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“Enough! I heard enough.” Fleamont Potter closed his eyes, deeply frustrated. He’d hoped that Michael, his nephew, had been exaggerating when he had told them about James bullying, even harming, other students. He’d been sure it had been a misunderstanding, that it had not been malicious intent on James’ part. He had to admit, to himself, to his darling Euphemia and to Michael that they had spoiled James. They’d had almost given up on having a child of their own when Euphemia had fallen pregnant, so they had spoiled him. So it would not surprise him if James had gone a bit overboard, even he hadn’t thought things through. He might be fifteen already but they had not really expected him to act responsibly.
But Michael was right, James and Sirius would soon be adults, so they needed to learn. It was why he had agreed to have Michael and Arcturus teach them about their responsibilities and possible consequences and to not step in when James wrote to him that the other students were playing pranks on them in return for the pranks they played.
Now they were back in England for the yule holidays. James had started complaining pretty much as soon as they had left Kings Cross, telling him about the pranks he and Sirius had had to “endure”, as he put it and how the other students and teachers hadn’t shown them and their pranks to proper appreciation.
Michael, he was sad to learn, had not exaggerated. It’s what ultimately made him interrupt.
“Dad?” James asked, surprised and confused by the tone he was utterly unfamiliar with from his father.
“They were correct, James. Those... ‘pranks’ you played were not funny. You were destroying other students’ belongings and even hurting them. You were hurting younger students.” They had, from what James had said, been outright targeting those weaker than them, either because they were younger or did not have older, influential families backing them. He winced when he remembered the letter he had received from Lord Prince. It turned out that one of James and Sirius’ favourite victims was his grandson and heir. He had made it very clear that he would not tolerate it anymore.
“So? They’re just Slytherins.” James shook his head. “I can’t wait to get back to Hogwarts. The teacher there understand that.”
Fleamont wasn’t sure the teachers that Hogwarts agreed, they rather seemed simply too busy or not interested in stepping in. Though that might change when they returned, not with Arcturus Black, Michael Potter and Tiberius Prince making their displeasure publicly known.
“Perhaps I can talk to Aunt Dorea over Christmas,” James mused. “She might convince Michael to drop those lessons over the holidays.”
“We’re not going to Potter Manor for the holidays,” Fleamont said.
James was startled. “Why not?” They had always spent at least part of the holidays at the ancestral Potter seat with the whole family, his father’s cousins and their families.
Fleamont had to close his eyes. He’d hoped for some more time before he had to break it to James. “Because you are banned from Potter Manor and from seeing Lady Potter.”
“What? Why?” James demanded. “It’s... it’s Aunt Dorea.” He didn’t openly admit it but he loved his aunt. She was a sweet, gentle woman who knew some of the most interesting stories and liked telling them to the children of the family. He’d also heard that she had Dragon Pox, an illness that could prove fatal, so he’d hoped to see her for what might be the last time.
“She is very ill, as you know, and therefore vulnerable.” Fleamont took a deep breath. “You are considered a danger to her, since she is ‘just a Slytherin’ and might not survive your ‘pranks’.”
James could just stare at him, struck speechless.