G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

"Then we'd help them to understand that we just want to help them!" the student replied, rallying. "They wouldn't know what was best for them, after all."

Neville nodded. "So we'd help them against their will?"

"If we had to," the young man answered, raising his chin.

"Indeed," Neville concurred. "Many would do exactly that. Certain witches and wizards would inculcate themselves into the Muggle ruling class, all under the guise of helping them. Some of us—not you, of course, my friend, but some—would be happy to resort to force. They'd use whatever magic helped them in the cause, even the Imperius Curse. Others, however, would be less… scrupulous. Believe it or not, my friends, there are witches and wizards among us who might actually wish to rule the Muggles merely for the sake of power. Such people are kept in check now by the existence of the international laws of secrecy. But what will you do with these witches and wizards if those laws are abolished? Will you protect the Muggles from them? How? What will keep wicked witches and wizards from using whatever means they wish to achieve power over the Muggles?"

The young man seemed to know that he was losing the moral high ground. He shuffled his feet some more and refused to look directly at Neville. "That's just scaremongering. That's what you people always do."

"Scaring people with fictitious threats is scaremongering," Neville said kindly. "Warning people about threats that are quite real—threats that history teaches us are very nearly a certainty given the right conditions—is an act of kindness and compassion. The history of Muggle-magical interaction is rife with conflict. Both sides are equally guilty, admittedly, but the reality remains the same. We stay in hiding, quite simply, because the good that could come from our incorporation into the Muggle world is decidedly less than the evil that would inevitably result. In a perfect world, my friend, your theories would be quite honorable. Alas, this is not a perfect world."

"Excuses and lies!" the student cried out suddenly, and the crowd stirred around him, murmuring agreement. "You hate the Muggles, so you wish to keep them ignorant of us, and all we could do for them. There aren't any supreme evil witches and wizards bent on taking over the world. That's a lie that you people have made up just to keep the rest of the magical world in line. The Muggles would welcome us, and you know it. And even if they didn't…" The young man faltered suddenly, realizing what he was about to say.

Neville didn't blink, but stared at the man solemnly, gripping the podium before him. "Even if they didn't…," he said, finishing the student's thought, "we'd have magic on our side. Right?"

The young man sat down suddenly and the crowd babbled again, growing noisy and tense. Professor Sanuye climbed to the stage and moved alongside Neville. "That will conclude tonight's lecture," he called sternly. "Students, please make your way back to your dormitories, thank you. It is rather late, and at least some of you have class with me in the morning. I will frown upon any absences due to your staying out too late the night before. Good evening, and thank you for coming." At that point, Sanuye turned to Neville, reaching to shake his hand. The two talked, their heads close together.

"What a complete load of yax fodder," a girl behind James muttered angrily. "But what do you expect?"

"Come on," Zane sighed, shaking his head. "The sooner we get out of here, the better. Let's go grab a soda at the Kite and Key."

James followed Zane and Ralph out of the crowded theater, glancing back toward the stage. His father stood in front, flanked by Merlin and Denniston Dolohov, who was laughing animatedly. None of them seemed the slightest bit perturbed by the events of the night and James could guess why. Most of them had been dealing with the allegations of the Progressive Element for years, both subtly, through articles in the Daily Prophet, and overtly, such as the demonstration that had occurred at Hogwarts during James' first year. They had all developed rather thick skins about such things. James had not developed such a thick skin, and he felt decidedly angry and unsettled.

As the three reached the theater doors and stepped out into the night air, James glanced around to see if Petra was planning to join them for a soda at the campus tavern. She was nowhere in sight amidst the dissipating throng, however. James lingered for a moment, looking for her without any success, and then turned and ran to catch up with his friends.

James' dreams were interrupted some hours later by a loud rapping at his dormitory room door. He startled and very nearly fell out of the narrow bed. Outside the door, a faint squeaking sound came, like the screech of old hinges.

"That brass monkey gives me the royal creeps," Ralph muttered, covering his head with his pillow. "Is that its voice?"

"I think its clockworks are too old to make a voice anymore," James yawned. "It just squeaks its jaw. That must be our four a.m. wake-up call."

Ralph swung his feet out of bed. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss my old digital alarm clock."

Five minutes later, the boys sneaked out of the front door of the common dorm, closing it quietly behind them. The night was cool and still all around, wet with dew. The fountains had stopped running for the night, and even the birdbath gargoyles seemed to be asleep. Ralph wore his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, packed with the Zombie House flag.

"Do they have campus guards, you think?" he whispered as they began to steal through the darkness.

"Better safe than sorry," James answered. "Stick close to the trees. The moonlight is too bright for us to cross the main lawns."

Ralph huffed as they ran. "This was a lot easier when we had the Invisibility Cloak."

"Hopefully this is the only time this year we'll need it. It'll be fine. Just keep up."

By the time they reached the deep shadows of Administration Hall, James' trainers were soggy with dew and both boys were panting. They leaned against the cool bricks and caught their breath before slipping between the bushes and sneaking around to the rear of the building.

"All right," James whispered, hunkering in the shadow of a tall shrubbery. "This should be a snap. I'll climb up and switch the flags. You stay down here and keep an eye on me with your wand. If I fall, you and your wand will know what to do, right?"

"Levitate you," Ralph nodded. "You want me just to see if I can levitate you right up there?"

James shook his head. "Too obvious. If I climb, I'll stay in the shadows, so there's less chance of getting caught. That moon's like a searchlight tonight. Just be ready."

"Get it over with," Ralph said sincerely, slipping the duffle bag from his shoulder and offering it to James. "My stomach's in knots already. Maybe we should have just gone for Igor House after all."

James shook his head. "No turning back now, Ralph. Don't worry, this'll all be over in a few minutes."

Ralph nodded, unconvinced but committed. James shouldered the bag and then turned toward the building. A series of narrow iron stairs and balconies clung to the rear of Administration Hall, stretching all the way up to the roof. James clambered up the first level as quietly as he could. Before long, the campus fell away beneath him, stretching out so wide that he could see the stone wall that surrounded it. Beyond the wall, the city of Philadelphia sparkled with lights, and James had time to wonder what year they were currently occupying. After only a few minutes, he reached the top level of the fire escape. He peered up at the bell tower that loomed before him. It seemed much larger this close up, each of the four bells approximately the size of a giant's head, but far less lumpy. All around the inside of the bell tower, pigeons roosted by the dozens, dozing amid messy nests. James turned around and leaned over the railing. Far below, Ralph peered up at him, his face a round white dot in the darkness. James gave a halfhearted wave, and then turned and clambered up onto the angle of the roof, reaching for the wooden railing of the bell tower.