Puzzle Pieces by 


thirty2flavors
46. Something Old, Something New
Word count: 492
Characters: James, Charlus
Prompt: Very loosely:
"Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes." -Henry David Thoreau, Walden
--
“James? James, come here, I want to show you something.”
He slipped into his father’s study and shut the door behind him, not bothering to hide his eager smile. Typically when his father had something to show him it did not disappoint – Charlus Potter seemed to have an uncanny understanding of eleven year old boys. At present, his father was grinning conspiratorially, the sort of look that usually earned him a rather stern stare from his wife.
“It’s a family keepsake,” said his father. “One that’s been in the family for generations and generations.”
While the typical family’s keepsake might be no more interesting than a pocket watch, James’ attention did not diminish. The Potters’ wealth often surfaced not in silverware with a family crest or exceptionally elaborate robes, but rather in knick-knacks and gadgets, unusual items picked up somewhere along the way, all of varying usefulness. The bookshelves of the study were lined with out-of-print texts, Dark detectors, Remembralls and plenty of things that James had no idea how to use.
He hoped sincerely this keepsake would be as interesting as those items. He reached out to tap a Remembrall and was pleased when it did not change colour; he was worried he’d forgotten to pack something in his trunk.
“Your mum doesn’t know I’m giving it to you already,” his father continued, smiling mischievously. “She’d probably say you’re too young and that we do not need to give you another way to wreak havoc.”
James’ interest peaked again, as did his indignation, and he dropped his hand from the Remembrall. “I’m not young,” he protested, eyebrows rising. “I’m going to Hogwarts tomorrow—“
“Which is practically senility, I know,” interrupted Charlus. “In any case, my father gave it to me when I was your age, and it’s all the more reason, I think; you’ll want this at Hogwarts.”
He turned from his son to reach for a drawer and James drifted automatically behind his father, peering around him curiously. What Charlus pulled from the drawer was not, as James had anticipated, something small and hand-held, easy to stow away in a pocket or hide in a fist, but something long, silvery and shimmering. It fell to the floor, and as Charlus shook it out it seemed to ripple incandescently.
“This,” he said proudly, “is an Invisibility Cloak.”
Stunned – for an Invisibility Cloak was impressive even for the Potters and fascinating especially to a mischievous eleven-year-old – James reached out to touch the silky material with a tiny gasp of awe. In his mind he could already see the doors of opportunity opening, the chances and potential that lay in a new location with an old heirloom.
“Like in The Three Brothers,” he muttered without thinking, and he instantly regretted that his response was not something much better, much cooler than a reference to a children’s story.
Charlus, however, merely grinned even wider. “Yes. Just like that.”
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