I own nothing. All credit goes to JK Rowling.

The back of James' neck felt hot as his Head of House peered down at him, hands stuffed in his pockets, with a very scrutinizing glare. "What you did today was not amusing at all, James. Do you realize I've sent two letters to your parents today?" Neville asked, a grim expression crossing his features. "The owls must have passed each other in flight!"

James grinned and then, seeing that Professor Longbottom was not joking, his smile faded. "Those Slytherins…they were saying foul things about Dominique and I just wanted to defend her. Is that so wrong?" He put on his best innocent face and hoped for the best. "You're still going to give me detention aren't you?"

"You know, James," Neville said, sitting down. "You don't have to respond to the Slytherins. You don't have to respond to anybody who uses such foul language. Would you like to know why?"

A curious look appeared across James' face. Fine, I'll indulge you, If this would put off his punishment, he would go along with it. Shrugging, James leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Sure, why don't I have to respond? Do enlighten me, Professor," He urged his Head of House to go on.

"Because," Neville started in a tone of importance. "You're worth twelve of them."

James was not sure he had heard correctly. With furrowed eyebrows, he looked to Neville and squinted his eyes. "I'm sorry, what?" He asked with an expression of vague confusion on his face.

"You heard me," The Herbology Professor said firmly. "I said, you're worth twelve of them. Zabini, Goyle, Crabbe…you're worth twelve of the three of them put together. And you can do better than this," Neville gestured to James' thick yellow file. "Because you are better than this."

"You really think so?" James asked, with a dubious look.

Neville shrugged carelessly. "Do you think so?"

"I want to know what you think," The oldest Potter child shot back stubbornly. "Do you think I'm better than what my file says about me?"

Throwing the file down on the desk, Neville sighed and folded his hands on top of the wooden table. "What I think is that if you stop responding to those kind of people and stop flying your bloody broom through the halls…then sure, you're better than what this file says."

James nodded slowly, taking in everything that had just been said. With a quick, fleeting gaze towards his file, he started towards the door. "So what's my punishment, Professor? Trimming the Venomous Tentaculas? Are they taking over the greenhouse again?"

Neville eyed him for a moment and shook his head. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor. That'll be all."

James opened his mouth, unsure of what had just happened. On any ordinary day, cursing another student the way James had would have been grounds for suspension. Deciding it was best not to question the matter, James closed the door behind him and set off down the corridor.

The fifteen year old Potter had to go find Zabini and rub this in his face. He, James Potter, was worth twelve of him and his goons put together.