James Potter was angry.

James hated to fail, and he usually coped with that hatred by hitting things. Once, after he had lost a match by missing a single goal, he'd run deep into the woods as a deer and gone six rounds with a particularly nasty bear. Once, after the only "P" he'd ever gotten on an assignment, Sirius had punched him in the face on purpose and they'd had a lovely knock-down, drag-out brawl that ended with handshakes and sticking plaster all round. And when Severus…

Anyway, he was angry. Angry was more or less a permanent state of being for him concerning Harry Snape, he realised. Remus would have called it projection, or…something. He brushed that thought hastily from his mind, though, and concentrated on being angry—angrier than usual.

He had promised to protect this little twerp—to look out for him and make sure he got through it all more or less okay. And he hadn't even been able to make sure he got on a bleeding train properly, because Weasley was a thoughtless imbecile and Malfoy arrogant and entitled and Snape himself a determined rule-breaker.

Malfoy appeared perfectly collected as James frog-marched them all through the corridors. The little Slytherin went on explaining exactly what had happened, how the house-elf had failed miserably in getting the luggage, how he and Snape and Weasley had really had no choice (generous, James thought, of him to include them in his cover story). James dragged them down to his office.

He was aware, as he pushed open the door, that there would probably not be room for three boys, two Heads of House, and himself. Not that his office was small—it was just he had a bad habit of storing whatever he happened to be working on near where he would theoretically be working on it and then forgetting about it for six months, so the room was littered to the point of crowded with books, diagrams, models, pieces of parchment tacked to walls with reminders about events that happened last year, and, of course, half a dozen broomsticks in various stages of repair.

"Have a seat," he said cordially, indicating the armchair, seatless wicker stool, and metal folding chair in front of him. Malfoy sank instantly into the armchair, and Ron took the folding chair, so Harry said, equally cordially, "I think I'll stand, if that's all right, Professor."

James flopped down behind his desk, and steepled his fingers, the way Dumbledore always did.

"Something to drink, lads?"

"No, thank you," said Harry and Ron.

"What do you have?" Draco asked. Harry and Ron shot him a look but he paid no attention.

"Oh, anything. Pumpkin juice?"

"Sure."

He conjured a glass of pumpkin juice and placed it before Draco.

"Anything else?"

Harry and Ron shook their heads, and Draco leaned back contentedly with his iced juice.

"WHAT THE NAME OF BLEEDING HELL WERE YOU THINKING? HOW, HOW, HOW COULD YOU BE SO MONUMENTALLY STUPID?!"

Draco upset the juice all down his robes and Ron gave such a violent start that his chair collapsed under him. Harry, however, merely winced slightly and went on staring at James with his disturbingly green eyes.

"SIX—SEVEN MUGGLES SAW YOU! YOU RISKED EXPOSURE, YOU RISKED EVERYTHING!" James picked up the Daily Prophet and brandished it, almost whacking Harry in the nose. "LOOK AT THIS, WILL YOU?! 'Flying Ford Anglia Mystif…' Flying Ford Anglia?! FLYING Ford Anglia? Flying Ford Anglia?! Weasley, your father works at the Ministry of Magic—MISUSE OF MUGGLE ARTEFACTS! How is this going to look? Malfoy, your father's a governor of this school. His own son flouting school rules and International Law?! Snape…Snape…you…Not to mention the danger! Do you realised what would have happened if the engine had failed?! If you had made a mistake in navigation? If you'd been hit by a, by an…aeropane, or, or crashed into a building, or been shot at?!"

At the mention of Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley, all three of the boys had gone pale. Draco stopped trying to clean juice off his robes, Ron's chair collapsed again just as he had succeeded in righting it, and Harry's eyes got bigger and, seemingly, greener.

"For God's sake, why didn't you just send an owl?" James demanded, averting his eyes hastily.

"Didn't think of it, sir," said Harry in a low voice.

"Didn't think of it? DIDN'T THINK OF IT? I should say you bloody well DIDN'T! You just didn't think in GENERAL, did you? CAN you think? Are you in fact CAPABLE of THOUGHT?! Or are you a mass of hormones and adrenaline urges, too hyped up on your own sense of self-importance and adventure to BOTHER with things like THOUGHT, and RULES, and SAFETY?!

"Unfortunately," said James, his voice returning to almost an even tone, "I do not have the power to expel any of you. However, I am going to fetch your Heads right away, and I will see that your things are prepared for you." He rose. He was just tall enough to loom, and he loomed now for a moment before sweeping out of the room.

Ha! Half-a-dozen school rules and The International Confederation of Secrecy. Expulsion and then I won't have to worry about him anymore. Hell, I could retire. I could go back to Godric's Hollow and read and practice magic and…

His mother's voice came back to him. Maybe meet a nice girl…

"That was close," said Ron as the three of them burst out of the Coach's office. None of them had been expelled, though in Draco's case it had looked like a very near thing, and even though James was egging both Heads (and Dumbledore, who had turned up with the other two) on. They hadn't even lost any points, although they all had detention and their families were going to be written to (oh horror, thought Harry, imagining the Dursleys' disappointed reactions when they learned he hadn't died a leafy death at the hands of that Walloping Willow, or whatever it was called).

"Even McGonagall thought we ought to have sent an owl," said Draco, sounding bitter. His father was much more likely to be hard on him than the Dursleys were to be hard on Harry, though he probably still had it better than Ron.

"Well, then why didn't you suggest it at the time, Mr Smarty?" Ron demanded. "You had opportunity enough between all the complaining. 'Mother says Muggle cars are vulgar and filthy…' 'Is this door shut properly, I know I'm going to fall out…' 'We've been up here hours…' 'Move over and let me drive, Weasley, you're fouling it up…'" His impression of Draco's voice was so very accurate that Harry could not repress a grin.

"Muggle cars are vulgar and filthy, it was dangerous, we were up there hours, and you are a miserable driver," said Draco. "And we almost died and our parents are going to get letters and we've got detentions."

"But we didn't die and we didn't get expelled," Harry pointed out. "And we are at Hogwarts, more or less in one piece, and McGonagall makes really good sandwiches."

"Absolutely no substitute for missing a feast," said Draco.

"Oh, don't be such a git, Malfoy," snapped Ron. "She didn't want you thinking you'd done something clever, showing off in the Great Hall."

"Why couldn't we just go up and have a proper supper?" Draco demanded. "The feast couldn't have been nearly finished. After all day in that car I was starving. And Mother told me to eat well, she said I'd been looking thin…"

"Ooh, poor ickle Drakikins, missing his house-elves' cooking?" said Ron. "Ickle Drakey has to eat well or his poor 'iddle tum-tum will get too fin…"

"Get stuffed, Weasley. It's obvious your mother never pays much attention to what you eat; she's far too interested in feeding herself, by the look of it…"

"You…!"

"Ron, did Percy tell you the new password?" asked Harry, thinking ahead to pillow and sleep after his exhausting day. Ron lowered the wand which he had produced (it still clung to itself only by a sliver of wood and the hair in the core).

"No, he doesn't find out about it until the Prefects' meeting thingy…are we going to be locked out?"

"Well," said Draco, nastily cheerful, "these corridors are quite chilly, you know, especially in Gryffindor Tower. This is my turning. See you, Snapey. Weasley…I'd say send home for a new wand, only, well, I wouldn't want to encourage you to put your family in financial ruin or anything."

"No, I'll just ask your dad to pay for it, with that money he earned investing in Muggle stocks," said Ron. "Or maybe with the money he embezzled from your cousin's business. Oh, or the money Mr Borgin pays him when he unloads all his poisons and stuff…"

"…or the money that he earned serving as a governor of Hogwarts? He does earn quite a bit, doesn't he? Unlike your father, who can't seem to get himself above working with filthy Muggle artefacts and then taking them home and enchanting them…"

"…because your father is so blinded by arrogance and pureblood prejudice that he can't even abide the suspicion that Muggles might have a good thing going every once in a while…"

"Lads!" shouted Harry. "Blimey, can't you two try to be civil? Malfoy, you'd better get along if you don't want to be caught out of your own dormitory. See you at breakfast."

"Cheers," said Malfoy, as coolly as he could. Harry noticed, however, that cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned faintly pink, a sign that he was greatly agitated.

Ron, on the other hand, as they turned back down the corridor to head for Gryffindor Tower, was cherry-red in the face, and he was breathing heavily.

"Sneaking slimy scummy son of a whatnot," he muttered under his breath.

"Malfoy's not so bad as all that," said Harry. "I mean, he's a bit thick about Muggles but it's not like he'd ever actually do anything to hurt them, just words, and I mean…"

"Right, because he will have learned the way of peace and tolerance from his bloody ex-Death Eater father?"

"All right, I didn't like Mr Malfoy much, but I don't think he's actively involved in any Muggle-killing organisations at the moment, he's more into reading the newspaper and dodging priceless artistic treasures stored all over his house."

"Harry! Ron!"

They looked up in time to see Hermione flying down the corridor toward them, her long fluffy hair streaming out behind her.

"Where have you been, I've been more worried than I've ever been in my life, I had to sit with the most awful people on the train, there's been the most frightful rumours, some say you got kidnapped, someone else said you've been expelled for crashing a flying car into a retaliating tree, which is frankly ridiculous, but…"

"Oh, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"YOU MEAN YOU DID FLY A CAR HERE?!"

"Can you shut up for a second? We don't want to world to know. Well, we don't mind, but McGonagall doesn't want the world to know. Have you got the new password?"

"Yes, it's wattlebird, but what actually happened?! What did you do? Why did you do it? Is it true that Malfoy was with you? Did you all three fly together, how did you all get here alive, I'd have thought you'd have torn each other's throats out by the time you were done being confined in a tight space for a day…"

"I did consider tearing his throat out," Ron admitted. "Bloody prat wouldn't stop complaining all the way through about the tiniest little thing…but I exercised my great powers of self-restraint and refrained. You ought to be proud of me, Hermione."

"Well, I see that being cooped up with you all day hasn't made Malfoy kill you either, which I find almost as surprising. What about you, Harry?"

"I'm fine," said Harry. "Ron really is a rubbish driver, but at least I've still got my wand in one piece."

"Oh, Ron, did something happen to your wand?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged and produced it, a little woefully, it seemed. "Maybe I could do something with Spellotape or…I don't know."

Hermione clicked her tongue like a diagnostician confronted with a hopeless case and shook her head. "It looks pretty bad, Ron…"

"Bad? It's completely done for!" said Harry.

"Maybe not completely," Ron insisted.

Hermione took Ron's wand from him, turning it over in her hand making despairing faces. "You really shouldn't have done it, Ron, you should have left the car where it was and sent an owl."

"HOW COME EVERYONE THOUGHT OF THE BLOODY OWL BUT US?" Ron demanded. "We actually dropped Hedwig's cage and had to pick it up and put it in the car…why didn't someone think to send an owl?"

"I know why I didn't," said Harry ruefully. "Panic. I couldn't bear the thought of putting off going to Hogwarts one second more than necessary."

"And I wasn't about to go to some Muggle café with Malfoy and wait around for a return owl," Ron said. "And Malfoy's really probably too stupid to think of anything except how much better he is than everyone…wattlebird, did you say?"

"Righty-ho," said the Fat Lady cheerfully, swinging open.

"But honestly, think of the danger…"

Hermione was interrupted by a loud cheer. Apparently the entirety of House Gryffindor had gathered in the Common Room to celebrate Ron's and Harry's triumphal entry.

"Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entry! They'll be talking about that one for years!"

Something to tell our grandchildren, thought Harry.

"Good on you!" said a fifth year Harry knew only by sight. The twins wanted to know why Ron hadn't thought to bring them in the car, Parvati and Lavender stared at them with wide, admiring eyes, and everyone clamoured and fussed over them. Everyone except Percy, that is, who stood back, his mouth in a drawn line. Ron saw Percy too, and he and Harry fled up to their dormitory before they could get a telling-off. There, however, much to Ron's delight and Harry's amusement, they were ambushed by their roommates who demanded the whole story.

With a grin, Harry settled down to listen to Ron tell them their adventure.