If you're reading this, much love. Can you spot the Firefly reference in this chapter? Also, very happy birthday to my most loyal reviewer. Or, rather, a happy belated birthday... sup, dude, you rock. You know who you are.
ENJOI
…
Life was different to the extreme at the Burrow, compared to their home on Engram Avenue. The Potter house was modern, neat, and clean, spacious and open with plenty of room for their disabled mother to move around. The Burrow, on the other hand, was nothing short of chaotic, bursting at the seams with the strange and mysterious.
Harry got yelled at by a talking mirror to tuck his shirt in. James made the mistake of running into the ghoul locked up in the attic, and almost broke his neck jumping back down the ladder to get away from it. Travis and Harry faced off continuously against Fred, George, and Ron at Quidditch behind the Burrow. Brian worked tirelessly with Arthur on making their project more efficient and effective, while James helped with chores to keep Molly off their backs and distracted, since she didn't seem to approve of their tinkering.
She still tried to make him and Harry eat more than their fill at meals, which James wasn't going to complain about. He had, in combination with the food and the workout he was getting going up and down stairs, finally put on some muscle. He even had taken to jogging with Travis in the mornings, which, while Travis was delighted, he was beginning to regret due to the sheer energy his brother had.
Ginny had stayed a hermit in her room. She rarely came out, and Molly and Arthur combined couldn't get her to leave her room. Fred and George had taken to poking fun at her, claiming she was starting her own Potter Fan Club in there. Whenever she did come out, she had a terrible habit of dropping or knocking things over, especially when Harry was around. It was the morning that the Hogwarts letters showed up that Molly had had enough.
"Oh, Hogwarts letter are here," Percy stated at Breakfast as Errol, the aged, weak Weasley owl crashed into a window and jumped up onto the open kitchen sill. Percy took the letters, patted the old bird on the head and let him fly away. "Let's see, here is... Fred, George, Ron, oh, Dumbledore sent Harry, James, Travis, and Brian's, too!"
"Doesn't miss a trick, does he," Arthur laughed and slapped the breakfast table.
"Shiny," James said as he took his letter from Percy. He popped the wax seal on the yellowed parchment and pulled his letter out. He read down the list and choked on his pumpkin juice. "Seven books for Defense Against the Dark Arts?!"
"Wow, our new teacher must be a big Lockhart fanboy," Travis laughed. "They're all his autobiographies."
"Bet he is a she," Fred laughed. "We all have to get his books, too."
"Me... too," Percy said with a quirked eyebrow.
"What about Ginny?" Ron asked. "I'm guessing she's going to need his books, too."
"Ugh!" Molly threw her hands up in disgust. "She still won't come out of her room! If we're to go to Diagon Alley today, we need to drag her out of there!"
James and Travis shared amused looks and nodded. "We got this," they chorused.
They marched up to Ginny's room and came to a stop at her door. James knocked on the door three times loudly, and they waited quietly. There was a scuffling, but no response. James knocked again, and the scuffling got a little more frantic. Travis finally knocked the last three times, and with little ceremony, he whipped the door open and they barged in.
Ginny was curled up on her bed, eyes wide and buried under a pink and green quilt. The walls of her room were painted bright pink, and a poster of Gwenog Jones, a player for the Hollyhead Harpies, was on the wall beside her bed. It was small and a little cramped, but they had to give her credit, she made good use of what little room she had. The bedroom was almost immaculately clean and organized compared to the rest of the Burrow.
"Ya decent?" Travis asked.
"I-I-I-I-" she stammered.
"Are. You. Dressed?" Travis asked again, slowly.
"I-I-I-I-"
"Calm down," James held a hand up. "Do you have clothes on under the blanket? Nod your head yes or no."
She nodded slowly.
"Great!" James clapped and yanked the blanket off.
"Yeagh!" she shrieked.
"Oh, calm down," Travis laughed as he grabbed her wrists.
"We ain't doing nothin' bad," James assured as he grabbed her ankles.
"Ready?" Travis asked.
"Yup," James nodded.
With little effort, they slung the now struggling Ginny over Travis's shoulder in a fireman's carry. She beat her little fists against his back and kicked wildly, but Travis was athletic enough that it did little to hurt him. James followed Travis out of the room and down from the landing while Ginny screamed in protest.
"Lemme go lemme go lemme go!"
"Nope," Travis and James chorused.
Travis gently plopped her down at the empty chair at the end of the dining room table. She moved like she was going to run, but James and Travis stood on either side of her, blocking her escape routes while James hovered his hands over his groin, grimacing at the memory of first meeting her. Travis plopped an empty plate on front of her and piled it with poached eggs, toast, and bacon while Mrs. Weasley slapped down a cup next to it and poured her juice.
"Now eat," Molly commanded, nodding in surprise appreciation at the two boys.
"But Mum," Ginny whined.
"Eat your breakfast, Ginevra," Arthur gently commanded.
James poked her shoulder when she didn't move, and she nearly jumped out of her chair. She cast a hurt look at him while her cheeks flared so red her freckles almost disappeared, but she relented and started eating. She would sneak little glances at Harry and turn redder everytime, but then James or Travis would prod her and she'd look down and go back to eating again. James and Travis stood watch for a minute before Fred and George relieved them of duty.
"Go on, finish your breakfast," Fred laughed.
The normal breakfast routine continued, with everybody eating. Harry had finished and went to write home to let their parents know they were going to need money, when James's owl fluttered into the kitchen, a letter in its grouchy beak.
"Hey, Owl," James greeted, holding up a piece of bacon. It screeched in objection at him, tossing the post at Ron and taking back off, flying up the stairs and back to its cage.
"You still haven't named the poor thing?" George asked.
"It's hard," James whined. "Besides, if I name it something now, it'll prolly get confused since it's used to being 'Owl.'"
"What about Wabbajack," Ginny murmured.
They all turned to look at Ginny in surprise, James nodding appreciatively.
"I read about it over the summer," Ginny defended quietly. "It was a staff owned by a grouchy old crazy man that could only change people into random objects..."
"That's not half bad," James conceded. "Hell, the owl is grouchy..."
"Are you kidding me?" Ron scoffed. "That's a stupid name!"
"It's wacky," Travis laughed.
"I like it," Brian nodded.
"The tribe has spoken," James slammed his fist on the table. "Wabbajack, it is."
…
They weren't ready to go to Diagon Alley yet, as they were still waiting to hear back from the eldest Potters about money, and since Arthur was going into work for the morning, they all decided to play Quidditch. The Weasley's had a paddock rimmed by old, tall trees out back that was well hidden from the village below, and so long as they kept it below the treeline, they could play as long as they liked.
Ron, Fred, and George gushed over the chance to fly Harry and Travis's Nimbus 2000s while James Dean grumbled over the aged, but trusty Cleansweep Six his father had given him. It hadn't been used in a while and he had failed to maintain it very well, as it had twigs poking oddly from the tail and the grip was dulled from a lack of a proper polishing.
"Gonna need to get that cleaned up, brother," Travis chuckled as he saddled a Weasley owned, borrowed Cleansweep.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," James muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Eyes on your own crotch rocket, there, guy."
Travis patted his temporary broomstick happily. "This baby is oiled, cleaned, and ready to fly me to the moon."
"Cool story, Sinatra," Brain teased as he wearily got on his own broom, a hand me down Comet from their mom.
"Says the kid who can't even balance on the broom right," Travis laughed.
They all took to the air not long after, playing with James and Travis's old football as a Quaffle. James and Travis actually gelled well in the air, making a prolific team and carving the Weasley's, who's usual position wasn't even chaser to begin with, apart. Between James's agility and Travis's arm strength, the were able to outscore the twins, even when Fred got frustrated and borrowed Harry's Nimbus.
They tagged in Harry and Ron to play, and they cycled through players in two-on-two's all morning. They broke for a quick lunch, eating apples picked from a nearby grove. James and Travis were resting back-to-back while Ron and Harry argued back and forth about their favorite teams.
"I'm telling you, it's the Cannon's year, I know it," Ron insisted.
"The Cannon's haven't had a 'year' in more than century," Harry balked. "The Puddlemere United, however-"
"Almost a century," Ron corrected.
"It'll be a century this year," James added. "Last time they won a 'ship was in eighteen-ninety two."
"Bet we could win a ship," Travis muttered.
"Oh, we could mutineer a ship, bud," James nodded. "Take control of a Boston whaler of a ship!"
"We'd be the captains of that ship, y'know," Brian said dreamily. "We could call it our naval drifter."
"We'd motorboat the ships, mates," Harry agreed. "It'd be a real pleasure cruiser!"
"I can see it now, headlines reading, 'The Pottermore Weasley's won the ship in stunning fashion,'" James held his hands up as if revealing the text.
"We're gonna have to show some game, boys," Travis laughed.
"Oh, we got game for days, boys," James flicked Travis a slice of apple.
"Game all days, boys," Brian confirmed.
"You been doing legs, bro?" Harry asked Travis.
"Legs twice a day, boys."
"Making the gains?" James inquired.
"Gains, Trains, and Automobiles, boys," Travis confirmed.
"Gainia Twain?" James asked.
"Gains Gretzky, boys," Travis hooted.
"Gain Newton, famous pop singer?" Brian proposed.
"Gain Knight, famous actor, boys!"
"Gain Shorter, the famous saxophonist?"
"Gain Wade, Rastafari, boys!"
"We gonna win the ship?" Ron called out, holding his hand up. The rest put their hands on top of his and hollered, "WE GONNA GET THE SHIP, BOYS!"
"You are all idiots," Fred deadpanned.
"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to pay for five sets of Lockhart books," George muttered later, as they trudged their way back to the Burrow. James and Harry shared sheepish looks; by all accounts, their family was loaded with cash, but didn't want to bring that up.
"Yeah, and Ginny needs..." Fred trailed off, looking pensive. "New, well, everything."
"Is she even fit to go to school?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, she seems to be so hung up she can barely socialize," Travis laughed.
"She's not usually like that," Ron explained, looking to Harry. "I swear, she's obsessed with you. She wouldn't shut up about you all summer, at least until you lot showed up."
It didn't take long for them to stow their things, and by then, Lily had written back, saying they would meet them in Diagon Alley. James and the others were soon convened in front of a blazing fire in the sitting room hearth, and Molly peered into a floral jar.
"G'oh," she huffed and looked at Arthur. "Looks like we're just about out, we'll have to buy more while we're out... well, guests first, eh?"
The four Potter brothers looked at each other, then to her.
"What's the matter? Never traveled by Floo before?" she asked.
"Well, no," James explained. "We have, we just were never allowed to travel by Floo alone, is all."
"Oh, it's easy," Arthur laughed, waving them off. "Go ahead, give it a try. Just take a pinch, speak your destination very clearly, and poof, you're there."
"Right," James nodded, and shoved Harry forward. "You first, buddy!"
"Age before beauty, I say," Harry threw back, shoving James in turn.
"Easy there, little brother," James taunted back. "I'll pull the 'favorite' card on ya. Just go, it'll be easy."
"If it's so easy, why don't you just go, then?"
"Oh, for crying out loud," Brian muttered and grabbed a pinch of floo powder. He threw it in the fire and said, "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared.
"See?" James asked, shoving Harry forward again. "Easy."
"Whatever," Harry grumbled as he took some powder from Molly's reassuring, outstretched hands. He tossed it in the fire and stepped forward, wincing in anticipation of burning that never came. "Di-Diagonally," he screamed, and disappeared.
James, Ron, Travis, and the Twins almost fell to the floor laughing so hard.
"What-what did he say?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"I believe he said... Diagonally," Mr. Weasley answered somberly.
"I'll go get him," James Dean wheezed, reaching forward and taking a pinch of powder from Molly before she could protest. Tossing it in, James jumped onto a log that blazed emerald. "Diagonally," he declared with confidence, and was yanked into the Floo System.
Green flames wicked around him with a deafening roar, and he whizzed past flashes of other people's homes. The ride was short but hellish, almost making James sick to his stomach as the apples from earlier revolted in his gut. Something hard hit his knee, so he straightened his legs out, and it was over all too quickly.
He emerged from the floo on both feet straddling Harry's prone form. He patted his twin on the back, and then noticed Harry had lost his glasses, so he grabbed them and hauled Harry up, handing them to him.
"Thanks," Harry whispered.
"Hush," James responded as Harry inspected his broken spectacles. They were obviously in the very wrong place. Dark artifacts seemed to fill the room they were in, with an ancient human skeleton adorning a rack on the far wall, evil looking masks displayed in a dingy glass cupboard, and a great many other dark, odd things strewn about.
A sad little bell rang, and James wheeled around just in time to duck behind a wall. Harry bolted into an empty cabinet, keeping the door just open enough to see through the crack. James's blood boiled when he saw their rival and archnemeis from school, Draco Malfoy, walk in. He was followed by a tall, grumpy looking older version of himself who James assumed was his father.
He had the same bleach-blonde hair, pointed face, and disgusted gray eyes. He was dressed in fine, fur-lined black robes adorned with gold, and his walking cane-which James assumed was more for show than a limp, was capped by a silver snake head with green eyes. His memory flashed as he remembered reading about that very cane when he was in Ollivander's last year, and knew it was a custom piece. The elder Malfoy barely paid any of the merchandise in the store any heed as he came up to the shops dirty front counter.
"Touch nothing, Draco."
Malfoy, who had reached for a glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter, with an air of impatience.
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking rightfully sullen. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…" Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls. "… everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick-"
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," the elder Malfoy drawled, sneering at Draco and rolling his gray eyes. "And I would remind you that it is not... prudent... to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr. Borgin."
A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face. "Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted, and young Master Malfoy, too! Charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced-"
"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.
"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.
"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few... certain items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…"
Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of spectacles to his nose and looked down the list. "The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"
Mr. Malfoy's lip curled. "I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act- no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it..."
James saw Harry ball his fists in anger but waved him down.
"— and as you see, possession of these poisons might make it appear-"
"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see…"
"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco and forcing James to move from his hiding spot lest he be seen. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly.
Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant."
"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for."
"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger-"
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.
"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry, but James shushed him.
"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere-"
"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today."
They started to haggle. James waited nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to their hiding spot, eyeing up the dark objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed-Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date. Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward, hands stretched out for the handle...
"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco," James could see Harry wipe his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away. "Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."
The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner. "Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor…"
Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry and James waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as they could, slipped out of the back of the store, past the glass cases, and careful not to set off the bell above the shop door. Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. They had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, James in tow as he tried to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here. An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as James cackled at the sight and whispered about what Travis and Brian would think of him beating them to the old place. James supposed Harry hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm and quash his inquisitive spirit, he wondered what to do.
"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making them both jump. An aged witch stood in front of them, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole, toasted, human fingernails. She leered at James, showing mossy teeth. James recoiled at what she held while Harry backed away, standing behind James. "I'm fine, thanks," he said. "I'm just-"
"Harry? James?" Hagrid's booming voice made the woman shriek and toss her toenails. James deftly avoided the shower and turned to Hagrid in relief. "Wha'er you's doin' ou' here?"
"Harry messed up the floo," James explained, jerking a thumb at Harry.
"You did, too!" Harry accused.
"I repeated what you did to find you, you dolt," James shot back.
Hagrid didn't say anything, just grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks and hauled them off, out of the alley. "Jus' wai' til yer parents hear about this," Hagrid grumbled, beetle black eyes narrowed. "Can' believe I', I swear..."
...
Diagon Alley. The mass odd assortment of ramshackle looking shops and buildings where students of Hogwarts could get everything the needed and even more of what they wanted for the upcoming school year. Books, potions ingredients, wands, gold, parchment, quills, ink, sweets, robes, and more was crammed into the wide range of shops lining the narrow, cobblestone streets.
James loved Diagon Alley. The sights, the smells, the hectic atmosphere and narrow walkways reminded him of New York. Diagon Alley wasn't as modern looking, with lopsided wooden buildings and brickyard ground, but it was like a living metaphor. The Alley was odd, crazy, and full of life. New York, below it's clean cut exterior, was as well.
As their father exited the Leaky Cauldron with his mother, brothers, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Ginny and Fred and George, James smiled and waved as he took the sights and smells and sounds in. Witches and wizards scampered busily across the brickyard streets, some towing younger children around, carrying bags of school supplies and the like between stores. Certain enterprising souls were lining the outsides of the cobbled buildings selling food, drinks, or "discount merchandise," such as bogus wands that were twice the regular size, or "owls," that were not actually trained, just captured wild ones that screeched and hooted uncomfortably from the cages.
Hagrid dumped the twins in front of their parents, who looked concerned, and looked to Hagrid. Hagrid, who looked disturbed, looked to them, and James laughed nervously.
"Look, Hagrid, I know that looked bad, but-"
"What looked bad?" Lily demanded.
"It was all under control," James assured them all.
"The way you had everything under control at the end of last school year?" James Sr. asked, dubious of his son's BS.
"Yes," James answered bluntly. "Only this time we didn't have a spectral shade of a megalomaniac psychopath coming at us this time. Harry messed up the floo, so I went after him, it's not like we went to Knockturn Alley on purpose-"
"Knockturn ALLEY!" James and Lily thundered in concern, while Brian and Travis yelled in anger.
"We were supposed to go together, man!" Travis trailed off as he got shot an angry look from their dad.
"Why did you go to Knockturn Alley?" Lily seethed.
"I told ya, we didn't go on purpose, we just ended up there," James defended, holding his hands up. "I swear, it was an accident!"
"With you I sincerely doubt it," James Sr. countered.
"Okay, technically it wasn't an accident on my account- I was going after Harry when he messed up the floo- I was trying to help him out, keep him safe!"
"It was an accident," Mr. Weasley confirmed. "We all saw it, Harry didn't speak clearly enough, James just went after him is all."
"Into Knockturn Alley," James Sr. hissed, eyes not leaving James Dean's.
"On accident," James glared back, getting tired of being accused. "I didn't know saying 'diagonally' would take us to Dark Arts Heaven!"
"Where did you expect it to take you, James?" his father shrieked, throwing his hands up. "Timbuktu?"
"Timbuktu would certainly be better than here, being jammed up over something that ain't even my fault!"
"How dare you!" James Sr. thundered, jamming a finger into the elder twin's face. "After everything we've done-"
"After everything we've been through, you should know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose, or at least, without a good purpose! I was trying to help my brother, are you telling me you wouldn't do the same? What's your deal?!"
"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley thundered, breaking the two apart. "This is a bunch of hogwash, from the both of you! We can split up and let everybody cool down, how about that? James Dean can come with us."
"Gladly," James Dean sneered at his dad.
"If its so preferable, why don't you move in with them, then?"
"Gladly!"
"Enough!" Lily repeated and swatted at her husbands arm. "We'll split up into groups after the book store," Lily commanded as she wheeled herself down the street. "Let's go, boys!"
James Sr. and Jr. avoided each other like the plague all the way there and refused to partake in the usual jovial fair that ensued. Brian and Travis had gotten sidetracked by the bogus wands, laughing as they shook them in the air or banged them against the cart. Brian tried to perform a spell and ended up turning his hair green. Travis laughed so hard he fell backward, and James Sr. had to wave his own wand over Brian's head to bring it back to the correct color.
"But I liked green hair!" he complained.
"Too bad," James Sr. grumbled. "Your mother doesn't."
The walk towards the bookstore, Flourish and Botts, was just as chirpy. Harry and Ron talked Quidditch with Fred and Travis, while Brian, who had brought his worn guitar, showed Ginny how to play some chords. James Sr. and Mr. Weasley talked Ministry business, while Lily and Mrs. Weasley commented on the shops as they went by.
"Seriously, James," Mr. Weasley growled with passion. "I'm sure if we can just get the search warrant expanded, we could get that git for all he's worth. But no, the Wizengamot just won't let us search his dungeons. That's where he's hiding it all!"
"I'm sorry, Arthur," James Sr. grunted. "I can't push any farther. Minister Fudge isn't allowing anything farther than what he has."
"That's prep- Oh my…"
The bookstore was packed. It seemed like hundreds of people were squished inside the storefront, and flashes of camera bulbs, accompanied by puffs of smoke, trailed out front the panes of glass. A man in periwinkle blue robes with wavy, golden blonde hair was signing books in the center of the store. James Dean swore he could smell cologne from the guy from across the store.
"Did we miss a memo, or something?" James Dean asked. The guy looked like he was celebrity material. Wouldn't the Potters have known somebody like that would have been there?
"Not…him," James Sr. growled, clenching his fist. Obviously, he didn't care much for his son's query.
"Behave," Lily commanded, putting her hand on his arm. James Dean didn't miss his mother's blush, though.
"Who's that?" he asked, acting oblivious.
"Gilderoy Lockhart," Harry answered, as their father was too busy growling and their mother too busy staring. "Mum has a crush on him."
"The simp?" James asked. "The guy whose books I'm not allowed to touch?"
"It seems like it's more than a crush," Travis commented with mirth. "It looks to me like these three have a past."
"Why do you say that?" Ron asked.
"Look at my Dad," James laughed. "He's livid, and not at me anymore. If it was a simple crush, he'd be a little disgruntled. He's ready to take this guy outside!"
"You," James Sr. breathed, turning around and pointing a stern finger in James Dean's face, "Shut. Your. Mouth."
"Yes sir," James gulped. He may have been a rebel at the best of times, but even James knew better than to cross his father when he looked... like that.
"Good. Now go get your books," he handed Harry the list for second years, and Ginny her own list. "Me and your mother have to talk."
"You mean 'your mother and I-"
"Brian?"
"Yessir?"
"I don't need a grammar lesson."
"Sorry, sir."
"Better be…" James vented as he all but shoved Lily down an aisle of books, out of sight of Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Huh…" Ron said, watching as they disappeared behind another bookcase.
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "They're weird like that."
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley dragged Ginny off to find her books with her, leaving the five of them on their own. James grabbed a cloth bag and started organizing search parties to find different books.
"Okay, Brian and Ron? Take the first three books on the list, the next one we don't need because we already have it… Travis gets these two and… me and Harry will tackle this laundry list of Lockhart crap."
"Harry and I," Brian corrected.
"Oh, shut up."
Harry led the way to the "Biography" section of the store as the five of them split up. "You do realize that we need five copies each of these books?" Harry asked.
"Yep. Strange how we need books from the Biography section for DADA."
"Yeah, I thought the same thing. Bet she's a fangirl."
"Yep," James replied, looking around the corner.
"What are you looking for?" Harry queried, looking over James' shoulder.
"Him," James muttered, nodding his head at Lockhart. "I know he and Mom have a past. Could you imagine that pretty boy as our dad?"
"Not necessarily," Harry grunted, walking again towards the book aisle. "Can we get our books now?"
"No," James stated sternly, grabbing his twin by the shoulder of his sweater. "Look at the blondie, dude. He's a total fake, I can tell."
"Fake? What do you mean by fake?"
"I dunno, he just seems so… I dunno. Fake. His teeth are just so… white. Its unnatural."
"He looks fake and has great dental hygiene. That's nice. Books now?"
"Fine, fine," James Dean relented. Following his twin once again he added, "But I think we need to keep an eye on him. I think he saw me, and his face lit up like a Christmas-"
"Well, if it isn't the Potter twins!" a smiling voice boomed, a voice belonging to a certain blonde haired, blue eyed, periwinkle blue-silk robed, so-white-they-could-blind-you teethed, pompous man named Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Huh?" Harry asked, acting oblivious. "My name's Neville Longbottom!"
"Oh, no…" James sighed in resignation. "We're in for it."
"Come on, how bad can a guy be?" Harry asked. "He's just a celebrity!"
"Just a celebrity, he says!" Lockhart laughed as he clasped the two twins' shoulders in a death lock grip. "My boy, I'm not just a celebrity! I am an honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, an Order of Merlin, Third Class, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!"
"That's quite the resume," James deadpanned. "You're a real all-star."
"Indeed! I've fought many dark creatures in my time! But I have nothing on you two, for who could have defeated He-Shall-Not-Be-Named at the tender age of one year old!"
As if this proclamation wasn't exactly known, the crowd "ooh'd" and "ahh'd" appropriately. Cameramen snapped pictures left and right as reporters started shooting questions in rapid-fire order. Lockhart lapped it up with a stunning smile and holding the twins closer to his waist, his grip starting to dig into their skin. He tugged James even closer when he tried to escape.
"Now, when these two boys came here, hoping to get their own copies of my recent book, Magical Me, the best they were hoping for was just one signed copy! They didn't expect for my next announcement, however! For I, Gilderoy Lockhart, has accepted, by personal invitation, the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts!"
"Wait, what?" James asked. "I have to put up with this simp for a whole year? Dad's gonna kill us!"
"Or him," Harry deadpanned.
"And because these two came here to see me personally, I am going to give them each their own signed collection of my books! Free of charge!"
Applause rose from the crowd, followed by an even bigger explosion of media frenzy. James scowled as Lockhart clawed his fingers into his shoulder, and didn't fail to notice Harry's dirty glance. This is all your fault, the look said perfectly.
"Smile big, boys," Lockhart said through smiling teeth. "With the three of us, we're gonna make front page!"
James bristled at that coimment. This baffoon was using him to get get, or expand, his reputation! James didn't exactly revel in the fame and adoration his past, that he had no control over, had given him, but the fact that this moron was using him and Harry as a springboard made him practically red under the collar.
"If you want fame, Lockhart, do so with your own abilities," James seethed, now actively struggling to get away from his oron grip. "We're not your lanchboard for fame!"
"Oi!" a loud, booming voice sounded from the back of the crowd. James and Harry breathed sighs of relief as their father pushed his way to the front. "Take your grimy hands off my boys!"
"Oh, James," Gilderoy gushed, flushing in fear and looking intimidated. "How nice to see you-"
"Hands off or I will have you arrested for harassment! You know better than to drag unwilling children into your publicity stunts!"
"But they weren't-"
"I was very unwilling!" James cried, sensing an opportunity to make Lockhart look bad in front of his fans. "Dad, get this creepy dude away from me, he just grabbed us and won't let us go!"
Lockhart looked at James Dean with a fearful expression. James Dean had deduced that his father just needed an excuse to beat the snot out Lockhart, and James Dean gladly gave it. Sure, it made him look weak and childish, but hey…
Whatever works.
"If you so much as take another step towards either of them I will make sure you rot in Azkaban as much as the Ministry will allow me! You understand me?"
"Y-yes!" Lockhart gasped as he and his assistant shoved the two sets of books into the twins' hands. "I'm so sorry, James, I didn't mean too-"
"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't, you worthless sack of dragon dung. You have your books set, boys?"
"Yes sir," Harry and James replied in unison.
"Good. Give them here, and I'll go and find your mother. Wait by the front with your brothers and Ginny. Now."
Harry and James booked it to the front of the store. Lockhart was left sputtering in front of his crowd of adoring fans, and James did not feel sorry for him. It served him right to try and use them as some publicity stunt, even if no real harm was done. Nobody uses James Dean Potter.
Nobody.
"Okay, there, Jimmy Dean?"
"What, Travis?"
"Are you okay?" Travis and Ron were standing in front of him, looking at him quizzically. James was shocked to find himself outside of the store, leaning against the wall. Brian and Ginny were sitting on the street corner, looking up from the old Dean guitar. "You look dazed. Did Lockhart put you under some kind of spell-"
"Well, well, well," A high, arrogant voice cut Travis off. Draco Malfoy appeared from behind an alley corner with a crooked smirk on his sharp, pale face. "The Potter twins just can't help from basking in the limelight, can they?"
"It wasn't by choice, Malfoy," Harry seethed through gritted teeth.
Malfoy's eyebrow shot up. "Oh, really? Could have fooled me."
"Fooling you is never difficult, ya dolt," Travis muttered.
"Ooh, I'm pained," Draco chuckled, laying a bone white hand over his black clad chest in faux despair.
"You better be," Harry shot back.
Draco sneered and gave Harry a cold look. "Watch your tongue, Potter. You couldn't insult me with a comeback to save your pathetic life."
"Leave him alone!" Ginny burst out in an uncharacteristic flash of confidence. James couldn't remember her saying three words in a single conversation before, much less a full sentence. Her face immediately turned red in embarrassment as she stepped in front of Harry.
"Ooh, look!" Draco laughed, pointing at the dirty-faced redhead. "Potter's got a girlfriend!"
"She's not my girlfriend!" Harry roared.
"Then what is she, the Head of your Fan Club?"
"That's-" James Dean started to shoot back, finger raised sharply and a fierce look in his eyes, but then he deflated. "What we joked about all summer, too."
Draco almost doubled over in peels of laughter. "Even your egghead brother knows it, Potter! How pathetic can you be!"
"Cool story, bro," James muttered. "I suggest you leave, Malfoy."
"Cool story," Malfoy guffawed, his attention not leaving Harry. "But in all honesty, Potter. Is this how you normally operate? Live it up in the limelight, and then have your pathetic lackeys-"Malfoy spared Travis a derogatory side glance- "Fight your insult battles for you?"
James was tired, at this point. And angry. And more than a little fed up. So it didn't surprise him in the least when he grabbed Malfoy by the color of his expensive and stylish black shirt and shoved the moron to the ground. Slamming his knee down on the Slytherin's chest, James sidled his forearm up on Malfoy's throat and got to business.
"Listen here, you damn Snake. We are not like you. Don't liken us to you. Those 'lackeys,' are my best friends. My brothers. You have no rightful business telling me they're below me, and if you do it again, you're dead meat. You understand me?"
Malfoy sputtered and whimpered under James' lock, spinning his thin arms stupidly underneath him. Harry moved to pull James up, but Travis held him back just as the Weasley and Potter clans came out of the bookstore and a tall, blonde man and an athletic dark haired man James Dean immediately recognized as Declan Kennedy came around the corner with none other than Kiara in tow.
"James!" Lily screeched, wheeling herself forward, but not in time.
"Paralytus Perfectus!" the blonde man sneered, a wand in his hand.
James flew off Draco with a shuddering jerk and slammed into the wall, breaking a plank of wood with his back before falling to the ground. James Sr. leapt into action, punching the Malfoy patriarch with Arthur on his heels, taking on the Irish man.
"Arthur!" Molly hollered angrily. "James!"
"Mom!" James Dean moaned. "Why can't I move?"
"Get 'im, Dad!" Travis screamed.
"Take out Malfoy, Mr. Potter!" Fred and George cheered.
"What is going on?" Brian asked. "Oh. Huh, I never saw this coming…"
"Would somebody please unparalyze me?!"