G. Lippert - James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

"We were just talking about you, James," Noah proclaimed, patting the couch cushion next to him. James flung himself onto the couch, happy to be among his friends.

"We've got an idea," Sabrina said wisely, tapping the side of her nose.

"Does it have anything to do with the Heracles window again?" Ralph asked, grinning. "That was a big hit even with the Slytherins. Filch still hasn't gotten it entirely back to rights. Heracles' face keeps reverting to Malfoy's overnight."

"It's all in the wrist," Damien said proudly, flexing his hand.

"No, this is even better," Noah replied, leaning forward on the couch and lowering his voice. "It's this Debellows disaster that's got everybody in a lather. Seems that people don't so much mind a little physical training; I mean the guy does have a point that battling the Dark Arts does sometimes require a little actual fighting. But this whole no-spells thing for the younger years is just over the top. And so it got us thinking…"

"This has happened before!" Sabrina said, smacking James on the shoulder.

James glanced around at the Gremlins. "I'm missing something," he admitted.

"Back in your dad's day," Damien replied, rolling his eyes. "The reign of Umbridge the Terrible. Don't tell me we know more about your dad's school exploits than you do."

"It wouldn't surprise me," James said, smiling crookedly. "It seems I haven't read any of the right books."

Rose made an annoyed noise. "Umbridge was the D.A.D.A. teacher," she explained. "She refused to teach them any usable defensive techniques because she was a Ministry tool, back when the Ministry was trying to squash any and all rumors about the return of 'He Who Must Not be Named'." She pronounced the euphemism with obvious sarcasm.

"I remember," James finally said, nodding. "But that's not what Debellows is about."

Sabrina cut James off. "It amounts to the same thing. So your plan is to solve it the same way."

"Oh no," James said, shaking his head. "No way. I'm not starting up another Dumbledore's Army. I just got done telling Cameron Creevey the other night that I'm not my father. I don't want people thinking I'm trying to relive all of his old adventures."

"Not to fear," Noah said, throwing his arm around James' shoulders. "No one will be thinking that. For one thing, we can't use that name."

"Agreed," Damien replied. "Too old-school. Maybe 'Merlin's Army'?"

Sabrina shook her head. "Too copycat. How about just the 'Real D.A.D.A.'?"

"Too long and too commercial," Damien replied.

"Look," Noah interrupted, "the name doesn't matter. The point is, you lot need to know this stuff. If you don't get it until you're as old and excellent as we are, it'll be too little, too late. You need to take matters into your own hands."

"But I can't teach any of it!" James exclaimed. "I barely know any of it myself!"

"Then I guess you need to find someone to teach it to you," Noah answered, shrugging.

"So why don't you three do it?" James shot back.

"Can't happen," Damien said matter-of-factly. "As great and inspiring as we may seem, we aren't teachers. You ever hear of muscle memory? It means that my hand knows how to cast an Expelliarmus spell, but my brain doesn't keep track of it anymore. It'd be like trying to explain how to walk. It's just second nature by now. No, you need a natural teacher; someone like your dad, back with the original Dumbledore's Army."

James turned to Ralph and Rose. "Shouldn't you two be speaking up, telling me what a ridiculous and irresponsible idea this is?"

"Actually," Rose said thoughtfully, "I think it makes a good bit of sense. I mean, it's true that we really aren't learning anything useful in Debellows' class. Especially the girls."

"And honestly," Ralph added, "I need all the help I can get with defensive magic. That's one area I've never really gotten a handle on."

"I'll say," James grudgingly agreed. "But still, this could get us into a load of trouble!"

"I don't see why," Rose reasoned. "There are lots of extracurricular classes and clubs. It's not like in our parents' day when Umbridge forbade anyone from practicing defensive spells. It could be a completely sanctioned school club. All we'd have to do is get the Headmaster's permission. You could ask, James. Merlin owes you one, after all."

James glanced at Rose. She shrugged.

"This leaves just one problem," Ralph commented. "Who will we get to teach?"

"You'd need somebody with a good, basic grasp of the defensive arts," Sabrina said. "Someone who's a natural leader and teacher, with some experience in actual battle."

An idea occurred to James. His eyes widened, and then he slumped slowly in his seat.

"What?" Rose asked, frowning.

"I think I just thought of the perfect teacher," James replied dolefully.

Ralph said, "So why is that a problem?"

"Because," James grinned crookedly, "I don't think he'll ever agree to do it."

Rose narrowed her eyes. After a moment, she smiled knowingly.

"Who?" Noah asked.

"Can't tell," James answered. "But if we can talk him into it, I'll let you know."

The Gremlins seemed a bit annoyed at James' secrecy but were generally content that their idea had been adopted. After a while, the group broke up, leaving only James, Ralph, and Rose in the dark corner.

"Do you think Cedric would ever do it?" Rose asked earnestly, keeping her voice low.

"Oh!" Ralph exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "I knew I should've known who you two were talking about."

"All we can do is ask him," James answered. "People say he had natural leadership skills. He was good enough to get into the Triwizard Tournament, and he made it through all the challenges, so he has plenty of experience."

"And from his perspective, it's all still fresh," Rose agreed.

Ralph asked, "But where can we find him? Last year, he just seemed to show up when he wanted to. We still don't really know where he hangs out."

James looked hard at Ralph, thinking. "Actually, I might have an idea about that."

"We should ask the Headmaster first," Rose said. "That way, we don't bother Cedric with it unless it's for sure. Let's all go together; tomorrow, after lunch. That'll give us a chance to figure out the best way to present the idea."

James nodded. "Sounds all right, I suppose."

"You don't think it's a good idea?" Rose asked, putting her head on one side.

"No, I guess it's a good idea," James admitted. "I just hate the idea of looking like I'm trying too hard. You know, doing everything like my dad did. Like I told Cameron, I'm not the one with the lightning bolt scar on my forehead."

Rose studied James. "Then why do you keep rubbing it?"

James dropped his hand, suddenly realizing that he was indeed touching his forehead. "What do you mean?"

"You've been rubbing at your forehead for the last few days," Rose replied. "You look like an advertisement for Haberdasher's Anti-Headache Headwear."

"It's true," Ralph added, nodding. "Maybe you should wear your glasses more if not wearing them is making your head hurt."

James was somewhat annoyed. "It's not my bloody glasses. I don't know what it is. I've just got an itch, that's all."

"You've got a constant itch on your forehead?" Ralph blinked.

"It's not 'constant'," James said. He glanced at Ralph and Rose. "Is it?"

Rose looked a bit concerned. "Maybe you should go see Madam Curio down in the hospital wing, James."

"That's the last thing I need," James said, chuckling. "It's nothing, really. I'd barely even noticed it. It does seem a little weird though."

"You've just been thinking about it all too much," Rose said reasonably. "No one is expecting you to be your father. Don't obsess over it."

James agreed, and he hoped Rose was right. As he said goodnight and climbed the stairs, he wondered about the phantom itch on his forehead. He really hadn't given it any thought until now, but it was a just a little bit strange, wasn't it, having a persistent itch in the place of his father's famous scar? No way would he be asking Madam Curio about it. It was bad enough, what with Cameron Creevey expecting him to shoot fireworks out of his bum on one hand, and Scorpius Malfoy accusing him of delusions of grandeur on the other. The last thing he needed was for a rumor to get started that James Potter was scratching at a phantom lightning bolt scar. Especially on top of the fact that he very well might be starting a club reminiscent of his dad's Dumbledore's Army.