G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

Lucy's face looked pained for a very brief moment, but she quickly hid it. "This has something to do with Petra Morganstern, doesn't it?"

James blinked, stunned. "What…?" he stammered. "I mean, how…? No, of course not, don't be silly."

"I saw you two talking over Christmas, James," Lucy said, looking away. "I don't know what it is you're planning or what it has to do with the castle, but you could at least have paid me the compliment of being honest." She shook her head slightly, and when she looked up at him again, there were tears standing in her eyes. "Really, James? The Valentine's dance? Like I'd want to go with you to that anyway."

She glanced away again, swiping a hand angrily across her face.

"Look, Lu," James said, taking a step closer. "Sorry. It was Zane's idea. I'll tell you the truth if you really want to know. It isn't what you think it is. Really."

"I don't think anything at all, you big git," Lucy said, her voice thick. "And I don't want to know, either way. Whatever it is you're looking for in Erebus Castle, you can find someone else to be your ticket in."

She turned and stalked away before James could respond. After a dozen steps, she turned back again, barely a shadowy shape in the darkness.

"And just so you know," she called, "there are loads of people who want to take me to the Valentine's dance. What, do you think I've just been waiting for you to come along and ask? You're my cousin, James. Don't be such a creep."

Having delivered her final salvo, she spun on her heel again and nearly ran into the trees, making black scrapes on the snow-crusted footpath.

James watched her go, feeling utterly foolish and miserably angry at himself. He considered chasing after her, but some deep wise inner voice told him that that would only make matters worse.

With a disconsolate sigh, James turned around himself. Much more slowly, he trudged into the darkness, heading for the distant, blocky shape of Apollo Mansion.

Over the course of the following week, a sudden warm snap descended over the campus, melting the ice and snow from the footpaths and reducing the campus' freight of icicles to steadily dripping crystal nubs. James, Ralph, and Zane spent most of their free time trying to think of another way into Erebus Castle, but encountered no success whatsoever. Their final effort had been to sneak away after Thursday afternoon's Cursology class, which was held in the castle's smoked-glass moonroom. This had failed almost immediately, however, when a small portrait of a very stern wizard with a pointed goatee had cornered them on the landing of the main staircase.

" Halt right there, gentlemen," the portrait pronounced as they crept past. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Shh," Zane hissed, turning back. "We're just looking around a bit. Don't get your widow's peak out of joint."

The portrait smiled a little disconcertingly. "Only residents of Erebus Castle are allowed upstairs, my friends," it said in a suddenly silky voice. "But what can I do about it? Me, a mere painting. Do as you wish, but consider yourselves warned."

"That's more like it," Zane muttered, turning back toward the stairs. The boys made it halfway up to the second landing when the risers suddenly shuddered beneath their feet. With a loud thunk , the step immediately above James' feet retracted sideways into the wall, leaving a gaping black hole in its place. The next step down followed, nearly pitching James forward into the darkness beneath the steps. He scrambled backwards, bumping into Zane and Ralph, and the stairs began to retract more quickly, chasing them back the way they had come. The three boys clambered wildly back down the stairs, falling over each other, until they reached the main landing once again and crashed, panting, to the wooden floor.

"What was that all about?" Zane exclaimed angrily, struggling to his feet.

"You were warned," the portrait sniffed mildly.

"Warned nothing!" James said. "You might've told us that we were about to get tossed to our dooms!"

The portrait clucked its tongue indignantly. "The fall wouldn't have killed you," it said. "The rats might've though. They've become rather an advanced vicious little tribe down there, after living for so many years in a magical castle."

James peered into the darkness beneath the stairs. He fancied he could hear faint scratchings and even the clicking of little teeth.

"Wow," Ralph shuddered. "That is so not right."

With a loud kachunk, the stairsteps suddenly socked back into place, covering the hole.

"Perhaps next time you three will consider abiding by the rules," the portrait commented sternly. " And resp ecting your elders, painted or otherwise. Now be gone with you before I alert the House President."

That got the boys moving since the last thing they wanted was any entanglements with Professor Remora.

"I can't believe we don't know anyone else in Vampire House," Zane groaned as they made their way toward the cafeteria for lunch. "I mean, let's face it: I'm a loveable guy. Everybody gets along with me."

"Maybe we should just try to follow Magnussen into the past without knowing what the dimensional key is," James offered consideringly. "Perhaps if we just hang back and watch him, we'll be able to figure it out, right?"

"Maybe," Ralph said, shrugging. "But I'd sure hate to get that bit wrong. We only get one chance. Rose says that time travel is really tetchy that way."

"What do you mean," Zane asked as they pulled open the doors to Administration Hall, following a gaggle of older students toward the cafeteria. "I don't think I was there for that conversation. Not that I don't love Rose's hectoring predictions about all the ways we might destroy the fabric of the universe and all."

James sighed. "She says it's the reason why Time-Turners have been outlawed. Technomancy guys like Jackson have discovered that it's super dangerous for one person to occupy the same timeframe more than once. Something about identical matter accidentally coming together and causing 'catastrophic pluralities' or something quantum like that. Bottom line is that if we don't capture Magnussen's dimensional key the first time out, we won't have another chance without potentially causing way more trouble than we hope to prevent."

"So how sure are you that we really have to do this anyway?" Ralph asked, getting in line and grabbing a tray. "You still think the real bad guys are hiding out in the World Between the Worlds?"

"No doubt in my mind," James replied, with a little more conviction than he actually felt. "That missing crimson thread is far too powerful to just disappear without a trace. If it was in our world, somebody somewhere would have sensed its trail. The only place it could possibly be hidden is outside of our dimension. It just makes sense."

"Well then, I guess we're back to square one," Zane said, grabbing two bowls of green pudding and cramming them onto his already filled tray. "To get into the World Between the Worlds, we need to get Magnussen's dimensional key, which means we need to somehow get into Erebus Castle so we can figure out the riddle of what the key actually is." He sighed briskly. "Maybe we should just hex Ralph's teeth into points and try to pass him off as Count Ralphula the Impaler. What do you say, Ralphinator? Worth a shot?"

"Don't even start," Ralph said, shaking his head.

The boys found a place at one of the long tables, cramming in across from Wentworth, who was distracted by a series of fussy sneezes.

"What's with you, Went?" James asked, poking at his stew with a fork.