Hogwarts Journeys; Ch. 9-25, To be written! Options

[evlpez]

All new work to finish the story will be posted in this topic. Please post "dibbs" in this topic as the inspiration hits you, then post your installment in a new post. A moderator will remove "dibbs" posts for you.

[StarWalker]

“Travers!” Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the crisp autumn morning air shrilly. “How many times do I have to tell you…”

James tuned out the drubbing Pollux Travers was getting as he looked around at the other students hovering on their brooms, waiting for the signal to restart the drill. Grinning, he watched Philip try to steady his broom, gripping it so tightly with both hands that James could see his knuckles whitening, a look bordering on desperation flickering over his features.

“Relax mate!” Philip glanced over at him grimly, and gave a wan smile, while continuing to attempt to strangle his broomstick. Funny, James mused, how he can be so good at everything else, but can’t seem to enjoy the freedom of flying. He shifted his gaze to Duke, in the middle ring next to another of the Slytherin first years.

Surprisingly, his cousin sat easily on his broom, though there was a spark deep in his eyes that indicated he wasn’t quite at ease as he appeared, and he was staring fixedly straight ahead. Frowning, James glanced down Duke’s line of sight, expected Serena to be at the end, but realized that Duke didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular. Serena, he noted, was in the bottom ring today, directly underneath Duke while they waited to resume practice. He could see her mouth moving as she talked to the girl next to her in the circle, but the breeze was just strong enough to block him from hearing what she was saying.

Intent on wondering what mischief she was planning, he missed the whistle returning them to the co-ordination drill Madam Hooch had them working on today, and barely heard Philip’s warning as the quaffle they were working with came hurtling up from the ring beneath, preceded by a gleeful “Potter!” from the Slytherin who launched it at him. Reacting instinctively, he caught the ball away from his body, and let its momentum flip him over, around the axis of his broom, where he promptly dropped it the ten feet towards Sean Hughes, directly beneath him. “Danforth!”

Sean veered sharply to the outside of the circle to let the ball fall through the second ring and into the hands of the madly scrambling girl in the bottom tier. The students gradually picked up speed, alternate rings flying in opposite directions, the quaffle passing from student to student and ring to ring on whim, as each student sought to catch the next off guard. Lost in the enjoyment of flying on such a beautiful day, and exhilarated by the air and exercise, the next forty minutes passed too quickly for James.

Walking to the locker room with Philip, brooms over their shoulders, James was certain there wasn’t anything better than being at Hogwarts, practicing flying. Philip, however, was still sweating, and mumbling under his breath. James glanced at him, and saw that his knuckles were white, and he continued to grip his broom tightly, even though it was over his shoulder. “You really should relax on that thing. Trying to choke it doesn’t help you fly better.”

“Yeah – well - you’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Philip’s voice was unnaturally loud, and cracked as he asked the question. “You’ve been flying all your life, haven’t you?”

“Come on Philip! Look at Duke. He’s muggle born too, and he doesn’t have any trouble. And he sure hasn’t been flying all his life either!”

“That’s not the point, James! I’m not afraid of flying. I just don’t like heights. When I look down and can’t see my feet touching the ground, and the ground going on forever, my stomach kind of flip-flops, and I feel sick and woozy. And what is it about Duke, anyway? I thought you told me Slytherin didn’t want to teach muggle born students. If the Sorting Hat took the place of the school founders, and selected the way they selected, how did he end up in Slytherin?”

Talk stopped as they stowed their brooms and gear. Why did the Hat put Duke into Slytherin! James looked towards his cousin thoughtfully, watching him and his classmates leave the room. I’ll have to remember to ask Dad next time I write.

“Good question, but you can’t change the subject that easy.” James grinned at Philip and then followed him from the room.

“Nothing to change, because there’s nothing to say,” Philip retorted. “But we’d better hurry or we’ll be late for Potions.” He started running as he finished speaking. James looked after him for a moment and then attempted to catch up. During the race down the corridors, he forgot the question of Duke’s placement.

Lunch brought a smattering of owl post, and James watched with Philip and Serena as the owls entered through the high windows. A great eagle owl headed straight towards them, and James barely cleared a spot for it to land as it dropped to the table in front of him.

“Whose owl is that, James?” Serena’s inquisitive nature took over, as she righted her mug of pumpkin juice.

“Never saw it before,” he replied, puzzled, as he removed the small scrap of parchment from the owl’s leg. With a very soft hoot for such a large bird, it took off, knocking Serena’s mug back over. She ignored the spreading orange stain as she tried to peer over James shoulder. James casually pushed the note into a pocket and stood.

“Coming, Philip? I’m heading to the library.” Philip stood as James started to leave.

“Aren’t you going to read that?” Serena called after them, frustration visible on her face and evident in her tone. James turned back towards her, smiled knowingly, and headed back towards the door.

“Why’d you do that to her?” Philip asked as they climbed the stairway to the library.

“Sometimes she’s just too nosey,” James replied, as they pulled chairs up to a table. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the note, opened it and smoothed it out on the table in front of them.

James,

I know ya don’ have classes this aft’noon. Well, none after Binns, at any rate. Why don’ ya come on down for a visit? Sumun’s goin’ to be here ya might like to meet.

Hagrid

Bring a friend if yu’ve a mind to.

“Wanna go with me?” he asked Philip, as he refolded the note, tucked it into his bag, and pulled out his potions text.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Philip replied cheerfully, and started emptying his own bag.

History of Magic was the dullest class they had, and normally everyone struggled to stay awake. Today however, James and Philip sat whispering, trying to guess the identity of the guest Hagrid thought James should meet. Serena, noticing their conversation, did not try to hide her attempts to hear what they found so interesting, and, in turn, James spoke lower and lower to keep her from hearing, which only made her redouble her efforts. Eventually the class ended, and the boys ran to their dormitory, dropped off their books, and headed to Hagrid’s.

This post has been edited by StarWalker: Feb 27 2005, 07:21 PM

[agrippa]

James rapped enthusiastically on the door of Hagrid’s hut. They could hear someone laughing inside, and soon Hagrid himself appeared at the door.

“Yeh got my letter, then?” he said. “Come in, come in! Look who’s ‘ere!”

A bedraggled old man wearing a tattered cloak and hat was sitting at Hagrid’s. His blue, bloodshot eyes twinkled as he looked at the boys.

“Dung!” cried James, running to the man and giving him a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ dropped in to visit ‘Agrid, I did,” said Mundungus Fletcher.

James frowned. “No, really. What are you here for?”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your freind?” asked Mundungus slyly.

“Philip McKenzie, meet Mundungus Fletcher,” James said quickly. “Philip’s in my year in Gryffindor. Mundungus is... well... he’s...”

“A friend of his family,” interrupted Mundungus.

“And,” added Hagrid, “a member of the ol’ Order of the Phoenix.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Philip doubtfully. As Mundungus stood to shake Philip’s hand, he shook slightly and balanced himself by leaning on the table. Slowly, he sat down again.

“OK, Dung – tell us why you’re really here,” said James. He glanced at Hagrid. “You’re not bringing some illegal creature to Hagrid, are you?”

“Calm yer self, James,” said Hagrid. “Nothing illegal going on here. Well, ‘cept the carpet.” He jerked his thumb at an old oriental rug that was rolled up in the corner of the hut.

“A flying carpet?” said Philip.

“What are you doing with that?” asked James. “You’re going to get in trouble again.”

“Slow down there, Jamesy,” said Mundungus. “Don’ worry about ol’ Mundungus. Besides, I had to use the carpet to get that muggle to the castle.”

“What muggle?” the boys asked simultaneously.

“You ‘aven’t seen any unusual muggles about today?” Mundungus’ face contorted as he suppressed a laugh. The boys started at him blankly.

“No ‘uge muggles running around? I mean, really big ones.”

“You brought Duke’s dad here?” shouted James. “But why?”

“Well, it’s like this. I’m sitting at the Leaky Cauldron ‘aving a drink, I am, when this mad muggle bursts in the door demanding t’ know where ‘Ogwarts is. Keeps going on about his kid being in trouble. I tell ‘im that I’ll take ‘im to ‘Ogwarts if ‘e buys me a Firewhiskey, but he grabs me by my shoulder and starts shaking me. O’ course, wands are all over ‘im in minutes, and that quieted ‘im down a bit. ‘E starts crying about his poor son Duke, and so Tom pour ‘im a drink and asks ‘is name, to cheer ‘im up, like.

“Well, when I ‘ear ‘is name is Dursley, I think to myself, I know that name, don’t I? And in a few minutes it comes to me – this bloke must be yer ol’ dad’s cousin, what used to beat ‘im up when ‘e was a tike. So I thought maybe I’d ‘ave a little fun with the muggle.”

“You didn’t!” said James.

“Oh, no ‘arm done, Jamesy. I did what ‘e wanted, didn’t I? Got ‘im to ‘Ogwarts. But first we went on a few detours. See, I ‘ad to pick up some potion ingredients from a contact in Norway. Oh, the great muggle was angry with me. Threatened to call Magical Law Enforcement, ‘e did. But I flew ‘im through the middle of a few clouds, and that seemed to shut ‘im up for a bit. Didn’t even thank me when we finally got ‘ere.”

“Is Duke in a bit of trouble, James?” asked Hagrid.

“I guess. He was one of the Slytherins who cheated on Prof. Longbottom’s exam,” explained James.

“Lucky he wasn’t expelled, then,” said Hagrid.

“Yeah,” said James gloomily. “Sure would have made my life easier, though.”

“Now, Jamesy,” said Mundungus. “You’ve got to ‘ave some folk around who keep your life interesting. That’s what I do for the Ministry.” He laughed, but soon it turned into a deep cough.

“Dung,” said James, “are you OK?”

“O’ course. Jus’ a bit of a cold from all that fancy flying,” said Mundungus, taking a swig from a flask he kept in his cloak pocket. “Now, sit down and tell me about your year so far.”

James and Philip sat down at the table while Hagrid poured them tea. They told Mundungus all about Duke and the other Slytherins, about their classes, and about their professors, especially Professor Jacobson.

“Jacobson?” said Mundungus. “Never ‘eard of ‘im. Oh, I’d love to see ol’ Lockhart, though. He was such a stuck-up pretty boy in the ol’ days.”

Hagrid glanced up at the clock above the back door. “Near time fer supper. You two should get back ter the castle.”

“Aren’t you and Mundungus going to come to dinner?” asked Philip.

“Nah,” smiled Hagrid. “We’re goin’ down ter the Hogshead, now that they’ve let Dung back in.”

The four stood up, and James gave Mundungus another hug. “Good to see you, Dung. Stay out of trouble, will you?”

“O’ course. Tell your dad and mum I says ‘ello.”

The sun was setting behind the castle as the boys ran across the lawn to the front doors to join the rest of the students in the great hall.

[evlpez]

Dinner at Gryffindor table was lively. Philip defended himself from the good natured taunts about Flying Practice and James gave his personal reenactment of Dung's magic carpet ride for the benefit of Lily and Freddy. Serena forgot all about James snubbing her and she squealed and giggled throughout the story of Dudley Dursley's trip at the mercy of Mundungus.

Near the end of the meal, Professor McGonagall surprised them all by pausing at their table on her way past.

"Miss Potter, remember your engagement this evening," she said, and continued on her way. She didn't seem angry to James, but he was never certain with her.

"What did you do now?" he asked, watching McGonagall exchange words with Professor Krum as they stood at the end of the Slytherin table.

Lily rolled her eyes and stuffed another fork of potatos into her mouth.

When they reached the common room, Philip and James sat down at a table and started their homework, hoping to get a good start on their papers for Krum before Astronomy that evening. Lily and Freddy sat at the end of the table, whispering until Lily stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Well, off to meet my doom," she announced.

"McGonagall give you detention?" James asked.

"No, it's worse," Lily sighed. "I'm tutoring Duke Dursley." James' jaw dropped. "Every subject. I have to be in the library to meet him in ten minutes."

"McGonagall is making you tutor Duke for detention?" James reminded himself not to cross the Headmistress.

"Something like that, yeah. Three nights a week until he's caught up. I've got Astronomy Tuesday and Thursday, and now Duke on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. She says I'm ahead in my classes and that this would be a good outlet for my leadership skills. Personally, I think she blames me for the banner at breakfast this morning."

"You are responsible for the banner at breakfast this morning," Freddy chimed in with a grin. Lily punched him in the shoulder and laughed.

Philip's brow furrowed and he turned to James. "When are we going to check out Jacobson's wardrobe, now? We have Astronomy tonight."

"It'll have to wait. We'll figure something out." Lily took her bag and checked her watch as she stood up. "Don't you two go without us." She turned and left through the portrait hole. Freddy took a book from his bag and moved over to the couch in front of the fire.

James turned to Philip. "Let's go to the library and do our Potions essays there. That way we can watch Lily's thing with Duke."

"What if the other Slytherins are there?" Philip asked.

"Exactly," James answered, "I'd like to see them after Lily's finished with them, if they try anything."

Lily and Duke were not in the Library, however, and the boys began the research for their aconite essays. Finding the listing for aconite in the New World Magical Encyclopedia, James chided himself for not recognizing the name immediately. This paper would be much easier to write now. He'd once overheard his father discussing Wolfsbane and Wolfsbane potion with Aunt Hermione and their friend Mr. Lupin, who was a werewolf. James remembered that Harry had been especially keen for James to get to know his friend, but he'd seldom visited in the last few years and though he seemed like a very nice old man, James remembered feeling uncomfortable around him.

After taking a few notes and bibliographical information, he gave the book to Philip and took a pencil and parchment over to the Potions Reference section. He looked and found several newer books containing information on various Wolfsbane Potions, learning that this potion was a fairly new and controversial development. James wondered if something like this would be discussed at the upcoming Magic Council or if it was important enough. He knew that werewolves were still struggling for their rights, but wasn't exactly sure what that meant. Rather than study politics in the hour or two he had left to work, he decided to study the potion and its ingredients and see if there was anything interesting there. After all, Wolfsbane was noted for harming and even killing wolves, right? That's how it got that name. Why would a werewolf knowingly prepare and drink something so dangerous, he wondered. Then it struck him. Wolfsbane Potion isn't the only potion to use this ingredient, so I should probably look at other potions and find out why aconite is used in them as well. On a roll, he forgot about Philip and lost himself on the floor of the Potions section, scribbling out Potion names and the properties of aconite in them, his mouth open and tongue moving as he concentrated.

Completely unaware of the time, James was surprised when Philip found him there on the floor beside stacks of books and announced that they were being kicked out of the library.

"Come on, James. Pick a book and let's go! We have to get our things for Astronomy." Philip said as he helped James stack books on the trolley. Philip had finished his paper, and James felt that he had enough information for at least three feet, and he'd try and complete it during Astronomy.

James knew somewhere in his mind that he should be paying more attention to Professor Wiles. He should be watching for clues about Jacobson, he thought, but his essay still distracted him and he found himself poking his wand and a quill into his bag so he could scribble sentences inside when the professor wasn't looking.

When they went up to the dormitory for bed, he closed the curtains on his bed and completed the paper neatly while the others fell asleep.

[evlpez]

Chapter X
The Bulgarian Seeker

(Not yet Beta'd)

The boys spent the weekend enjoying the last of the warmer autumn weather and studying outside. Lily and Freddy had told them that no one ever thought Binns actually read their work, so efforts to complete their History of Magic papers were half-hearted. They spent more time reading up on the next few chapters in Charms, Philip leading the group since they'd unanimously appointed him their unofficial Charms professor. Serena looked almost popular with her dorm mates as they sat near her and Penelope on the grass to preview drying and Leviosa charms with the rest of the Gryffindors. She made a special effort to pay attention and be quieter than usual, which James appreciated more than anyone.

Monday morning, Gryffindor first years produced the most successful demonstrations in Charms class, frustrating the Slytherins. Philip was nearly the victim of a banana peel hex, avoided only by his stopping to pick up a runaway puffskein and return it to Lockhart, who slipped and landed on his backside on the way to the door. Lockhart, in a moment of fleeting clarity, gritted his teeth and politely asked Duke Dursley to stay behind. James knew that Duke wasn't responsible for the hex, but decided not to get involved. If Duke got detention, perhaps Lily would be free and they could finally sneak out and explore Jacobson's wardrobe.

After lunch was double Potions with Ravenclaw, and they'd find out their marks for their Aconite essays. James rushed through the meal, wanting to get to the dungeons early. When he took his seat near the front, Professor Krum was already there, charming the blackboard with the recipe and instructions for a Forgetfulness Potion. James pulled some parchment from his bag as the other students arrived, and the professor turned to greet them.

"Good afternoon. Today ve'll be brewing Forgetfulness Potion. First, I haff your papers from last veek here," he said as he picked up a bundle of rolled parchment papers and began handing them out. "Mr. Smith, I expect you to address the notes I made in the margin and to return the corrected paper to me by next class, preferably with fewer bits of your dinner on it."

Allan blushed as he took his paper. "Yes, sir."

Krum addressed the class. "Most off you did well on this, though I am a little surprised that most off you focused on the Volfsbane Potion. Aconite is used in no less than 23 popular formulae and at least 16 illegal potions, though only one off you named any off them. Vy is it so important to be precise when vorking with aconite, Mr. McKenzie?"

"Er… because it's poisonous to the central nervous system, sir? It prevents respiration and if you overdose, you get heart failure."

"Yes. Five more points to Gryffindor. Your mark vould have been better if you'd included that in your own paper, everyone. Vy do ve use aconite then, if it is so dangerous?"

James raised his hand, and Krum nodded to him. "When combined properly with other ingredients, it tricks the body into allowing other effects of the potion to work instead of fighting against them. It's like in herbology, when we pruned the Amazonius Reticulous. We had to flatter them and lull them to sleep sort of, before they'd let us prune the dying bits."

"Exactly. Five more points. In Volfsbane Potion, aconite is a main ingredient, used to sedate the volf and subdue its natural instinct to hunt and kill. In some cases, the human mind is able to function despite the volf's presence. Vithout the potion, the human has no control over the volf whatsoever. In most other potions however, aconite is only a supportive ingredient which readies the body to accept the effects off the other ingredients combined rather than reject them." Krum smiled at James, bending to hand him his paper and in a low voice he said, "Top of the class, Mr. Potter. Vell done. Please see me after class."

James paid close attention to his preparations and notes and produced what he felt was a flawless Forgetfulness Potion in exactly the time Professor Krum told them it would take. Philip, as James' partner, followed his lead and the two were labeling vials and filling them for marking a full fifteen minutes before the rest of the class. While Philip cleaned their work table and cauldron, James took the vials up to Professor Krum at his desk, where he was marking some other papers.

"So soon?" Krum asked, checking his watch. "May I see your notes?"

James turned and collected them from the desk and showed the professor, who stood and led him out into the corridor and closed the classroom door.

"Yes," Krum nodded as he read. "Correct, Mr. Potter. I'm impressed. I vill test your potion off course, but I can tell you understood the lesson. Was this easy for you?"

"Well, sort of, sir. I really like this class, so it all comes pretty easy to me I guess. Some of it's hard, but that's mostly the preparation part. It's kind of nerve wracking when you've just learned about things like aconite and you're asked to measure out an eighth of a gram of it on your own and not have your potion turn out lethal or something."

"You're very careful. That's important. It's good to be cautious when you're brewing something that is to be ingested."

"No doubt, sir." James nodded, agreeing.

"Madam Pomfrey has asked me to brew a stockpile off the Draught off Peace and I am looking for a bright and able student to assist me. I was going to ask a third or fourth year student, but I think that you vould enjoy the extra practical experience."

James was stunned. "R-really, professor? Me?"

"Yes, James. You're keen without letting it distract you from the vork itself. Your notes and papers tell me that you're a perfectionist, at least in my class. And you show understanding of not only the science, but also more complex aspects, such as ethics. Unusual for someone your age. Off course I'll be able to find someone else if you don't vant the extra vork. I'll understand."

"No sir!" James blurted, grinning. "I'd love to!"

"Good. I vould like to start on the first batch tomorrow evening after dinner. Please meet me here at seven and we'll start preparing ingredients and going over the brewing process. If ve haff time, you vill brew a small amount for me to evaluate. If it passes, we'll begin larger batches later in the veek. Vill that be all right?"

James just nodded, grinning. Krum smiled and they returned to class.

[agrippa]

James had just enough time to gather up his things before class ended. Philip, Sean, Allan and Carson waited for him at the front of the room.

“That’s one strategy,” Sean was saying as James joined the group. “But all of the best keepers these days are playing a solid center instead of flying back and forth.”

“But if there are three hoops,” said Philip, “why aren’t there three keepers?”

Sean frowned and shook his head. “Nobody would ever score. It would be boring!”

“I still don’t get it,” said Philip.

“You’ll understand once you see it played,” said James. “Hey, do you think Madam Hooch would let us borrow some school brooms and throw the Quaffle around tomorrow after transfiguration?”

“Not vithout a teacher present,” Professor Krum from behind his desk. The boys turned to look at him.

“You vill need a teacher to superffise you if you vant to use the pitch.”

The boys looked at one another, crestfallen.

“So,” said Professor Krum, “may I play Quidditch vith you tomorrow afternoon? I’m affailable after four o’clock.”

“Wow, thanks, Professor,” said Carson. “That would be great.”

A few seventh-years began filing in for Professor Krum’s next class. “I vill talk to Madam Hooch and arrange efferything. Just meet me on the pitch tomorrow at four.”

“Great!” said James. “Thanks so much.”

The boys walked down the hall towards the stairs. “Can you believe it?” said Sean, nearly bursting with excitement. “We’re going to get to play Quidditch with Viktor Krum!”

“What’s the big deal about that?” asked Philip. “We just need him so we can use the pitch, right?”

Sean rolled his eyes and looked at Carson. “Tell him.”

“Professor Krum was a very famous Quidditch player a few years back,” Carson said to Philip.

“Famous?” said Sean, obviously unable to hold his tongue any longer. “More than famous! Brilliant! Unparalleled! Hasn’t been a seeker like him since he retired, has there?”

“Why did he retire?” asked Philip.

“Quidditch is a rough game,” said Allan as they began their climb to the Gryffindor common room. “After a while, you just can’t take being banged around like that.”

“But he was amazing!” said Sean. “And still at the top of his game when he retired to take the Potions job here.”

“Dad says he was smart to retire while he was on top of the game,” said James. “I wonder if he can still fly?”

“Rex silvarum,” said Carson as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She swung open, and they climbed in to the common room.

“If we’re going to fly with Professor Krum tomorrow,” said Carson, “we’d better get to work on our History of Magic essays for Wednesday.”

“Right,” said Philip. “Let’s drop our books in the dormitory and go to the library. I don’t have nearly enough about Belgian wizards in the thirteenth century in my notes.”

[evlpez]

(Not yet beta'd. Please PM me with any corrections and I'll edit them in.)

Tuesday couldn't come soon enough for James. The Quidditch and potion making plans for the afternoon and evening made it difficult to pay attention in his classes, except for Transfiguration. He didn't want to get a detention from Jacobson, and tried very hard to participate in class enough to stay out of trouble, but not draw attention to himself.

Right after Transfiguration ended, the boys headed back to the Library to show Philip the Quidditch books that featured Professor Krum, or pictures of him playing for Bulgaria. Serena had overheard them and decided to tag along. James slipped away to the Potions references and read up on the Draught of Peace before they all headed out to the Quidditch pitch.

Krum emerged from Hooch's office with the broom cart trundling along in front of him. His own broom was in his hand, a different model than any James could identify. Sean recognized it immediately to be the famed Krum Special, an extremely limited model custom made for him by a Bulgarian company eager to make a name for themselves among the giants like Firebolt and Nimbus. Sean and Carson both asked for a chance to ride it, but Krum chuckled and shook his head.

"Too much broom for you boys," he said with a wink as he mounted.

Serena mounted a broom and took to the sky with Krum and the boys while Philip watched, content to stay firmly on the ground. James felt sorry for him, but could soon see that Philip was enjoying the show from below. Every time James looked down, Philip could be seen waving, or holding his hand above his eyes to block the afternoon sunlight from his view. Philip was appreciating the show by Krum, at any rate, hiding his eyes or clowning around by faking an enormous retching at one of Krum's lightning fast loop-the-loops. He disappeared at one point, only to come out from behind the broom cart dragging a quidditch box. He opened it and held up the quaffle while Carson landed briefly to chat and take the ball back with him into the air. Krum motioned to them all to fly lower so they could show Philip some moves and fouls, allowing Sean and Carson to demonstrate Blagging and Blurting. They hovered in a cluster near Philip, explaining the game.

"… vith a cushioning charm that makes it more comfortable and easier to stay on. The charms are different for professional brooms than recreational vons. They're fery complicated charms and companies keep them rather secret, or else efferyone vould be charming their own household brooms."

"That makes sense," Philip nodded. James imagined Lockhart trying to charm his own broom. He'd watched his grandfather tinkering with brooms in his spare time, trying to reverse engineer them so he could apply the charms on other objects, but other than the old story of a Ford Anglia, James didn't think he'd managed to make anything else fly well or consistently.

Philip must have thought of Lockhart, too. He changed the subject. "Professor, what's wrong with Professor Lockhart?"

Krum looked at James and hid a half smile. "James didn't tell you?"

"Well yeah, but… well… how is it that he's teaching now? I mean, no disrespect, but he's not very…er.. with it, is he?" Philip tapped his temple and raised an eyebrow, causing Krum to chuckle.

"I heard that you're heading a Charms study group, Philip. Good for you! Your parents must be fery proud that you're fitting in vell here," Krum said, watching Sean try to collide head-on with a reluctant Carson.

"Someone had to," Serena chimed in. "Professor Lockhart can't remember where he is, half the time. If it weren't for Philip and James, none of the rest of us would've learned anything yet this year. I'm so surprised Professor McGonagall hired him. Was there really no one else? My father said that since Professor Lovegood broke the DADA curse and the old Charms professor left, Charms has been the hardest position to keep filled. My aunt Hermione…"

"How is your aunt, Miss Veasley? I haven't seen Ron and Hermione in a fery long time. It vill be good to see them this spring ven they come. Your father too, James. I vould fery much like to spend some time catching up vith them. I'd particularly like to learn more about your cousin Duke's family."

"Oh," James' face fell. "I don't know much about them, Professor. They're muggles, and they were horrible to my dad when he was growing up, though. They hate magic and they hate us. I never even met Duke before the train ride to school."

"I see." Krum looked pensive. "Interesting that they allowed Duke to join the Vizarding Vorld then, don't you think? He must be fery brave." Krum looked at James.

"Doesn't look that brave to me, the way he lets his housemates push him around," Allen remarked.

"Brave enough that he'd rather pick fights with us than accept help." James added. "I don’t get him, Professor. He hates us so much that he lets those guys embarrass him and get him into trouble rather than talk to us. On the train, even, they were bugging him. Philip and I tried to help, but as soon as he knew who I was, he was all 'I don't need your help' and 'stay away from me,'."

Krum sighed. "Some people are too proud to accept help, even from family."

James snorted. "He's barely family, if you ask me. His dad and them made that clear enough before I was born."

"Still, he's just a boy, like you, James. He really is a good boy, he just needs a little encouragement, I think. You should gif him a chance, James."

"Yeah, a chance to let his buddies beat us up, you mean." Philip muttered.

After supper that evening, James prepared ingredients with Krum in the Potions classroom and they talked about the Draught of Peace. Krum enjoyed hearing more about home and Harry, and James was surprised to discover that he didn't mind talking about it with him at all. Krum had an easy, relaxed way about him that made James comfortable. He treated James like a whole person, asking him more about his feelings and thoughts than Harry's accomplishments. When James asked about what it was like to compete in the Triwizard tournament, Krum saddened in his reflection. He didn't hide his feelings of shame about having been used and allowing such danger to befall Harry and Cedric Diggory.

"I beleef your father is a fery great vizard, James. I admire him fery much. Efen back then, ven ve vere children… but I vas foolish and fain back then. It vas Diggory's death and Harry… I changed then, and hope that I haff become more than I might haff because off it."

James was awed that Krum would talk of such intimate things with him. "That's what my dad says too. He said that night when Voldemort came back, he started becoming a man and he wasn't ready for it. It's odd, knowing about my dad's old life. He's this great, famous hero with all this history, and then he's just my dad. I don't know if I could ever handle what he had to, and still be a normal guy."

Krum seemed to shake off his memories and smile at James. "God villing, you von't haff to. Now let's look at the brewing procedure for this potion."

James didn't have to brew a test batch. Krum was satisfied with James' understanding and memory that they prepared enough ingredients for a large cauldron and began brewing the first of three which had been requested by Madam Pomfrey. Krum commented that he suddenly seemed to be missing the last of his stock of Wit-Sharpening Potion, and that they could brew more when they got together next. James was proud to be invited to brew another fifth year level potion, and more so that Krum seemed to like him and enjoy his company. It was past nine when they finished labeling and packing vials, and Krum wrote a note for anyone who might stop James on his way back to Gryffindor tower.


More to come as its written.

[evlpez]

(Not yet beta'd.)

Thursday was Halloween. Philip demonstrated in Charms class again while Lockhart fiddled with a key on his desk, apparently trying to remember what it was for. The Gryffindors spent much of the time looking ahead to future chapters, since they'd covered Leviosa so well during study group and could all levitate at least a feather proficiently. Claude Jugson and most of the other Slytherins grudgingly took notes and only Penelope was ready to leave with the Gryffindors when class was dismissed.

The Great Hall was decorated in dancing black and orange streamers and bats lined the walls. A hundred carved jack-o-lanterns floated above the tables and the floor in front of the staff table was lined with some of Hagrid's biggest pumpkins. Each of the professors had chosen and carved a pumpkin to resemble another, and everyone amused themselves by guessing the artists. Professor Longbottom and Hagrid laughed together at a meter-high masterpiece wearing cut up lengths of curly vines for hair and a beard, and Madam Hooch congratulated Lockhart on the primitive and slightly demonic likeness of Professor Jacobson. Lockhart found a pumpkin that looked almost exactly like him, courtesy of Professor Lovegood, but pouted and whined when he couldn't get the light inside to stay lit, sending the Gryffindor table into hysterics.

The students filled themselves with food and their pockets with candies and wizarding treats. James was giving Professor Krum the thumbs up on his pumpkin of Madam Hooch when Lily called down the table to him.

"Do first years have Astronomy this evening?" She asked James.

"No. Wiles cancelled today's because of the feast. Why?"

She nodded to the doors of the Great Hall, through which Duke was leaving early, and turned to Freddy. "If I'm lucky, he's going to write his essay for Professor Lovegood."

James didn't think much on it, as Lockhart had just set the tablecloth on fire, causing Gryffindor to cheer. Wiles and Jacobson put it out while Lockhart smiled and waved from behind them.

[timeturner]

Chapter XI England vs Italy


The Christmas holidays were quickly approaching and the students, James included, were anxious for the break. School assignments had been relentless and even the first years were often forced to work late into the night to complete their required essays. Phillip and James had just spent another night working on a particularly long parchment for Professor Binns involving the Giant Wars of 1800 and though tired, James lay wide awake in his bed, unable to sleep.

Thoughts of the upcoming Quidditch Game kept swirling through his head. As excited as he was about the match, he couldn't help wondering what his friends would think of his Dad when they finally met him face to face. Even though Harry didn't act like a celebrity, he was always treated like one wherever he went. As used to it as James was, such reactions often made him feel uncomfortable. Would it bother his friends like it bothered him? What if they got annoyed with being in the shadow or worse, what if they started acting like hero worshipers?

Over in the next bed Philip snored and mumbled something unintelligible. Wishing he, too was asleep, James rolled over and pulled the covers tightly around himself, determined to catch at least a couple of hours of rest.


James awoke not long after to screams and giggles. Sitting up to get a better look at the commotion, he saw his dorm-mates all grouped by Allan's bed. It seemed Allan had been amusing the others by eating strange combinations of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Try these," Sean said, dropping a handful of multi-colored beans into Allan's outstretched hand.

"Don't do it, Allan," Philip said, looking a little nauseous despite his laughter.

The boys yelled in disgust as Allan took the handful of beans and put them in his mouth.

"What do you have there," James asked as he joined the group.

"Let's see," Allan said slowly through a mouthful of beans. "There's liver, marmalade, slug flavor, and… sardine? Yeah, it's definitely sardine."

"That's disgusting," Philip said, shaking his head. "This Bertie Bott person must be mental. Who would make candy that tastes like slugs?"

After Allan downed the last soap bean in combination with strawberry and grass, the boys dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. The Great Hall was packed as usual, but Carson spotted enough seats next to Lily and Freddy at the Gryffindor table. James saw Lily nudge a whispering Freddy into silence when she noticed the group approaching.

"What are you two going on about?" James asked, directing the question at Lily.

"Nothing that concerns you, little brother," she responded with a wink and a smile.

"James, you still meeting with Krum every week," Freddy asked, clearly keen to change the subject.

James nodded. "We brewed Wit-Sharpening Potion last week."

"Wit-Sharpening Potion, huh? You should give some of that to your cousin Duke. If he was a little sharper he might not need Lily to babysit him three nights a week," Freddy smirked.

"Actually, I've been thinking about asking Professor McGonagall to cut it down to two nights," Lily said. "We don't even work on Charms anymore. Lockhart says his marks have improved drastically."

"It's not from Lockhart's teaching, that's for sure. He's the worst teacher here. If it wasn't for Philip, we wouldn't know anything." James said.

Lily shrugged. "Maybe Duke's been paying attention to Philip."

"I wish I had someone to pay attention to," Philip said wistfully. "I've learned almost all I can from our Charms course book. It would be nice to learn something more advanced."

"Maybe Lily or Freddy could show you some stuff," James suggested.

"Don't volunteer me," Freddy said, shaking his head. "I have enough work."

"Same here. Sorry, Philip," Lily said.

[agrippa]

Finally, the last day of the term arrived. Bags packed, the boys talked late into the night.
"Italy has an amazing pair of Beaters," said Sean. "Hartman will have a tough time with them."

"But Hartman's one of the best Seekers in all Europe," protested Allan.

"Still," said James, "but Lombardi and Giordano sent Belgium's Seeker off the field on a stretcher. My dad says Hartman will have to fly the match of his life."

"It's so great of your dad to invite us," said Carson. "I bet they're great seats, him being on the International Quidditch Federation board of governors and all."

"Yeah," said Allan. "But I bet you get to do stuff like this all the time, huh, James?"

James stared at the floor, feeling his face go red. The room was silent for a while.

"You know," said Philip to no one in particular, "you'd think having a famous family would be fun. But I can imagine it being a bit of a pain, though."

He threw a pillow at James, who looked up and smiled. "Yeah, sometimes a bit of a pain. I mean, guys" – he drew a deep breath – "you'll see at the match. Everyone will treat him like a celebrity and they'll hardly even notice us. I mean, it's not his fault, it's just because of all that stuff with the defeat of Voldemort..."

Carson drew a sharp intake of breath. Sean's eyes bulged. Allan hid his face behind a pillow.

"Sorry," said James. "Dad always says his name."

After a short silence, Philip said, "We should get to bed."

The others nodded.

"I'm really sorry, everyone," said James.

"No worries," said Sean brightly. "We're going to see Italy play England tomorrow!"

***

The train ride to London was short and uneventful. When the train pulled into the station, they clambered off the train excitedly, grabbing their bags as they were unloaded from the luggage compartments. Once the conductor signaled that the coast was clear, they walked through the barrier and in to the busy station.

James' mum and dad were standing near platform ten with his Aunt Hermione. James ran to hug his parents, followed by Lily Anne, while Freddy and Hermione embraced. Fiona and Finley looked a little put out that neither of their parents had come to meet them.

"Mum, Dad, these are my roommates: Sean Hughes, Allan Smith, Carson Jones, and Philip McKenzie," said James. His parents shook each boy's hand as they exchanged greetings. James was thankful that none of his friends stared at his Dad too long. Once his mum and Hermione had checked to make sure everyone had all of their belongings, the group walked out into the chilly air of muggle London.

Hermione was explaining to the twins that neither of their parents was able to take off work today as she hailed a taxicab. "So how are we getting to the match, dad?" James asked his father.

"Well, the match is on a deserted marsh in Scotland, so we're going to grab a Portkey. Your mum and aunt will take everyone else back home – the whole family's spending the holiday there."

Even the excitement of the upcoming match couldn't mask the weight James felt in his stomach. The whole family for the entire holidays? He'd never have a minute to himself! Why did everyone have to stay at his house?

Philip interrupted his train of thought. "What's a Portkey?" James began to explain while the others loaded their bags into a taxicab. Soon the boys were waving at Lily Anne, Freddy, and the twins as they drove off.

"OK, boys," said his dad with a grin. "Ready to have some fun?" They began walking up a busy road, but soon he led them off into a smaller, cobble-stone street.

"Are we going to Diagon Alley?" asked Sean.

"Nope," said Harry. "That's in the opposite direction." They took another turn into an alley. "Ah, here we are."

He looked around the deserted alleyway, took out his wand, and whispered, "Alohamora." A rusty metal door swung open, and Harry and the boys entered what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse.

"Lumos," muttered Harry. He held his wand above his head so they could all see. "OK. We're looking for a sardine tin."

"A sardine tin?" whispered Philip to James. "I thought we were looking for a Portkey."

"The tin is the Portkey," James whispered back.

"Mr. Potter! I think it's over here," Allan said, pointing into a dusty corner of the building.

The boys and Harry walked over to the corner, and Harry picked up the tin.

"Right," he said, glancing at his watch. "We have about ten minutes, so why don't we change into robes?"

Each of them opened his bag and pulled off their muggle jumpers and t-shirts, exchanging them for wizard robes. Harry wore dark blue robes emblazoned with the red and white English flag on the back.

Pulling a box out of his bag, he gave each of the boys an English Quidditch pin for their robes. It featured a tiny figure of St. George battling a dragon who breathed small puffs of ruby fire. Harry fixed his "International Quidditch Federation Governor" pin on his robe and picked up the sardine tin.

"Everyone get a finger on the tin, at least. Thirty seconds..."

James began to brace himself for the ride. He'd traveled by Portkey three or four times before, and he really didn't like the feeling of being dragged through a tunnel by a fishing line caught in your navel. He could tell that Carson, Sean, and Allan were doing the same. "Brace yourself, Philip," he whispered.

"Ten seconds," said Harry. "Five... four... three... two..."

They were tumbling through swirling colors and indistinct sounds. Philip yelped. Suddenly, James' feet collided with a patch of soft earth. His knees almost gave way, but he managed to pull himself up. Philip, however, wasn't so lucky. He had fallen face first into the turf. Allan was helping him to his feet.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said a young wizard in a steel-grey cloak with a thick Scottish accent. "Right on time! I hope ye had no trouble findin' the Portkey?"

"No, no problem at all. Your directions were perfect."

"Lovely," said the Scottish wizard. "Now, the pitch is just about a mile that way. See it?"

James squinted into the setting sun, barely making out the shadow of a stadium.

"Have the other governors arrived?" Harry asked.

"Ah, a fair few. Lloyd Bangough, Francesco Brunelli, Kostya Shishkova, Shin Kyung-Soon, Ramla Akukweti, and Trent Davidson have all arrived. And, o' course, Moira McKirk has been here for a week."

"Well, I'm very impressed by the job your team has done, Gordon," Harry said. "Thank you so much for all of your hard work."

"Delighted to do it! It's going to be a great match, to be sure!"

Harry and the boys set off down the path to the stadium. As they drew closer, they could hear the noise of the crowd. The sun was sinking deeper into the horizon, and the stadium began to glitter with a magical light that seemed to radiate from the pitch itself.

A pretty teenaged witch in Scottish plaid took their tickets at the entrance.

"The Governor's box, then, Mr. Potter," she said. She eyed the five boys behind him. "You lot sure are lucky. These are amazing seats."

She led them up a narrow staircase. When they emerged into the stadium, they found themselves at the top of the stadium in the center of the pitch. Philip gasped as he looked down and grabbed the rail to steady himself. Sean looked like he'd won the Daily Prophet's Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

"You're in row three," said their guide. "First six seats."

Harry led the way, followed by James, Philip, Allan, Carson, and Sean. As soon as they were seated, James looked around the box. Although he didn't know any of the other governors, he could tell what countries most of them represented. A tall thin man dressed in Italy's red, white, and green Quidditch robes sat in the front row. Next to him, a burly, balding man with an American flag on the back of his cape was scanning the pitch with omnioculars. In the second row were two women – one in Scottish plaid, and one with a black, yellow, and green cap that James knew belonged to one of the African countries.

As the box began to fill, other children arrived. Two girls a couple of rows behind them were chatting rapidly in French. At the other end of the third row, two Japanese teenagers were talking quietly. James was pointing them out to Philip when a man brushed past the Japanese group and set down next to James' dad.

"Hello, Gerry," said Harry, shaking the man's hand. "James, this is Gerry Hindle. Gerry, this is my son, James."

"Hello, James," said Mr. Hindle. He was a short, thin man with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee. "Are you at Hogwarts now?"

"Yes, sir," said James, half-amazed that Mr. Hindle wanted to talk to him instead of his father. "I'm a first-year in Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor, eh?" Mr. Hindle smiled. "Well, you can't win 'em all."

"Gerry was in Hufflepuff," explained Harry. "Still a bit of a loyalist, aren't you, Gerry?"

"Once a badger, always a badger," laughed Mr. Hindle. "Perhaps one of your friends here is in a better house than Gryffindor?"

"No, sir," said James. "These are my roommates." He introduced Philip, Allan, Carson, and Sean, to Mr. Hindle, who shook each hand enthusiastically.

Just as Mr. Hindle took his seat again, a voice boomed from the opposite side of the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the announcer, "welcome to today's qualifying match between England" – the crowd erupted into applause – "and Italy" – the applause was a little less enthusiastic. "Today's match is played under the auspices of the International Quidditch Federation." The box in which the boys were sitting was suddenly illuminated. "May I introduce the IQF member responsible for the logistics of today's match: Moira McKirk!" The witch in plaid robes stood and waved to the crowed, who applauded enthusiastically.

"And now," roared the announcer, "the Italian side. Playing in the red and green robes, I present Rossi – Marino – Conti – Lombardo – Giordano – De Luca – and Costa!"

Each player zoomed out above the pitch as his or her name was called. De Luca, the keeper, stationed herself in front of the hoops as she awaited the introduction of the English side.

"And playing in the white robes, ladies and gentlemen, England!" The stadium erupted in cheers. "I present to you: Hilton – Jameson – Kerry – Wendt – Larkin – Samuelson – and Hartman!"

The crowd roared as the English side took position on the field.

"Today referee is Gustav Niebler from Austria. Mr. Niebler, please begin the game!"

The referee opened a chest. The two Bludgers and the Snitch flew into the air, and Niebler threw the Quaffle into the air. The match was on.

"And it's England with the Quaffle. Hilton – Kerry – back to Hilton – fakes right – Hilton shoots – blocked by De Luca."

"So," said Mr. Hindle. "Didn't I hear that Will Jacobson was teaching at Hogwarts this year?"

"Conti with the Quaffle – ducks a Bludger – drops to Rossi – ooh! That one got him. Quaffle to Kerry."

"Yes," said James. "He's our Transfiguration professor."

"England scores!" Everyone in the box jumped to their feet and cheered, except for the Italian gentleman in the front row.

"Do you know Professor Jacobson?" James asked Mr. Hindle.

"Used to work in the Improper Use of Magic Office with me, he did."

"Marino – Rossi – nice move – he shoots – blocked by Samuelson. So that's England with the Quaffle again."

"So he left the Improper use of Magic Office to come to Hogwarts?"

"No, no. He left the Ministry about five years back. Had some falling out with the Minister."

"Hilton ducks Conti but loses the Quaffle. Picked up by Marino – oh my!"

Costa, the Italian seeker had gone into a dead dive, followed closely by Hartman. A Bludger missed Hartman by inches, but he missed seeing Costa pull out of the dive. They collided in mid air, but both managed to stay on their brooms. Sean was out of his seat, yelling at Lombardo.

"Dangerous move," said James.

"A good idea," said Harry, "but poorly executed."

While everyone was watching the Seekers, Marino scored. The Italian man in the front row was ecstatic.

"Jameson with the Quaffle – Kerry – Hilton – stolen by Rossi – that had to hurt!"

Rossi had been almost knocked off his broom by a Bludger from Wendt.

"So where did Professor Jacobson work before he came to Hogwarts?" asked James.

"St. Mungo's, I think. Did some kind of medical research project."

"Foul!" screamed the announcer. James had to agree. Giordano had grabbed Larkin's broom in order to keep him from reaching a Bludger headed for the English keeper, Samuelson.

"Penalty shot to England," said the referee. Jameson took the shot, drew De Luca off by feinting right, and then shot it straight through the center hoop.

"England leads, 20-10."

"So why did Professor Jacobson leave the ministry?" James asked, hoping he wasn't being too nosey. He could tell that Philip was also listening intently to the conversation.

"Hilton – Kerry – intercepted by Marino – Rossi – back to Marino –"

"Well, I'm not sure. I heard that he was pushing to lower the penalties for certain type of illegal magic, but that could just be a rumor."

"What kinds of illegal-"

"James," interrupted his father, "you should let Gerry watch the game."

"Oh, I don't mind," said Mr. Hindle. But James knew that he'd be in trouble if he pushed the conversation much further, and he didn't want to ruin such a great match.

"And it's Hilton again – wow, she can fly – shoots – blocked – rebound to Kerry – shoots – scores! England leads, 30 to 10!"

James tried to forget about Professor Jacobson and watch the game more closely. The match went on through the night and past sunrise. Twice it looked like Costa might have seen the Snitch. Once Larkin hit him with a Bludger; the second time, it turned out to be another feint.

Finally, about two hours after sunrise, Hartman went streaking down the pitch toward the Italian goalposts. He ducked a Bludger, but it slowed him down enough that Costa managed to catch up. They shot straight up into the air and then straight down. At the base of the center goal post, Hartman grabbed the Snitch.

"That's it!" screamed the announcer. "England wins, 240 to 110!"

Hartman lapped the stadium, holding the Snitch up for everyone to see as the crowd went wild. The Italians left the pitch quickly, and their supporter in the box was sitting with his elbows on his knees, holding his head.

[evlpez]

Chapter XII - Christmas at the Potters'

About a mile West of the Stadium was a make-shift campground in a warded field. Wizard tents were huddled in groups around small fires, and several families sat out together enjoying the warmth of the fire and friendly company. More tents sported second floors and chimneys, out of which puffed smoke smelling of hot food and warm kitchens.

As they searched for a flat spot of ground to make camp, the boys craned their necks at the sound of a small group of Italian teenagers passing by. They seemed to be looking for more kids to play an impromptu game of night-quidditch until a plump, stern-faced old witch accosted them, shouting in Italian. Grabbing the tallest boy by the ear, she led them all back into a large tent while the other boys laughed. James and Philip chuckled to each other.

"Bit cold out tonight to be up flying around anyway, isn't it?" Philip muttered.

"Yeah, but there's a charm for that," James replied. "I wouldn't play in this dark anyway, though it'd be good for you." Philip gave him a questioning look. "Well you wouldn't be able to see the ground, would you?" James smiled as Philip gave him a light kick in the leg, and the other boys laughed out loud.

Harry stopped and looked around, peering into the dark of the open field beyond. "Here's as good a place as any. You'll have to forgive an old wizard for his preference for comfort, boys," he smiled.

"You're not old, Dad," James said, rolling his eyes.

"Still, when's the last time I took you muggle camping? We'll do that in the summer. Tonight, though…" Harry pulled a small canvas bag out of a duffel bag and threw it into the dark. He pointed his wand at it and it inflated to a tent the size of a flat.

They went inside and all but Harry and James marveled at the three room flat inside, complete with furniture much like that in the Gryffindor common room. There was a huge stove between the kitchen and main room. Harry went to it and lit it, sending billows of smoke into the rooms. Cursing, he opened the flue as James went to hold the flap of the entrance open. Philip and the others went beyond the main room to a flap 'doorway' to find a great bedroom with its own small stove, two beds big enough for two or three people, a cot and a crib. Harry squeezed by them and opened the flue before lighting the bedroom stove. The place warmed up rather quickly, and Harry lit lanterns in each room.

The boys sat on the squashy couch and chairs in front of the main room stove while Harry searched cupboards in the kitchen for something to eat.

"That was a brilliant match," James reflected, watching the flames in the stove window.

"Yeah, it was!" the boys chorused in reply.

"Costa's Wronski Feint? Ahh!" Sean threw his head back dramatically.

"A lot different than seeing you guys on the school brooms, that's for sure," Philip said.

"Some interesting conversation, too," Carson added quietly, glancing at Harry in the other room.

James looked at him seriously. "Yeah. All that stuff about Jacobson? What's he doing teaching transfiguration if he's an old Ministry guy?"

"And what did he do to get sacked?" Philip asked.

"And then he worked at St. Mungo's. Bit of a Jack of all trades, isn't he?" Sean said.
James' mind tried to connect these things as if they could tell him what Jacobson was up to at the school.

"Okay boys," Harry called from the kitchen. "We've got beef stew or franks and beans."

"Beef stew," they all called back.

They continued to whisper while a hug pot crashed onto the stove and bowls and spoons clattered onto the table.

"Mr. Hindle told me he was sacked at the Ministry because he wanted softer punishment for illegal magic," James said knowingly.

"So we were right. He's Dark then, right?" Allen asked.

"Not necessarily," Carson said. "Mr. Hindle said certain types of illegal magic, didn't he? That could be anything really. Maybe he wanted to change the laws for under-aged wizardry or something."

"Jacobson? Are you kidding?" James asked. "He hates kids. He wouldn't get sacked for that."

"Well I'm just saying, we don't know what it was exactly. As much as I don't like him, I'm not going to say he's really evil. A lot of strict grown-ups have questionable views on illegal magic. Doesn't mean they're evil, just that they disagree with some of the laws the Ministry makes. Right?" Carson said, getting a little defensive.

He has a point, James thought. Look at Remus Lupin. The laws for werewolves are outrageous, Dad always says. Lupin can't do a lot of things most wizards are allowed to do just because he's a werewolf once a month, no matter that he always takes Wolfsbane potion. Still, James had a tough time imagining Jacobson fighting against something for the right reasons. He didn't trust him.

"You're right, Carson. It's possible that he's not Dark, but I wouldn't bet my life on it," James said. Philip and Allen nodded in agreement and Sean went over to the corner to inspect a coat stand and the racing brooms leaning against it.

"Besides. His wife's all right. I mean, she's nice and everything. Doesn’t seem the type to marry a Dark wizard," Allen said.

"Well she seems that way, yeah," Philip agreed.

"Yeah, and he's not all that nice to her, from what I can tell," James said suspiciously. "

"So he worked at the Ministry and the hospital," Philip thought aloud. "So what is he doing at Hogwarts, and what's it got to do with that Magic Council?"

"Illegal magic… well he wants some law changed, right?" James asked. "That's part of what the Council does. But what law? What magic?"

"Whoa! You've got a Krum special, Mr. Potter?!" Sean exclaimed.

Harry walked in carrying a cutting board and a big loaf of bread. "Oh, that? No, that's just something like it. Viktor sent it to me several years ago when the broom company he endorsed in the late 90s went under. They had made a small run of cheaper versions of the Krum Special, and he'd heard I hadn't gotten a Special for myself, so he sent me this. It's a nice broom, but it's not like his. And it's not even close to some of the models out this year by Nimbus and Firebolt. Soups on, boys. Come and eat."

They all sat around the large dining table slurping up stew and bread with butter, their conversation of quidditch punctuated by lively recreations by Harry with the spoons and empty bowls. Philip embellished the dramatic displays of flying spoons and hovering bowls with rude noises, sending everyone into fits of laughter, including Harry, who'd lost his wand and sent the whole set of tableware falling on their heads. It was almost dawn before Harry sent the boys to the bedroom and summoned a big feather blanket from it to the couch for himself.