August Twenty-First 2014

"You have got some major explaining to do."

"Er- well- you see- er-" I stuttered.

"James Sirius Potter! What in the world are you doing in your father's office?! I want a explanation! Now!" Mum screeched.

"Oh that. Er- well.... YouseetwoweeksagoIoverheardyouandDadtalkingso-"

"Speak slower."

"Okay, so two weeks ago I overheard you and Dad talking because I couldn't sleep. You guys were talking about how you didn't want me to find out something. Then in Diagon Alley, that whole thing with that Rita lady. Then the article in Hogwarts: A History, so I guess I just got a little curious. So then I snuck in here."

Mum sighs, "You are just like your father."

"That's all you have to say? 'I'm just like dad'?"

"Look James, you were right. We have been keeping stuff from you," Mum says, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah. I figured."

"Look, a lot of this stuff I don't know how to explain, but can you tell me what you saw in the pensieve."

"The what?" I ask.

"The pensieve," Mum gestures to the metal dish. "It's a basin used to review one's memories."

"Wait, so everything that I saw was dad's memories?"

"Yes," Mum said. "Now what did you see?"

"Well, first I was in this hut with Hagrid, dad, and three other people. Dad looked about my age and Hagrid told him he was a wizard. He looked surprised, so does that mean he didn't know about magic until he was my age?"

"Yes your father didn't know about magic or his fame when he was eleven."

"Fame?" I ask.

"Oh.... You didn't see that part of the memory."

"Mum, what are you talking about."

"I may as well start at the beginning. I knew we had to come clean at some point."

"What're you talking about? You're really starting to creep me out."

"James, what I'm about to tell you, you can never repeat to your siblings or younger cousins."

"That's not a good sign," I mutter.

"Look, sweetie, this is not how I imagined having this conversation with you. How about we sit down."

There were two chairs in the room. I sat in the one across from Mum, waiting for whatever she was about to tell me.

She takes a deep breath, "Your father will not be happy I told you this, but I guess he'll just have to make peace with it. Once you got to school you were bound to find out anyway, so I guess it's a good thing that you'll be finding out from me."

"What am I finding out again?" I ask.

"James, it's a very long difficult story. You might as well just sit tight."

I stare at her trying to imagine all the things she might tell me.... The last time she sat me down like this to talk was when she was expecting Lily. She couldn't be pregnant again could she? Oh, God I hope not.

"You said that in the article you read, it mentioned a Dark Wizard called He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Is that correct?"

"Yes," I say. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything," My mother said. "Voldemort is a name many witches and wizards still fear to this day. He considered to be the Darkest Wizard of all time. He first rose to power 'officially' in the nineteen-seventies. He and his followers, other dark wizards named Death Eaters, murdered more people than you can ever imagine. Are you with me so far?"

"I- I guess." I choke out, "So this Voldeshort guy was evil and killed people?"

"Yes," Mum said sadly. "Many, many, people. Two of those people, to be precise, were your Grandma Lily and Grandpa James."

I gasp. I knew I had been named for my Grandfather, my dad's dad. But dad had told me he had died years ago. I never really asked about, because, well, I didn't really see the need to.

"Why? Why did he kill them?" I ask. "There has to be a decent reason. I mean, you can't just go killing people for no reason!"

"Ah yes," Mum said, "he wanted to kill your father. Because a prophecy that had been made."

"A prophecy?" I ask. "How can I be sure you're not just making this up to punish me? Making this up to get even with me for sneaking in here."

"James," She says very seriously, "this is not a joke. Though, I can see your Uncle George doing something like that, I am not messing with you. There was a prophecy made about Voldemort and a boy. The boy was said to have been born at the end of July, and have parents who had defeated Voldemort thrice. Only two boys met that description."

"So if one of them was dad," I say, "then who was the other?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Professor Longbottom?!" I ask in disbelief.

"Yes. Though, Voldemort set out to kill your father. At the time, he was only one, and he and your Grandparents were in hiding. Voldemort eventually found them, unfortunately. He killed your Grandparents, he attempted to kill your father and...."

"And what?" I ask, on the edge of my seat. I half expected her to yell 'PSYCH! Just messing with you. Now let's go downstairs and discuss your punishment.'

But she didn't.

"He couldn't. When he casted that spell, it destroyed his body. It only left your father with a small scar on his forehead. He was a legend. From that day forward everyone in the wizarding world knew his name. I grew up hearing stories about how when he was only one, vanished the Darkest Wizard of All Time."

"How come I didn't know that?" I ask angrily, "If you grew up hearing all these stories about how awesome Dad is then why-"

"James, will you just let me explain first? Before you get mad."

"Fine," I mutter. "But you do realize no matter what, I'm going to be mad at you."

"Yes I realize. But can we please get back to where we were. Your father had just vanished the Darkest Wizard ever known-"

"Wait, so if Grandma Lily and Grandpa James were killed, where did dad grow up."

"I was actually getting to that. You said you saw three other people in the memory, right? Those were his Aunt and Uncle and their son."

"How come they were trying to keep him from receiving his Hogwarts letter?" I ask.

"They didn't have a liking to magic that much, I suppose."

"Wait, are you saying Dad grew up with muggles?" I ask.

"It's not that big of a deal. Your Aunt Hermione grew up with muggles too. Though, the Dursleys, they were very cruel to him. And then there's the fact that they tried to stomp all the magic out of him. But when he was eleven, Hogwarts finally found him and delivered him his letter."

"That was the memory I saw. Hagrid was giving dad his Hogwarts letter!"

"Did you see any other memories?" Mum asks.

"Well there were a few more, yeah. Dad and Uncle Ron were eavesdropping on a bunch of professors. They were talking about how you had been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets, how that it was the 'End of Hogwarts'."

"And?"

"Well, there was this cup. Flames and pieces of parchment were coming out of it. I saw Viktor Krum and Aunt Fleur. She looked younger, really younger. Then some guy called Dad's name out."

"The Goblet of Fire...." Mum says quietly. "I remember that day. Everyone was so angry at your father."

"Why?"

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament," Mum said simply. "Three champions, one from one different school. And they had to be of age, seventeen. But someone entered your father into the tournament when he was fourteen, he was the fourth champion. That wasn't supposed to be possible.

"The tournament was very dangerous. In the end, out of four competitors, three made it out alive. But many people were jealous of your father for making it into the competition. If you win, you get money and a lot of publicity. But, your Dad already was famous and he had more money than he needed and he just wanted to get out of the tournament unharmed. But once you were in, you were in."

"Wait, did you just say only three made it out alive?" I asked.

"Cedric Diggory. He was popular, he was of age, he had many girls that fancied him, and he was Seeker for Hufflepuff."

"So what happened to him?"

"I really shouldn't be telling you this," Mum says, "I mean, you're only eleven. But at the end of the tournament, your Dad and Cedric were transported to a graveyard. That wasn't supposed to be apart of the tournament of course, but a Dark wizard had sent them there on purpose. Once they arrived, Cedric was killed. And then, I don't know the details exactly, but Voldemort was raised from the dead. Your dad said he used a bit of his own blood to do it."

"That's awful!" I exclaim. "What happened then?"

"Your father managed to escape," Mum said, "but that's another story."

"So my father was used to bring back the Darkest Wizard of all time when he was fourteen? Why don't I know this? Why didn't you-"

"James," She interrupted me. "What else did you see?"

I sigh, frustrated. She obviously won't tell me anything unless I answer her honestly.

"I saw another memory. It was this lady, she was draped in all these shawls and she looked like a giant bug. She was talking about about the Dark Lord and something about neither can live while the other survives. What was that?"

"That was the prophecy I was telling you about earlier."

"Oh. And how long have you kept this from us?" I ask a little irritated.

"Look James, we're keeping stuff from you for good reasons."

"If dad's famous, does that mean I'm famous too?" I ask.

She pauses, "Yes."

I laugh to myself. I'm losing it! I'm going mad! I'm famous and I didn't even know it. Everything is starting to make more sense! Though, nothing makes sense. My whole life is a lie. All of it.

"I'm such a fool."

"No you're not. This is all my fault. I should've told you sooner. I've been telling your father we need to tell you, he just won't hear me out."

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"James, you must be upset that we've kept this from you." She says quietly.

"Upset?" I say. "Of course I'm upset!"

"And you have every right to be-"

"So, basically my dad has escaped from the Darkest Wizard of all time, what, three times?"

"Oh, much more than that...." Mum said, "But I don't think it's a good idea to discuss that today. You've already heard a lot."

"No! I want to know!" I say.

"James," Mum says softly, "please, you need to rest. You're in shock."

"I'm not! I just want a thorough explanation!"

"Please. This is too much to take in at once. I should've told you at the beginning, then it wouldn't be like this. I'm so sorry James, honestly."

"I don't want an apology! No! Whatever you're not telling me, I want to know this now!"

"James, let's go back to your room."

"No."

Mum sighs heavily, "I swear, you are too much like your father at some times. I've already told you a lot. Before I tell you anything else, I want your father to be here."

"Answer one question," I say.

"What is it?"

"The last memory, the one you came into with me, what was that?"

"Come James, you need rest. Please."