James Potter was so terribly upset; he could barely see the writhing Severus Snape hanging in thin air.
"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" he sneered, watching Lily Evans stalk off angrily, her red hair like a glowing beacon. The young crowd slowly surrounding them roared their immediate approval, expectant faces pleading.
"Go on, do it!" Peter Pettigrew begged excitedly, his already protruding eyes practically falling out of his small skull.
"Should I, Padfoot?" James asked Sirius Black, who stood nearby, nearly falling onto the grass with laughter.
"Of course," he wheezed, as Snape's face contorted in red rage and, to James' surprise, a flicker of fear.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" someone screamed. James quickly said the counter curse under his breath, and Snape fell to the ground in a heap of ragged black robes, while one of the Gryffindor prefects pushed his way through the crowd.
"James Potter! I should have known it'd be you!" Arthur Weasley cried in anger, his face turning bright red.
"What? I was just having a bit of fun..." James laughed hysterically as Snape pulled himself to his feet wobbly. Snape glared at James with his large black eyes, hatred and repulsion emanating from them. James ignored his gaze, and turned back to Weasley coolly. Arthur was shaking violently in pure anger.
"Potter, report to Dumbledore, now," Arthur seethed through tightly clenched teeth. James shrugged carelessly, grabbed his bag, and headed up to the Headmaster's office, which he knew so well.
The stone gargoyle stood close watch over Dumbledore's office.
"Pear Drop," James said with an impatient sigh. The gargoyle sprung from his frozen position, and stepped aside, yawning as James passed. He had seen James many times just in this past month.
"...Minerva, we cannot simply allow..." Dumbledore's low rumble came from deep within the office. James looked up the moving staircase. The door at the top of the stairs was shut. He'd just have to wait until Dumbledore and McGonagall finished their business.
"...But what about the Black sisters..." Professor McGonagall's voice came sharply, slicing through the air like a saber.
"We must worry about that later, Minerva, I believe Mr. Potter is here to see me," Dumbledore said with a slight exhale. James walked up the revolving staircase, and when he had reached the top step, the door swung open, to reveal the face of one of Hogwarts most formidable professors.
"I see that Mr. Potter is once again in trouble," Professor McGonagall said sternly, a pinched look about her face. Though she was young, Minerva McGonagall was quite experienced in making her students, and colleagues, quiver in their shoes.
"Yes Professor," James replied. He was probably the only student at Hogwarts who was not completely petrified of the frightening Transfiguration teacher.
"Hmm. If I know you at all, you are not very sorry, are you?" she said, surveying him with razor keen eyes.
"No Professor." She looked at him critically, and then stepped aside to let James talk to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore was seated at his rickety old desk, playing with one of his many contraptions idly, and only looked up once James had sat down opposite him.
"Do tell me James, what have you done this time?" Dumbledore asked, setting the twirling golden object down on the corner of the table.
"I hung Sniv- I mean Severus Snape up by his legs, and was going to pull off his underwear when Arthur Weasley stopped me," James replied dully, tempted to just walk out early, without having to deal with the standard lecture. He already knew what he'd get, detention, and a letter home. Etcetera.
"James Potter. I am very ashamed of you," Dumbledore said solemnly. James instantly felt remorse. He had always looked up to the kindly man; Dumbledore was the best headmaster as far as James could see.
"I am sorry professor," James trailed off dejectedly, looking down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs anxiously.
"I believe you are, but not for your actions. James, look at me," Dumbledore said softly. James looked up into the milky blue eyes of his idol.
"I am sorry," he whispered despondently.
"James, you are one of the most promising students I have ever seen. Yet you continue to waste your obvious talents on spiteful actions. Severus Snape does not deserve your ill will. I will have to give you more than detention this time," Dumbledore sighed, worried for his favorite pupil.
"Yes Professor Dumbledore," James replied meekly.
"You shall serve as a aide to Professor Agontis for three weeks."
"Professor Agontis?" James asked in disbelief, his jaw dropping. Three weeks with the Slytherin house leader, who just happened to teach Potions, James' worst subject?
"I know that Potions is not your strong suit, so perhaps this will do your potions grade some good," Dumbledore said firmly, pulling out some parchment, and began scratching on it with his maroon quill.
"I-I..." James failed to finish his sentence.
"I shall inform Professor Agontis as soon as convenient, and you shall begin tomorrow."
"But what about my other classes?"
"I shall see to it that all the work that is covered in your other subjects shall be sent to you by owl."
"Three weeks?"
"Do not tempt me James, or I will lengthen your service time."
"Yes Professor," James said hastily, hardly believing what he'd gotten himself into.