“I didn’t choose this, you know,” Albus said, lowering his voice and looking James in the eye. “The Sorting Hat does the Sorting. That’s what it’s for, James.”
“But Dad said—”
“Yeah, well, maybe things have changed. Or maybe the Hat didn’t think I wanted to be a Gryffindor bad enough. Either way, when I put it on, the only thing that came into my head was a vision of me in the house of the green and silver. And the truth is, for the first time ever, I kind of liked it.”
James frowned. “But all summer long, you were completely dotty about it. I mean really, Al, I wouldn’t have wound you up so much about it if it hadn’t gotten such a rise out of you.”
Albus shrugged and looked around, taking in the stairway and the Entrance Hall. “Maybe I did it just to spite you, then. That’ll teach you to rag on me about stuff. I might just go and do it after all, eh?”
James grimaced, exasperated.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, James,” Albus said, clapping James on the shoulder. “Time’s have changed, haven’t they? The other thing Dad told me on the platform was that if I did become a Slytherin, they’d have gotten themselves a brilliant new member. You can be king of Gryffindor House, all right? I’ll work my magic in Slytherin and we’ll have all of Hogwarts by the tail.”
James shook his head but smiled a little. “You are the boldest little twonk ever, Al. I almost believe you. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Not in the least,” Albus nodded gravely. “But it’s never stopped me before. Listen, don’t tell Mum and Dad about this yet. I want to tell them myself, right?”
James grimaced. “What do you think I am, a squealer?”
“Well, you did squeal on Ted and Victoire at the station this morning.”
“I told you—”
Albus raised his hands, backing away. “That’s between you and your conscience, big brother. I best be getting back to my new housemates. Ralph says they have sweet broom cakes and real Turkish Delight down there first night. I can’t wait to have that flagon of Butterbeer in front of the snake’s head fireplace, eh?”
James sighed as Albus rejoined his new housemates heading down into the cellars. As he turned to climb the staircase, he was met by Rose.
“Ralph says he’ll keep an eye on Albus,” Rose said reassuringly. “Frankly, Slytherin probably is a better fit for him. He’s always been a bit of a wild horse, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” James agreed. “I just didn’t expect it to really happen. It feels really weird having a Potter in Slytherin.”
“Are you jealous?”
“What?” James exclaimed, looking sideways at Rose as they reached the landing. “Why in the world would I be jealous?”
Rose shrugged noncommittally. “I hear the Gremlins have a little something planned for tonight.”
“How do you know about that already?”
“Well,” Rose replied self-deprecatingly, “it was partly my idea. They liked it so much they asked me to come along. In all fairness though, it wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
James remembered last year’s first night when the Gremlins had bewitched him to look like a green alien and convinced him to clamber out of a makeshift flying saucer, much to the amazement of a local Muggle farmer. “They aren’t still raising the Wocket are they?”
“No, apparently they retired the Wocket when Ted graduated. Muggle-baiting is pretty tasteless, really, and besides, it’s not much good now that the Headmaster has seen it and knows where it was hidden.”
“You sure know an awful lot about this, Rose.”
“Apparently, being a Weasley carries a lot of weight in certain circles,” she replied happily.
As they entered the common room, James couldn’t help smiling. The familiar babble of laughter and conversation filled the room like a cauldron. The bust of Godric Gryffindor swooped dangerously overhead as a group of fifth-and sixth-years played Winkles and Augers with it. Cameron Creevey had already arrived and was sitting with a few other new Gryffindors on a sofa near the crackling fireplace. Cameron noticed James and his eyes widened a little. He nudged the girl next to him.
“Hey, James,” Heth Thomas, one of Gryffindor’s Beaters, called from across the room. “You going to try out for the Quidditch team again this year? We’re taking odds on how big a hole you’ll make in the pitch.”
“I’d be careful getting in on that action,” James replied, grinning. “I’ve been practicing this summer.”
“Right,” Graham interjected, “whenever you weren’t grounded from your broom by your dad, I hear.”
This was greeted with hoots of good-natured laughter. James made a sarcastic mime of laughing along. The truth of it was that he enjoyed the ribbing. He was looking forward to the tryouts. The more they expected him to repeat last year’s performance, the better he’d look.
Noah, Petra, Damien, and Sabrina were crowded around a table in the corner of the rowdy common room. Damien and Sabrina were busily hunched over a large sheet of parchment, quills in their hands. They appeared to be arguing in hushed tones, pointing at bits of the parchment. Noah and Petra looked up and waved James and Rose over.
“We’ve not got much time,” Noah said. “But fortunately, that’s Damien and Sabrina’s problem. Besides, what can go wrong? We’ve got a Weasley back at Hogwarts again. All is well with the world.”
“How do you spell ‘forsooth’?” Sabrina asked without looking up.
“It won’t matter,” Damien said tersely, “if we don’t know, nobody will.”
“What’s the plan?” James asked, plopping into a chair nearby.
Noah looked at Rose, then back at James. “We think it’d be best if you didn’t know. For now.”
“You’ll thank us later, James,” Rose agreed.
“What?” James said, frowning. “Why in the world shouldn’t I know?”
“Trust us, James,” Petra said. “It’ll be much better for you if you can honestly claim ignorance.”
“That’s what Ted said last year at the debate, too,” James grumbled. He opened his mouth to protest further, but a sudden change in the atmosphere distracted him. Someone else was entering the common room. James glanced around to see who it was.
Scorpius Malfoy clambered awkwardly through the portrait hole, getting his robes caught on the uneven bricks. He straightened and yanked at his robes, irritated. Finally, he turned and took in the room, his pale face grim.
“Quaint,” he drawled. “How perfectly whimsical. I expect we’ll be roasting marshmallows over the fireplace and singing happy sing-alongs round about midnight, yes? Perhaps someone could point me in the direction of the dormitories.”
“Oi,” Graham answered, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s up those stairs, Malfoy. We’ll save you a marshmallow.”
James watched Scorpius hoist his satchel and stalk across the floor, threading between the suddenly silent students that filled the room. Hugo Paulson, a huge seventh year, was lounging in a high-back chair with his legs sprawled in front of him, blocking Scorpius’ path. Scorpius stopped, waiting for Hugo to move. Hugo pretended to notice Malfoy for the first time. He grinned and moved his legs. Scorpius rolled his eyes and continued on.
James knew he should warn Scorpius, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. The rest of the Gryffindors watched with bright, avid eyes as the pale boy scowled once back over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the dimness of the staircase.
He made it to the fourth step before the alarm sounded. The stair steps flattened, transforming into a rough stone slide. Scorpius struggled for purchase on the smooth surface, but it was no use. He slid back down into the common room and crashed to the floor. There was a roar of laughter. Hugo jumped up, braying uproariously, and grabbed Scorpius’ arm, hoisting him to his feet.
“The age-old girls’ dorm swap. We should really get some signs, shouldn’t we? It’s all in good fun, Malfoy,” Hugo
announced, clapping the boy on the back. “We got to initiate you somehow, don’t we?”
Scorpius retrieved his satchel and shot a look of cold fury at Graham. Without a word, he stalked back across the room to the opposite staircase.
“That was mean,” Rose said mildly after Scorpius had gone.
“He took it better than I expected, really,” Noah commented. “Knowing his kind, I’d have thought he’d Avada Kedavra somebody just for spite.”
“He’s probably up there putting the Cruciatus Curse on some spiders even now,” Graham replied.
“Stop it, all of you,” Petra said. “You’re as bad as they are. There’s a very good reason that the Sorting Hat sent him here. Give him a chance to prove it.”
“It was just a joke, Petra,” Graham muttered. “Hugo did worse to me at least once a week last year.”
Gradually, the babble of voices returned to the room. Damien and Sabrina went back to their strange, hushed work. Rose leaned over to James.
“Do you think Petra’s right?” she asked quietly. “Do you think he really does belong in Gryffindor?”
James thought back to last year when Ralph had gotten sorted into Slytherin. James had been certain that it had been a mistake. Now, knowing more about Ralph, he saw that the Hat might have known best after all.
He answered Rose, “Hagrid says the Hat knows what it’s doing. I mean, you can’t fool the Sorting Hat, can you?”
Rose didn’t seem convinced. “Somebody fooled the Goblet of Fire, back in our parents’ day. Anything’s possible.”
“But why would he want to come to Gryffindor?”
Rose shrugged. “I just hope he really is the real thing. Because if he’s not, things are going to get very ugly. Especially after tonight.”
“What’s that mean?” James asked suspiciously.
Rose ignored him. “Why don’t you run up and check on him?”
“Blimey, Rose! First, Cousin Lucy guilts me about how I’m supposed to look after Albus, now you want me to go nursemaid Scorpius-bleeding-Malfoy?”
“Just do it, James. By the time you come back, I bet Damien and Sabrina will be done and it’ll be time to go.”
“Sheesh,” James said, climbing to his feet. “I’d never have pegged you for fancying the bad boy type.”
“I don’t fancy him,” she frowned. “Just make sure he’s going to be busy up there for a while, why don’t you?”
James grumbled to himself as he crossed to the boys’ dormitory stairs.
“It’s just James. Don’t stun me or anything,” he called up as he climbed the steps. To his surprise, he found Scorpius in the second years’ dormitory rather than the first years’. “Hey! That’s my bed!”
James stopped at the top of the staircase, pointing. Scorpius had shoved James’ trunk aside haphazardly and put his own trunk at the foot of the bed. He glanced up dismissively as he unpacked his things.
“Is it really?” Scorpius replied indolently. “Does it have your name on it?”
“As a matter of fact, it bloody well does,” James exclaimed. “I carved it right there on the headboard plain as the nose on your pasty white face!”
“Where?” Scorpius said, squinting at the headboard. He produced his wand from his robes and aimed it lazily with his wrist. A flash of purple light burst across the head of the bed. When it was gone, James’ name had vanished, buried under an ugly black burn mark. “I don’t see it. Maybe you’re a bit confused.”
Scorpius turned, looking about the room. He pointed his wand again, producing another flash of purple light.
“There,” he said, turning back to his trunk. “Now that bed has your name on it. Happy?”
James stalked over to a bed on the opposite side of the room. Glowing purple letters were scrawled across the headboard. In gothic script, they spelled ‘WHINY POTTER GIT’.
“Look, you can’t just…,” James began, and then stopped, leaning in toward the letters. “And how’d you even do that? That was a nonverbal spell!”
“Is this better?” Scorpius asked, pointing his wand once more. “Mobiliarcha.”
James’ trunk shot across the floor, barely missing his legs. It struck the bed and burst open, belching half of James’ things. Scorpius grinned crookedly as he levitated his books out of his own trunk. He floated them neatly into position on the windowsill.
James spluttered, “Look, Malfoy, this isn’t even your dorm! You’re a first year! You can’t just move in wherever you want!”
“Seems that the first years’ dorm is unusually full this year,” Malfoy replied without looking at James. “My fellow first year Gryffindors informed me that I’d have to find lodging elsewhere. Frankly, I don’t care where I stay in this benighted tower, but if my being here annoys you, then I believe I’ll stay. If you don’t like it, speak to the headmaster. He’s a mate of yours, after all, isn’t he?”
“They were just winding you up, you prat,” James exclaimed hopelessly.
“Is it time for the sing-along yet?” Scorpius asked, finally glancing at James and pocketing his wand. “Or did you just come up to see how a wizard unpacks?”
James turned on his heels and tramped angrily down the stairs.
“If whatever you have in mind has anything to do with Malfoy,” he said as he plopped back into the chair near the table, “it’s probably too nice.”
“That’s the spirit,” Damien replied without looking up from his parchment. James peered at it. He could see that Damien and Sabrina were drawing something, but it was covered in arrows, geometric scribbles, and scrawled notes.
“We can thank old Professor Stonewall for this one,” Noah grinned. “Who says Technomancy has no practical purpose? Come on, it’s time.”
“If we still had your dad’s Cloak, we wouldn’t need a lookout,” Damien explained reasonably. “But since we don’t, that’s your job.”
Sabrina was virtually bouncing with excitement. The quill in her thick hair wobbled. “I’m going down to the landing,” she announced quietly. “Catch up as soon as you can. You have to do the scriptey part.”
Damien nodded. Noah, Rose, Petra, and Sabrina darted down the stairs at the end of the corridor.
James sighed. “Fine, I’m the lookout. What do I do if somebody comes?”
“All right, this is your story: you were going to the bathroom and you got lost,” Damien replied. “Pretend that you’re doubled over with the runs or something. Groan a lot, really loud. We’ll hear you and know someone is coming.”
James was appalled. “That is so wrong on so many levels! For one thing, I’m a secondyear! How is it I got lost on the way to the bathroom?”
“Use your imagination,” Damien said blandly. “Maybe you have to go so bad that you’re delirious or something. Just be sure to groan really loud so we can hear you.”
James opened his mouth to protest but Damien was already trotting down the stairs as lightly as he could. Resigning himself to his duty, James leaned against the wall and watched. He still didn’t know what the Gremlins were up to, but he knew it had something to do with the new Heracles window. That was what Rose had meant when she’d said they couldn’t have done it without him. He had broken that window last year, knocking a Muggle intruder through it during a midnight chase. Filch had fumed that there’d be no way to replace the window, and he’d been right. Fortunately, magic being what it is, it wasn’t necessary to manufacture a perfect duplicate. The school had simply procured a special kind of stained glass window with magically imprintable glass. Petra explained that the window could be charmed so that the glass represented any desired pattern. Filch, being rather a traditionalist, had seen to it that the window represented the old Heracles window right down to the crack in Heracles’ right little finger.
James determined to get a peek at what the Gremlins were doing to the window. Carefully, he straightened and tiptoed to the edge of the staircase. He could hear Sabrina and Damien whispering animatedly, but he couldn’t see anythi
ng. James turned to go back to his hiding place and ran face-first into Merlin’s beard.
“Bleah!” James spat, recoiling. “What are you trying to do, sneaking up on a bloke like that?”
Merlin’s face was as impassive as ever. “I take it you are on sentinel duty, Mr. Potter?”
James deflated. “I was until I got a face full of beard. What is that stuff you put in it? Smells like the stuff Mum cleans pots with.”
“Fear not, Mr. Potter. I shall assure anyone who asks that you were positively prostrate with bowel difficulties. I came to ask a small favor of you. You do not have to do it, but if you do, I will consider it compensation for the points that were deducted from your house.”
James scrubbed at his face, shuddering, trying to get Merlin’s beard oil off. “Yeah, sure, what do you have in mind?”
“I need you to convince Mr. Deedle and a third person of your choosing to help me retrieve some items for my office. They are essential to my work, but I require some assistance in acquiring them. You might say they have been in storage for quite some time.”
“Like a thousand years or so?” James replied, feeling piqued. “I didn’t know they had rental lockers for that long. How do you know your stuff’s still there?”
“That is my concern, Mr. Potter, not yours. May I assume your help?”
“Doesn’t sound like you need us,” James muttered. “Why don’t you get some of the other teachers to help you?”
“Because I am a cautious man,” Merlin answered, smiling slightly. “I’d prefer to keep my inventory somewhat private, as there are those who might question the origins of some of my tools. This is why I have specifically chosen you and Mr. Deedle. You two have already proven, perhaps to a fault, that you know how to manage secrets.”
“So I get Gryffindor’s ten points back if we help you get your stuff? Sounds fair enough. I’m guessing that the deal only counts if we don’t tell anyone though, right?” James said, looking up at the big man.
Merlin nodded. “Thus, you should choose your third helper carefully. We leave tomorrow afternoon. Meet me at the entrance to the old rotunda, and be prepared to walk.”
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