A/N: HA,HA! new story! the things i do to get reviews...unless anyone might like to free me from this terrible reviewless curse? alright, a deal, if you review, i'll update it in a week! anyways, enjoy!
James Potter and the Resurrection stone
James Potter the Second blamed Filch the caretaker.
So what if he and albus were found wondering around the corridors at night? They didn't do anything wrong. They weren't sneaking, as the old squib so eloquently put it. He, James Sirius Potter, was merely introducing his younger, less experienced and somewhat immature brother to the unfamiliar side of Hogwarts. Albus was only a first-year, undoubtly, he would feel the need to uncover the foreign, mysterious side of the deserted corridors as he did when HE was a first- year. Plus it was time to put dad's invisibility cloak to good use.
"James," his mother had said handing him the cloak as they were eating breakfast before they took off to king's cross station, "please use this ONLY if there's an emergency, you have no idea how much trouble your father used to cause in school with this one."
"-but- '
"You're mother's right, James." Aunt Hermione had said.
His uncle Ron's muffled voice carried across the table as he tried to stuff yet another sausage down his throat." ye'now, we ad' grade times using' dat."He swallowed."I could still remember the look on Filch's face when we snuck past him, bloody brilliant, that was."
His uncle Ron had earned his mother's famous glare while aunt Hermione cried reproachfully "Ronald Weasley!" elbowing him in the gut.
His dad, watching the whole exchange, shook with silent laughter, a look of amusement etched on his face. James secretly admired his father, but he was never going to tell him that. Sure, when he was younger he would incessantly ask his father to recount his encounter with the greatest dark wizard of all time and how he broke a dragon out of Gringotts. But at the age of thirteen, he felt it best if people started calling him James Sirius potter instead of being referred to as "Harry Potter's son".
"James," his father called him when they finished eating and his uncle Ron was nowhere in sight, "you were named after your grandfather. He was as brilliant as any man could get. He used to come up with these amazing pranks with my godfather. He was a good man, and today I think you should have something of his, he too gave it to me when I was 11, even though he wasn't there personally to deliver the gift, it meant a lot to me, it changed who I was…"
Of course he knew that his dad actually meant was: your granddad and me, we used to creep out of bed to explore the halls, it was massive fun, I hope you have the guts to break the rules, I used to do it all the time and look where it got me.
He wasn't an idiot; rose usually told him what his father and his uncle used to do in school.
And that was how he found out that you could do anything you wanted as long as you were an individual hidden beneath the silvery fabric that was the cloak: visiting Hagrid, abstracting pastries from the house-elves in the kitchen, so on and forth.
The trouble was, concealing TWO people under the shroud.
It wasn't even his fault they were found, it was Albus. They were already well past the fat lady and the 7th floor corridor when filch caught them. Albus had simply forgot that he was, in fact, invisible and had gasped when filch stuck his filthy nose right in front of them, thus exposing the both of them. Filch had acted as though it was the crime of the century, muttering licentious and crude vows, hissing out punishment and tortures, indecent promises to hang them up-side-down by their toes as he dragged them to Professor McGonagall's office.
Albus looked close to tears but he, James potter, was supposed to be the fearless Gryffindor big brother and so he managed to act tough even though he was actually cowering at the thought of ANY form of punishment.
The gargoyle shifted at the mention of Chartreuxes and as they ascended the stairs, James heard voices, as though a room full of people were chatting in there. Hopefully it would be people this time（it wasn't his first visit）, instead of the portraits. But to his dismay, McGonagall was the only one in the room, reading a stack of scrolls.
Professor Minerva McGonagall was, in James' opinion, a strict and just person, albeit a little old. "Ah, filch… Mr. Potter.' She looked up, addressing him." And …mr potter." She nodded in Albus' direction.
"Found them sneaking bout the halls, miss." Filch nodded eagerly.
"Yes, Argus, no need to be so conscientious, you may go now."
As filch scurried out the door, a look of glee plastered to his face, McGonagall turned to face them.
There was a rather large picture of a bearded man with half-moon glasses behind McGonagall's seat with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, his father had told him it was Dumbledore, the man Albus was named after and his father looked up to. The portraits weren't supposed to speak when there were students in the room (his father was a different case being the savior of the wizarding world).
"Well, Mr Potter, care to explain?"
"I was just showing-"he started just as Albus said" well' professor, it's just that-"
"One of you will do, James, you tell me the reason for this unnecessary visit." She turned to him. Albus stayed silent, shooting the customary this- is- all- your- fault look that he had mastered throughout his life with James.
James looked shamefaced, staring at the ground. Why was everything his fault? Albus was so excited when he had woke him up…
"There is no reason the both of you were up?"She questioned.
"No." they said in unison.
"Well then. I guess that entitles 50 points from Gryffindor,' she ignored their cries of protest. "A detention for you two, tomorrow evening at 7, the forbidden forest with Hagrid. Do not be late. "she finished curtly." You may go now."
The trip back wasn't as fun as they had visioned. They'd pictured a stealthy walk with their bellies full and an elated feeling of accomplishment.
In reality, it was completely different; James walked dejectedly and Albus ignored his brother completely aside shooing him deadly looks.
They crept back into bed, dreading what lay awaiting in the forest tomorrow( they had never been there at night and dad had told them he saw professor Quirell with Voldermort sticking out the back of his head when he was there, not the most comforting thought).
As the angry silence stretched ahead, James potter the second blamed filch the caretaker.
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