The crowd began to break up. McGonagall saw James, and her expression changed.

Come along, Potter, she said, beckoning impatiently. James climbed the steps and followed her back into the shadow of the Hall. McGonagall was muttering angrily, her tartan robes swishing as she stalked into a side corridor. She seemed to expect James to follow, so he did. Ridiculous rabble-rousing propagandists, she fumed, still leading James into what he recognized as the staff offices. James, Im sorry you had to witness that. But Im even sorrier that such an ugly bit of rumor-mongering has found a foothold within these walls. McGonagall turned and opened a door without breaking stride. James found himself entering a large room full of couches and chairs, small tables and bookshelves, all arranged haphazardly around an enormous marble fireplace. And there, standing to greet him with a crooked smile was his dad. James grinned and ran past McGonagall.