"Hogwarts Express. And I'm keeping him."

Limp limp limp onwards.

They make it to the Hospital Wing between the three of them, and the healer in residence opens the door. "Hullo. Feast disagree with you, something to that effect? ...limping and curse scars, that's not gastronomical. Come in, come in, tell me who hexed you and I'll set Dippet on them after I've fixed what-all's wrong."

"Hexed himself," mutters Deborah.

James shoots her a glare then turns to look at the healer. "There's a boy who has a magical condition that makes him accidentally magic whoever he touches, but he looked like he needed a hug so I gave him a hug. —and I want to keep the scars they look cool."

The healer laughs. "Gryffindors. Give me a moment to look you over - and I'll want to be looking at that boy too, what's his name?"

As she speaks, her wand flickers through the air, leaving intricate traceries of magic behind.

Tintin looks entranced. "They called him David Launcey Morgan Fawkes, at the Hat," he offers distractedly. "And he was sent to Slytherin."

"Excellent, I'll call him in tomorrow. And what's your name, mister wants-to-keep-his-scars?"

"James. Uh, Orland."

"It's James Augustus Orland," Deborah clarifies.

"Good, good. I can fix the nerve damage, mister Orland, and that'll take care of the weakness and most of the tingling. That scar system is actually rather interesting, though. It looks as if - well - would you close your eyes?"

"...sure?"

He does.

Silently, the healer holds a lumos near his arm.

(It tingles. The closer it gets, the more intense - eventually it's a bit pins-and-needles uncomfortable.)

He does not have enough self-control to keep his eyes shut, at that.

"Was—was I—I never felt it—sis do people normally feel magic on their skin like that?"

"—feel?"

"They do not. It's a relatively rare complication that crops up in curse scars that haven't been or can't be removed. Since the magic was directly affecting your nervous system, your nerves - got a taste of it, learned what it was. If I leave you with those scars, you'll have something of a sixth sense. On the other hand, anything stronger than a lumos might do worse than tickle."

"How much worse?"

"No. James, it's one thing if they just look like that but if they're going to hurt you—"

"It's my body!"

"You're eleven! What if you change your mind later?"

She shrugs. "It's true that the scars would be harder to remove once they've had time to settle in. Maybe impossible. But I'm not going to fix them without permission."

"James. Little brother. Please. If you want your scars later you can just, just hug your friend again—"

"I'm totally hugging him again anyway!"

"What would dad say!"

"What would mom?"

She throws her hands up in the air. "Fine. Have it your way."