James turned on his heel, his broomstick was already in hand when he heard a male's voice behind him. It didn't take a rogue scholar to figure out who it was. This was Godric Fucking Gryffindor. It had to be, the clothing, weaponry, everything. It had to be. James smiled broadly, a mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes.
"That's a trade secret, " he said with a little laugh as his broom started to lift off from the ground above him. He grabbed hold of it and let it pull him off the ground. He looked down at Godric and laughed a little. "It's a skill some people are able to master. It's called an Animagus form," he glanced at the bow and his eyes lingered on the arrows. "Oi. I probably should have let you know. I'd make a terrible dinner."
"I'm James Potter. And you. You have to be the Legendary Godric Gryffindor."