Two days later, one Saturday, he was standing on a duelling platform in the middle of the Great Hall wondering how in Merlin's name Albus had managed to get him into this. A duelling club? After the complete failure of the last one? The man had finally lost it.
Despite his doubts, the floor around the stage was filling rapidly. Although young Professor Evans was a very popular teacher with all of the houses, not just Slytherin, no one wanted to miss the opportunity of seeing him thrashed by the headmaster. Just like watching Professor Snape murder Lockhart, it was an opportunity that was too good to miss. Little did they know that James Evans had no intention of losing?
James also noticed that a number of the staff were lurking in the background, wanting to see if their colleague could actually live up to his boasts. He couldn't actually see Severus - the man was far too experienced a spy for that - but he was sure he was lurking in the shadows somewhere. James wondered for a moment whether Draco had told him who he was to share the honour of being young Harry's godfather with. He was sorry he'd missed it - it could have been very amusing watching Draco run for his life.
At last, the doors shut behind the last of the students and James called for silence. He got it immediately. Either he was better respected than he'd thought, or they were looking forward to the spectacle far too much to risk delaying it. He suspected the latter.
"As I'm sure you all know, this is a new duelling club for the school. It will be open to all years and all houses, though we might divide into groups if the turnout continues to be this high. Duelling is an ancient art filled with rituals that are invariably carried out in exhibition duels and almost nowhere else. In battle, the rules are completely discarded except in a few . . . strange cases. I will be teaching you both methods. It is certainly a skill that no wizard or witch should be without. Before we begin anything, the Headmaster has kindly agreed to duel against me in a match that should prove very interesting for all concerned. Both of us are experienced duellers and because of this I will erect a barrier around the duelling platform to prevent any stray hexes hitting members of the audience. I have no idea what Professor Dumbledore has planned for me, but it is likely to be nasty. If you are ready sir, shall we begin?"
Albus Dumbledore smiled slightly at him and climbed onto the platform about ten metres away from him. With an easy wave of his wand, a shimmering but perfectly transparent barrier formed around them and James' wand came forwards into a 'ready' position, prepared for any attack.
They bowed slightly, their eyes never leaving their opponent. As he straightened, Albus sent of a hex at James, who somersaulted easily out of the way, sending back a gladius hex mid tumble in response. It deflected harmlessly off his opponent's shield.
After that, the hexes, curses and jinxes came thick and fast. Albus stood his ground. He was, after all, getting a bit elderly for the energetic tumbling that the younger man favoured. This worked, up to a point, but his shield was rapidly wearing down, although James doubted any of the students would be able to notice that.
Still focussed, he vaulted forwards, above the path of any oncoming hex, using a small amount of wandless magic to aid him in gaining height. As he landed, he channelled his power into a powerful, tightly wound, stunning hex. Albus knew he was finished even before it touched his shield. It was too fast to dodge, his him in the chest and he keeled over. The barrier around the platform came down and James revived the headmaster easily.
The students looked stunned, disbelieving. The teachers weren't much better, but those he could see looked at the young duelling master with a grudging respect. In all of their lives, they had never seen anyone defeat Albus Dumbledore in a duel.
"Are you okay, Albus?" James asked, offering him a hand up.
"I'll be very stiff in the morning, but yes, my boy, I'm fine. My brother taught you well."
"I'm sure he'll be pleased to hear you say so. Thank you for your assistance."
"Always welcome. I hope it was challenging enough for you?"
"You, sir, could never be an easy target."
Albus laughed at that and went over to where a chair had been placed in the corner of the hall where he could observe the rest of the session. James turned back to the students.
"As you see, duelling takes great skill and a great deal of practice and training. We'll start with the etiquette concerning the beginning of a formal duel, then you can start practising a few moves. Mr Barbary, perhaps you could come up here and assist me with a short demonstration. I'd look terribly strange doing it alone."
The 7th year warily climbed up onto the stage and stood facing James, about five metres away.
"That's right. Take your wand out and hold it in front of you, ready to cast a spell. First we bow to each other. Then we turn and walk ten paces away from each other. That's so that when we begin duelling, there's less risk of being hit at the beginning with a short range curse. Then we turn back and can begin whenever we choose. However, at the moment I'm not ready for another duel, so Samuel will have to wait a while for his chance. The first duelling charm we'll try out is one of the most important and I'm sure many of you will already know it. However, its worth going over if again. The incantation is 'expelliarmus'. Try it."
Obediently the assembled students chorused it. James smiled and turned back to Samuel Barbary.
"Now Mr Barbary, I assume this is one you know."
"Yes Professor."
"You can demonstrate then. Put as much force behind it as you can, I won't resist."
The boy looked doubtful at that, but shouted,
"Expelliarmus!"
A streak of red light shot out of his wand and knocked James' wand from his hand and threw him backwards. He landed, rolled and came back to his feet, scooping up the wand from where it had landed.
"Excellent. Now, since we are such a large group and happen to have so many of the staff in attendance, I wonder if I might presume to request that they each take a group?"
He looked at the Headmaster, who nodded to him.
"Thank you. I'll stay in here with the first years. Professor Flitwick, could you take the second years? Professor McGonagall, I'd be grateful if you'd take the third years. Professor Sprout, the fourth years are yours. Professor Sinistra, if you would, the fifth years will require some assistance. Professor Dumbledore has kindly agreed to take the sixth years and the seventh years. . . um . . "
"I would be willing to take them," came the calm, silky voice of Professor Snape, stepping out behind a crowd of second years who scattered in all directions as he came forwards, smirking.
"Thank you. I'm sure they will benefit from your expertise." A number of the older students blanched. "Of course, once this club is established, I'll take different groups at different times and it won't be necessary for me to impose again.
They relaxed again. James raised an eyebrow at Severus, whose smirk widened if anything. He definitely hadn't lost his touch over the years as he swept out of the hall, his assigned students trailing in his wake.
The next evening, James was sitting in the staff room, marking papers. He knew he shouldn't have left it to the last minute, really he did, it was just he'd had to write to Aberforth, and then he'd had a training session with the Quidditch team, then there'd been the duelling club. . . It wasn't his fault!
"James," Severus said from behind him. "I am glad to see that you sustained no . . . physical . . . injuries whilst attempting to pound some knowledge into the vacuum that passes as a brain for most of the first years."
James sighed at the insinuation that he had sustained some mental injury, and turned to face him.
"Did you need something, Severus?"
"I was merely curious as to how you managed to convince Mr Malfoy that you were suitable material for his son's godfather when you are in fact two years younger than him."
"To start with, I'm not two years younger, I believe it's closer to two months. I was two years behind him at university because, after completing my magical education, I took Muggle courses for four years to gain qualifications that I could use should it be required. As for your question, I honestly had no idea I was even under consideration before he approached me. The only answer I can give is that I am his friend."
"An inadequate answer, as I should have expected. Why, out of all of his friends, should he have chosen you instead of a more suitable, properly Slytherin man."
"How Slytherin am I?" James asked wryly. "I'm Slytherin enough to be sorted into Merlin house, I'm Slytherin enough to have convinced you that I'm completely harmless, more of a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor than a Slytherin. If you had taken the time to discuss me with Draco, as I'm fairly sure you haven't, you'd know that I've outwitted him on more than one occasion. What does it take to be a Slytherin in your opinion then? A pureblood family? Allegiance to Voldemort? Parseltongue? I'll take the opportunity to remind you that Mrs Malfoy, a former student whom you obviously think so highly of, has none of these."
"Even if I concede that point, not that I'm intending to, why you?"
"How many friends does Draco have?"
"A number."
"Of course he has a number, one's a number. How many?"
"In the region of twenty or so close friends."
"Twenty? How well do you know him yourself? I can count those he counts as close friends on my fingers, almost on just one hand. He has many acquaintances, he's a Slytherin and an important man, after all, but he trusts very few. I would say you and me, obviously, Blaise and another boy from Draco's year at Merlin. Then I'd probably name Ronald and Hermione Weasley before running out of names. Before you accuse me of anything else, I suggest you talk to Draco and ask him about me. You're a potions master, wouldn't it stand to reason that its possible to transfer the idea of research to other areas?"
"Touche, Mr Evans. I would, however, advise that you didn't leave your marking until the last minute. It not only puts more pressure on you but means that your grading is likely to be inconsistent and the essays less thoroughly read."
With that last jab, he left. James groaned and got back to work. Despite the source, it was good advice. Was Draco really right? Was this really how he treated people he liked? He was so confusing!!!! He hoped his friend was right.
WHAT!!!
Had he just thought that he hoped Severus Snape liked him? Even just as friend that was just plain weird. Then again, if the man didn't insist on those 15th century robes and actually wore trousers for a change, leather ones preferably, he wouldn't look too bad.
Right, be honest, he'd look more than just okay.
He'd look damn good.