James Potter and the Hall of Elders' Crossing

by G. Norman Lippert

  “Oh, yeah,” Ralph muttered. He shook back his sleeve, revealing a new ring on his right hand. The ring was set with a large green emerald, shaped like an eye with a slit pupil. Ralph pressed it carefully into one of the snake’s eye sockets. The other socket glared to life, glowing green.

  “Who sssseeks entry?” the snake’s head said in a thin, hissing voice.

  “Me. Ralph Deedle. Slytherin, first year.” The glowing green eye flicked over James and Zane. “And thessssse?”

  “My friends. I, uh, I can vouch for them.”

  The glowing eye studied Zane then James for an uncomfortably long time, and then finally winked out. A series of complicated ratchets, clicks, and clanks came from within the door. It swung ponderously open.

  The Slytherin rooms occupied a large, gothic space carved from beneath the lake. Thick, stainedglass windows in the vaulted ceilings looked up through the depths of the lake, making the filtered sunlight flicker greenly on the glass portraits of Salazar Slytherin and his progeny. Even Ralph seemed jumpy as he showed them around. Only a few other students were in the common room, draped over the furnishings with extravagant indolence. They followed Zane and James with their eyes, smiling cryptically, but apparently without malice. Ralph stiffly mumbled greetings.

  The Slytherin sleeping quarters felt to James like someplace a very tasteful and wealthy pirate captain might sleep. The room was wide, with a sunken floor and low ceilings hung with gargoyle head lanterns. The large beds were mahogany with great square pillars at each corner. The Slytherin House crest hung on curtains at the end of each bed. The three boys clambered onto Ralph’s immaculately made bed.

  “These guys are pretty hardcore,” Ralph admitted in a low voice, indicating the owners of the other beds. “To tell you the truth, I feel a little out of place here. I like the Ravenclaw rooms better.”

  “I don’t know,” Zane said, looking around the room admiringly. “They sure have a flair for decorating. Although it’d be hard to sleep with all those stuffed animal heads on the walls. Is that one a dragon?”

  “Yes,” Ralph replied, his voice strained and terse. “These guys bring them from their houses. They have families that actually go out dragon hunting.”

  James frowned. “I thought dragon hunting was illegal.”

  “Yeah,” Ralph whispered severely. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? These guys’ families have hunting preserves where they can go shoot just about anything! That over there is the skull of a unicorn. Still has the horn on it, although they said it isn’t the real horn. The real horn is too valuable for magical uses to leave hanging on the wall. And that thing back behind Tom’s bed is a house-elf head! They put them on the wall when they knock ‘em off! And I swear it looks at me sometimes!” Ralph shuddered, and then seemed to decide he’d said too much. He pressed his mouth into a thin line and looked from James to Zane and back.

  “Yeah, it is pretty creepy,” James admitted, deciding not to tell Ralph any of the things he’d heard about how some of the Slytherin families lived. “Still, I expect it’s mostly just for show.”

  “What’s that?” Zane said suddenly, pouncing forward on the bed. “Is that a GameDeck? It is! And you’ve got the wireless uplink for online competition and everything!” He rummaged into a duffle bag at the end of Ralph’s bed, pulling out a small, black box about the size and shape of the deck of cards they’d been playing with earlier. It had a tiny screen set into the front, with a mind-boggling array of buttons beneath it. “What games do you have for it? Do you have Armageddon Master Three?”

  “No!” Ralph rasped, grabbing the tiny machine away from Zane. “And don’t let anybody else see this thing! They flip out about stuff like this.”

  Zane was incredulous. “What? Why?”

  “How should I know? What’s the deal with wizards and electronic stuff?” Ralph addressed the question to James, who frowned and shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Mostly, we just don’t need it. Electronic stuff, like computers and phones, are just Muggle things. We do what we need to do with magic, I guess.”

  Ralph was shaking his head. “That’s not how these guys act about it. They talked about it like I’d brought something nasty to school with me. Told me if I meant to be a real Slytherin, I needed to abandon all my false magic and machines.”

  “False magic?” Zane asked, glancing at James.

  “Yeah,” he sighed, “that’s what some wizarding families think of Muggle electronics and machines. They say those things are just cheap knockoffs of what real wizards do. They think any wizards who use Muggle machines are traitors to their magical heritage or something.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what they told me,” Ralph nodded. “They were, like, passionate about it! I hid my stuff right away. I figure I’ll give it all to Dad at the next break.”

  Zane made a low whistle. “I’ll bet your orthodox wizard types didn’t like seeing my guys landing today in those hunks of rolling iron. You can’t get much more machine-y than a Dodge Hornet.”

  James considered this. “Yeah, they might not like it very much, but there’s a difference between electronics and clockwork. They think of cars as just a bunch of cogs and pistons. They aren’t so much false magic as just unnecessarily complicated tools. It’s the computers and stuff they really hate.”

  “I’ll say,” Ralph breathed, looking down at his GameDeck, and then stuffing it back into his duffle bag. He sighed. “Let’s get out of here. Dinner’s soon and I’m starved.”

  “Are you ever full, Ralph?” Zane asked as they jumped off the bed.

  “I’m big-boned,” Ralph said automatically, as if he’d said it many times before. “It’s a glandular problem. Shut up.”

  “Just asking,” Zane said, raising his hands. “Frankly, around here, I like the idea of having a friend who is the size of a dumpster.”

  At dinner, the three of them sat together at the Gryffindor table. James was a little worried about it until Ted appeared and slapped Zane on the back affectionately. “Our little Ravenclaw imp. How’s life in the second best house on campus?” After that, James noticed that Zane and Ralph weren’t the only students to sit down at other House tables.

  After dinner, they discussed the following day’s schedules. Zane would be joining James for his Technomancy class with Professor Jackson, and Ralph would be with James in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The boys explored the library, hovering outside the Restricted Section for a while until the librarian shooed them away with a stern warning. Finally, they said their goodnights and went their different ways.

  “See you tomorrow with Professor Stonewall!” Zane, who had a unique predisposition for nicknaming teachers, called as he climbed the staircase to the Ravenclaw common room.

  Entering his own room, James found Ted seated on the couch with his arm slung casually around Petra. Sabrina and Damien were at a nearby table, arguing quietly over some papers spread on the table between them.

  “Ready for school tomorrow, Junior?” Ted piped as James joined them.

  “Yeah! I think so.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Ted said reassuringly. “First year is mostly wand-practice and theory. Wait until you get to fourth year and Professor Trelawney.”

  “At least we get to dilute Trelawney with that new bag of bones from the States,” Petra said.

  James raised his eyebrows. “How do you mean?”

  Ted answered, “Looks like they’ll be dividing the class. Last year it was Trelawney and Firenze, the centaur, but he’s gone this year, moved back with the valley centaurs in Greyhaven. So this year, it’s Trelawney and the voodoo queen, Madame Delacroix.”

  “I imagine they’ll be best of friends,” Damien announced philosophically. “Like peas in a pod. Like powdered dragon eggshell and Mandrake sap.”

  James blinked, but before he could ask Damien what he meant, Ted shook his head, smiling wickedly. “Use your imagination, mate.”

  A few minutes later, James detached himself
from the group and climbed up to the sleeping quarters. He felt a pleasant mix of nervousness and excitement about the next day. For a moment, he simply stood in the moonlit room, soaking up the thrill of being there, being a Gryffindor, and starting his studies. He had a momentary dizzying sense of the adventures and challenges he’d be facing in the coming years, and in that moment, he wished he could jump ahead and take them all on at once.

  Noah appeared from the tiny washroom. He glanced at James before flinging himself onto his bed. “We all feel that way sometimes,” he said, as if he’d read James’ thoughts. “Wait until tomorrow evening and you’ll be back to normal. A good dose of lectures and homework does it to the best of us.” And he blew out the candle by his bed.

  3. The Ghost and The Intruder

  James awoke early. The room was silent but for the breathing of his fellow Gryffindors and the whistling snore of Noah several beds away. The light in the room was only a few shades above night, a sort of pearly rose color. James tried to go back to sleep, but his mind was too full of all the unknowns that he was sure to experience in the next twelve hours. After a few minutes, he swung his feet out of bed and began to dress.

  The halls of Hogwarts, while relatively quiet and empty, seemed busy in a completely different way this early in the morning. Dewy coolness and morning shadows filled the spaces, but there was a hint of busy commotion just out of sight behind unmarked doors down flights of narrow steps. As James moved among the corridors and passed empty classrooms that would later be filled with activity, he caught secondhand clues of the house-elf activity that thrived in the morning hours: a bucket and mop, still dripping, propped open a bathroom door; the scent of baking bread and the clatter of pots and pans drifted up a short flight of stairs; a row of windows stood with tapestries draped carefully out of them for airing.

  James meandered to the Great Hall, but found it quiet and empty, the ceiling glowing a pale rose as the sky outside absorbed the light of the sunrise. James blinked and looked again. Something was moving among the semi-transparent rafters and beams. A grey shape flitted, humming a rather annoying little tune. James watched, trying to make out what it was. It seemed to be a small, fat man-shape with a gleefully impish expression of concentration. Against all probability, the figure seemed to be very carefully balancing tiny objects on the edges of some of the rafters. James noticed that the balanced objects were directly above the House tables, arranged at intervals and balanced so delicately as to fall at the slightest breeze.

  “Fi!” the figure suddenly cried, making James jump. It had seen him. It swooped down upon him so swiftly that James almost dropped his books. “Who spies on the spy when he’s planning his morning funnies!?” the figure sang, annoyance and glee mingled in its voice.

  “Oh,” James said, sighing. “I know you. Dad and Mum told me about you. Peeves.”

  “And I know you, little crumpet!” Peeves announced merrily, looping around James. “Little Potter boy, James! Oooo! Sneaking about early-early, unlike your daddy! He preferred the night, he did! Seeking a spot of breakfast, is we? Oh, so sorry, all the little elfy-welfies are still cooking it up in the basements. Hogwarts belongs only to Peeves this early. Care for a Peruvian ballistic bean instead?”

  Peeves shoved a wispy arm toward James’ face. The tiny objects filling Peeves’ hand looked like dried green kidney beans.

  “No! Thanks! I’ll… I’ll be off, then.” James hooked a thumb over his shoulder and began to back away.

  “Suresy, are we? Mmm! Beans, beans, the musical fruit!” Peeves dismissed James and swooped back up to the rafters again. “The more I plant, the more to toot! Tooty fruits in little Potter’s pumpkin juice, perhaps!” he cackled merrily.

  James wandered until he was out of earshot of Peeves’ singing. After a few minutes, he found himself on a long, pillared balcony overlooking the school grounds. Mist arose from the lake in a great golden cloud, burning off in the sun. James leaned against a railing, soaking up the happiness and excitement of beginning his first day.

  Something moved in the stillness. James glanced toward it. It had been at the edge of the forest, near Hagrid’s cabin. Perhaps Hagrid was back. James studied the cabin. There was still no smoke in the chimney. The yard looked untended and overgrown. James frowned slightly. Why wasn’t Hagrid back yet? He knew that the half-giant had a notorious soft spot for beasts and monsters, and he worried, along with his parents, that this would eventually be his undoing. Perhaps the alliance with the giants, tentative at the best of times, had fallen apart. Perhaps they had attacked Hagrid and Grawp or imprisoned them somehow. Perhaps-

  The movement caught James’ eye again. Just behind the stack of firewood by Hagrid’s cabin, there was a flicker of color and a flash. James squinted, leaning as far over the balcony railing as he could. There it was again. A head peered over the firewood. In the distance, James could only see that it was a man about his dad’s age. The face seemed to study the grounds, and then the man stood slowly and raised a camera. The flash came again as the man took a picture of the castle.

  James was about to go find someone to tell about this strange sight, a teacher or even a house-elf, when something flew suddenly past him. James jumped aside, dropping his books for certain this time. The figure was white, semi-transparent, and utterly silent. It streamed past him and swooped down to the ground below, aiming for the interloper with the camera. The ghostly form was indistinct in the brightening sunlight, but the interloper saw it coming as if he had expected it. The man let out a little shriek of fear, but didn’t run, despite the fact that at least part of him seemed to want to. Jerkily, he raised the camera again and snapped off a few quick shots of the ghostly form as it streaked towards him. Finally, just as the form was about to overtake him, the man spun on his heels and sprinted clumsily into the perimeter of the woods, disappearing into the darkness within. The ghost pulled up at the edge of the woods like a dog on the end of its leash. It peered in, then prowled back and forth restlessly. After a minute, it turned and began to return to the castle. As James watched, it began to take on a somewhat more solid shape. By the time the figure had returned to the ground in front of the balcony, it looked like a young man. The ghostly man walked with a determined, if rather dejected gait, head down. Then he glanced up, saw James, and stopped. There was a long moment of perfect stillness in which the man stared up at James, his transparent face expressionless. Then the figure simply evaporated, quickly and completely.

  James stared at the place where the figure had been. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. Ghosts were as much a part of Hogwarts as wands and moving paintings. He’d seen the Ravenclaw House ghost, the Grey Lady, only the day before, gliding down a corridor and looking quaintly morose. He was looking forward to meeting Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost. But this ghost was new to him. Of course, his parents couldn’t have told him about every little detail of life at Hogwarts. A great deal of it was new to him. Still, the figure nagged at him, as did the sight of the man with the camera, sneaking about and taking pictures. Could he have been from one of the wizarding tabloids? Not The Quibbler, of course. James knew the people who ran that publication, and they wouldn’t be interested in the snoozing morning life of Hogwarts. Still, there were plenty of muck-raking wizarding publications always interested in the supposed dirty little secrets of Hogwarts, the Ministry, and even James’ dad.

  Heading back toward the common room where he hoped to find Ted or one of the Gremlins before breakfast, James remembered that he hadn’t yet given his parents’ greetings to Professor Longbottom. He determined to do so at breakfast, and to use the opportunity to ask Neville about the ghost and the man with the camera.

  In the Great Hall, however, Neville was nowhere to be seen. The long tables were now crowded with students in their school robes.

  “So you saw some guy snapping pictures out on the grounds?” Ralph asked around a mouthful of French toast. “What’s the big deal about that?”

  �
�I’m more interested in the ghost,” Zane said determinedly. “I wonder how he was killed. Do ghosts only come back when they’ve been killed in some really messy way?”

  James shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask one of the older guys. For that matter, ask Nick when you see him next.”

  “Nearly Headless Nick?” Sabrina said from further down the table.

  “Yeah. Where’s he at? We have a question for him.”

  “Gone,” Sabrina said, shaking her head so that the quill in her hair wobbled. “He hasn’t been with us since our first year. Finally made it into the Headless Hunt after all those years. We had a party for him, and then off he went. He never came back. Must have been the thing he needed to finally move on. Good for him, too. But still.”

  “The Headless…” Ralph queried tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted clarification.

  “He never came back?” James repeated. “But he was the Gryffindor House ghost! Who’s our ghost now?”

  Sabrina shook her head again. “Don’t have one at the moment. Some of us thought it’d be old Dumbledore, but no luck.”

  “But…,” James said, but didn’t know how to continue. Every house had a ghost, right? He thought of the wispy shape that had turned into the silent young man on the front lawn.

  “Mail call!” Zane called. Everyone looked up as owls began to swoop in through the high windows. The air was suddenly full of flapping wings and dropping letters and packages. James’ eyes widened as he recalled Peeves’ strange project from earlier that morning. Before he could say anything, the first loud pop rang out and a girl screamed in surprise and anger. She stood up from a nearby table, her robe spattered with yellow gobbets.