JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

“Do you see any other new students who’ve gotten it into their heads to pledge the Hermes House Zombies?”

  “And the Ares Werewolves,” the girl added, smiling crookedly. “Which one of you is Albus Potter?”

  Albus jumped to attention and did his best salute. James knew it was an attempt to be funny, and knew as well that it would fail miserably.

  “On the ground, pledge,” the girl barked, pointing to the portico floor. “Salutes are for those who serve. You’ll make up for that mockery by giving me thirty.”

  Albus was halfway onto his face on the hot stone. He stopped and glanced up at the taller girl. “Er, thirty what? Galleons? Kisses? Sorry, I’m not from around here. Is this some sort of bribe?”

  The girl grinned again. She hunkered down in front of Albus so that her face was only a foot from his. “Thirty pushups, Cornelius,” she said sweetly. “And just to make sure you remember, you’ll do them one-handed.”

  “Cornelius?” Ralph muttered.

  “Pushups,” Albus moaned. “That’s, like, exercise, right?”

  The girl nodded and produced her wand from the sleeve of her white blouse. “Here. I’ll get you started.”

  She flicked her wrist and Albus levitated smartly into the air. A moment later, he plopped back down onto his hands and the tips of his toes.

  “That’s one,” the girl said, still smiling. “Now count them out.”

  Albus grunted as he began to count, touching his nose to the stone and pushing himself up.

  “As for you two,” the boy said, moving close to Ralph and James and looking them up and down, “I wouldn’t have picked you out of a meat locker lineup, but you come with a decent recommendation from one of my house members. Zane Walker says you were members of the Gremlins. Is that so?”

  James blinked. “How do you know about them?”

  The boy cuffed James lightly over the ear and grinned. “I just explained it. Zane told me. So were you members or not?”

  “Yeah,” James said, rubbing the side of his head. The cuff hadn’t really hurt, but he felt he should do something more than just absorb it.

  “I suppose I was a member,” Ralph said, thinking hard. “I mean, unofficially, I guess. There was never any swearing in, if you know what I mean…”

  “We take initiation seriously in Zombie House,” the boy said. “My name’s Warrington. You’ll call me… let’s see… you’ll call me ‘Mr. Warrington, his grand exalted poobahness’. Until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”

  “Yeah,” James said wearily, nodding.

  “Yeah, what?” Warrington prodded, leaning closer.

  “Yeah, Mr. Warrington, your grand exalted, er… poobahness?”

  “Close enough,” the boy said, straightening again. “So you’re James Potter and this ton o’ bricks here is Ralph Deedle, both of you from jolly old England. All right, then. Here’s what I want you both to do right now. I want you to run along to Hermes Mansion and introduce yourselves to the rest of the Zombies. But you can’t go inside, you understand. You’re only pledges, and pledges have to be invited in. So, you’ll have to stand outside and yell. Tell everybody in the house your name, who recommended you, and why we should make you official members. And wear these.”

  Warrington held out two hats. James was not exactly surprised to see that they were yellow and black beanies, with gently spinning propellers on the tops. Some things, of course, were just tradition no matter what country you were in. Slowly, he and Ralph took them.

  “Put ‘em on now,” Warrington grinned. “Show some house pride, why don’t you? When I get back to the house, in an hour, I want to see you outside, hard at work. And when I get inside, I want the rest of the Zombies to be able to tell me everything about you that I need to know, with no exceptions. Got it?”

  “Yes,” James sighed, jamming the beanie onto his head.

  “Yes, what?” Warrington prodded again.

  “Yes, Mr. Warrington,” both boys said in sloppy unison, “your grand exalted poobahness.”

  “Nah, I don’t want to be called that anymore,” Warrington said, cupping his chin. “Now, you will refer to me as ‘Captain Warrington, the Superduke of the Realm of Coolness’. Remember that. I don’t want to have to remind you. Now run!”

  He shooed James and Ralph, who turned and trotted haphazardly down the steps of the Administration Hall, leaving Albus grunting out pushups on the portico.

  “I didn’t realize,” Ralph panted as they began to cross the campus, “that running… would be part of the deal.”

  8. THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

  It was amazing, James reflected the next day, how similar life at Hogwarts and life at Alma Aleron could be while being so simultaneously completely different.

  He and Ralph had spent most of the previous afternoon in the basement of Hermes Mansion wearing their ridiculous propeller beanies and being grilled by senior members of the Zombies about why they should be allowed to join, all the while crawling around on the basement’s ratty carpets and poking into the dusty rafters in search of spiders, which they were instructed to collect and save in a large jar. James had half worried that part of their initiation would include eating the spiders that they were in the process of collecting and had purposely avoiding capturing several of the larger ones. By ten o’clock, Zane had been there as well, munching a huge bowl of popcorn with his feet kicked up on an old footstool covered in yellow shag carpeting. Warrington, who by then had chosen to be referred to as ‘High Sultan Warrington, Master of the Fighting Freemdugs of the Second-Floor Sectional Couch’, had inspected Ralph’s and James’ jar of spiders with a critical eye. Dozens of the arachnids scrambled over each other in the bottom of the jar, their tiny legs making a slightly maddening scritching sound on the glass.

  “Not bad, pledges,” Warrington had proclaimed reluctantly. “You got sixteen more than Zane here did on his first night.”

  “No fair!” Zane had exclaimed, sitting upright in the old recliner by the stairs. “There’s two of them!”

  “Yeah,” Warrington had grinned, unscrewing the lid of the jar. “But you cheated, Walker. You transfigured half of your spiders out of ants, centipedes, and even a few stale potato chips. Most of them didn’t even have the right number of legs.”

  Zane had slumped backwards in the chair again. “That’s what you all loved about me, if I recall. Creative cheating is a Zombie core value. You told me so yourself.”

  “Indeed I did,” Warrington had nodded, upending the jar over the stained carpet. The spiders had poured out and scrambled away in all directions, scuttling under the furniture and into dark corners.

  “What’d you do that for?” Ralph had exclaimed, his eyes bulging. James had noticed that the propeller on Ralph’s head spun faster when he was agitated. It had very nearly lifted him off the floor when he’d discovered the black widow’s nest in the shadow of the stairs.

  “Sorry, pledges,” Warrington had replied soberly. “It’s purely catch-and-release in Zombie House. Otherwise, what will the next batch of pledges have to chase after? Why, some of those spiders are like family by now.”

  “I remember the big orange and purple one from my first night here,” Zane had said wistfully. “I found it on my pillow wearing a pair of fake plastic fangs.”

  The room had erupted into gales of appreciative laughter and Warrington had grinned indulgently at Zane.

  Shortly, James and Ralph had been dismissed, accompanied by the well wishes and encouragement of Zane, who’d told them that he thought the evening had gone splendidly well.

  “You two are shooins,” he’d said as he walked them to the path in front of Hermes Mansion. “Really. Warrington likes you, otherwise he’d have made you personally return every spider to its nest. As long as you accomplish tomorrow’s pledge dare, you’ll be in like lint.”

  James had asked Zane what the dare would be, but Zane had shaken his head. “If I knew, I’d tell you, but I don’t. Since you only got here during the last few days
of pledge week, it’ll probably be a big one. But you can pull it off. Don’t sweat it.”

  James tried not to think about it as he and Ralph made their way across the dark campus.

  The common dorm was a stone block construction that loomed like a giant mausoleum in the shadow of the guest house, with no lanterns to light it and nearly every window dark. In the tiny entryway, James and Ralph found their trunks and Nobby’s battered cage, inside of which the great owl eyed James balefully.

  “Sorry, Nobby,” James soothed, kneeling in front of the cage and opening the door. “I nearly forgot all about you. Go on outside and get some dinner, but don’t go far. I’ll find out tomorrow where they keep owls around here.”

  The owl hopped out of the cage and ruffled his feathers. With a disgruntled hoot, he spread his wings and took off through the open front door.

  “There’s a note from your mum,” Ralph said, taking an envelope from the top of his trunk. “It’s addressed to all of us. You, me, Lucy, and Albus.”

  James plopped onto his trunk and pulled the beanie from his head. “Go ahead and read it,” he said, flapping a hand vaguely.

  Ralph drew the note from the unsealed envelope and unfolded it. “‘Dear children,’” he began, and then looked at James. “‘Children’?”

  “Just go on,” James prodded, shaking his head wearily.

  “‘I hope you’ve settled in OK with your classes and house assignments. We all miss you already, although we’ll be sure to see you tomorrow night at Professor Longbottom’s assembly. Your new school uniforms are in your trunks. Be good and we’ll see you tomorrow. Love,’ blah, blah, blah, she put everybody’s names here, even Headmaster Merlin.”

  “That’s my mum,” James smiled crookedly.

  “There’s something written on the back,” Ralph said, turning the note over. “It’s from Lucy. She says… she’s spending the night at Vampire House with her new mates, and then she writes ‘I’ll probably see you three at class in the morning if you don’t sleep in or skip it or forget you’re on American time now’. Blimey, she can be a nag, can’t she?”

  James shrugged. “That’s how the women in my family show love, I think.”

  “You think Albus is already here somewhere,” Ralph asked, grunting as he lugged his trunk toward a rickety dumbwaiter built into the wall next to the staircase. A very tarnished brass statue of a monkey in a bellhop uniform stood on a shelf next to the dumbwaiter door.

  “I don’t know,” James sighed, standing and hefting his own trunk. “Maybe he got lucky like Lucy and is spending the night at his new house.”

  Ralph socked his trunk into the large dumbwaiter compartment and James used his wand to levitate his own on top of Ralph’s. The brass monkey sprang jerkily to life, squeaking as if it desperately needed to be oiled. It clambered into the dumbwaiter, sidling next to the stacked trunks, and pulled the door shut. A moment later, a ratcheting noise marked the compartment’s ascent into the floors above.

  “How does it know where to go?” James asked, peering at the closed door. Ralph shrugged and the two of them struck off in search of the bathrooms.

  The common dormitory turned out to be just as dank, moldy, and woefully outdated as Zane had implied. When Ralph turned on the faucets, a mixture of rusty orange water, dirt, and the occasional worm spilled out, and continued for several minutes while the boys let it run. Finally, they satisfied themselves by heading back outside and splashing off in a nearby fountain. In the center of the fountain, a monstrous birdbath seemed to regard them coolly from the eyes of a half dozen stone gargoyles.

  “Foreigners,” one of the gargoyles muttered, rolling its eyes.

  Ralph and James chucked pinecones at the statues for a few minutes, but soon realized that nothing is quite as imperturbable as a stone gargoyle. Eventually, exhausted, the boys stumped back inside and, after a short search, found their trunks kicked out onto the hallway carpet of the top floor. There, they found an empty dormitory room and dropped immediately to sleep on the ancient, bowed beds.

  The next day, James and Ralph’s first class was Wizard Home Economics, which was held in the cellars of the Administration Hall, in what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a converted dungeon. Low vaulted ceilings were supported by squat pillars, and James had the unsettling sense that he could feel the weight of the massive building above, pressing down on the space. All in all, he found the classroom nearly indistinguishable from some of the more cobwebbed classrooms at Hogwarts.

  The Wiz Home Ec teacher was a fat, wizened old witch with rosy cheeks, frizzy white hair that seemed to have a very rich life of its own, and sparkling black eyes that darted over the classroom mischievously, as if she wasn’t exactly sure if she wanted to teach the children or cook them in an enormous pie. Her name, as it turned out, was Professor Betsy Bartholemew Ryvenwicke Newton, however she instructed her students to refer to her merely as Mother Newt. Smiling in a grandmotherly fashion, she began to stack cauldrons, pots, and pans on her expansive desk, launching into an introductory explanation of the class. Zane, who sat between James and Ralph at a table in the rear of the room, leaned aside to James.

  “She may look like last decade’s cinnamon bun,” he whispered behind his hand, “but don’t mess with old Ma Newt. She’s as tough as a Bigfoot’s heel callus and twice as stinky if you get her riled up.”

  Ralph slumped in his seat and fiddled with his quill. “Isn’t Home Ec a girlie class?” he whispered gloomily, but Zane interrupted him, shushing urgently and holding a finger to his lips.

  “What’s that?” Mother Newt asked suddenly, interrupting herself at the front of the classroom. She raised her chin and peered over the heads of the students. Her black gaze found Zane and she offered him a rather charming smile. “A question, Mr. Walker?”

  “No, no,” Zane replied, grinning a little manically. “It’s nothing.”

  “Someone back there implied that Wizarding Home Economics is… I’m sorry,” she said, frowning slightly. “My poor hearing isn’t what it used to be. What did your friend call it?”

  “Er…,” Ralph muttered, his face turning dark red. “Er, er… I was just asking. I’m new here.”

  Mother Newt nodded comfortingly, closing her eyes. “Yes, yes. Mr. Deedle, from our wizarding neighbors across the sea. I’ve heard much about you and your friends. What was it you were wondering, young man? Don’t be shy with your old Mother Newt.”

  Emboldened, Ralph sat up a little. “Well,” he said, glancing around. The eyes of the rest of the class had all turned to him, most wide and serious. One or two students shook their heads very faintly, warningly. Ralph gulped and went on. “I, er… I always thought… pardon me for saying… that home economics was a girl’s study.”

  “Oh no,” Mother Newt answered soothingly, smiling again. “A common misconception, dear boy, I assure you. No, you see, the truth is…,” here, the professor stepped away from her desk, backing into the shadows of the high cupboards that lined the dungeon’s front wall, “the truth is that Home Economics is not at all a girl’s study… it is, in fact, a woman’s study.”

  In the shadows, Newt raised her hands swiftly, and the sleeves of her robes fell back, revealing surprisingly lean, strong arms. “Home economics is more than a mere class. It is the lifetime pursuit of only the most rare and powerful woman. A fierce, cunning woman, a witch whose wiles are without depth, whose motives are infinitely unplottable, and whose boundless potential is kept in check only by her own willing discipline…”

  Lightning crackled from Newt’s upraised wand and her fingertips, licking along the faces of the cabinets. Her voice lowered, but grew louder, echoing. “The sort of witch whose minions exist only at her tolerance, only to serve her unknowable whims, moved either by fear of her or love for her, forever beguiled and bewitched, whether they know it… or not!”

  Thunder boomed suddenly in the enclosed space of the dungeon and a cold gust of wind swirled around the room, clapping the cupb
oard doors and snuffing out candles in the wall sconces. At their desks, students held onto their parchments and quills as the wind rushed over them, streaming through the girls’ hair and flapping the boys’ ties. A skeleton on a metal stand in the corner rattled and swayed. Its jaw clacked as if it was laughing. A moment later, as quickly as it had begun, the wind ceased. The lighting in the room returned to normal. With a series of small pops, the extinguished candles relit themselves.

  “Does that answer your question, my dear?” Newt said sweetly, smiling in front of her desk once again, as if she had not moved an inch.

  “Y-yes ma’am,” Ralph said quickly, sitting bolt upright in his seat. “Clear as crystal.”

  “Good,” Mother Newt replied warmly, her eyes twinkling. “Now where were we? Oh yes, the basic essentials of any magical kitchen, beginning with ladles. Do pay attention, students. There may be a quiz.”

  Forty minutes later, as the class shuffled out into the low hallway, each bearing a miniature poisonberry muffin that Mother Newt had helped them prepare in the classroom’s goblinfire oven, Zane explained, “Ma Newt is the President of Pixie House. Theirs is the big gingerbready mansion, Aphrodite Heights, up on the hill behind the theater. She’s a good example of why you don’t want to underestimate a Pixie even if they do look like a bunch of frosted lemon cookies.”

  “I’ve met a few Pixies,” Lucy said falling in line next to the three boys. “I don’t think most of them are like Mother Newt. She’s got issues.”

  Zane laughed. “Oh, you’ve got no idea. Trust me.”

  James eyed the miniature muffin in his hand. “Are these safe to eat? I mean… poisonberry?”

  “It’s just a name,” Zane shrugged, adjusting his backpack. “Like plaguepoppies or deathshrooms. They’re delicious. On the other hand, if anyone tries to get you to eat a blisscake… watch out.”

  “Have any of you seen Albus?” Lucy asked, climbing the stone steps to the Administration Hall’s long foyer.

  Zane nodded. “I saw him this morning in the cafeteria, following around a gang of senior Werewolves. They had him carrying all their trays, balancing them like it was some kind of circus trick. I was pretty impressed, to tell you the truth. He was levitating the last one with his wand between his teeth.”