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...And The World Held Its Breath.
A Marauders-Era RPG
OWL: To James Potter 
1st-Feb-2007 12:14 pm
Date: 23rd September, 1975
Characters: James Potter
Location: The Great Hall
Status: Private
Summary: James receives a reply from the letter to his parents.
Completion: Complete



The Great Hall was alive with the chatter of breakfast, and the murmur of students who were perhaps slightly less suited to the early mornings that Hogwarts required. James grinned at his friends, Peter choosing to slip in a particularly humorous anecdote to one of Remus' stories again, causing the group to draw heads and stares from around them with their laughter.

Unfortunately, the laughter ceased, along with the conversation, the buzz of chatter and most movements with the arrival of the post owls. This had become something of a morbid tradition amongst the students of Hogwarts. They would hold their breath, they would wait, they would look with pity on those of their number who received the distinctive black-trimmed Ministry letter. The one that spun rhetoric, gave words of comfort that were as hollow as the person's feelings when they found their mother, their father, their sisters or brothers, aunts or uncles had become casualties of this war. Had become platitudes of condolence in a letter.

Thankfully, there were none today. The war had not managed to penetrate their sanctuary this morning. James glanced up in surprise as his owl delivered an envelope to him, coming to perch on his shoulder as he absently fed it a piece of bacon from him plate. He turned the letter over, and seeing the seal of the House of Potter, grinned slightly before opening it.


From the desk of Henry and Marcietta Potter.


Dear James,

Thank you for your letter yesterday. We're glad to hear that your studies are going well, and that you're settling back into Hogwarts for your seventh and final year well. We're also pleased to hear from some of your Professors that you seem to be taking your role as Head Boy seriously. James, we can't impress upon you how much people look to their leaders in times like this, and you have been given a wonderful chance to really improve the lives of those around you with your example. Please don't abuse itWe look forward to hearing more favourable reports in the future.

As to your request for an update on the war, you know that we can't tell you James. All that we can say is that we want you to think long and hard about this career choice of yours. We will be immeasurably proud, should you choose to follow the path of an Auror...but as parents, you can understand our concern. The war does not show any signs of abating any time soon, and we worry that it will only become worse.

However, your mother has spoken to several in her Department, and it seems that there is good news on the horizon. Provided that you achieve the grades that you are predicted in your NEWTs, and that you pass the preliminary assessment (which will take place over Christmas), then it seems that you are almost a shoe-in for the accelerated training program, once you graduate.

Which brings us on to another point, and a slightly darker one, we are afraid. James, in your mother's line of work, she is often called on assignment for a long time. It seems that she has received orders for a long-duration assignment, and I have managed to pull a few strings to get myself assigned as the MLE liaison for it. It does mean your mother and I will be together, which is good, but it also means that we will not be contactable for the best part of two weeks. If we do not return owls in this time, please do not worry. It just means that we're still in the field, and we will reply when we return.

Never doubt how proud we are of you, James. Send our love to Sirius, Remus and Peter.

Love,

Your parents.


"Everything alright, Prongs?" Peter asked, causing the Head Boy to glance up suddenly. He immediately threw up a plastic smile, folding the letter and slipping it inside of his robes, feigning nonchalance.

"Yeah." He replied. "Parents say hello to you lot. Everything's fine." He glanced back down at his food, stabbing at it idly with his fork, pushing bacon around the plate with a sudden loss of appetite and enthusiasm.

"Everything's fine." He murmured to himself.
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