James Potter and the Call of the Sirens:

The Portrait

James probably shouldn't have done that last thing. It really wasn't his fault, though. But, then again, he did think it was pretty funny- and everybody else seemed to think so as well. The thing James really was worried about though? His mother's anger. Something you never, ever want to cross. Believe him, he would know.

It went sort of like this...

James, Fred, and Ali were just sitting in Potions, and couldn't wait for the bell to ring. In fact, James, like his father, had dreaded this time of day- the time whenever they actually had this class.

Maybe it was because Slughorn constantly asking James and Fred questions about they're family, and how they are doing. Or maybe it was because Slughorn expected Ali to know all the answers, since her grandmother created the Draught of the Living Death. Ali didn't, however, know the actual answers to the questions...

"James, my boy, could you tell me where you'd find a bezoar?"

Now, James knew very well that Ali knew the answer. But, knowing her, she'd keep her smartness hidden inside her until the exams at the end of the year.

"Uh... you'd find the bezoar... in the Student's Potions Supplies Cabinet?"

The class erupted with laughter at his answer- even the Slytherins!

"No. Perhaps Fred knows the answer?"

"Well, I was going to say that if you asked me, but I'll say that you can find them at the Apocthercy Shop in Diagon Alley."

Again, the class erupted in laughter.

"Alice!" Slughorn exclaimed.

"Huh?" she asked, looking up from her game of paper hockey using quills that she was playing with It (who liked to be called Izzy).

"What's the answer to the question: Where would you find a bezoar?"

"Easy." She lazily said. "In the stomach of a goat. Can nobody else answer that question? It's pretty easy, honestly." She said, looking around at everybody else in the class room.

"Very good! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

James looked at her with pure shock. She was never one to answer questions- much less in Potions class...

Everybody was looking at her with pure shock, almost as if they had never seen somebody answer a question before in their lifetime. Ali blushed.

"Know- It- All." A girl by the name of Patricia Parkington, who sat by James, and was in Slytherin said loud enough for the class to hear.

People began to laugh at Ali, and Ali looked down at her feet, as if she had gone through this before. James was furious at the nerve of the Slytherins, as well as Slughorn (who was laughing too). What angered him the most, though, was that his fellow housemates were laughing as well at Ali. Heck, even Fred was chuckling just a bit!

James hands clenched into fists as he watched Ali run out of the classroom, wiping tears off her cheeks. He could feel his face turning red from pure anger, and he realized that his cousin, Rose, was correct- he did have the Weasley anger...

Suddenly, the Slytherins and Slughorn morphed into hags or a banshee. The room's cauldrons had then blown up in there face- causing boils to erupt everywhere on they're bodies. Potion supplies blew everywhere, and finally- all of the Slytherins turned into little clowns.

"POTTER! TO THE HEADMISSTRES' OFFICE! NOW!"

So, James exited the dungeons, and he made his way to McGonagall's office. He had surely done it this time- he wondered what his punishment would be. Detention? Perhaps.

He stood outside of the huge eagle entrance to the Headmistress' office. He wondered what the password would be... James began to guess.

"Uhm... Lemonheads? Oh, no, I got it! It's James-Sirius-Potter-is-Awesome!" the eagle still didn't budge.

"Uhm.... Is it.... Minerva-McGonagall-is-Cool?"

What surprised him the most was that the eagle door had actually opened up for him...

So, he traveled up the long, stone, spiral staircase. He knocked slightly on the Headmistress' door once he reached the top of the staircase. It seemed that nobody was in there...

James then remembered that she had an interview today with somebody for the Charms job. With a shrug, and being the son of Harry Potter himself, he entered.

The boy sat down in a red velvet chair that was in front of the desk that held many magical trinkets. James noticed the pensive in the corner, and vials of little swirly, white drops in them- memories. That's what they were.

"Ah, it seems that you're... Harry?" an old, frail voice asked.

James looked at the source of the voice. It was coming from a portrait of one of the past headmasters of Hogwarts.

The man in the portrait had long crystal white hair, and a crystal white long beard. He had sparkly blue eyes that held a twinkle in them; upon his eyes were half-moon spectacles. He had a smile on his face as James turned around.

"You are not Harry." He said.

"No, I'm not. I'm actually his son."

"Well, hello then. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

"Mine is James. James Sirius Potter." James said, shocked.

This was the man his brother was named after!

"Indeed. Now, I do believe that your dear friend, Miss Alice Taylor's father s in quite some pickle?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Miss Taylor's father might just be in some danger."