G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

James was about to tell Norrick that they really weren't all that tough, but by then the two of them were zooming into the intersection and he lost sight of the other boy as they flashed and banked through the oncoming stream.

James didn't attempt any more magic during that match, which they lost by a score of fiftyseven to fifty. When it was over, he waited in the locker cellar below the gantry to see if Wood meant to chastise him. The rest of Team Bigfoot congratulated him heartily as they changed out of their pads and gear, but when Wood came down the stairs, they quieted immediately, watching, along with James, to see what he would say. Wood eyed the unnaturally quiet locker cellar for a long moment, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled players.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Good match today, everyone. Well-played. We haven't seen such a close score in a long time. Carry on."

James watched as the professor made his way toward the exit. When the wooden door clapped shut, he let out a deep exhale of relief. For whatever reason, Wood had obviously chosen not to coach the team to perform any serious game magic, but he was apparently willing to allow it if James, at least, took the initiative upon himself. James felt a great weight of worry lift from his shoulders.

"Hey James," Wentworth said, plopping down next to him on the bench, "think you could teach me some of that stuff you did today?"

"Yeah," Gobbins agreed, keeping his voice low. "Me too. I don't know about the rest of these mokes, but I liked what you did out there today. Hell with tradition. I want to hex some heads."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," James said, raising his hands. "I just learned that stuff myself from books. Wood may let me get away with it on my own, but if he finds out I'm teaching the rest of the team to do it…"

"It's not the rest of the team," Wentworth said, wiping his glasses on his jersey. "It's just me and Gobbins."

"And me," Jazmine Jade added, sitting down on James' other side.

"Wurfh," another voice grunted. James glanced up to see Mukthatch nodding down at him, his black eyes twinkling.

James ran both hands through his hair in frustration. "Look, I'm not a teacher. I barely know those spells myself! I just read up on them, watched what everybody else did, and practiced in my room until I was ready to try it!"

"And you did all this without te lling us?" Wentworth said reproachfully.

"No, no, it's better that way," Gobbins said enthusiastically. "Saves us all the trouble! Now he can just teach us what he knows!"

"I can't teach anybody anything!" James rasped, trying to keep his voice low.

"Why not?" Jazmine asked reasonably.

James shook his head and pursed his lips, at a loss for how to respond.

"Rharrf whubfle," Mukthatch said, giving James an encouraging shove on the shoulder, nearly bouncing his head off the wall.

"Muk's right," Wentworth said. "We're your teammates and your friends. It won't be like you're taking over Wood's job or anything. Think of it as… helping us out with our homework."

"Yeah," Gobbins grinned. "Our Clutch homework."

Jazmine nodded seriously. "We'd help you with your homework, James."

"You didn't the other night!" James spluttered, turning on Jazmine. "When I asked you to help me with my Precognitive Engineering essay!"

"You didn't want help with it," Jazmine replied, rolling her eyes. "You wanted to buy mine from last year. That's hardly the same thing."

Gobbins shook his head. "I told you she wouldn't part with it for less than twenty Jacks."

Wentworth stuck stubbornly to the issue. "So, will you help us learn some Clutch magic, James? Just us four?"

James looked from face to face and finally let out a long sigh of resignation.

"Woohoo!" Gobbins announced, throwing his fists into the air. "When do we start?"

"No time like the present," Jazmine suggested. "It's still early. We can meet in the attic common room. Nobody uses that room since Bump the Poltergeist moved into it. He won't bother us, though, as long as nobody minds having a few books thrown at them. Might even help. It'll give us something to aim at."

James leaned forward and stripped off his Clutch boots, letting the conversation roll on without him. Secretly, he wasn't all that upset about the prospect of teaching what he'd learned to a few other players, so long as it wasn't the entire team. He might still earn the ire of Professor Wood, but for the moment, James' aversion to getting into trouble was slightly outweighed by his desire to win at least one Clutch match this season. By the time he and his teammates left the cellar and struck off into the twilight of Pepperpock Down, he was already planning what he'd teach them first.

"Sorry guys," James said to Ralph and Zane as they caught up to him. "No Butterbeers in the Kite and Key tonight. I've been commandeered."

"We figured," Zane nodded, sighing. "You gonna teach your team the old magical twentythree skidoo?"

"Shh!" James hissed, looking around. "Not the whole team. Just a couple of my mates. Keep it a secret, all right?"

"All right," Zane agreed, throwing up his hands as Mukthatch loomed menacingly over him. "Cool your jets, Chewbacca. Your secret's safe with me. But keep in mind, next week, you lot are up against Zombie House. Magic is their middle name."

"Yeah?" Wentworth countered, pushing himself up to his full height. "Well, Team Bigfoot's middle name is… er…"

"Big?" Jazmine suggested hopefully.

"Big magic," Gobbins nodded. "Thanks to James here. Our new magic coach."

The rest of the Bigfoots agreed heartily, cheering and clapping James on the back.

Zane shook his head and rolled his eyes, smiling ruefully. "My hero," he said, nudging James with his elbow.

James grinned sheepishly.

13. THE OCTOSPHERE AND THE ARBITER

The semester unrolled like a carpet.

James spent a few nights each week teaching Clutch magic to his new friends under the canted ceiling of the attic common room. Bump, the house poltergeist, was quite different than what James had expected. Unlike Peeves, whose gleeful mischief and imp-like appearance were Hogwarts legend, Bump was barely a wisp of human-shaped smoke and a vague scent of mold. His primary method of communication was a variety of sneezes, wheezes, annoyed moans, and the occasional hacking cough.

"Sounds like the ghost of someone who died of the sniffles," Ralph had commented, a little put off by the roaming, cranky specter.

"It's a good theory," Wentworth agreed. "We thought the same thing, so we had him tested. Some teensy old lady from the Medical College came over and took an ecto-sample. According to her, Bump's a poltergeist, through and through."

"She sure was teensy, wasn't she?" Jazmine concurred. "Her glasses were bigger than her head. I think she had some dwarf somewhere in her family tree."

Gobbins poked his wand toward Bump, who moaned irritably and snaked off toward the bookshelf. "She said that there wasn't much point in checking, really," he added. "She said that there hasn't been a real, bonafide ghost at the Aleron for decades."

"Really?" James asked, curious. "Hogwarts is full of them. One of them used to be our History teacher. Why aren't there any here?"

Wentworth shrugged where he sat by the door in an old high-backed easy chair. "Nobody knows. Maybe because of the Timelock. Maybe ghosts just can't keep up with the way the campus roams all over the centuries every day."

"But there used to be ghosts," Gobbins countered. "A long time ago. I've heard stories about them. Percival Pepperpock was one of 'em even. And that old janitor, Freddie something or other. He was always trying to scare people, but he insisted on wearing this old stripey sweater and fedora hat, which is pretty hard to pull off even if you aren't trying to be all spooky."