Headmistress McGonagall had accompanied James, Zane, and Ted back to the castle, instructing them to do their best to keep the discussions of the night a secret.

        "Especially you, Mr. Lupin," she said sternly. "The last thing we need is you and your band of hooligans running off into the woods in the middle of the night attempting to duplicate Mr. Potter's and Mr. Walker's experiences."

        Fortunately, Ted knew enough not to try to deny the possibility of such a thing. He merely nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am."

        James only saw his dad once more during his visit, and that was after classes that evening, just as Harry, Titus, and the Ministry officials were preparing to leave. Neville had returned to Hogwarts that afternoon, and he chaperoned James to the Headmistress' office to say goodbye to Harry and the rest. The group planned to travel via the Floo Network, as they had arrived, and had decided upon the Headmistress' fireplace for their departure since it was the most secure. If it struck Neville odd that the office now belonged to his former teacher, who he'd known as Professor McGonagall, instead of to Albus Dumbledore, he didn't let on. But he did pause for a moment next to the portrait of the former headmaster.

        "Off again, is he?" he asked Harry.

        "I think he generally just sleeps here. Dumbledore's got portraits all over the place," Harry sighed. "Not to mention all his old Chocolate Frog cards. He still shows up in them sometimes just for fun. I keep mine in my wallet, just in case." He pulled his wallet out and slipped a dog-eared card out of it. The portrait space was empty. Harry grinned at Neville as he put it back.

        Neville moved to the group congregated around the fireplace. Harry squatted down next to James.

        "I wanted to thank you, James."

        James hid the look of pride that surfaced on his face. "I was just doing what you asked us to do."

        "I don't just mean coming along with us and helping us find out what happened," Harry said, putting a hand on James' shoulder. "I mean for spying the intruder on the field and pointing him out to me. And for being alert enough to see him the other times. You've got a sharp eye and an alert mind, my boy. I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not."

        James grinned. "Thanks, Dad."

        "Don't forget what we talked about the other night, though. Remember?"

        James remembered. "I won't be saving the world single-handedly." I'll have at least Zane's help, he thought, but didn't say, and maybe Ted's, too, now that Ralph's abandoned me.

        Harry hugged his son, and James hugged him back. They grinned at each other, Harry with his hands on James' shoulders, and then he stood, leading James over to the fireplace.

        "Tell Mum I'm doing good and eating my vegetables," James instructed his dad.

        "And are you?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow.

        "Well, yes and no," James said, a bit uncomfortable as everyone looked at him.

        "Make it true and I'll tell her," Harry said, removing his glasses and tucking them into his robe.

        Moments later, the room was empty but for James, Headmistress McGonagall, and Neville.

        "Professor Longbottom," the Headmistress said, "I suspect it'd be best for me to inform you of all that has happened these past twenty hours."

        "You mean regarding the campus intruder, Madam?" Neville asked.

        The Headmistress looked markedly taken aback. "I see. Perhaps I might simply be repeating myself, then. Do tell me what you've already heard, Professor."

        "Merely that, Madam. Word amongst the students is that a man was seen or captured on the Quidditch pitch yesterday. The common theory is that he was a representative of the gambling community either reporting on or influencing the match. Pure rubbish, of course, but I assume it's better to let tongues wag and inflate the tale to something ridiculous than to deny anything."

        "Mr. Potter would no doubt agree with you," the Headmistress said pointedly. "Although, since I will be requiring your services in increasing the security of the grounds, I should explain to you precisely what did occur. James, you are free to wait a moment, aren't you? I shall not detain the professor for long, and he will accompany you down to the corridor." Without waiting for a reply, she turned back to Neville, launching into a detailed account of the previous night.

James knew the whole story, of course, but still felt he was meant to wait near the door, as far from earshot as possible. It was uncomfortable and vaguely annoying. He felt rather proprietary about the intruder, having been the first to see him, and having been the one to point him out on the Quidditch pitch. It was just like adults to deny something a kid said, then, when it proved true, to completely take over and dismiss the kid. He realized that this was another part of why he hadn't yet told any adults about his suspicions concerning the Slytherin-Merlin plot. He felt even stronger now about keeping that his secret, at least until he could prove something substantial.

        James crossed his arms and hovered near the door, turning to look back at Neville, who was seated in front of the Headmistress' desk, and McGonagall, who was pacing slightly behind it as she spoke.

        "What are you up to, Potter?" a low voice drawled behind James, making him jump. He spun around wildly, eyes wide. The voice cut him off before he could respond. "Don't ask who I am and don't waste my time with a load of pointless lies. You know exactly who I am. And I know, even more than your own father, that you are up to something."

        It was, of course, the portrait of Severus Snape. The dark eyes probed James coldly, the mouth turned down into a knowing sneer.

        "I'm…," James began, and then stopped, feeling very strongly that if he lied, the portrait would know. "I'm not going to tell."

        "A more honest answer than any ever provided by your father, at least," Snape drawled, keeping his voice low enough not to attract the attention of McGonagall or Neville. "It's a pity I'm not still alive to be headmaster or I'd find ways of getting the tale from you, one way… or another."

        "Well," James whispered, feeling a little braver now that shock had worn off, "I guess it's a good thing you aren't headmaster anymore, then." He thought it might be a bit too much to say it's a good thing you're dead.James' dad had a load of respect for Severus Snape. He'd even made Severus Albus' middle name.