James took a deep breath. He wanted to tell his dad about everything he'd seen and heard. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him about the Muggle intruder, and Cedric Diggory's ghost, and the secret of Austramaddux, the plot to return Merlin and use him to start a final war with the Muggles. But in the end, he decided not to. He smiled at his dad.
"I know, Dad. Don't worry about me. If I decide to save the world single-handedly, I'll send you and Mum a note first. OK?"
Harry smirked and shook his head, not really buying it, but knowing there was no point in pressing the point. He climbed back into the bottom bunk.
Five minutes later, James spoke up in the dark. "Hey, Dad, any chance you might let me keep the Invisibility Cloak with me for the school year?"
"None at all, my boy. None at all," Harry said sleepily. James heard him roll over. A few minutes later, both slept.
When James and Harry Potter entered the Great Hall the next morning, James sensed the mood of the room change. He was used to the reaction that the wizarding community showed whenever he was out with his dad, but this was different. Rather than turning to look at them, James sensed people looking pointedly in the other direction. Conversations quieted. There was the strange sensation of people glancing at them sideways or turning to watch once James and Harry had passed them. James felt a surge of anger. Who were these people? Most of them were good witches and wizards, from hardworking parents who had always been supportive of Harry Potter, first as the Boy Who Lived, then as the young man who helped bring about the downfall of Voldemort, and finally as the man who was Head Auror. Now, just because some rabble-rousers had painted a few signs and spread around a few stupid rumors, they were afraid to look directly at him.
Even as James thought that, however, he saw that he was wrong. As Harry and James sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table (James had pleaded with his dad not to make him sit up at the teachers' table on the dais), there were a few grins and hearty greetings. Ted saw Harry, whooped, and ran down the length of table, giving Harry a complicated handshake that involved a lot of banging fists, hand grips and finally, an embrace that was one part hug and one part body slam.
Harry collapsed onto the bench, laughing. "Ted, you're going to knock yourself clean out one of these times."
"My godfather, everybody," Ted said, as if introducing Harry to the room at large. "Have you met Noah yet, Harry? He's a Gremlin, like me and Petra."
Harry shook Noah's hand. "I think we met last year at the Quidditch championship, yes?"
"Sure," Noah said. "That was the game where Ted scored the winning point for the opposing team. How could I forget?"
"Technically, it was an assist," Ted said primly. "I happened to wallop their team's Quaffle carrier through the goal on accident. I was aiming for the press box."
"Hate to interrupt, but do you guys mind if James and I get a little breakfast?" Harry asked, gesturing toward the table.
"Have at it," Ted replied magnanimously. "And if any of these malcontents give you any trouble, just let me know. It's Quidditch tonight, and we hold grudges." He eyed the room grimly, then grinned and sauntered away.
"I'd tell him not to sweat it, but that'd be taking away his fun, wouldn't it?" Harry said, watching Ted depart. James grinned. They both began to fill their plates from the steaming platters along the table. As they began to eat, James was pleased to see Ralph and Zane enter. He waved them over enthusiastically.
"Hey, Dad, here're my friends, Zane and Ralph," James said as they piled onto the benches, one on either side. "Zane's the blond one, Ralph's the brick house."
"Pleased to meet you, Zane, Ralph," Harry said. "James tells me good things about both of you."
"I've read about you," Ralph said, staring at Harry. "Did you really do all that stuff?"
Harry laughed. "Straight shooter, isn't he?" he said, raising an eyebrow at James. "The major points, yes, those are probably true. Although if you'd've been there, it would have seemed a lot less heroic at the time. Mostly, me and my friends were just trying to keep ourselves from getting blasted, eaten, or cursed."
Zane seemed uncharacteristically quiet. "Hey, what's the deal?" James said, nudging him. "You're a little too new to all this to have an idol complex about the Great Harry Potter."
Zane grimaced, and then pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet from his backpack. "This stinks," he said, sighing and flopping the paper open onto the table, "but you're gonna see it sooner or later."
James leaned over and glanced at it. 'Hogwarts Anti-Auror Demonstration Overshadows International Summit', the main headline read. Below it, in smaller type: 'Potter Visit Sets Off School-wide Protest as Magical Community Re-evaluates Auror Policies'. James felt his cheeks flush red with anger. Before he could respond, however, his dad placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hmm," Harry said mildly. "That's got Rita Skeeter's name all over it."
Zane frowned at Harry, then glanced at the paper again. "You can tell who wrote it just by the headline?"
"No," Harry laughed, dismissing the newspaper and digging into a slice of French toast. "Her name's on the byline. Still, yeah, that is pretty much her typical brand of tripe. It hardly matters. The world will forget it by this time next week."
James was reading the first paragraph, his brow furrowed furiously. "She says that most of the school was there, protesting and shouting. That's complete rubbish! I saw it, and if there were more than a hundred people there, I'll kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt! Besides, most of them were just there to see what was going on! There were only fifteen or twenty people with the signs and the slogans!"
Harry sighed. "It's just a story, James. It isn't supposed to be accurate, it's supposed to sell papers."
"But how can you let them say things like this? It's dangerous! Professor Franklyn--"
The look Harry gave him stopped him from going any further. After a second, Harry's expression softened. "I know what you are worried about, James, and I don't blame you. But there are ways of handling these things, and one of those ways isn't arguing with people like Rita Skeeter."
"You sound like McGonagall," James said, dropping his eyes and jabbing at a chunk of sausage.
"I should," Harry replied quickly. "She taught me. And I think it's Headmistress McGonagall to you."
James poked at his plate sullenly for a moment. Then, not wanting to look at it anymore, he folded the newspaper roughly and stuck it out of sight.
"First Quidditch of the season tonight, then, right?" Harry asked, waving his fork at the three boys in general.
"Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor!" Zane announced. "My first game! I can hardly wait."
James looked up and saw his dad grinning at Zane. "You made the Ravenclaw team, then! That's very cool. If I can finish early enough, I plan on coming to the match. I look forward to seeing you fly. What position will you play?"
"Beater," Zane said, pretending to swat a Bludger with his fork.