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

"He can't be serious," Rose grimaced. "Ted's all right, but does he really think he can make the national team?"

Louis shrugged again. "Mum says it's a mistake for George to take him in. She says that Ted just doesn't know what to do with himself and that he should just buck up and find some regular work."

"Aunt Fleur thinks that about pretty much everybody," Rose commented.

"Are you two looking forward to starting school next week?" James said before Louis could reply.

"Is the main ingredient of Halflinger Root potion Halflinger Root?" Rose said, sitting up excitedly.

James blinked. "I assume the answer to that is 'yes'."

"The new Headmaster's made some changes since last year, you know," Louis pointed out. "No more sharing dorms between different years. Much more regulated class schedules. No more putting off secondary classes until your last year. He pretty much completely wiped out the changes made by that guy that was Headmaster before McGonagall. Tyram Wossname."

"I kind of liked having some of the other years in my dorm last year," James muttered.

"Yeah, well, Mum says it was Tyram's 'forward-thinking' business that led to the Progressive Element and all this reforming Voldemort rubbish," Louis said wisely, raising his eyebrows.

James didn't have a response to that. He wasn't surprised in the least, however, that Merlin had made some very conscious choices to take Hogwarts back to its pre-battle standards and procedures.

"What house do you think we'll get into, James?" Rose asked. "Dad thinks I'll be a Gryffindor, but what would you expect from him? Personally, I hope I get into Ravenclaw."

"I haven't the faintest idea what houses you'll be sorted to," James said. "The Sorting Hat itself doesn't even seem to know until it sits on your head. I wouldn't be surprised if it takes one look at you and throws eleven O.W.L.s at you."

Rose arranged the napkin on the table in front of her. "Just because I'm my mum's daughter, doesn't mean I'm some unnatural genius, you know."

"No," Louis agreed. "But the fact that you've read the entire Encyclopaedia of Magical Poisons and Antidotes and can actually remember the exact page number for Barglenarf salve… does."

"That didn't actually happen!" Rose insisted, her cheeks going red. "Mum's been telling that story for months and it's pure rot. She bought me those encyclopaedias for my tenth birthday, for Merlin's sake. The only reason I read them at all is because I wanted to learn how to make the Draught of… er…"

Louis smiled politely and raised his eyebrows. "The Draught of…?"

"Well, it hardly matters," Rose said stiffly, still fiddling with her napkin. "But I simply can't help it if I have a mind for details. Besides, it was just a cure for poison ivy. And I didn't remember the exact page. Just the chapter it was in."

"Well, that's different, then," Louis replied sardonically.

"Don't try that expression on me," Rose said, throwing the napkin at him and hitting him in the face. "Nobody does it like Aunt Fleur. She was practically born with that look on her face."

"Well, I expect to get into Hufflepuff," Louis said, tossing the napkin back to Rose and trying to look composed. "It's the house most known for diligence and hard work. I plan to take school very seriously."

Rose rolled her eyes and soundlessly mimicked Louis' words. James smiled.

"What about you, Albus?" Louis said, nudging James' brother.

Albus sat back and glanced around. "What's it matter, really?"

"What does it matter?" Louis repeated incredulously. "It's only the single most defining thing about your school life. I mean, what if you get sorted into the wrong house?"

"And what house would that be?" Albus asked pointedly.

"Well, I don't know," Louis answered, throwing up his hands. "It's different for everybody, isn't it?"

"Albus Severus Potter," Rose said meaningfully. "Louis hasn't figured it out, yet. So much for diligence and hard work."

Louis frowned at Rose. "I figured out Albus' full name quite a few years ago, thanks."

"It's his initials, you git," Rose said primly. "A. S. P. An asp is a kind of snake."

"So what's that supposed to mean, then?"

"Albus is afraid he'll get sent to the Slytherins," James said, rolling his eyes. "It's been a bit of a family joke for some time. First Potter to go to the snakes."

"Oh shut up, why don't you?" Albus said dourly.

"What?" James replied. "It's possible, you know. I almost got sent there myself."

"Yeah, that's what you keep saying," Albus said quietly. "But then, glory be, you ended up in Gryffindor. The first-born son of Harry Potter goes to his dear old dad's house. Who'd've thought it?"

"It's true, Al. But come on, Slytherin can't be all that bad anymore," James reasoned. "Ralph's there, and he's all right. Maybe you can join forces with him and turn the old Slytherin legends inside out, eh?"

Albus scowled, leaned forward, and rested his chin on his forearm.

"Green really is your color, Albus," Rose said thoughtfully. "Goes with your eyes and your darker hair."

"Yeah," Louis chimed in, "and I hear their dormitories have hot and cold running dragon's blood."

Albus suddenly stood and skulked away from the table as the others watched. Rose glanced aside at Louis, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" he said defensively. "It was the best thing I could think of. Hot and cold running… you know, they say Slytherin families hunt dragons." He rolled his eyes. "Never mind, it's probably over your head."

"It's unwise to believe everything you hear," a voice said from directly behind them. James turned and looked up into the face of a man with pale skin and sharp features. A dark-haired woman stood next to him.

The man smiled tightly. "Please forgive the interruption. I was about to ask if this was the correct home, but I see the evidence right here in front of me. I cannot but assume I am speaking to Mr. James Potter, yes?"

James nodded, looking back and forth between the man and the dark-haired woman. They were both good-looking in a rather cold way, and both were dressed in very tasteful black. James was suddenly sure that if Zane, his American friend, were present, he'd make some comment about how brave it was for them to be out in the daylight, or how they managed to comb their hair so nicely, not being able to see themselves in mirrors. Needless to say, he was quite glad Zane wasn't present.

"Perhaps," the man went on, "you'd be kind enough to direct me to your father, James. My name is—"

"Draco?"

James glanced aside and saw his mum approaching slowly. She looked at the newcomer with a mixture of disbelief and caution.

"Ginny," the man said. There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and then the dark-haired woman spoke.

"We're very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Potter." She tried to smile, but it was a rather strained attempt.

"Does Harry know you're…," Ginny asked, still looking at the man.

"I think he does now," Draco said, raising his chin slightly and glancing past Ginny.

Harry stepped next to his wife and looked the pale man up and down.

"It's good to see you, Draco."

Draco nodded slowly, not quite making eye contact with Harry. "Yes, it has been quite a long time. When we heard about Mr. Weasley's passing, I thought it would be… appropriate… for us to offer our condolences."

James recognized the pale man now, even though he'd never seen him in person. He compared this grown man to the few pictures he'd seen of the young Draco Malfoy. The eyes were the same, and so was the white-blonde hair combed back from the temples. There was still the trace of a sneer there too, just like in the old school photos, but as James looked, he thought the sneer was no longer particularly mean, or even conscious. Draco had simply been doing it for so long that it was now just part of the topography of his face.