G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

"So what are we going to do here?" James asked as they entered the round, darkened room of the Disrecorder. "Even if there are any relics from Magnussen's time, they'd be in the restricted section of the Archive. We can't get in there, no matter how many Werewolves you insult."

"Au contraire," Zane announced, producing a slim golden key from his pocket. James recognized it.

"That's an Archive skeleton key," he said, impressed. "Just like the one Franklyn used when we went down to the Vault of Destinies. How'd you get that?"

Zane shrugged. "I've been planning things out for some time now. I figured that you'd eventually warm up to having a little extracurricular adventure. What do you think I agreed to go with Cheshire Chatterly to the costume ball for?"

Ralph suggested, "Because she looks excellent in a pink taffeta dress?"

"Well, yes, there is that," Zane answered thoughtfully, "but that's not all there is to it. She's on the maintenance crew that works here in the Archive, and she's always been on Henredon's good side."

"I can see why," Ralph nodded.

James shook his head wonderingly. "You nicked the key from her?"

"No!" Zane exclaimed, offended. "I just asked her for it. What kind of cad do you think I am?"

"Sorry," James replied, blinking.

"I told her I needed to look up some famous old dancer so I could practice my steps for the ball. She about split in two. Gave me the key that very second."

Ralph whistled, impressed. "You danced with a girl just to get your hands on that key?"

"Anything for the cause," Zane sighed. "Come on."

Using the key, the boys opened the door to the inner archive. After some nervous slinking around, they finally found a gated section locked off with a large chain and padlock. A quick wave of the skeleton key and a tap of Zane's wand opened the padlock, however, and the three crept slowly into the dark chamber beyond.

"It's so dark and dusty," Ralph commented, keeping his voice unconsciously hushed. "How are we going to find what we're looking for in all this?"

"Cheshire told me how they catalog things in here," Zane answered, holding his lit wand overhead. "Date first, and then the name of the event or person. Look at the top of the aisles. Magnussen taught between eighteen thirty and eighteen fifty-nine."

"Over here," James called, peering up at the shelves. The other two joined him and began skulking along the shelves, examining the myriad odd objects and blowing dust off their yellowed note cards.

A shuffling sound surprised the boys. They froze in place, eyes wide, staring at each other.

"Was that one of you?" James whispered.

Ralph gulped. "It wasn't me. It came from the aisle behind us."

"It was probably nothing," Zane whispered, glancing around. Almost immediately, a faint thump sounded nearby. All three boys jumped. Slowly, James turned toward the sound, lifting his wand. He was barely breathing. As one, the three boys leaned around the end of the aisle, peering into the darkness beyond.

Something pushed out of the shelf immediately next to James' face, mashing up against his cheek and making a noise like a tiny motorboat. He cried out and leapt into the air, dropping his wand and scrabbling at his cheek.

"Patches!" Zane rasped, his eyes bulging.

James spun around, heart pounding, and looked. Patches the cat stood on the shelf, purring noisily, his bullet head bobbing. There were cobwebs caught in his whiskers.

"Patches, you rascal!" Zane declared, reaching to scratch the cat between the ears. "What are you doing down here? You about gave James a heart attack!" He laughed nervously.

"Seems to me you were pretty wigged out too," James grumped, reaching to pick up his dropped wand. "You try getting some great furry head and wet nose pushed into your face out of the dark and see how you feel about it."

"What's he doing down here?" Ralph asked, stepping forward to pet the cat himself. "I thought he always hung out around Administration Hall."

Zane nodded. "He does. I've never seen him anywhere else."

"Is it just me," Ralph said, glancing sheepishly between Zane and James, "or does this feel like kind of a bad jinx? Maybe we should call the whole thing off, eh?"

James expected Zane to scoff at the suggestion, but when he turned to the blonde boy, he saw him studying the cat critically.

"What's up, Patches?" he asked the cat where it still stood purring on the shelf. "You here to grant us your blessing? Or are you going to rat us out to the big wigs back at Administration Hall?"

The cat stopped purring almost immediately. He hunkered low and peered over the ledge of the shelf. A moment later, he thumped lightly to the floor and began to stalk off along the aisle, his tail sticking up.

"Well," Zane blinked, "pardon me for living."

Ralph said, "Maybe he was offended by the word 'rat'."

"Come on," James suggested, turning back to the shelves. "Forget him. He's just a cat. If you remember, he thought we were supposed to be in Igor House."

Zane glanced at James. "Have you wondered if maybe he was right?"

James met his friend's gaze and frowned. "What do you mean? Bigfoot House fits us just fine. What's some old cat know that we don't?"

"I'm just saying," Zane replied. "There's a reason he's here. Maybe it's worth thinking about."

James felt impatient. He stopped and stared up at the dark ceiling for a moment. "There," he said, glancing back at Zane and Ralph. "I've thought about it. Can we get on with it now? This place creeps me out."

Zane shrugged. Dismissing the cat, the three returned to their search of the shelves. A few minutes later, Zane called out. James and Ralph trotted down the aisle to join him.

"It's…," Ralph began, and then swallowed thickly. "It's… a skull."

James held his wand closer. Two objects were pushed into a small cubby hole, and one of them was indeed a human skull, missing its jawbone. The other was a woman's boot, very old and scuffed, made of black leather. The card affixed to the front of the shelf read: 1859, OCTOBER 5, I. K. MAGNUSSEN INTERROGATION 1.

"Maybe it's not real," James suggested, peering at the yellowed skull.

"It sure looks re al," Ralph said, shuddering.

"It's just an old bone," Zane said, rolling his eyes and reaching for the skull. "I'll carry it. Grab the boot and let's get this over with."

As quickly as they could, the three boys carried their acquisitions back up to the room of the Disrecorder. James breathed a sigh of relief as he walked beneath the thick, tiny windows embedded in the domed ceiling. It was dark outside now, but it was nice to see the faint blue glow of the night sky above.

"Who wants to do the honors?" Zane asked, holding up the skull and peering at it. "What do you think, Mr. Bones?" He moved the skull like a puppet and answered in a higher voice, "I think you should, Zane-brain, since you're so cool and dashing. And this was your idea after all."

James sighed wearily. "Quit it. You're freaking out Ralph."

"I'm not freaked out," Ralph objected, his face pale. "I mean, yeah, I am. But just a little."

"Let's get to it then," Zane squeaked, puppeting the skull again. "Upsie-daisy."

With a small clunk, Zane set the skull onto the concave bowl of the Disrecorder.

Instantly, the room changed. It brightened and became much smaller. James, Ralph, and Zane turned on the spot and found themselves in a dim corner, peering into a sort of cramped study. Fire crackled in the brick fireplace and darkness pressed against the tall windows. Three men were seated at a table, two on one side, facing the third. James was not entirely surprised to see that Chancellor Franklyn was one of the men seated at the table. He looked only slightly younger, with a rather less rotund middle. The man next to him wore the black robes and hat of an arbiter, although his skin was dark and he had a thin beard. In the center of the table, looking like a Halloween decoration, was the yellowed, jawless skull. The dark man had just finished tapping it with his wand.