G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

"Garlic," Wentworth replied, wiping his nose. "It's my special diet. I'm not even eating the stuff, but I can still smell it in everyone else's lunch. Breaks me all out."

Zane stirred his own bowl. "Yeah, this stuff's pretty heavy with it. Too bad for you, Went. It's yum in the tum."

Wentworth sniffled. "Yeah, well, you all could show a little more sensitivity. I can't help being this way, you know. It's in my genes, all the way back to what my parents call 'the old country'." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. James watched as the smaller boy reached for a large stoneware mug. Wentworth pinched his nose and drank from it carefully.

"Just out of curiosity," Zane suddenly said, frowning at Wentworth, "where, exactly, is ' the old country'?"

Wentworth peered over his mug at Zane a little warily. "Somewhere in Europe," he answered. "A little region in Romania, if you must know."

"Really," Zane said, still frowning. "Does it start with a 'T', maybe?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it," Wentworth announced, lowering his mug but holding it near his chest. "My mother says we're not like that anymore. She says the less we talk about it, the better."

"What're you drinking there, Went?" James asked, peering over the table.

"It's nothing," Went said. "It's for my special diet. It's not like I want to drink it, you know. Ten ounces a day is all."

"Is that tomato juice?" Ralph said, using his height to peek into Wentworth's mug. "Looks… too dark, somehow."

"It's juice!" Wentworth proclaimed, covering the cup with his hand. "Er, kind of. That's all you need to know! What?"

Zane glanced from Ralph to James. "Wentworth, do me a little favor," he said smoothly, realization dawning on his suddenly crafty face. "Give 'ums one of those big 'old world' smiles, eh?"

"Yeah, Went," James added curiously. "Let's see those teeth."

"Coming through!" Zane called out, pushing Wentworth through the front door of Erebus Mansion like a boy-sized battering ram. "Vampire here! You have to let us in!"

"Stop," Wentworth insisted, blushing furiously. "Nobody is supposed to know!"

"It's all right," James soothed, following close behind. "You're among your fellow 'creatures of the night' here."

"What's going on?" a tall boy demanded in an imperious voice, moving to block the four intruders in the foyer. "You can't just barge in here. This is for Vampire House members and their guests only."

" And real-life vampires," Zane added, patting Wentworth on the top of his head. "Says so in your house charter. 'Any roaming vampires seeking asylum or succor are welcome within these halls.' I looked it up to be sure. I thought the word 'succor' was a nice play on words. That's got Remora written all over it, doesn't it?"

"This kid's no vampire," the boy sneered, looking down his nose at Wentworth. "Get out of here before I call the professor."

"Go ahead and call her," James nodded. "Went here has the teeth and the pedigree. He's the real deal, right down to his ten ounce blood ration a day and an unnatural allergy to garlic and garlic-related root veg. Tell him, Went."

"I'm really sorry," Wentworth said, his cheeks burning. "I had nothing to do with this. No one's supposed to know, really. My parents made special arrangements with the school…"

"Oh, let them in, Harding," a girl said from a nearby sofa. "Who cares? Remora isn't even here."

"This kid's no vampire, no matter what these cretins say," the boy, Harding, declared, narrowing his eyes, his nostrils flaring. "No vampire, no entry."

"But look at his teeth," Ralph insisted, guiding Went under the nearest chandelier. "They may not be the sorts of fangs you read about in Professor Remora's books, but they're plenty pointy if you look at them in the right light. Show them, Went. See?"

"Anyone can hex a pair of fangs," Harding replied, rolling his eyes.

"Let me take a look at the boy," another voice said, its tone polite but commanding. James glanced around. The portrait of the stern-faced man with the pointed beard was staring down at them from the lower landing. Harding looked from the portrait to Wentworth, considering. Finally, reluctantly, the taller boy nodded toward the landing.

"Make it quick and then vanish, why don't you?" he growled.

James, Zane, and Ralph followed Wentworth closely, crowding up onto the landing. The portrait narrowed its eyes at the small boy. James glanced at the little brass plaque affixed to the bottom of the portrait's round frame. It read, ' Niles Covington Erebus III '.

"Only moderately developed in the canines," the portrait said thoughtfully. "But real enough, I suspect. Hmm. There's only one way to know for certain. Mr. Harding, if you would turn me around, please."

Obediently, the sneering boy climbed onto the landing and sidled toward the painting. Eyes still narrowed at Wentworth, he lifted the painting of Niles Erebus from the wall. When he turned it around, James was surprised to see that the rear of the painting was a mirror.

"Look at yourself, young man," Erebus said, apparently speaking to Wentworth.

Comically, everyone on the landing leaned toward the mirror.

"HO-leee HINKYpunks!" Zane breathed in amazement. "Went! Where are you?"

Still peering into the mirror, James reached aside with his right hand. His fingers patted Wentworth on the face, knocking the boy's glasses askew. In the mirror, however, James' fingers moved over empty space.

"Hey," Wentworth said, annoyed, straightening his glasses. "Quit it, already."

"He's not there!" Ralph exclaimed. "He's invisible in the mirror!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," Wentworth announced wearily. "It's not like some kind of superpower or anything. You have any idea how hard it is to comb your hair if you can't see yourself in a mirror?"

"Well, Mr. Harding," the portrait of Erebus said from the reverse side of the Mirror, "it would appear that this young man is, indeed, the real article. According to the house rules, he and his guests must be granted entrance."

"But," Harding said, disgusted, " look at him! That's not what a vampire is supposed to look like!"

"And you are an expert on these things, of course," Erebus sighed. "Fear not. I will accompany our guests during their visit and assure that they do not wander where they are unwelcome. After all, being granted entrance does not amount to carte blanche access to anywhere they wish, does it?"

"It sure doesn't," Harding nodded dourly. He sneered at Zane again and then, rather stiffly, handed him the small portrait. "Enjoy your stay, gentlemen ."

"Thanks, Harding," Zane grinned, taking the portrait. "Your vigilance is inspiring. I'll put in a good word for you with all the other vampires I know." He winked at the older boy.

"Well then, my friends," Erebus said briskly as Harding skulked back down to the parlor, "now that you have attained something approaching a legitimate entrance, I believe you were on your way to the upper corridor. Shall we proceed together this time with better luck?"

Over the course of the next hour, James, Ralph, Wentworth, and Zane wandered the myriad halls, landings, secret stairways, hidden chambers, dens, bathrooms, and various common spaces of the castle, all the while listening to an informative, if slightly pedantic monologue from Erebus' portrait about the details of each space. Apart from being somewhat amazed at the sheer number of rooms crammed into the castle, the boys found nothing that illuminated the riddle of Ignatius Magnussen's dimensional key.