"Look," Graham whispered, pointing at the photo, "there's the ghost in the plinth! You can see it off on the side, next to the statue on the far right, just like in Rita Skeeter's book!"
Ralph looked puzzled. "The ghost in the plinth?"
Rose made a pained face. "It's just a myth, Ralph," she whispered. "It was in a book that came out a few years ago: The Founders' Codex. It says that there are secrets buried in a bunch of ancient paintings and pictures and things. Supposedly, there's a ghostly face hidden in the shadows of the statue plinth in the founders' photo."
"It's right there," Graham rasped. "Skeeter says it was hexed into the photo by Salazar Slytherin himself as a warning of his final curse. It's supposed to be the face of the heir of Slytherin. Of course, that's old news now. The Chamber of Secrets is well-known. It was on the Hogwarts tour up until a few years ago when they shut it down for being unsafe."
A Hufflepuff named Ashley Doone whispered from the row behind James, "I can see the ghost in the plinth, too! It looks like… like it's wearing glasses! Why, James," she said conspiratorially, "I think the ghost in the plinth is you!"
James spun to glare back at her. She grinned and covered her mouth. When James turned back, Rose and Ralph were also looking at him.
"Since when do you wear glasses?" Ralph asked in a whisper.
"I don't!" James rasped. "I just need them to see… things. Far away. Sometimes. Hardly ever!"
"They're kind of cute, James," Rose smiled. "In a brainy sort of way."
James yanked the glasses off and jammed them back into his bag. Rose looked back at the ancient photo as Professor Binns burbled on obliviously.
"And Ashley's right," Rose whispered, smiling playfully. "The ghost in the plinth does look a little bit like you. I didn't even see it at first."
"Go jump off a turret," James mumbled, returning to his doodling.
That evening, after dinner, James and Rose sat amongst a pile of books and parchments at a corner table in the Gryffindor common room.
"It's only our first day back," James complained. "I can't believe I'm already sick of homework."
Rose dipped her quill. "If you'd stop complaining about it and just do it, it wouldn't seem like so much work."
"Thanks for the pep talk," James grumbled, flipping randomly through an enormous dusty book. "So how many classes am I going to be sharing with you this year anyway? I mean, besides History of Magic and Transfiguration. It's a little embarrassing, you know."
"I can't imagine why," Rose said without looking up from her parchment, "it's no reflection on you that I got my mum's grasp of basic magical principles. You, on the other hand, got your dad's grasp of slouching off your studies until the very last minute. It's simple genetics."
James sat up. "You're already done with your Transfiguration homework, then? Maybe you could give me a hand with mine since you're so smart. After all, we're family."
"You obviously have me confused with someone else," Rose said, stuffing her books into her bag and zipping it. "That might've worked on my mum back in the day, but that's only because she had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. My Weasley heritage offsets that nicely. By the way, shouldn't you be wearing your glasses to do your homework?"
James threw her a wilting look. "I only need them to see far away, thank you very much. I'd appreciate it if you kept the whole glasses thing to yourself."
"It's no big deal. Lots of people wear glasses."
"Lots of perfect spods," James groused dismally.
"Damien wears them," Rose pointed out. "And Professor McGonagall. Fiera Hutchins wears them and they look totally cute on her, even if she is a Slytherin. And Clarence Templeton, and Scorpius…"
James nearly knocked his books off the table. "Scorpius wears glasses? How do you know?"
Rose blinked at James. "I saw him wearing them in Herbology. He needs them to read, I would guess. Unlike you, he seemed perfectly comfortable wearing them in class. They look rather sporting, in fact. They're rimless, with tortoiseshell sides—"
"All right, all right," James said, waving his hand dismissively. "This isn't making it any better."
"Despite what you may think," Rose said, leaning in and lowering her voice, "he's not stupid. He may not be the nicest boy in school, but he knows his stuff."
"He knows how to cast a few spells, big deal," James said, crossing his arms. "His parents probably hired him one of those goblin tutors just to make sure he could show the rest of us up."
Rose shrugged and looked pointedly across the room. "Looks like he's done with his homework, at any rate."
James followed his cousin's gaze. Scorpius sat slouched in the high-back chair near the fireplace. He was idly flicking his wand, floating a bit of paper folded to resemble a bat. It bobbed and swooped easily.
"Bloody show-off," James grumbled under his breath.
Cameron Creevey saw James looking. He stood and approached the table tentatively. "Hey, James! How was your first day?"
"Lousy," James griped. "You any good at Transfiguration, Cameron?"
Cameron shook his head. "I haven't even had my first class, sorry. I just wanted to ask you: is it true about last year? About the aligning of the planets and how you were there for Merlin's return and all that stuff about how you sent that Muggle news fellow packing?"
"Well," James began, and then shrugged tiredly, "yeah, sure, I guess. It's probably all true enough, but it wasn't like it sounds. I was trying to stop Merlin's return, you know. So really, it was all a big bust."
Cameron grinned, showing a lot of pink gums. "That's totally excellent!" he exclaimed. "My dad, he's Dennis Creevey, he went to school with your dad, Harry Potter, right?"
"Sure, if you say so," James agreed, smiling. The boy's enthusiasm was rather contagious. "But I'm not like him, Cameron, really. I'm just a kid. See? No lightning bolt scar. Besides, I had loads of help."
"Yeah, I heard," Cameron nodded. "Ralph Deedle, whose dad's real name is Dolohov! Nobody saw that one coming, did they? Still, makes sense in hindsight. At least that's what my dad says."
Rose smirked and pretended to read one of James' books. James shook his head wonderingly. "Where did you get all this, Cameron?"
"Oh, all the first-years have been talking about it. We can't wait to see what you get up to this year!"
James frowned. "This year?"
"Sure!" Cameron enthused. "I mean, it's just like in your dad's day! Every year, he got in some great adventure, didn't he? We've got all the old Daily Prophet articles at home as well as the novelizations. I know the books are a little exaggerated, but my dad, he was there for some of it, and he says they don't even do the real stories justice. My favorite is the one about the Triwizard Tournament, especially the bits with the dragon!"
James held up his hands, stopping Cameron. "Look, those books are about my dad. Not me. Things are different these days, aren't they? There's no more Voldemort, no more big, scary, evil society bent on taking over the world. Last year was a fluke, all right? Besides, I wasn't a hero like my dad was. If I hadn't had Ralph and Zane—"
"Zane?" Cameron interrupted. "He's the one from the States?"
"Yes," James laughed, exasperated. "He—"
James jumped as something rapped against the window behind him. He spun around, eyes wide. The window was perfectly black. He stared at his reflection in the old glass. "What the—"
The rap came again, louder, shaking the window in its pane. A small object had thrown itself against the window from the outside. It looked like a moth, but with glowing green wings. James focused on it, furrowing his brow.
"What is it?" Rose asked, coming around the table to join James.
James shook his head. The moth threw itself against the window again, rattling the glass with its wings. It was remarkably strong considering its size.
"It's a lunarfly," Rose said, recognizing the flying shape. "Let it in before it knocks itself senseless. They're harmless."
James unlatche
d the window and swung it open just as the lunarfly dove again. It shot through the open window and past James. Cameron ducked as the glowing moth spun out over the room. It swooped wildly, flitting through the students scattered around the room, leaving a trail of faintly glowing dust behind it. Scorpius sat up and peered at the moth, narrowing his eyes, as it wove and arced, drawing dusty greenish lines in the air. Finally, as if exhausted, the moth fluttered to a halt on the table, landing on James' pile of books. It folded its wings and twitched its antennae at James.
"Whoa!" Cameron said excitedly. James raised his eyes.
The lines of glowing dust had condensed into a shape. It floated in the air, drifting very slowly toward the ground. James recognized the shape. He grinned.
"Cameron, meet Zane," James said, gesturing to the familiar face formed by the glowing dust. "Zane, we were just talking about you. How'd you know?"
The dusty representation of Zane's face smiled. "It works! Hi, James! Hold on a second. Raphael, Anna, tell Professor Franklyn it works. I'm getting through! They can see me! All right, anyway. Hey, everybody. Hi, Rose! Where's the Ralphinator?"
"He and Albus are down with the Slytherins," James replied. "Zane, what is this?"
Zane's shimmering face grimaced as if to say it's a long story. "You ever hear the bit about the Chaos Butterfly? The one that flaps its wings in Paris and causes a hurricane in Los Angeles? Well, this is that butterfly. It's a moth, really, but the point is it doesn't cause the hurricanes, it just knows when they're going to happen. Franklyn says it has some sort of psychic connection to the cosmos. Anyway, it can tune into stuff thousands of miles away. The trick was just to get it to tune into the right thing. At the moment, it's tuned in to my face over here at Alma Aleron. So how do I look?"
James leaned in, studying the strange, glowing phenomenon. "Like a seasick ghost."
"That's as good as it gets, for now," Zane nodded. "Still, it's a big leap for the Department of Experimental Magical Communications. Raphael says we'll probably get a grant for this. Anyway, I've only got a minute before the dust settles. How are you all doing?"
"Fine," James replied. "Tell Cameron here that there aren't going to be any more exciting adventures this year."
"There better not be," Zane agreed. "James swore them off last year, Cam. That's the only reason I let my parents drag me back to America. Anyway, I'm fading out, I can tell. I'll be in touch, you guys. We have a few other techniques to test out. Should be fun!"
"All right, Zane," James called as the glowing face began to disintegrate. "See you later!"
"Wait!" Zane's voice cried, growing faint. "Did I hear you say your brother was with the Slyth…" His voice vanished as the glowing moth dust faded out of the air. On the table in front of James, the moth flexed its wings. It took off again and flitted silently through the open window. James clasped it shut.
"That was dead brilliant!" Cameron suddenly exclaimed. James smiled, shook his head, and shooed the smaller boy away. The rest of the Gryffindors in the common room went back to their business.
"That's complete nonsense," Rose said, settling back into her seat. "There's no such thing as the Chaos Butterfly. It's just a metaphor."
James grinned smugly at Rose. "You do fancy him!"
Rose scowled at him. "Now why in the world would you say that?"
"Because," James said simply, "you waited until he was gone to say that."
Rose blushed and looked away, fuming.
"See?" James said, nudging her. "I'm not a dolt about everything, am I?"
Rose harrumphed and gathered her bag. "Enjoy your Transfiguration homework," she said, standing. "And by the way, I saw your History of Magic homework answers. You got three of them wrong, and I'm not going to tell you which ones." She batted her eyes and smiled sweetly. "Goodnight, then!"
James slumped in his chair, watching her stalk up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Across the room, Cameron grinned at him.
No more adventures this year, James thought. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Of course it was. Besides, the trio was broken. Zane was gone, back across the ocean and in a completely different time zone. That had never happened to Harry Potter. It had always been Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the magic trio, inseparable even to this day. Not so for James, and that, he told himself, was just fine. Let Albus have an adventure if there was one to be had. After all, he was the one everyone said looked just like Dad when he'd been younger.
James' forehead itched. Without thinking about it, he scratched it, pushing his unruly hair up. Just like he'd told Cameron, there was no lightning bolt scar there. James wasn't his father.
When James lowered his hand, he saw Scorpius Malfoy staring at him from across the room. His face was inscrutable. After a moment, Scorpius looked away, as if bored. If there was any proof that the era of Harry Potter style adventures was over, it was sitting right over there: Scorpius Malfoy with a Gryffindor crest embroidered on his robes.
James sighed, opened his Transfiguration textbook, and began his homework.
The first days of school passed in a blur. James attended his classes and made a concerted effort to take notes and tackle his homework. His diligence sprang partly from his own resolve not to get behind early in the year, but was also partly due to the presence of Rose in many of his classes. She served as a constant, disgruntled source of competition since James was determined not to allow his first-year cousin to outperform him despite her natural braininess.
One class Rose didn't share with James was Care of Magical Creatures, which was still taught by Hagrid. Hagrid embarrassed James by greeting him with a gigantic, bone-cracking bear hug at the beginning of class.
"I didn't have th' chance to say so at th' service, James," Hagrid said in what he thought was a confidential voice, "but I'm so sorry about your Granddad. Arthur was a great man, 'e was."
James nodded, a little annoyed at having been reminded of his granddad's death. It had been a few days since he'd thought about it. Hagrid invited the class to sit on the multitude of pumpkins maturing in his garden. He spent the period explaining what the class was about and describing the animals he'd introduce the students to over the course of the year. James didn't listen particularly closely, gazing instead out over the lake, his thoughts far away and melancholy.
During his Wednesday free period, James sat with Ralph and Rose at a table in the library. He took the opportunity to write a short letter to his parents. When he was finished, it occurred to him to write a note to his Cousin Lucy as well, as he'd promised. He dipped his quill and jotted the first things that came to his mind.
Dear Lucy,
Hi! I hope Uncle P. and Aunt A. aren't dragging you all over the place too much, but if they are, I hope you are having some fun and seeing some cool stuff. The school year is starting all right. The new Defence teacher is Kendrick Debellows, the famous Harrier. Ask your dad if you don't know who he is. He's pretty hardcore, and he doesn't have much good to say about Aurors, so that class looks to be a bust. Al would say hi if he knew I was writing you. He ended up in Slyth after all! I promised I would let him tell Mum and Dad, but he didn't say I couldn't tell you. Rose is sitting right here and she says hi and get a picture of anything cool you see if you are anyplace interesting, even if you're sick of seeing it all. Tell Mol we all said hello. Send a letter and any pics back with Nobby, all right?
Sincerely, James
James let Rose sign the letter to Lucy as well. When they were done, he took the letter back and reread it. Then, thoughtfully, he added:
P.S. If you get bored, you could do me a little favor. Look up anything you can find about something called the Gatekeeper or the Sentinel of Worlds. It might be a bit hard to dig up, but I know you like figuring stuff out, and it'd be a great help to me. But don't say anything to anyone else about it. I promised to keep it a secret. Thanks.
James finished writing, then quickly sealed both letters and stuffed them into his satchel. That afternoon, after their last cl
asses, Rose and Ralph accompanied James to the Owlery. There, James attached the letters to Nobby's leg whilst Rose and Ralph stood near the door.
"I'm glad I brought a cat," Rose said, wrinkling her nose. "This place is right rancid."
"Cats can't deliver post," James replied.
"Well, an owl can't snuggle up on your lap by the fireplace."
Ralph nodded. "Or cough a hairball on your shoe."
Rose elbowed him. James finished attaching the letters to Nobby and stood back.
"Take Mum and Dad's letter first, Nobby. Lucy might send some stuff back."
Nobby screeched agreement. He spread his wings, balanced on the perch for a moment, and then launched. James craned his head as Nobby thrust upward, past the ranks of his fellow owls, and disappeared through a window at the top of the Owlery.
As the three students made their way back through the castle to dinner, James asked Rose pointedly, "So how was your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class?"
Rose pressed her lips together and hefted her satchel. "He wouldn't let me run the Gauntlet."
Ralph glanced at her. "Well, that's a good thing, right?"
"No, Ralph, it isn't. The boys all had to run it. Debellows says girls are 'too delicate' for it. He set us up doing one-on-one drills with each other. None of the other girls take it seriously, either. It was a complete waste of time."
"I hadn't really noticed it," James said, "but now that you mention it, he doesn't have any girls run the Gauntlet in our class either."
"Or face the clockwork ogre," Ralph added. "That club may be padded, but it packs a wallop."
"You should be glad you're a girl, then, Rose," James said fervently. "It's your free pass out of that bruise factory."
Rose shook her head, annoyed. "You're both completely missing the point! Girls aren't any less capable than boys. I bet I could beat most of you through the Gauntlet if I had a chance."
James stared incredulously at her. "You want to go through that thing?"
The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) Page 15