JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  “What happened to it?” James asked, looking back over his shoulder at the faded ruin. “Looks like it’s a thousand years old.”

  Zane shrugged. “Sorry, that’s not part of the tour. Mainly, ‘cause I don’t know. I’m sure somebody told me at one time, but I did myself a favor and forgot it as soon as I could. Leaves more room up here for Clutchcudgel and pledge dares,” he said, tapping the side of his head with one finger. “Anyway, most of the dormitory houses are on the other side of the classroom buildings. There are six of them, which brings me to the most important part of your life here at the Aleron: which society you end up in.”

  “Just like the houses at Hogwarts,” Lucy nodded, brightening.

  “Yes!” Zane said, pointing at her. “And no. Things here are totally different, beginning with the Sorting. Mainly because there isn’t one. Here, you have to rush for the society you want to get into. If you don’t, or if you blow it during rush, you’ll get assigned to a dorm house by the administration, and you don’t want that to happen.”

  James followed Zane over a narrow footbridge, sidling past a knot of students going in the opposite direction. “Why not? You get into a house either way, right?”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have any say about what house they put you in. It’s based entirely on whatever space is available. And houses don’t treat leftovers very well. Even Zombie House. I should know.”

  “Were you a… er… leftover?” Ralph asked.

  “Heh,” Zane said, glancing back. “No. Let’s just say Zombie House’s leftovers are still cleaning key lime pie off the basement walls. It’s an ugly hierarchy, but an effective one.”

  “Sounds a bit barbaric,” Lucy said mildly.

  Zane nodded. “Anyway, there’s six societies here, all originally named for Greek mythology, which the founding fathers were all just mad about. Nobody really calls them by their Greek names anymore, though, so don’t worry about trying to remember it all. The societies have been in existence since the beginning of the school and they were designed to accommodate pretty much any magical personality type.”

  He stopped and turned around again, gesturing between two nearby buildings. “See that old mansion back there, behind Rhines Hall? That’s Hermes Mansion, otherwise known as the home of the Zombies, where I live. My dorm is in the top right window, next to the tower. Zombies are perseverant and mischievous, adaptable to almost any situation. Just like me, eh?”

  Albus nodded. “Hermes House Zombies are also known for having questionable judgment and requiring a lot of supervision.”

  Lucy, James, and Ralph glanced aside at Albus, eyebrows raised.

  “What?” Albus said, spreading his hands. “Lucy’s not the only one who can read, you know! It was in a booklet I found in our room last night.”

  Zane rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re right, technically. If you ask anybody else, they’ll tell you that Zombie House is the home of punks, rebels, and troublemakers. But they only say that ‘cause they’re jealous. Our colours are bile yellow and black.”

  “What about the other societies?” Lucy asked.

  “All right,” Zane said, raising his hand and beginning to count them off on his fingers. “Besides the Hermes House Zombies, there’s Erebus, better known as Vampire House, headed up by Professor Remora, who you already met. They’re all dramatic and morose, and they take themselves super seriously. You can tell them by their black and blood red uniforms, and by the fact that most of them are as pale as the moon and like to let their hair flop all over their eyes so they have to pull it out of the way just to see who’s making fun of them. And it’s usually a Zombie,” he added proudly.

  “Then there’s the Aphrodite House Pixies. They’re all cheerleader types, hung up on looking good and who has the most expensive broom and who’s still wearing last season’s designer cape. They’re not bad, if you can get past the ego, and nobody can out-charm them when it comes to school politics and debates. They even have some real-life Veelas in Pixie House. Their colours are pink and yellow since those are the colours that are most commonly in fashion.”

  Zane started walking again, leading the group toward the main administration building at the end of the commons. “Next is Ares House, commonly known as the Werewolves. They’re the military types, and the jocks of the campus. Their house is the one up on Victory Hill, behind the admin building. They’ve won that spot for twelve years in a row since nobody can beat them in the Clutch tournament. Werewolves are arrogant and tough, and they don’t have much respect for anyone who isn’t like them, so you’ll want to steer clear of them unless you are one. Their colours are slate grey and burgundy, like military uniforms. There’s their president over there, Professor Jackson.”

  James blinked and turned to look. Professor Theodore Jackson strode through the sunlight on the other side of the campus, wearing a slate grey coat and a dark burgundy ascot, his steely brow low. He apparently hadn’t noticed James or the rest of his group, and James was glad.

  “Then there’s Hephaestus House, home of the Igors. They’re just about the exact opposite of the Werewolves. Igors are technomancy and alchemy freaks, and they’re dead geniuses at clockwork. Most of them spend so much time in their house laboratory that they hardly ever know what’s going on around the rest of the campus. They talk a big game about taking over the world and creating doomsday devices, but they’re really pretty harmless when you get to know ‘em. You can tell them by their acid green uniforms.”

  Zane stopped at the base of the steps to the administration building, which was the enormous brick edifice with the clock tower. He turned and pointed across the campus, back the way they’d come. “And finally, there’s the Bigfoots, Apollo House. They have that mansion way back there on the other side of the ruin, about as far from Victory Hill as possible. Bigfoots are nice guys, but there’s nothing really interesting about them. They’re a friendly, hardworking, upstanding bunch of fairly competent witches and wizards, which explains why everybody forgets about them about two seconds after they meet them.”

  “They sound like a very decent group,” Lucy said, peering at the distant house.

  “That’s exactly my point!” Zane exclaimed. “They field a respectable Clutch team, but their spell game is totally weak, which explains why they never win. Their House President is a decent guy, can’t remember his name. Professor Birch, or Bark, or something like that. Teaches Ethics of Magic at the college level. Way boring.”

  “Hold on,” Albus said, raising a hand. “So this is supposed to be the best wizarding school in the whole Unites States, and you’re telling me the best your people could come up with for house names was a bunch of half-rate monsters?”

  “I suspect the Vampires, at least, would object to the term ‘half-rate’,” Lucy interjected.

  Zane rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, join the club. Remember, I’m still a Ravenclaw to the core. When I got here last year, I told them how lame it all was compared to life at Hogwarts. Surprisingly, none of that went over very well. The point is, these nicknames were voted on by students, a hundred years or so ago, and they obviously weren’t the most imaginative bunch. If you think monster names are bad, though, you should have seen the original society names from back when they started the school! The founding fathers may have been geniuses in a lot of ways, but deciding mascots wasn’t one of them.”

  “How’s that?” Lucy asked.

  “Well,” Zane said, lowering his voice, “those were the same guys that eventually decided the symbols for our political parties should be an elephant and a donkey. Benjamin Franklyn himself voted against making our national symbol an eagle. You know what he wanted it to be? A turkey!” Albus shook his head, grinning. “You’re joking.”

  Zane straightened. “I wish I was, dude. He’s still a little rankled about it, and it’s been centuries! But anyway, like ‘em or not, that’s all the house societies. They’ll grow on you once you get settled into your own. Rush week is still going on, so you st
ill have a chance to pledge for a good house. I vote Zombie for the lot of you, but we’ll have to ask Patches.”

  “Patches?” Albus blinked. “The administration cat?”

  “He’s a Kneazle,” Zane corrected. “And he has a sixth sense about such things. You can apply for whatever house you want, but it’s tradition for new students to consult Patches first. It’s fun. In fact, there he is now.”

  James looked in the direction Zane indicated. In the far corner of the stone stairway, lying in the shadow of a statue of a huge eagle, was a perfectly ordinary looking calico cat. Its eyes were closed but the tip of its tail flicked restlessly, as if the cat was only pretending to be asleep.

  “Come on,” Zane grinned. “Let’s ask him.”

  “This is some kind of prank you all play on new students,” Albus said, lagging behind. “I can appreciate that. I won’t be falling for it though.”

  “Suit yourself,” Zane replied, unperturbed. He hunkered down in front of the cat and scratched it between the ears. “Hey Patches, how’s everybody’s little kitty-boy doing?” he said, as if he was talking to a baby. “Yeah, that’s it. You like getting scratched between the ears, don’cha? You feeling like helping out some of my friends today? Sharing a little of that crazy feline intuition?”

  Slowly, Patches slit his green eyes and peered up at James. His tail flicked.

  “This is James,” Zane went on, glancing back. “I know he’s a day or two late, but he’s come a long way, so he has a good excuse. You want to give him a little push in the right direction, societywise?”

  The cat continued to regard James thoughtfully. James could hear him purring as Zane petted him. Finally, the cat stood up, stretched and yawned luxuriously, and padded away into the sunlight.

  “Thus spake Zaruthustra,” Albus quipped, rolling his eyes.

  “Shh,” Zane said, raising one hand.

  Patches paced toward the administration building’s open doors, tail held high, and then stopped with his left front paw raised. He turned to look back, as if making sure that the students were watching.

  “Look where his foot is,” Lucy whispered, nudging James with her elbow.

  James looked closer. Engraved into the stone blocks of the steps was a line of six symbols. The one closest to James was a bat, its wings half-furled. The cat was standing over one of the symbols in the middle, its right paw resting right in the middle of it.

  “That can’t be right, Patches,” Zane said, frowning.

  “What is it?” James said, squinting. “I left my glasses in my duffle bag. I can’t see the symbol.”

  Zane sighed. “It’s a glass beaker with electric bolts coming out of it, the symbol of Igor House. Patches, James is no Igor. Technomancy isn’t his thing. He’s an expert with defensive magic. He’s a Zombie all the way. Go on, go over to the cross-eyed skull.”

  To James’ surprise, the cat almost seemed to shake its head. It stayed on the Igor symbol, its left foot raised, its right planted right in the center of the engraved beaker.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not an Igor,” James commented.

  “Yeah, well, stupid old cat,” Zane agreed, peering sidelong at Patches. “Good thing it isn’t like the Sorting Hat back at good ol’ Hoggies. You can pledge at whatever house you want, regardless of what he says.”

  “Do me now!” Albus proclaimed, stepping forward. “Let James go to the spods. What about me, Patches, ol’ buddy?”

  The cat regarded Albus coolly, and then put down his left paw. Slowly, he meandered along the symbols and stopped at one near the end. The shape was obvious enough that even James could make it out. It was a werewolf.

  Albus nodded, grinning. “Excellent. Wolves it is.”

  “What about Ralph, then?” Zane asked, pushing the bigger boy forward.

  Patches studied Ralph for a long time, his green eyes narrowed. Finally, he sat down, licked his flank a few times, got up again, and walked in a large circle. When he was done, his right foot rested on the beaker again.

  “Somebody’s putting catnip in your Tender Vittles, puss,” Zane said, shaking his head. “Ralph’s even less of an Igor than James here. He didn’t even take Technomancy when he had the chance.”

  “It’s true,” Ralph said to the cat. “I can’t even spell ‘technomancy’.”

  Patches lifted his nose and yawned again, as if bored.

  Lucy walked over to Patches and hunkered down on one knee. “Hi Patches,” she said, tilting her head. “I’m Lucy Weasley. Where do you think I belong?”

  Patches strolled forward and rubbed against Lucy’s leg, purring loudly. He walked around her and then angled toward the opposite end of the line of symbols. His shadow fell over the bat as he walked around it consideringly. Finally, he stopped and touched the center of the bat with his right paw.

  Zane bobbed his head back and forth. “Could be right on that one,” he said. “You do seem to have a little of that ‘creature of the night’ mystique going for you, Lucy.”

  “But I really dislike that Remora woman,” Lucy said, reaching forward to pet Patches again. “She’s so vain and ridiculous.”

  Zane raised his eyebrows and poked a finger into the air. “‘All types come in all houses. That’s a direct quote from my House President, the dapper Jersey Devil himself.”

  “What’s it supposed to mean?” Ralph asked, confused.

  “It means that no house is all good or all bad,” Zane answered, hefting his backpack. “There’s obnoxious twits in every society, not just the Vampires. There’s even a few duds among us Zombies. On the other hand, there’s decent types in every house too, although they’re a little fewer and far between in some. Don’t worry about it, Lucy. If you do pledge Vampire House, you’ll find a few like-minded people there despite Remora’s best efforts.”

  “So where do we stay until we get into a society?” Ralph asked.

  “There’s a common dorm behind the guest house,” Zane said, nodding back the way they had come. “Your stuff ‘s probably been sent there already. You’ll want to get out of there as soon as you can. They haven’t updated the common dorm in, like, three hundred years. If I was you, I’d get inside right now and sign up for one of the societies. The initiation process will start pretty much immediately. While you’re in there, you can get your class assignments sorted out and sign up for any clubs or sports you want to get involved with.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the Administration Hall’s main doors. “Unless, that is, you want to come along with me to Precognitive Engineering.”

  “No thanks,” James sighed. “I think we better get all of this out of the way as soon as we can.”

  “And I don’t know about the rest of you,” Albus added, “but I’ll put off starting classes as long as I can.”

  “I’d like to come along with you, actually,” Lucy said, moving to stand next to Zane. “Unlike these two, I am anxious to see what classes look like here. I’ll settle the official arrangements after lunch.”

  “This way, then,” Zane said, offering Lucy his elbow. “Precog isn’t as hard as it used to be, apparently, now that Madame Delacroix is in a padded room in the medical complex, but it’s still a challenge. Stick close and I’ll show you the ropes.”

  James shook his head as the two headed away into the throng of students.

  “So,” Ralph said, moving hesitantly toward the Administration Hall doors, “are you going to sign up for Igor House?”

  James scoffed. “No way. I’m going for Zombie House. With apologies to Patches over there.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too,” Ralph nodded. “Although I can’t help wondering what that cat knows that we don’t.”

  “You’re both daft,” Albus said seriously. “That cat’s got some kind of mental link with the cosmos or something. It can see right into your soul, just like the Sorting Hat back home. Did you see how quick it was to figure out I belonged in Werewolf House? That’s the house of sporting greats, strength and order. If the cat sa
ys you two are a couple of Igor spods, then you shouldn’t argue with it. Patches knows his stuff.”

  James pushed his brother out of the way as he turned toward the Administration Hall doors. “A minute ago, you thought the cat was just a freshman prank.”

  “Ugh,” Ralph said, following. “I thought I was through with all of this. I was just starting to get comfortable with Slytherin. Now we have to start all over again.”

  Albus frowned. “I love Slytherin, but I have a feeling that me and the Wolves are going to get along just fine.”

  “At least Quidditch isn’t as big a deal over here as it is back home,” Ralph commented, stepping into the echoing shadows of the Hall’s lobby.

  James frowned. “Why is that a good thing?”

  “Well,” Ralph grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder, “it improves your chances of making the team, doesn’t it?”

  Albus hooted laughter, and the sound of it echoed throughout the grand, dark lobby.

  Twenty minutes later, the three boys emerged into the sunlight again, studying their class assignments.

  “Do either of you have Clockwork Mechanics?” Albus asked. “I can’t even imagine what that is.”

  “Hardly any of these make any sense,” Ralph agreed. “Look here: Muggle Occupation Studies. What’s that about?”

  “Hey!” a voice called nearby, startling the three. James looked around and saw a pair of older students standing next to the doors of the Administration Hall. One, a girl, wore a dark slate skirt, matching button-down sweater and a burgundy tie. Black hair framed her dark, severe face. The other, a boy older than James, had bright green hair cut into a stripe that ran from his brow to the base of his neck. He wore a screamingly yellow tie and black pants. The crest on his blazer identified him as a member of Zombie House.

  “Are you talking to us?” Ralph asked querulously.