"This isn't a wee little change," Deirdre hissed as the assembly broke up and drained into the Entrance Hall. "It's a bloody upheaval! Muggles in Hogwarts!? Wait 'til I tell my mum and dad!"
"What are we supposed to learn at a Muggle school?" Graham complained in a shrill whisper. "How to be a lot of boring, telly-watching… car driving…" He waved his hands vaguely, "Er…non-broom-flying, wandless--"
"Shut up, Graham," Rose hissed at him, pushing her way through the crowded Entrance Hall.
A sort of dull shock hovered over the entire gathering as they funnelled, murmuring in agitation, toward an arrangement of four large, framed parchments hung opposite the main entrance. Written across the tops of each parchment in flowing script were the names of the four schools. Beneath the names were listings of that school's available classes, with spaces for students to sign up for them.
"Here, Ralph, make a way for us," James said, pushing the bigger boy in front of him and using him as a battering ram to press through the throng. Ralph shouldered uncomfortably toward the front of the group, coming out near the Durmstrang parchment. James peered around his friend. No one had signed up for any classes yet. In fact, most of the attention was being focussed on the Muggle school's sign-up sheet. At the edge of the crowd, Fiona Fourcompass was staring with unmasked distaste.
"'Algebra two'," she read, her voice dripping with disdain. "What kind of daft subject is that?"
"And how about this one?" Trenton Block called out, pointing, "'History of the United Kingdom'!
What, without any mention of the Goblin uprising? Or the War of the Red Mages? More like 'History as the Muggles know it, with all the good bits chopped off'."
More voices called out derisively, blending into a tirade. Scorpius suddenly pushed past James and approached the sign-up sheet for Yorke Academy, scratching his chin thoughtfully.
"Here's one," he called, glancing back over his shoulder with a half-grin and pointing with his quill. "'Biology Studies'. I've heard about such things. They study dead animals by cutting them up into smaller and smaller bits. Hearts and lungs, muscles and tendons, eyeballs and brains…" He turned back to the signup sheet and sucked the tip of his quill speculatively. "Bloody hell, sign me up."
With that, he stepped forward and signed his name to the parchment, underlining it with a scribbled flourish. The crowd pressed forward in his wake, babbling rather more tentatively. Rose and James exchanged quick looks.
"He likes to push people's buttons," she said quietly.
"Yours, I'd wager," James nodded, supressing a grin. She punched him hard on the shoulder and whisked away toward the Beauxbatons parchment.
Ralph approached James. "We could sign up for something at Alma Aleron. Maybe get a class with Zane, eh?"
James nodded enthusiastically. "Perfect! I'll try to raise him on the Shard and see what he's taking this year. Then we can sign up tomorrow morning before breakfast."
Agreed, both boys stepped forward and scanned the other parchments. After a short consideration, they each signed up for a class at Durmstrang (Practical Prophecy, the Durmstrang equivalent of Divination) and were just scrawling their names to a class at Beauxbatons when Rose appeared again, peering around James' shoulder.
"You're not actually signing up for Theoretical Arithmancy?" she said archly.
"Just done it," James answered, admiring his name on the parchment. "It allows us to duck any Arithmancy classes here with Professor Shert. Any time I can avoid him, I will."
"I considered staying in the States this year just to get out of his class," Ralph nodded.
"Do either of you have the slightest idea what Theoretical Arithmancy even is?" Rose asked, cocking her head and arching an eyebrow.
James and Ralph glanced at each other and shrugged.
Rose nodded curtly and smiled. "See you in class, then!" She turned breezily and marched off toward the stairs.
Ralph frowned in her direction. "Maybe we should start checking with her before we do anything."
James shook his head in annoyance. "Ignore her. She doesn't know any more than we do. Come on, let's go see what's left at the Muggle school."
The two drifted toward the last parchment, which was now surprisingly full of names. The crowd still hovered near it, chattering with mingled curiosity and scorn.
"At least it'll be an easy O.W.L.," fifth year Willow Wisteria commented, signing her name to the parchment. "No matter what crazy Muggle subject we take, it just counts for Muggle Studies. We can nap through every class if we want."
James nodded uneasily. He leaned toward Ralph. "You think any of this would be happening if it wasn't for the Night of the Unveiling?"
Ralph shook his head. "My dad says the whole magical world is teetering on the edge. The Vow of Secrecy is cracked. People are keeping quiet now mostly out of habit, but it can't last forever. It makes sense to be prepared."
"But… this is what they've always wanted," James whispered. "All those Progressive Element rabblerousers like Tabitha Corsica-- they've been pushing for revelation of the wizarding world since forever, just so they can finally take over the Muggle world without any interference from their own magical governments. They're going to get their way if the Vow of Secrecy totally falls apart."
"Well," Ralph shrugged, "If this is what the P.E. have always wanted, it's Petra who handed it to them on a silver platter."
James sighed darkly. He didn't want to be reminded of that.
Ralph stepped forward. "Might as well jump in, eh?" he said, producing a quill. He scanned the mostly filled parchment. "How about… Physical Education?"
James shook his head dourly. "Whatever. I don't have the slightest idea what that is."
Ralph signed his name to the parchment. "You want I should put you down, too?"
"I don't care. Just hurry it up. I want to go see if we can raise Zane on the Shard."
Ralph scribbled James' name on the Yorke parchment.
"I need to get down to the dungeon," he said, turning. "First night is always a big deal, and I have to admit, I sort of missed the old place. Want to come down for a bit? Things have got to be a little less hinky now that Corsica's gone, along with most of her Fang and Talons.
James shook his head. "Thanks. I should get upstairs and make sure Lily gets settled in all right. Besides, er--" he stopped himself, realizing he was about to mention the mysterious package from his father. "Er… I should unpack. Get settled in. You know."
Ralph nodded, distracted. "It's good to be back, isn't it? Despite everything."
James agreed, but couldn't help feeling a resurgence of the vague dread he had sometimes felt during the previous year. Things were changing so fast that even Hogwarts felt different. He bid Ralph goodnight at the staircase and trotted up, following a group of excited, gawking first years. As they passed the Heracles window, James was pleased, in spite of his worries, to see that the stained glass visage of Heracles still bore a sneaking resemblance to Scorpius Malfoy. Some things, he mused wryly, would likely never change.
The landing outside the Gryffindor common room was crowded with younger students, most arguing and shouting at the Fat Lady as she sat primly inside her frame, looking stubbornly away. James spied Heth Thomas, a fifth year and long-time Gryffindor Beater, leaning against the wall nearby. He glanced up as James approached.
"None of them know the password," Heth explained with a shrug.
James blinked and glanced at the portrait. "Who's got the password, then?"
"New Prefect, I guess."
"So who's the new Prefect?" James asked, scanning the crowd.
"You're talking to him," Heth grinned, producing a shiny badge from his robes and holding it up. "Who'd have guessed, eh?"
James glanced at the badge, then at the taller boy. "So then, Mr. Prefect… can I have the new password?"
"I was just waiting for somebody to ask," Heth replied, pushing away from the wall. "Step aside everyone! New Prefect coming through, and I don't mean P
otter here, although you can thank him for knowing authority when he sees it. That's it. Form a nice single-file line or something."
Heth pushed through the disgruntled throng and stood up straight before of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Prantzvigor!" he announced firmly.
"About bloody time," the Fat Lady muttered, swinging open and revealing the noise and warmth of the familiar common room.
"It's a Bulgarian energy stimulant," Heth explained as the crowd shoved him and James forward. "I'm trying to get my hands on a batch for the Quidditch season. If you decide to show up this year, maybe you can try it out for yourself."
"I'll be there," James said firmly, stepping toward the fireplace as the throng clambered into the already crowded room.
Heth nodded sceptically, but his reply was drowned out by a sudden burst of shrill song. James turned curiously at the noise, and then realized that the anthem was aimed at him. Cameron Creevey stood beneath a home-made banner bearing the words "WELCOME BACK JAMES" in glowing golden letters. Flanking Cameron were half-a-dozen young Gryffindors, all grinning at James as they sang. James was grateful not to be able to understand most of the lyrics, but the chorus was clear enough as they reached it and redoubled their volume: "A Potter's back in Gryffindor! It never was the same! We missed him here in Gryffindor! And Potter is his name!"
James eyes widened with mortification. He glanced around the room in panic and saw the older students looking on with expressions of wry amusement or mild annoyance.
"Cameron!" James called, rushing toward the group and raising his hands, but the small chorus mistook his movements. They surged forward, clustering around him and joining hands, hemming him in as they finished the song. James tried to shout over them, but they merely grinned happily, bouncing and thronging about him. Finally, the song petered out and James allowed his arms to flop to his sides.
"Welcome back, James!" Cameron cried, nearly vibrating with delight. "I hope you liked it! We worked on the song by owl over the past few weeks, me and Stanton and Shivani. We couldn't practice, really, but I was hoping…"
James disengaged himself from the group, his cheeks going crimson as he backed away. "Sure, Cam. Er, thanks, I guess. Just don't, you know… for Merlin's sake don't sing it anymore."
Cameron's brow furrowed for a moment, and then cleared as another thought seemed to strike him. "We want to hear all about what happened last term in the States!" he rasped suddenly, his whisper so shrill that it carried through the entire room. "You were there, right? You were in the middle of it all on the Night of the Unveiling! What was it like? Did you know she was going to do it? Did you see Headmaster Merlin try to stop her?"
James continued to back away, his hands raised. "Cameron, I don't… I can't really talk about--"
"Yeah," someone else called out. James glanced toward the voice and saw a tall, handsome boy he didn't recognize. "Tell us, Potter. What sort of hero were you that night? What did you do to stop your girlfriend from ruining a thousand years of magical secrecy?"
James boggled at the boy speechlessly. He realized with sinking horror that the common room had fallen uncomfortably quiet. Scorpius stood in the entranceway alongside Rose, her eyes tense and wary.
"Lay off him, Lance," Heth Thomas said mildly, plopping into a large arm-chair. "James doesn't have to explain himself to any of us. Do you, James?"
"Yeah," the handsome boy, Lance, agreed, narrowing his eyes at James. "He's a Potter."
James wanted to sink right into the natty red carpet of the common room. His cheeks were burning, and he realized it was only partly with embarrassment. He hands were clenched into fists at his sides, so tightly that they felt like rocks. With a force of will, he loosened them.
Voices began to fill the common room again as the moment thankfully passed.
"Sorry, James," Cameron whispered next to him. "We didn't mean to cause any trouble. We just wanted to…"
James shook his head. "It's all right, Cam. I guess. Just… no more songs, okay?"
At a corner table, Lily caught James' eye. He began to approach, but she quickly glanced away.
"Maybe give her a little room," Rose muttered at James' elbow, pulling him toward the fire. "After all that, she may not want to remind everyone whose sister she is just now."
"Let go," James grumbled, yanking his elbow away, but following his cousin toward the fire. "Who's that Lance git, anyway?"
"Lance Vassar," Rose whispered. "Transferred last year from Bragdon Wand."
"Bragdon Wand? The snooty private school? That explains why he's such an ass. What's he know about Petra or anything that happened last term?" he turned on Rose, glaring at her. "And what's he doing calling her my girlfriend?" he hissed angrily. "I should have hexed him right on the spot!"
"It's just a joke, James," Rose answered without meeting his gaze. "Ever since you and Petra played lovers in the Triumvirate…"
"Have a seat, Potter," Scorpius advised pointedly, directing James to the sofa.
"No," James spat, shoving Scorpius' hand away. "I've only been back for five bloody minutes and already there's drama all over the place. Is this how it's going to be all year?"
Scorpius rolled his eyes and turned away. "Fine. Stand there, then." He plopped onto the sofa and glanced back at James. "But I did warn you, if you recall."
"What's that supposed to mean," James demanded, scowling.
"Before you left last term," Scorpius answered. "I told you not to let your feelings for Petra Morganstern get in the way. I told you to watch out, because fate has a way of plopping you Potters right on the bulls-eyes of history."
"You don't know what you're talking about," James seethed in a low voice.
"James," Rose whispered, trying to move between them, but James shook his head, still looking directly into Scorpius' eyes.
Scorpius met James' look. "I'll tell you what I do know, Potter," he said evenly. "I know that people have gotten pretty used to Potters saving the day. It's natural for them to be a little disappointed with the first Potter who ruins everything."
James could hardly believe what he was hearing. He boggled at the blond boy, his hands snapping into fists again.
"We don't mean it that way, James," Rose began, but James rounded on her once more.
"'We?!'" he repeated furiously. "You're on his side?"
"We don't agree with it," Rose rasped, trying to pull James down onto the sofa. "It's just that nobody really knows what happened on the Night of the Unveiling. We know more than the rest, but even still. You helped her. Petra couldn't have done what she did without you and Ralph and Zane. It wasn't your fault, but not everybody sees it that way…"
James was shaking his head in bewildered anger. "I don't believe this," he said softly. "None of you understand. None of you know what you're talking about. Judith was just using Petra. The Lady of the Lake was behind the whole thing…"
"But, James…" Rose insisted uncomfortably, "Nobody else saw this Lady of the Lake person. Not even your dad. It's not that we don't believe you, but try to imagine how it looks to the rest of us. The entire wizarding world was exposed by Petra Morganstern. She's been declared the first International Undesirable Number One in decades. She's still out there, and nobody knows what she's going to do next, or what she's even capable of."
James couldn't listen anymore. He turned away from his cousin, rage and misery clenching his throat and jaw, and stomped up the steps to the boys' dormitory without another word.
If there was one thing he had not been able to predict, it was the fact that the true villain in this whole nightmare, the Lady of the Lake-- who had manipulated Petra, broken into the Vault of Destinies, and ultimately killed brave young cousin Lucy-- would escape attention completely. No one, save for James himself, Ralph and Zane, had apparently ever seen her. James' persistent attempts to explain Judith and her vicious plot to the people in authority had been an exercise in frustration. His father believed him, but the Ministry in general did
not, and there was only so much Harry Potter could do without the full backing of his superiors. A few people, including Titus Hardcastle, his father's Auror partner, had gone so far as to suggest that James' memory of Judith might merely have been an illusion, projected by Petra herself, in a devious attempt to deflect blame. Titus did not hide his disbelief in the Lady of the Lake, nor his single-minded intention to capture Petra at any cost.
Titus was not alone. As Rose had said, every magical government in the world was looking for Petra, with orders to subdue her immediately, by any means necessary. No one would underestimate her mysterious power again, even if the source of her power was a complete mystery.
James knew Petra's secret, though. She had confirmed it to him on the Night of the Unveiling. She was a sorceress; perhaps the first of her kind to ever walk the earth. She wasn't evil, he knew (or at least desperately hoped). But she was indeed very powerful, and her power was corruptible. The Lady of the Lake had used it, manipulated it, and if she had her way, she would do it again.
"There's nothing I can do about that," James muttered angrily to himself, throwing his knapsack onto his four poster bed and plopping down next to it. The circular dormitory room was thankfully empty. Raucous voices echoed dimly up the steps from the common room. James thought he could hear Lily's laughter. "It's not my problem. Who cares if the rest of them don't believe me? I don't need them."
It wasn't true, of course. Even he knew that.
He dug roughly through his trunk and found the Shard wrapped in a thick hank of white cloth. He unwrapped it impatiently and tossed the cloth aside. The magical mirror showed only silvery smoke, rolling densely and endlessly, as if it was a portal to the inside of a storm cloud. This mirror was the twin of the one Merlinus Ambrosius had given James last year. That one was still back in the States, entrusted to Zane Walker, one of James' best friends. Both mirrors had once been part of a whole, the monstrously powerful (yet capricious) Amsera Cyrth, which had belonged to Merlin himself until he had deemed it too potentially dangerous. Broken into equal parts, the Shards' powers were now limited only to communication. James' Shard had originally been given to his father, but it was no longer needed for its original purpose (portable communication from the States to Ministry headquarters). Now, it served as a connection to Zane at the American magical school of Alma Aleron.
James Potter and the Morrigan Web Page 10
