Worst of all, he didn’t want to have to defend Petra to them. Because deep in his heart, despite the love he harbored for her, he wasn’t sure he could defend her. Horcruxes were the worst sort of dark magic imaginable. That’s why she’d had to learn about them via illicit breakin to the Armory of Forbidden Books. The Unforgivable Curses were one thing. But Horcruxes were another level of dark magic entirely.
He couldn’t eat, merely pushed a smattering of scrambled eggs around his plate until he heard the noise of the morning post. He looked up at the flutter of owls as they swooped through the upper reaches of the Great Hall. One, a small tawny barn owl that James recognized as the Weasley family messenger, swooped low over the table and dropped a newspaper before Rose, thumping it neatly between her juice and a platter of toast.
She glanced at it, as did James. The headline, even upside-down, was plainly visible:
POTTER PROGENY ON MERLIN HEADMASTER: HE CAN BE SCARY SOMETIMES!
Without raising her head from the newspaper headline, Rose tilted her eyes up at James.
“I didn’t say any such thing!” James declared, pushing back from his uneaten breakfast. “Seriously!”
Rose scooped up the paper and flipped to below the fold. Her eyes flicked as she scanned. After a moment, she began to quote from the article. “‘He can be a bit scary sometimes,’ the young Potter answers, clearly concerned about reprisals for his honesty. ‘He knows how to keep order, that’s for sure. And he does it with more than just rules.’ His downcast eyes flick nervously up, as if begging me to imagine the alternative methods the Headmaster might choose, clearly worried about incriminating himself. Being familiar with Mr. Ambrosius’ rather infamous past, I can all too easily imagine what the poor young man faces on a daily basis. Fortunately, being a seventh-year, Mr. Potter’s ordeal is near an end. It is his younger classmates that he worries about.
‘Ask them,’ he suggests, clearly hinting at their corroboration.”
“I said no such thing!” James insisted again, grabbing at the newspaper. Rose jerked it away from his grasp and folded it again.
“It’s rubbish,” she shrugged, stuffing the newspaper into her knapsack. “Nobody knows how to twist a person’s words like Rita Skeeter. Frankly, I expected better from her.”
“Headmaster Merlin won’t even give a thought to it,” Graham nodded. “If he reads it at all, which I doubt, he’ll probably like it.
Nothing breeds order quite like a fearsome reputation. I think that’s an exact quote from him, in fact. When you look at it that way, seems like Skeeter’s doing him a favor.”
Cameron Creevey leaned across the table to be heard over the clatter of silverware. “I know my parents would just love it if they thought the headmaster was bringing back the thumbscrews and stretcher racks. Keeps out the riff-raff, they’d say.” He grinned, showing an expanse of pink gums and teeth.
From nearby, a yodel of derisive laughter pierced the air. James turned to see Edgar Edgecombe and his friends reading aloud from their own copy of The Daily Prophet.
“Regarding the magical world’s enemies,” Edgecombe read loudly, raising the newspaper and snapping it open for all to see. “The young Potter grows misty-eyed at the remembrance of his former schoolmate, turned Undesirable Number One: ‘Yes,’ he sniffs, ‘Petra is my friend,’ and turns away to hide the tears that tremble on his lashes…”
Quincy Ogden and Polly Heathrow dissolved into gales of laughter as Edgecombe raised his head over the newspaper to peer at James. He frowned and trembled his lower lip, as if about to burst into tears himself. He had an audience, as many students from around the Great Hall perked up to watch, some with confusion, others with bemused smiles, watching to see what James would do.
James drew his wand.
He expected Rose to stop him, but she merely watched, her eyes bright, even eager, as she awaited his reprisal.
It was Ralph that stopped him.
“Don’t do it, James,” he said, coming from behind and placing a large hand on James’ arm, not to restrain him, but merely to give him pause. “The little git’s not worth it. Let him have his laugh.”
“Easy for you to say!” James hissed from the corner of his mouth.
“It’s not you he’s quoting in front of the whole school!”
“Yeah,” Graham nodded. “Stay out of this, Deedle. This is Gryffindor business.”
“Or join in,” Scorpius suggested from further down the table.
“All for one and one for all, eh?” He waggled his own wand, one eyebrow cocked provocatively.
Ralph ignored Scorpius and Graham. He looked at James, offering no more warnings, merely letting the weight of their friendship speak on his behalf.
Feeling a mixture of frustration and relief, James slid his wand back into the pocket of his robes. Rose, Scorpius, and Graham deflated visibly.
A squawk of anger erupted from Edgar Edgecombe as someone jerked the newspaper from his hands. James looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing behind the boy, the newspaper held in her upraised fist. She was glaring down at Edgecombe, who wheeled around angrily, saw the Professor’s steely gaze, and then shrank beneath it, turning his face back to the table in front of him. James saw the boy’s expression, however. He was neither afraid nor ashamed, merely caught.
His eyes flicked back and forth between his friends, and he smiled smugly, secretively.
“You three are new to this school,” McGonagall announced archly, glaring down at the backs of the three Ravenclaws’ heads. “But I can assure you, everyone in this room already knows how to read. We do not require your services on our behalf.”
Crisply, she folded the newspaper, glanced piercingly around the room, and then dropped the bundle back onto the table before Edgecombe’s bowed head. He snickered silently, still flitting his eyes back and forth between his cronies.
Gradually, the noise of conversation filled the hall again.
James’ face was hot. He knew he was blushing and hated himself for it. Keeping low in his seat, he watched Professor McGonagall stride toward the open doors. Students began to drift to their feet and gather their things, heading disconsolately to their classes.
“That’s two points for Edgecombe, zed for you,” Scorpius muttered in James’ ear as he stood. “Sanjay is right. You can’t allow it to go on. The longer you let the teacher’s fight your battles, the worse you look.”
James pressed his lips together in anger and embarrassment.
Scorpius was right, but he wasn’t about to admit it aloud.
“What do you think, Ralph?” he asked with a sigh as they made their way to the greenhouses for a double Herbology class.
Ralph shrugged and shook his head. “Makes me wish Zane was still here.”
James smiled weakly at that. Ralph was right. Zane would know exactly what to say to put Edgecombe and his little entourage in their place.
He slowed in his pace as an idea came to him.