G. Lippert - James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

"Then since this isn't Professor Longbottom's Herbology class," Hagrid said, grinning, "I s'pose yeh can assume the Slime Eel is a magical creature with some unusual planty tendencies, can't yeh?"

"Professor Hagrid!" Morgan Patonia suddenly called, struggling to keep her voice even. "I think I pulled my Eel too hard!"

Everyone looked. Morgan had leapt to her feet and was holding her Mucous Eel at arm's length, cringing away from the flailing, meter-long creature. Fans of greenish slime flew from the Eel, splattering Morgan's robes and the ground beneath it.

"Don' let 'er go!" Hagrid cried, throwing up his hands. "Lower 'er back to 'er den, but don' let go! She'll wriggle down to the lake an' we'll never see 'er again, an' those Eels are right dear! Just lower 'er carefully head-first into the den, that's the way, Miss Patonia."

Ralph watched Morgan dip the wriggling Eel back to the mess of slimy dirt. Her face was a mask of utter disgust. The Eel's arrow-shaped head touched the mud, and the body lunged forward, trying to burrow into the den.

"There yeh go, then," Hagrid sighed, relaxing. "No harm done. A good lesson for us all, in fact. Keep the head in the den. Better safe than sorry, eh, Miss Patonia?"

Morgan smiled gamely, looking as if she was, in fact, plenty sorry. Slime glistened in ropey slashes across her robe.

"Before I found out I was a wizard," Ralph said wistfully, staring at Morgan's robes, "I was planning to attend the Byron Bruggman School for Boys. I bet they don't do anything with Mucous Eels there."

"Just think what you'd be missing," Graham said, smiling ruefully. He flicked a fingerful of slime at Ralph.

Later that day, James was making his way through the crowded halls, glancing surreptitiously around, as if worried he was being followed. The afternoon free period had been co-opted by Professor Curry's drama auditions, and James was on his way to the Muggle Studies classroom. At a cross-corridor, James met Rose and Ralph, who were talking animatedly.

"What are you two doing?" James asked, stopping and glancing at each one in turn.

"Well, I was coming to watch Petra audition for the role of Astra," Rose replied, "if that's all right with you, cousin."

"And I'm just going along because the alternative is to go start my Charms homework," Ralph replied. "Rose says she'll help me with it if I wait until tonight. It's a no-brainer. What about you?"

"Me?" James said, his voice squeaking guiltily. "Nothing. Really. I just… Same reason. Come on, let's go then."

As they entered the Muggle Studies classroom, James' face was beet red. He walked quickly to the front of the classroom, hoping Ralph and Rose wouldn't follow him. He angled into the second row, and was annoyed to see that both of them were filing in after him.

"What's with you, James?" Rose asked, sitting down and frowning at him curiously.

"Did you find a place for the Defence Club to meet?" James replied, changing the subject.

"Yeeaahh," Rose said slowly, still studying James' face. "The gymnasium isn't being used in the evenings, so I've gotten us permission to meet there. It's all taken care of."

"The gym?" Ralph moaned. "I hate that place. That's where Debellows has his class. Is that all you could find?"

"It's the perfect meeting place," Rose replied stiffly. "There're no tables or chairs to get in the way and there are already plenty of targets for spell practice. And eventually, if we begin conducting practice duels, the padded floors will be very helpful."

"Are you sure duels are a good idea?" Ralph asked. "I mean, James did tell the Headmaster we wouldn't be practicing on each other."

"Duels are essential to proper defensive technique, Ralph," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "You can't get any good shooting spells at non-moving targets. Besides, I'd rather the Headmaster not know the extent of our training. He might try to shut us down."

James scowled. "Rose, that's ridiculous. Merlin would probably be happy that we're learning real magical battle techniques."

"Oh? Then why'd he hire Debellows in the first place?" Rose asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Merlin's not in charge of those kind of decisions," James replied, but uncertainly.

"My mum and your dad both work at the Ministry, James. We both know that the Headmaster has final verdict about faculty. Besides, Merlin isn't the kind of man to let other people make decisions for him. Debellows is here because Merlin wants him here."

Ralph said, "That doesn't mean he's trying to keep us from learning anything useful."

"No," Rose agreed easily. "But if he was, Debellows is a great way to make sure we didn't. And after what we saw in the Mirror, I'd rather not take any chances."

James opened his mouth to argue with Rose, but at that moment, Professor Curry stood and cleared her throat.

"Thank you all so much for coming," she trilled. "These auditions aren't mandatory class-times, so I take it as a sign of healthy interest in our production that so many of you have come to observe. Of course, this is not exactly how auditions are conducted in the Muggle theatre, but in the interests of education, we've chosen a rather more public casting format. Today, we'll be completing auditions for the role of Astra, Treus, King Julian, and the Marsh Hag. Final decisions will be made by myself and the elected representatives from the major theatre departments. Let's show some appreciation for the head of the props department, Mr. Jason Smith, the director of the costume shop, Miss Gennifer Tellus, the head of the stage crew, Mr. Hugo Paulson, and finally, my official production assistant and associate director, Miss Tabitha Corsica."

The four representatives were seated at a long table arranged in a front corner, positioned at an angle so that it faced both the classroom and the area designated as the audition stage. The four students accepted the round of halfhearted applause, nodding and smiling. Hugo stood and threw his arms wide, as if accepting an award. He bowed deeply and Gennifer Tellus yanked him back into his seat, rolling her eyes. At the end of the table, Tabitha smiled inscrutably. Briefly, she made eye contact with James and winked. James frowned at her.

"First up," Professor Curry said, consulting a sheaf of parchment in her hand, "we will be viewing the final two candidates for the role of Astra. Miss Josephina Bartlett, seventh-year, Ravenclaw, will read first. Please, as always, silence from the gallery is appreciated. That means no applause, thank you. Miss Bartlett, whenever you are ready."

Josephina Bartlett virtually pranced to the front of the room, her robes bouncing around her and her long blonde hair catching the sunlight from the windows.

"Thank you, all of you, and particularly the parts committee," Josephina said, smiling winningly. "Whomever you choose, this has been a wonderful opportunity for me and all of the other candidates."

"Just read, Josephina," Gennifer said, arching an eyebrow.

Josephina cranked her grin a notch higher, glaring at Gennifer, then suddenly dropped her arms and head as if she'd been switched off. She took a deep breath, apparently staring at the floor between her feet. Then, slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes were glistening. She stared out over the assembled students, a look of beatific anguish etched onto her face.

"Behold!" she exclaimed, raising her arm so fast that her sleeve flopped. She pointed straight ahead. Sitting at the committee table, Hugo actually looked to see what Josephina was pointing at. Gennifer nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. Josephina drew a huge, shuddering breath. "Be that the waning sun to light my love's returning sail, or are my eyes deceived by heart's desire? If't be that now he lies at th' ocean's deepest grave, then ne'er permit my soul to wake, nor fervid dreams to pass: t'is better laid in slumber's crypt than t'walk in living death, the world, my hell, without dear Treus! Hark, my heart, from plight to break, it must! O Treus, is't thee? State thy coming now, or let me join thy bed and sleep in dreary death! But daren't restrain my soul to waiting anguish! Treus, make thy answer known, or bid my soul depart— depart!—to flee to everlasting sleep—to death!"