve choked; he was still asleep””
“I know. What, are you my mum now?”
“Hullo, Dad,” Harry said loudly as they walked in, stopping the two friends in their tracks. They both had clear bubbles around their heads, distorting their features, but these popped simultaneously.
The kitchen was a wreck, though the smoke and whatever had been causing it was gone. The ceiling over the stove was black with soot, pots and pans were scattered everywhere, and some unrecognizably charred objects were stinking up the room from the trash bin. “What were you doing?” Harry asked.
“Making breakfast?” James said sheepishly. Even his face was blackened, and Harry wasn’t quite sure how his dad could see through his glasses at the moment.
Harry pointed at the black ceiling. “That came from making breakfast?”
“I was trying to do something special for your eleventh birthday,” James said, waving his wand at the cabinet below the sink. The door popped open, and a brush flew up to the ceiling, starting to scrub dryly at the soot. James sighed irritably and carefully directed it to get wet and then start cleaning. A steady drip fell from the brush, forcing James and Sirius to step aside.
“I hope you’re not going to eat that,” Brenna said, pointing at some black lumps still sitting on the counter.
“Brenna....” Sirius ran his fingers through his hair.
James dumped those in the trash too, and then Vanished the whole lot of it. “Let’s just have some toast, shall we?”
“If the toaster’s still working,” Harry muttered, checking the toaster then pulling out some bread.
“Do I want to know what you were trying to make?” Sirius asked James, tossing some pans into the sink so he could sit at the table.
“No.”
Brenna hopped up and down next to Harry. “Did you get your letter yet? Did you?”
“I dunno, Brenna, why don’t you go look?” Harry said, still too tired for his hyperactive almost-cousin. Thinking the house was about to burn down was not a good way to wake up on your birthday. Brenna was too young to notice the reason, though, and zoomed off to check the house for any owl post.
“Doesn’t she remember owls always give you their mail directly?” James asked, sitting down next to Sirius and cleaning off his face and glasses.
“She will eventually. One of these days things will stick. Gets it from her mum,” he added.
“Where is Kiara, anyway?”
Sirius shook his head as James got up to pour out some juice for everyone. “Some deadline or other coming up, can’t get away from her writing, ‘Oh no, dear, you go on ahead, I’ll catch up later.’”
“Will she?” James asked, now pulling out plates for Harry to put toast on. At least he’s helping me a little, thought Harry. What a start to a birthday.
“Your guess is as good as mine. It’ll likely be eleven o’clock tonight, and she’ll suddenly stand up and shout, ‘Harry’s birthday!’ and be very depressed when she realises she missed it.”
“We could call her in the living room,” he offered just as Brenna came back in from searching the house, “if you think she’d get upset over it.”
Sirius shrugged. “She’ll likely say the same thing over again, I expect. She doesn’t like repeating herself, yet she forgets things all the time and nags me for reminding her when she actually does remember. It’s confusing.”
Brenna stopped in front of Harry and crooked a finger at him. “I got a present for you, Harry.”
“What is it?” He put the plates he was holding down on the table and faced her more directly.
“Come here,” she said, still beckoning with her finger. “It’s a secret.”
Sceptical, he leaned toward her, and she made a big show of slowly drawing closer as if to whisper something in his ear, then kissed him on the cheek. “Brenna!” he said, wiping his cheek off. “That’s gross! You’re practically my cousin!”
“Mum said it’s for good luck at school,” she said, rocking back and forth on her toes, grinning. “She said it’ll help you be just like your dad.”
Sirius looked over at James and cracked up. “Just like James....” He clapped his hand on the table. “That’s rich. I would advise not being exactly like your father, Harry. Trust me on this one.”
“Oh, you’re funny, Padfoot,” James said, rolling his eyes.
Brenna glowered at her father, folding her arms. “I meant being in Gryffindor, and doing all those things like I hear in your stories that Uncle James did!”
“Er, well, thank you, Brenna,” Harry said awkwardly. It was kinda sweet, when she explained it. But he still didn’t want a kiss, even on the cheek, from a little girl he usually thought of as his cousin. Though, it could’ve been worse. Aunt Kiara could’ve been here to kiss him instead.
They had barely begun to eat when a barn owl swooped in the open window, along with a soft breeze, and landed on the back of an unoccupied chair, hooting once. Harry had only taken a step to retrieve the letter, however, when Brenna bounded over and took it, grinning excitedly. He snatched it out of her hands, and the owl swooped back out the window.
“Hey!”
“It’s my letter, Brenna, wait for your own,” he said, turning away to keep her from snatching it back.
“But that’s in three years!”
“Everyone has to wait eleven years,” he said, looking at the neat print spelling out his exact address in green ink on the front of the heavy parchment envelope. He flipped it over and examined the Hogwarts seal of a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake circling a large letter H. He grinned.
“So, in a few days once Harry opens his letter,” Sirius said, “why don’t we all go down to Diagon Alley and get his stuff?”
The doorbell rang again as Harry slit the letter open. “That’ll be Remus,” James said, heading out to answer the door. With Brenna bouncing at his side, Harry sat down so she could look at the letter with him. It contained several heavy parchment pages. The top one read:
of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of the Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Remus Lupin stepped in ahead of James and grinned a welcome to Harry. Harry thought every time he saw him that Remus looked thinner than the last time, and now he had noticeable bags under his eyes. He was another one Harry referred to as his “uncle” because Remus was another of James’s close friends, though not quite on the same level as Sirius. “Happy birthday, Harry,” he said as he sat down.
“Hullo, Uncle Remus.”
“Speaking of Hogwarts,” Remus said, pulling something out of his bag, “I was just in that area and remembered your birthday, so I stopped in Hogsmeade.” Harry shifted uncomfortably but didn’t say anything. He always felt awkward getting presents from Remus because it always seemed like there were better things he could spend his money on. Like food.
“Thanks,” Harry said, unwrapping the present to reveal some Honeydukes chocolate, marked in bold letters: “Exclusively this summer!”
Meanwhile, Brenna had practically jumped on Remus. “Morning, Brenna,” he said, laughing and hugging her back fondly.
“I gave Harry a kiss,” she proclaimed. Harry ducked behind his chair under the pretence of throwing away the wrapping paper on his present.
“Did you now?” Remus asked, lifting an eyebrow at Sirius.
“Her mum put her up to it,” Sirius said.
“I guess we’re all here,” James said, getting Remus some toast. “So when we’re ready, we can head off to Diagon Alley and spend the day out there.”
“All of us?” Remus asked. “What about Kiara?”
“Deadlines,” Sirius said.
“Her latest book?”
“A killer.”
Remus nodded. “She’s not coming at all then?”
“Most likely.” Sirius shrugged and yawned, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms over his head. “I hate her deadlines; everything becomes about her book.” He dropped his arms, draping one around Brenna who had come to stand next to him as she nibbled on a piece of toast. She automatically leaned on him, resting her head on his shoulder.
They were not long at breakfast, and then they all made their way into the sitting room, Harry still happily holding his Hogwarts letter. He almost went up to the fireplace still wearing his pyjamas, but Brenna was happy to point this fact out to him, and he dashed upstairs to change. One by one, they approached the fireplace and took a pinch of the shining powder, sitting in a wooden bowl carved with stylised lions on the mantelpiece, and tossed it in the fire. The flames rushed up, a ghostly shade of flickering green, and they each stepped into the flames, shouted, “Diagon Alley!” and disappeared.