Here we go, the final part.

Hope you all enjoy it.

"Come on in."

James pushed open the heavy door and entered his parents' study. His mother, however, was polishing broomsticks being assisted by Kreacher, Albus, and Lily downstairs, while his father sat alone in the large, quiet room. Normally, James, too, would be more than happy to help take care of the broomsticks, and hope to sneak a ride on one, but today he'd rather be here.

"Dad?" Harry was perusing over some papers, his glasses dropped low over his nose.

"James," he looked up, mildly surprised. "I thought you, for one, wouldn't miss a broomsticks care session."

"Yeah, well, Mum would probably only let me play with the old Cleansweeps anyway." His father chuckled, and continued to read his documents. "Also, I wanted to ask you about…that wand."

Harry looked up again, this time studying his son more closely. "Come here," he gestured, and conjured a chair with his wand so James could sit next to him. "What do you want to know about the wand?"

"Well..." To be honest, James had expected his father to send him off at the mention of the topic. "For starters, what's it made out of? Al and I had this whole discussion, only we couldn't decide—"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure," Harry told him. "It's not really mine to begin with."

"Who did it belong to?"

"Well, see, that's why you weren't supposed to touch it," Harry narrowed his eyes, and James grinned sheepishly. "It's going to be given to Teddy when he turns seventeen."

"Why? He's already got one," James pouted. He couldn't even possess one wand, and Teddy gets two?

"It was his father's, you see."

"Oh," James pondered on this for a bit. "Then why didn't you give it to him, you know, when he first needed one?"

"Well, I actually consulted Mr. Olivander on that, and Neville, well, Professor Longbottom for you, now," he smiled brightly. "See, each wizard has a wand that truly belongs to him, and if you took another wizard's wand, it wouldn't work as well. That stays true for even father and son."

"So your wand wouldn't necessarily work well for me?"

"That's right. Your mum, as well as several of your aunts and uncles and Teddy's grandmother and I discussed this, and decided that if Teddy had known he could have his father's wand, he would definitely take it. But it might not be the best one for him, you understand? So we got him his own wand, which was evidently quite different from his father's (though I honestly can't remember what that one was made of, my apologies), and he still doesn't know about this wand. You shouldn't tell him, either."

"Wait, why did you consult Neville? What's he got to do with it?"

"When Neville, by the way, you truly need to start calling him Professor Longbottom. Well, when he first went to Hogwarts, he carried his father's own wand because his grandmother had given it to him. Unfortunately, that wand snapped in half in his fifth year, while we were fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic. After he purchased his own wand, he said he felt a bit more—coordinated. So he suggested Teddy to get his own wand, too."

"Oh," James thought some more, fiddling with a wooden chess piece from his father's desk. The bishop snarled up at him. "Does that mean that when I get my own wand, it'll work better than that one had? Because when we had a few goes at it, er," his father was staring at him accusingly as he said this, "it didn't exactly work that well."

"Yeah, your spells should work better with a wand that's for you."

"Okay then," James hopped off his chair cheerily, set the unpleasant bishop back on its chess board, and made for the door. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem, son."

The family of five sat, full and contented, around the table after lunch. Lily and Albus were being entertained by a napkin-puppet their father had created with his wand. James was, yet again, re-reading his Hogwarts letter, and the parents were having a laugh about something at work. Kreacher entered, holding onto a tray of purpleberry shortcake, sliced and placed on silver plates already. The children, including James, instantaneously rushed over to take their share, arguing about who gets the bigger slice even though they were all the same.

"So for the afternoon," their mother began after everything was settled. "We'll all Floo over to your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's first. From there, we'll be leaving Lily, Albus, and daddy," James stomach gave an excited flip as he noted that his name wasn't mentioned. "You won't be bored; Uncle Dean Thomas will be visiting." Uncle Dean wasn't actually related to them, but he and Aunt Luna were around quite often. "Aunt Hermione's taking care of Aunt Bea with Aunt Fleur, since she ought to have the baby anytime now. Tomorrow's my turn with Aunt Penelope, by the way," she mused. "Anyhow, James and I will then Floo to Diagon Alley to get his school things."

This caused a racket. Albus and Lily wailed simultaneously, one saying "Why not us?" and the other "That's not fair". James, at the meantime, jumped up from his chair, whooped, and threw himself into his mother's arms.

"C'mon, Al, Lils, this is James's big start," Harry reasoned patronizingly. "When it's your first year, you get a special treat too, how's that?"

This resulted in a series of "but"s.

"Now, now, that's enough. You two can go again anytime of the year, whilst James would be stuck studying, imagine that," Ginny added, as her son let go of her.

James, however, wasn't let down by this. He'd be studying magic, and that's worth a thousand trips to Diagon Alley. The reason for his excitement was beyond the trip itself and getting his school things (though that is a great part of it as well), but to be alone with his mother. Being in a family of three children, and often visiting cousins or Teddy, James hardly had any time alone with his parents, especially his mum. This was the best type of special treatment, honestly.

"But that's not fair, 'cause every year beyond this, James would still have to go, and he'd always be around, and we'll never—"

"Whoa, Al," Harry interrupted. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

Albus immediately rushed to the defense of his dignity. "Of course not, why would I ever be jealous of James?" he retorted solemnly.

"Because I'm better-looking, I'm older, I'm much more charming, and I fly better on a broom…"

"No, you don't, freckle-face."

"Hey, manners," muttered their mother, touching her cheeks.

"Do too, toad-eyes."

"Watch it, you," mumbled their father, adjusting his glasses.

"I always beat you, you ginger-head."

"Don't you even go there," snarled their mother, smoothing her hair.

"Beat me in falling off first, soot-hair."

"That's enough, now," said their father, raising his voice.

Lily was giggling uncontrollably at the corner.

"Sod off, youngster," her two older brothers replied together, and then spun around to glare at each other.

The family arrived in Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's cottage to a scene of Uncle Ron snoozing off on the couch with his son tickling his face with a quill. Rose sat on the other side of their father, obviously struggling between amusement and the urge to stop her brother. Hugo stopped abruptly as Harry entered the room, but his uncle merely stifled a laugh and gave him a double thumbs-up. Hugo smiled brightly and continued with his work. This, however, was again interrupted by the entrance of Ginny.

Ginny, unlike Harry, stalked up to Hugo with a straight face and motioned for the quill. Hugo froze, and was momentarily terrorized until his aunt whispered with a wicked smile, "You're doing it all wrong, Hugo dear."

Hugo then grinned widely and handed his aunt the quill, who flicked it back and forth on her brother's nostrils with ease, as if this was her second nature (Which, James thought, it probably was). Ron instantly let out a humongous sneeze and sat up straight, raised his arms in a fighting position and looked around. He relaxed and groaned in irritation when he saw his little sister and son doubling over with laughter in front of him.

"Harry, how could you let them?" He accused, throwing a pillow at his friend and brother-in-law. Harry was too busy chortling at Ron's performance to reply. "How can I protect my dignity when my best mate—?"

"What dignity, exactly, Ronald?"

Ron scoffed at Ginny and stretched. "Well, leave the little devils, then, off you go..."

"How's Bea and George?" asked Harry, settling into a sofa with Lily in his lap and Albus by his side.

"The last I heard, she's starting to have some serious pain," replied Ron, head-locking his son and ruffling his hair rather violently in revenge.

James's attention was diverted by his mother, who was offering him a flowerpot of Floo powder. James grinned, threw the powder into the fire, and spun his way to Diagon Alley.

"Mum, where are we going first?"

"Well, I think we can go get your potions supplies first, then we can just throw everything in the cauldron," was the reply.

Indeed, they went into a shop full of lacewings, lizard-tails, dead spiders (James thought of his Uncle Ron), many foul unknown substances kept in jars full of a thick, brown liquid, and much more. James, being James, wished to pick up and observe every single ingredient in the shop, and was therefore almost thrown into a large brass cauldron by his frustrated mother. Ginny reviewed the list, debated over prices with the clerk (she won), and eventually emerged out of the dim shop with her hesitant son.

"We could go back later, right?" James inquired; widening his eyes in what he hoped was a puppy-dog fashion. Ginny dragged him along in response.

They next entered Madame Malkin's, one of James's least favorite shops in the Alley. He hated the pinching and pinning, the never-ending pulling on and off of robes that smelled like lady's perfume, the discussions of how much or how less he had grown, and practically everything else about the place. Today, however, he was glad enough to be there—his Hogwarts uniform, at last! Madame Malkin appeared to be even more flustered than usual. Her many measuring tapes and pins danced about her in mid-air, narrowly missing her flowing robes and fast-moving fingers. Ginny lightly requested for a set of Hogwarts uniform to try on her son, but the seamstress still spun around, bristling, until she noticed who the pair in front of her was.

"Ah, Mrs. Potter, and the young Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure," she wiped a handkerchief across her forehead and sighed deeply. "It's just, you have no idea how many students buy their robes last minute—no offense, of course—it's just awfully fatiguing on my part, you see."

"Oh, yes. We'll be quick, just uniforms for James here."

"Yes, yes, my pleasure," Madame Malkin pushed James (none too gently) onto a small stand, and with a wave of her wand, sent the measuring tapes swirling around him, taking in his size in a whirlwind. The owner of the shop continued to chatter. "Ah, I know how surprising this may seem, but you know, Mrs. Potter, this is most likely my last year vending these Hogwarts things..."

"How so?" Ginny seemed genuinely interested. As far as James knew, Madame Malkin has been selling wizard since before Uncle Bill's time.

"Well, Mrs. Potter," Madame Malkin chuckled, jotting down James's measures on a pad. "I'm not going to stay young forever. I'm thinking it's time for me to step down, and let one of my managers take over. You've met Mrs. Flint and Mrs. Finnegan. Or Pansy and Lavender, I'm not sure how you know them. Just between you and me, Mrs. Potter," she lowered her voice dramatically. "I'm leaning more towards Lavender here. Mrs. Flint, now, she has a great sense of style, but her attitude," Madame Malkin 'tut'ed and wandered off to retrieve white shirts, vests, pants, and black robes. She ordered James to put them on, which he did with abnormal obedience.

Ten minutes later, mother and son walked out of the shop with all of James's uniform, with the exception of his scarf and tie, which would be sent to him once he was sorted ("Why bother?" argued James. "I'll be in Gryffindor! I know it") to a house, since the colors would vary.

They next ventured to Flourish and Blots, where Ginny had trouble snatching her son away from a book called Jinxes for Younger Siblings, and James had to restrain his mother from buying the latest Witch-Mom Series additions: How to Tame Your Wild Children and How to Keep Family Brooms Safe. Ginny paused to get them both enormous ice-cream cones to devour, before they visited Eeylops to purchase owl food for the family owls, a black one named Padfoot and one with exceptional blue eyes named Moody. After that, with a miniature intersection of James being glued to the window of the Quidditch supplies store, they came to their final destination: Ollivander's Wand Maker.

James pushed open the shaggy door after receiving and encouraging nod from his mother, and squinted slightly as a small gush of dust greeted him.

"Hello?"

He could almost swear he heard an echo.

A wizard with hardly any hair and large, moon-like eyes surfaced from the dark, vast shelves of boxes.

"Mr. Ollivander," James's mother greeted. James wondered how she could smile as brightly as she was in this gloomy atmosphere at such an odd man.

"Ms. Weasley, ah, I mean Mrs. Potter. Maple, 11 and three quarters inches, dragon heartstring, solid and stanch..." Mr. Ollivander returned with a hint of upturning of his lips. His voice was best described as willowy, if it was possible for a voice to be. "What have we here? If not the young Mr. Potter himself." His unnaturally wide eyes floated to land on James's.

James gulped despite himself. "Yes...sir."

"Well, let's get started!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, with enigma James would never had guessed he possessed. The elderly man was soon going over his many shelves, mumbling to himself, taking out a few boxes, and shoving some back with a shake of his pale head.

He finally came back to the dusty counter and set five or six boxes down. He opened the first one and passed James a rather crooked wand. "Ash, 12 inches, unicorn tail hair." James scrupled, before giving the wand a gentle wave. A filthy, empty flower pot on a nearby shelf exploded into millions of pieces. James stared with his mouth hung open, and hurried to return the wand to the shop owner, who was almost pleased. He immediately opened another box.

"Here; mahogany, 10 and one quarter inches, dragon heartstring." James swished again, and saw with awe Mr. Ollivander's hair sprouting to shoulder-length. Ginny let out a laugh concealed as a cough. Mr. Ollivander seemed amused as well, and fixed his hair with his own wand. He took out another wand and idly handed it to James to try. "Holly, eleven and a half inches, unicorn hair..." his voice trailed off as he touched his head almost defensively with one hand.

James took the wand gingerly, and an amazing feeling surged up his arm to what seemed the core of his arm. He brandished the wand with a sudden confidence. A light, blue mist flowed from the tip of the wand, which smelled like fresh blueberries. The mist drifted away slowly, with a final dramatic shower of sparks before it disappeared entirely. Ginny positively beamed, and gave her son a tight, fleeting hug.

Mr. Ollivander slowly took the wand out of James's hand and placed it back in the box. "That would be 12 Galleons and 4 Sickles, if you please," he said with a light grin. Ginny, still glowing with joy, gave him the money and passed James his boxed wand, who placed it in his bag with hesitation, wanting to hold it for as long as possible. They left the store with Mr. Ollivander bowing after them.

"Well, you go first, my dearest newbie wizard," Ginny said abnormally patronizingly, handing James some Floo powder. James obeyed and arrived seconds later, his usually already messy hair even more disturbed than usual, and his robes partly covered in soot.

"Jamsie!" Lily's excited shriek surprised James as the room came into focus.

"Lils, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Mummy! Jamsie! You've got to come, the most wonderful thing has happened!"

James turned around to find Ginny behind him, patting soot off her long hair. "Mum, she won't stop calling me—"

"Oh, stop fussing," Lily grabbed them both by the arm and dragged them to the kitchen. "Aunt Bea gave birth! There's another baby in the family now! I'm no longer the youngest! It's a little boy! He—"

"Slow down, honey," Ginny held her daughter by the shoulders. "What's going on? Bea gave birth already?"

"You bet," answered her husband. "Pigwidgeon dropped the message off just a few minutes ago. Watch out, he's on that chair."

Pigwidgeon was a tiny, constantly overexcited owl given to Ron by Harry's godfather, part of James's namesake, Sirius Black, in Ron's third year. He was quite old now, and appeared to have passed out on a chair in the kitchen.

"But that's wonderful!" Ginny exclaimed, picking up her mirror-image of a daughter in her arms.

"Yep, yep," Ron agreed, a huge smile plastered on his freckled face. "Hey, Harry, bet you five Sickles that—"

There was a loud 'crack', and yet another red-headed figure appeared in the room. The children's all-time favorite, Uncle George Weasley. "Hey, lads and ladies," he greeted, his face red from joy and panting slightly. "You've heard, I presume? Yeah...patch of red hair in sight, got a loud, strong cry...we're naming him Fred," ("You owe me five Sickles," said Ron to Harry) "Fred Alastor Weasley."

"That's so sweet of you," Ginny commented, hugging him furiously and kissing him on both cheeks.

"Thanks, sis," Ginny let go of him, and he turned to let Ron and Harry take turns hugging him and slapping him on the back. George seemed to be on the verge of tears, as Hugo, James, Albus, Rose, and Lily all rushed forwards to give him hugs, blessings, and (quick and shy because of the "tender" age) kisses.

The day ended late, after visiting Aunt Beatrix and little Freddie, downing a birthday cake produced by a tearful Grandma Weasley and a joyous Aunt Fleur. James was so indulged in the celebrations and the new addition to the family, he almost forgot that—

"Oh my! James! We have to get you to bed immediately!" His mother shrieked, checking the clock. "We have to get up early tomorrow! Come on now, Potters."

They all took turns to congratulate the new parents once more, and James was wished good luck by all his family members.

"James, you nervous?"

James looked up at his father and swallowed. "Nope."

"James."

"Yes," he admitted, lowering his head.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, son," his father comforted, squatting to look right into his son's eyes. "I was beyond nervous on my first day. Luckily I met the Weasleys, or I don't know what I would've become. I understand just how you feel, you got that?" He patted his son's red head soothingly, and stood up. "And you don't even have to worry, I won't tell Albus about this."

James smiled. "You'd better not."

The whistle blew.

"James, honey, here you are," Ginny hugged him tighter than ever, and James fought the strain to laugh.

"Mum, you're crushing me," he said, and she pulled away to look at him.

"Listen, if anyone gives you a hard time, I swear I'll—" she inhaled deeply and exhaled to compose herself. "No, that's a bad example. But promise you'll write, and tell us how you're doing. Don't argue, James Sirius Potter, you hear me? Write. Don't lose your things on your second day, listen to your teachers, talk to Teddy and Victoire if you have to, or Neville, don't keep it all in, okay? Oh, you've got to get on now..." She held his hand even after he was in a compartment, reaching out the window.

"Mum, I'll be fine, I'll be fine," he assured her, and Albus and Lily moved forward. Albus was sulking.

"Now I've only got a girl in the house," he whispered, out of Lily's hearing range.

James laughed. "You still have Lu and Hugo, and you can write to me."

Albus eyes lighted up with astonishment. "I can?"

"Yeah, but I'm not saying I'll write back."

Albus smiled weakly, and backed off for Lily, who seemed almost in tears.

"Aw, Lils..."

He almost fell out of the window to hug her. She planted a surprising kiss on his cheek. "Wow, Lils, I'm honored."

She grinned and back away, as the train started to move, slowly at first, and then faster, faster, and faster. Lily and Albus chased after it, until the trained turned a corner and their figures went out of sight. James turned around to an empty compartment, and felt shockingly alone. He gathered his trunk and backpack, and wandered to the hall, wondering if he'll bump into a sudden and eternal friendship like his father. He couldn't find anyone who looked his age, and was about to just settle in a lone compartment when he heard a familiar voice:

"Teddy Remus Lupin! When will you stop tripping over people's feet?"

It sure is really nice, James decided, to come from a big family.

So I know this story took a long time to finish, but yep, it's finally done.

PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, AND AGAIN, THANKS FOR READING.