G. Lippert - James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing

The dryad was fading. Her eyes slipped shut and even as she drifted into nothingness, she already seemed to be asleep.

There was a creaking groan, then a splash from the island.

"Well," Zane said with manic cheerfulness, "what say we jump back onto our giant buddy's shoulders and make this place a memory before it does the same to us?"

The three of them met Titus Hardcastle before they were halfway back to their starting point. His face was like a thunderstorm, but all he said was, "Is everyone safe?"

"Safe enough," Zane called down from Grawp's shoulders. "But let me tell you, we've had one weird time of it."

Grawp bent down to allow Hardcastle to climb onto his back. "It's going around, then, isn't it?" Hardcastle grunted.

Zane held a hand out, intending to help Hardcastle climb up and almost getting yanked from his seat instead. "So what was that thing you were chasing, anyway?" he said, puffing.

"Spider. One of old Aragog's kin, no doubt. They've grown dumb in the last decade or two, but that one had gone and found himself a toy." Hardcastle held something up, and James saw that it was the little handheld video camera that the intruder had been using on the Quidditch pitch. "It was still working when I caught up to the brute, the little screen all lit up. Got broken when I, er, dispatched the beast. At least it'd had a good last meal."

James shuddered involuntarily as Grawp began to make his way back through the woods. "You really think it… ate the guy?"

Hardcastle set his jaw. "Circle of life, James. Strictly speaking, though, spiders don't eat people. They just suck their juices out. Ugly way to go, but at least he's not a problem anymore."

James didn't say so, but he had a feeling that the real problems were just beginning.

Wednesday morning, James felt sluggish and prickly as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast. It was a thoroughly glum morning, with a low, bruised sky filling the top portion of the Hall and a fine mist speckling the windows. Ralph and Zane were seated at the Slytherin table, Zane blowing on his traditional morning coffee and Ralph attacking an orange with a butter knife, sawing through it, peel and all. They didn't appear to be talking much. Zane wasn't typically a morning person, and he had been out just as late as James had been. Neither Zane nor Ralph looked up, and James was glad. He was still angry and disgusted with Ralph. Under that, though, he was sad and hurt about the boy's betrayal. He tried not to feel resentment toward Zane for sitting with Ralph, but he was too tired to make much of an effort, and the mood of the morning wasn't helping.

James made his way to the Gryffindor table, glancing up at the dais as he went. Neither his dad nor Titus Hardcastle were anywhere to be seen. James figured that, despite the lateness of the previous night, they had still risen and breakfasted shortly after dawn and were already about their morning's business. The thought that his dad's and Titus' day was already well underway, probably full of exciting meetings and secret intrigues, while he was just now having breakfast on his way to a day of gloomy classes and homework, filled him with melancholy. He found a seat surrounded by happily babbling Gryffindors, plopped into it, and began to eat methodically, joylessly.

The night before, James had been up with Titus Hardcastle, his dad, and Headmistress McGonagall for almost two hours after their return from the perimeter of the lake. Titus had sent up a wand signal as soon as they'd reached the castle, summoning Harry, Ted, Prechka, and Hagrid back from their forays. When they'd all assembled again by Hagrid's cottage, the Headmistress dismissed Grawp and Prechka, thanking them both formally, and offering them a barrel of Butterbeer for their efforts. After that, the group convened in Hagrid's cottage, congregated around the huge, rough table, drinking Hagrid's tea, which was suspiciously cloudy and brown and tasted vaguely medicinal, and avoiding some rather stale biscuits.

Hardcastle had spoken first. He explained to everyone present how he had first heard the spider, and then pursued it, leaving James and Zane in the protection of Grawp. Harry had shifted in his seat, but refrained from comment. After all, he had been the one to request that James go along on the expedition, and had consented, albeit reluctantly, to Zane's accompaniment. The Headmistress had pointed a rather long and penetrating glare at Harry when she'd seen Zane enter the cottage. Now McGonagall turned to Hardcastle, asking how he'd managed to kill the spider.

Hardcastle's beady eyes glinted a little as he said, "Best way to kill a spider that won't fit under your boot is to get its legs off. First one's the hardest. After that, it gets easier and easier."

Hagrid wiped a hand over his face. "Poor ol' Aragog. If he'd lived to see his young turn wild, it'd have killed him. Poor fellow was just doing what spiders do. You can hardly blame him."

"The spider had the intruder's camera," Harry said, glancing down at the broken object on the table. The lens was shattered and the little screen on the back was cracked. "So we know the man escaped via the lake woods."

"Nasty way to go, whoever he may have been," McGonagall said.

Harry's expression didn't change. "We don't know for certain that the spider caught the man."

"Seems unlikely the thing asked to borrow his camera so it could make home movies of its kids, doesn't it?" Hardcastle rumbled, "Spiders aren't the polite type. They're the hungry type."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You're probably right, Titus. Still, there's always the chance the intruder dropped the camera and the spider simply found it. It wouldn't hurt to increase security for a while, Minerva. We don't yet know how this person got in or who he was. Until we learn those things, we have to assume there is an ongoing risk of breach."

"I'm particularly interested in knowing how this camera managed to operate within the grounds," the Headmistress sniffed, staring hard at the device on the table. "It is well-known that Muggle equipment of this sort doesn't work inside the school's magical environment."

"That is indeed well-known, Madam Headmistress," Hardcastle rumbled, "but very little understood. The Muggles are endlessly inventive with their tools. What once was true may not be so anymore. And we all know that the protective spells erected around the grounds since the Battle are not quite as perfect as those maintained by old Dumbledore, God rest his soul."

James thought of Ralph's GameDeck, but decided not to mention it. The broken video camera was all the proof they needed that at least some modern Muggle devices worked on the school grounds.

Finally, attention turned to James and Zane. James explained how Grawp had wandered away in search of food, and how the two boys had chased him, finding him by the lake and the marshy island. Zane chimed in then, describing the mysterious island and the bridge. He carefully glossed over the part where James had tried to open the gates using magic, and James was glad. It had seemed foolish the very moment he'd done it, and he regretted it. Still, at the time, it had felt so natural. They took turns telling of the enchanted dragon's head bridge that attempted to eat them, then the attacking vines that had almost pulled them all into the sinkhole. Finally, James explained the tale of the tree sprite.

"Naiads and dryads?" Hagrid exclaimed incredulously. James and Zane stopped, blinking at him. Hagrid went on, "Well, they're not for real, are they? They're just stories and myth. Aren't they?" He addressed the last question to the adults present.