He saw her for the first time when he was nine. To be precise, he was nine years, three months, and sixteen days old on the day that he squeezed through the gap in the garden fence and ran away to the fields to explore. He wasn’t running away from home “ not really. He had nothing to fear from his parents, who loved him dearly, but adoration could be cloying especially to a boy like James Potter.
He wanted an adventure, but his mum, scared that he’d produce magic in front of Muggles, never let him out of the garden unaccompanied. Today, though, she was busy entertaining an old friend from school. Betty Abbot had brought her eleven-year-old grandson to play with James, but James had taken one look at the fair-haired, thin-faced boy, who’d glanced scornfully at James’ scabbed knees, directed him to his dad’s library and had run out of the back door.
James ran as fast as he could across the wheat field at the back of the house, loving the feeling of freedom as the corn stalks whipped his arms and legs. He was still laughing as he emerged from the field and ran up a hillock to an old tree, its branches hanging forlornly to the ground.
And then he saw her.
She wasn’t alone, but surrounded by a group of boys, all older than James, and by the look of it, her as well. They were also laughing, but not joyfully. The four boys were mocking her, pulling at her clothes and tugging her black hair. One boy reached down to the ground and picked up a handful of dust, which he rubbed in her hair, laughing as she protested. James frowned, for hadn’t his dad told him only last week that Gryffindors were always chivalrous and the ‘mistreatment of a lady is something we will not tolerate’?
James wanted to be a Gryffindor. He wanted it very badly and would settle for no other house (especially not Slytherin), so with his dad’s words running through his mind, he ran hell for leather down the slope and launched himself into the boy who’d thrown the dirt. They fell to the ground in a confused heap as James flailed his fists around in an attempt to hit his enemy (for this boy was definitely his enemy now).
He was not good at fighting. He found that out quick enough when the boy punched him back, and then elbowed him in the face. James yelled, more in anger than pain, but the boy didn’t back off. He laughed.
“What is this we have here?” he asked his friends, as he picked James up by his collar.
“It’s that Potter kid. The one with the weirdo parents.”
“Oh, yeah.” The bigger boy smirked. “The old biddy who wears the stupid hats, and the bloke that wears a dress.”
James licked his lip, tasting blood, and swallowed. He had a feeling in his bones that this was not going to end well. He could feel a hot rage burning inside him as they all started laughing. If they pushed him anymore, it would end very badly indeed.
“It’s not a dress,” he muttered darkly. “My dad wears robes.”
“Robes!” scorned the biggest boy. “Oh, la-di-dah, what is he, then? The bleeding King of Persia?” He lifted James higher in the air, still laughing. “Does that make you a sodding prince? Where’s your crown?”
“He can wear this, Del,” yelled one of the other boys. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw him poking a long stick into the tree, dislodging a bird’s nest.
Del threw him to the ground and instructed two of his friends to hold a now kicking and squirming James against the tree trunk. He took the bird’s nest and rammed it on James’ head. The needle-sharp twigs on the outside scratched at James’ face. He looked around, trying to will the fury building inside him to die down, trying to think of the best way out of this without losing his temper. The girl had gone, no doubt glad to be free of her tormentors, so it was just him and these four boys now. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if he did something. Perhaps this was a life and death situation. Perhaps he wouldn’t get sent to Azkaban, or have the trolls chasing him, if he did some underage magic.
It was when one of the boys spat in his face that James lost his temper. Unable to wipe the spittle from his cheek, he opened his eyes and glared. Before he knew it, he’d opened his mouth and roared at Del. “Get off me!” he yelled, his voice louder than thunder.
Del flew backwards, as if he’d been hexed, and landed on the ground. Looking embarrassed but also furious, he ran towards James. This time James was ready. With his hands in front of him, he braced himself for Del’s attack, knowing that he could repel him again. He began to smile, ready for the onslaught of fists, but as he stared at Del, something got between them. A large branch swung to the side and pushed Del away from James. He looked to the side and saw the girl wielding it.
“Get off him!” she screamed, and hit Del in the face. She turned to the others. “Go away and leave him alone. Leave me alone, too, or I’ll whack you with this!”
The gang eyed both James and the girl warily then stepped back.
“I’m bored with this anyway,” Del muttered. “Stupid Paki and her oddball boyfriend.”
James watched them go, walking quickly away from the pair of them. Then, when they were out of sight, he turned to the girl. “Are you all right?” he muttered.
She nodded and some of the dust fell out of her dark, black hair. “I’m used to it ... but thanks.”
James frowned. “Used to it? What do you mean ... and what did they mean by that word ‘Paki’? Is that your name?”
She smiled a lopsided sort of smile then sat down on the ground opposite him. “It’s short for Pakistani.” She sighed. “I’m not a Paki. My dad’s English and my mum was from India. But to Del and his gang that doesn’t matter.” She looked up at him through long black lashes. “It’s my skin, dummy. I’m not white, am I?”
“They were picking on you because you have a different colour skin?” James asked, completely confused now. “That doesn’t make sense.”
She shrugged. “Does to Del. I’m Dita, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand.
He shook it. “James Potter,” he replied.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, and grinned at him. “All the village kids know about your family.”
“What, that we’re a bunch of weirdos, I suppose?” James asked defensively.
She put her head on one side and considered his question. “Some people say that, but I think your dad is very kind. He’s always smiling, and once he gave me a sweet.” She lowered her voice. “I’m not supposed to take sweets from strangers --Dad would kill me -- but it wasn’t poisoned.” She smiled at James again, and looking at her, he found it impossible to stay angry. “I’ve not seen you out by yourself before.”
“My mum’s got an old friend from Hog “ uh “ school visiting, and she brought her really boring grandson along, so I thought I’d escape for a bit.” He stared back at the wheat field. “I expect I’ll get into trouble; perhaps I should go back.”
“Well, you could,” said Dita slowly, “but if you’re in trouble anyway ...”
“You mean that I might as well stay out and have some fun?”
She nodded, then, leaning forward, she reached out her hand and plucked the bird’s nest off his head. She examined it closely. “I think it’s an old one; at least there weren’t any rotten eggs in it.”
James ruffled his hair, pulling out some stray twigs and feathers. “Probably tidier wearing it,” he said. He stood up and held out his hand to her. “Will you show me the best places to explore, Dita?”
“Sure,” she replied, accepting his hand.
About two hours later, when James was begrimed with dry dirt, his hair stuck with more leaves, and a gash on his elbow, he wandered back across the field still chatting to Dita. She laughed a lot, could run as fast as he could, and was an expert in all the best places to hide in the nearby woods. He’d climbed trees, waded through streams, and rolled down hills with her, delighting in each new adventure.
At the gap in his fence, he stopped. “I s’pose I better I’d better go,” he said and sighed wistfully. “I’ve had so much fun.”
“I can see you tomorrow,” Dita said. “I’ll be by that tree again ... or maybe in the tree, if Del and the others turn up.”
James pulled a face and scuffed his already well-scuffed shoes on the ground. “Not sure I’ll be allowed. My mum’s quite strict about that stuff. You’re lucky your mum lets you out alone.”
Dita said nothing, but reached into the back pocket of her shorts and pulled out a photograph. “That’s my mum,” she murmured. “She’s dead.”
James stared intently at the photograph of a beautiful lady with long black hair and shining dark eyes. She was cradling a baby in her arms.
“That’s me,” Dita replied to his unspoken question. “Mum died when I was three. It’s just me and Dad now.”
James looked again, puzzled by the lady frozen in the picture. He was about to ask why she didn’t move, but a voice interrupted him.
“James Hereward Potter!” exclaimed his mum. She was standing by the garden gate, just to the right of the gap he’d squeezed through earlier.“I’ve been worried sick about you. Where have you been?”
“Hi Mum,” James squeaked. He gulped and took Dita’s hand. “I ... um ... went out exploring. This is Dita. She’s ... uh ... from the village.”
His mum pursed her lips, and James smiled to himself. There was no way she’d tell him off in front of a Muggle.
“Can James come and play tomorrow, Mrs Potter?” Dita asked sweetly.
“Please, Mum,” James implored.
“You left Lancelot all by himself in your father’s study. That wasn’t a nice thing to do, James,” his mum reproved, ignoring both their pleas. “And look at the state you’re in! I want you back in that house and in the bath immediately.”
“Mu-u-um!”James whined.
“Bath NOW!” she ordered in a stern voice that James was not accustomed to. Then turning to Dita, she said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for James to see you, dear. Perhaps you should find some other friends.”
James saw Dita take a step back and lower her eyes to the floor. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Not looking up, she started to walk away. “Bye, James.”
Evading his mother’s outstretched hand, James ran to Dita, and pulled on her arm. “I’ll try and sneak out tomorrow,” he whispered. “Wait for me by the tree.”
“It doesn’t matter,” mumbled Dita, staring at the ground. “I told you I’m used to it.”
“Wha..? Oh, no. NO!” James yelped, suddenly understanding. “Mum’s not like that. It’s something else.”
Dita squeezed his hand; he looked at her face and saw a tear glistening on one of her lower lashes. “I had fun today,” she whispered and then, wrenching her arm from him, she turned to his mum. “I’m sorry, Mrs Potter!”
Dita broke into a run and darted through the field. He could see her trail as the corn ears swayed as she passed them. He wanted to follow her, but his mother’s hand plucked him to her.
“Inside,” said his mother, but she didn’t sound quite so angry now, and he thought he could hear a quaver in her voice.
He didn’t look at her, but stomped across the lawn, taking out his temper on a particularly ugly gnome that had ventured into the flower beds. “I didn’t do any magic, mum,” he yelled. “She doesn’t know anything about us, apart from the fact that we’re weirdos! But she let me play with her anyway!”
He had his bath, noisily complaining even though his mum didn’t scrub his knees as hard as she usually did, and escaped to his bedroom. At least boring Lancelot and his even more boring grandma had gone. He wouldn’t be expected to play with him again.
His mum left him in peace, calling up the stairs only once in a conciliatory manner that his tea would be ready in half an hour, but James didn’t reply. He was determined not to eat anything. He’d stay in his room until she gave in and let him out with Dita again. Yes, he’d stay here and not eat. That would worry her! He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, sucking in his cheeks as he imagined himself getting thinner and thinner. The thought made him hungry, and when the smell of treacle tart began to waft into his room, he gave in. Perhaps he’d just have one last meal. Eat a lot tonight and then refuse breakfast until she caved in.
His dad was sitting at the table when he approached the kitchen, deep in conversation with his mum. James didn’t enter, but hid behind the door, eves-dropping.
“So, our boy had quite an adventure today.”
“Don’t you dare encourage him, Hereward,” rapped his mum sharply. “He was out for at least three hours, and I was worried sick. He could have been anywhere.”
“Halley, my dear, you could have found him easily enough. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t search for him.”
“I was searching for him,” she replied grimly. Halley walked to the table carrying two plates piled with food and set them onto the table. “As soon as I knew he’d gone, I started searching.”
“When did you realise he’d absconded?” Hereward asked mildly.
There was a small silence of a few seconds before Halley said anything. “Well, it was when Betty decided it was time to leave, actually. We found Lancelot in your study reading a book. He said James had run off.”
“And this Lancelot didn’t sound upset or anything?”
James heard his mother sigh and smiled to himself. “No,” she admitted. “Lancelot was perfectly happy by himself. He’s nothing like our boy. It was a mistake to invite him over, but I thought if James had someone of his own age to play with ...”
“He does though,” James heard his dad say. “The girl he introduced to you.”
“She’s a Muggle!” Halley declared.
“So, what’s wrong with that?” James asked suddenly as he emerged from his hiding place. “I thought you liked Muggles.”
Halley spun around. Her face was flushed, but she looked him directly in the eyes. “I do like Muggles, but until you can control yourself, I don’t think it’s wise for you to be with them.”
James glared at her. “You just don’t want me to have any friends, except boring ones like what’s his name “ Prancealot. All he wanted to do was read a stupid book.” He turned to his dad, hoping for a fairer hearing. “This girl, Dita, she was being picked on by some older boys, so I saved her, like any Gryffindor would do. Then when they started on me,” he pointed to his eye which was now turning black, “she beat them off with a tree branch. I didn’t do any magic.”
“Really?” His dad’s raised eyebrow told James he didn’t quite believe him.
“Well, I sort of made one of the boys fall over, but I made it look as if I’d done it with my hands. They were a lot bigger than me, Dad.”
His dad smiled benignly, and at that moment James realised it would be all right.
“Well, Halley, I will of course leave it to your discretion,” Hereward began, “but it does seem to me that our boy is starting to take control at last, and you can’t keep him Spellotaped to you forever.”
“Mum?” pleaded James quietly.
Halley Potter pursed her lips. “We’ll see,” she replied.
“Dita!” called James. “Are you here?”
It was the next day, and after a long talk with both his parents, as well as desperate assurances on his part that he wouldn’t use any magic, his mum had relented and said he could see the girl again. He chuckled to himself. Telling his mum that Dita thought she disliked her because her skin was brown had certainly helped. Horrified, Halley had instructed their house-elf Sukey to make some cakes and, after kissing James on the cheek, had waved him goodbye as he scampered across the field and to their tree.
But Dita wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He sat down on the dusty scrub of grass and waited, hoping that she’d turn up, and they could start exploring together. It was another warm day, and he could hear the lazy buzzing of a fat bumblebee as it hovered around some wild flowers growing by the side of the field. James lay on his stomach and watched for a while as it crawled into a foxglove.
“You snuck out then,” she said. James looked around but couldn’t see her. Then he felt something on his head and looked up. Dita was sitting on one of the tree branches, her bare legs hanging down.
He grinned broadly. “I didn’t need to. My mum said I could come, and she even gave me two cakes,” he replied as he reached into his small knapsack. He held up his mum’s peace offering to her. Dita smiled back and jumped down from the tree, landing, not ungracefully, next to him. She nibbled at the cake, laughing as the butter icing stuck to her nose.
“Why don’t you go to school?” Dita asked him one day. They were sitting by the river, just where it meandered around a tree on the edge of the woodland. James had stripped down to his shorts and was dangling his bare feet in the water. They had spent nearly every day of the summer together, but the holidays for Dita were coming to an end. She’d told James that she liked school “ or rather she liked the lessons, but didn’t have any real friends.
“Mum teaches me at home,” James replied carefully. “But when I’m eleven, I’ll be going to this really cool school where I’ll learn all sorts of things.”
“What school?” she asked, and then her face lit up. “That would be really great if it was the same one as me.”
James looked away from her, concentrating on the water as it babbled over his feet. “It’s a long way from here,” he muttered. “I’ll be living there.”
“Oh.” The one word dropped like a stone in the water as she took in his words. “And you want to go there?”
“Yeah,” James replied as his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “I’ll meet loads of kids just like me, and both my parents have told me how much fun I’ll have there. I won’t be allowed to take my broom, but I will be getting my own wand and every “ ” He broke off, panicked at what he’d just said, hoping she hadn’t understood.
Dita stared at him. “Did you just say ‘wand’?” She laughed. “And ‘broom’? Why do you need a broom?”
“Uh ... no reason. I was joking ... it’s nothing ...” James was stuttering now, horrified that he’d said far too much and that she’d worked it out. It struck him suddenly that he wasn’t bothered if she knew, but was worried his parents would stop him playing with her in case she told everyone else in the village.
“So why say it?” she asked curiously. She’d stopped laughing now and had moved closer until her hand clenched on his arm.
“Joke,” he muttered thickly.
“In the village,” she said slowly, her eyes never leaving his face, “they say that your mum is a witch.” She paused, and James felt his stomach plummet. “I asked my dad about it.”
“What did your dad say?”
“He said she’d rescued a girl from a fire years ago, when he was still a kid. No one knew how, but the flames died down when she ran in, and then flared back when she got out.”
James closed his eyes. His dad had told him the story. It was his mum’s weakness. She wanted to help all the time and could never see the harm in using a bit of magic every now and then. The Ministry had called on them, and only Hereward Potter’s ability to pay the fine and his assurances that they would not perform magic in front of Muggles again had ensured she’d escaped with only a warning. The Ministry had modified the Muggles’ memories, but they must have missed some people if the story was still floating around.
“Is it true?” she persisted.
James looked into her eyes, the velvety soft dark satin eyes that held his gaze. They were not scared or contemptuous. They were curious, but also kind.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Are you one as well?”
Bringing his knees up to his chest, he nodded. “You don’t seem to be surprised or scared or anything I thought you’d be,” he said.
Dita smiled. “I saw you take on Del, remember. I thought he was going to kill you, but you shoved him away without touching him. And you’ve been jumping down from trees without hurting yourself. Sometimes you seem to sort of float in the air.” She linked her arm into his. “Can you do anything else?”
“Little things,” he said proudly.
“Can you make a white rabbit appear out of a hat?”
“No, why would I want to do that?”
Dita shrugged. “I dunno, it’s what the magicians do on the telly. As well as pulling handkerchiefs out of their sleeves. Brightly coloured ones all knotted together.”
James snorted. “Muggle tricks!”
“What’s a Muggle?”
James sighed, but was happy. This was going to take forever, but it was still summer and the days were long. He had all the time in the world.
Christmas 1971
“So, anyway, I met this boy on my first day there. Well, in the train carriage, actually, and he’s really cool. His name’s Sirius Black, and we were friends straight away. He’s amazing and so funny. His family are horrible, though. When he was Sorted - that’s when you’re placed in a House “ his mum sent him a Howler.”
“What’s a Howler?” Dita asked.
They were sitting in her front room, poking the glowing embers of a dying fire with sticks. Dita had stuck some marshmallows onto skewers and was trying to toast them, but they kept falling off. James wondered why she was bothering as there were no flames left and it was clear the fire was dying. He felt guilty. He should have been there an hour ago, but he’d been delayed when an owl from Sirius had arrived, begging that he save him from Grimmauld Place. So caught up with persuading his mum to let Sirius visit, James had forgotten Dita’s invitation.
“It’s a letter that shouts at you.” He shuddered. “It’s quite scary, actually. Well, Mrs Black’s was, but she’s a seriously nasty person. She wouldn’t send him any sweets or write to him for a month when he was put in Gryffindor.”
“Can’t you just tear it up or something?”
James laughed. “No, it follows you until it’s shouted enough and then disappears.” He picked up a skewer and picked off the browned marshmallow. It was gooey inside and tasted surprisingly good. “Hogwarts is fantastic, Dita. I wish you could visit.”
“It sounds great,” she said quietly. “My school is good, you know.”
“Oh ... yeah ...” James placed the skewer in the bucket by the fireside. He’d forgotten she’d gone to a new school. She’d sent him a letter, which his mum had kindly sent with the Potter owl, but he couldn’t really remember much about it. “Have you made any friends?”
“Mmm, one or two,” she replied. “It’s a girl’s school in the next town, not many of the village kids got in, and it’s much bigger. I’m top of my class in English.”
“Huh? Oh, books and stuff.” He smiled at her and then punched her softly on the arm. “Knew you’d do well. Wow, if you were magic, I bet you’d be a Ravenclaw.”
“Why?”
“They’re very intelligent,” James replied. He smiled slightly. “Sirius reckons they’re all very boring as well.”
“Wow, thanks, James,” she replied, a touch waspishly.
“I didn’t mean you!” he exclaimed, aghast at his tactlessness. “And Sirius won’t think you’re boring either. He’s coming to stay next week. Can I bring him over?”
“Why would he want to meet me?” she asked sulkily. “I’m just a boring Muggle who reads equally boring books.”
“Sirius doesn’t know any Muggles at all, and he’s fascinated. He might want to talk to your dad about cars, though. Is that all right?”
Dita shrugged. “Sure, bring him over. But we don’t have a car anymore.” She grinned wickedly. “Dad sold it and got a motorbike. It’s fab when he takes me to school. Suddenly, I’ve become the coolest girl in class.”
James laughed and picked up some more marshmallows to stick on skewers. The fire was nearly out. A simple Incendio charm would soon have it flickering into life. “If I had my wand,” he said, looking at the dying flames. “I could relight that.”
Dita knelt in front of the fire. Piling some scrunched-up balls of paper on top of the coals, she bent her head. James watched in fascination as she carefully blew on the embers until the flames began to lick up the paper. In the firelight, her skin was the colour of golden treacle. Her black glossy hair, now halfway down her back, was tied back in a thick plait. She’d changed, he thought. She looked older now than he did, and he felt a pang of regret that she wasn’t magical, too. For despite his new friends, he had missed her and hated the fact that they were separated during term time. It had felt awkward, reconnecting, trying to get things back to the way they were. It was a ball game, as complex as Quidditch, juggling his two lives. Yet now, by the soft glow of the hearth, he was pleased he was here.
“You don’t need magic for everything, James,” she whispered.