James took the quill from Zane, shaking his head in amusement. "Anything's possible. My dad was the Seeker for the Gryffindor team his first year. Youngest Seeker in team history. He's part of the reason they changed the rules. Used to be that first years couldn't be on the team. Now it's allowed, but really, really rare." James signed his name to the bottom of the sheet for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Tryouts, he saw, were after classes the next day.
"Ralph, you going to sign up for the Slytherins? Come on! All your friends are doing it!" Zane leered at the bigger boy.
"Nah, I was never very good at sports."
"You?" Zane cried heartily, throwing an arm rather awkwardly over Ralph's shoulder. "You're a brick wall! All you have to do is park yourself in front of the goal and the defense is all shored up! All they'd need is to find a broom that'll hold you, you big lug."
"Shut up!" Ralph said, twisting away from Zane's arm, but smiling and turning red. "Actually I was thinking about signing up for the debate team. Tabitha thinks I'd be good on it."
James blinked. "Tabitha Corsica asked you to be on the Slytherin debate team?"
"Actually," Zane said, peering at the debate sign-up sheets, "debate teams aren't divided by house. They're just random Teams A and B. Look, people from all different houses are on each team. There's even some of the visiting Alma Alerons on here."
"Why don't you go ahead and sign up, Ralph?" James asked. Ralph obviously wanted to.
"I don't know. I might."
"Oh, look, Petra's on Team A," Zane said. He began to sign his name again.
James frowned. "You're joining the debate team just because Petra Morganstern is on it?"
"Can you think of a better reason?"
"You know," James said, laughing, "Petra is going out with Ted, I think."
"My dad says girls don't know whether they like ice cream until they've tried every kind," Zane said wisely, sticking the quill back into its holder.
Ralph furrowed his brow. "What's that mean?"
"It means Zane here thinks he can give Ted a run for his money in the romance department," James said. He both admired and worried about Zane's lack of inhibition.
"It means," Zane replied, "that Petra doesn't know what she wants in a man until she's had a chance to get to know as many men as possible. I'm thinking only of her best interests."
Ralph studied Zane for a moment. "You do know you're eleven years old, right?"
James stopped as Zane and Ralph began to walk on. His eye had been caught by a picture in the trophy case. He leaned in, cupping his hands around his face to block the glare of the sun. The picture was black and white, moving, as all wizard pictures did. It was his dad, younger, thinner, his black hair wild and unruly over the famous, characteristic scar. He was smiling uncomfortably at the camera, his eyes moving as if he were avoiding eye contact with somebody or something outside the camera's view. Next to the framed photo was a large trophy made of silver and a sort of blue crystal that glowed with a shifting, curling light. James read the plaque below the trophy.
The Triwizard Cup
Jointly Awarded to Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory,
Hogwarts students of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Houses, respectively,
for winning the Triwizard Tournament, which was held upon these grounds
with the cooperation of representatives from the
Durmstrang Institute and the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
There was more, but James didn't read it. He knew the story. Harry Potter's name had been drawn as a competitor fraudulently, having been placed into the running by a dark wizard named Crouch. It had led to both Harry and Diggory being sent via Portkey to Voldemort's lair, resulting in the evil wizard's bodily return. No wonder his dad looked so uncomfortable in the photo. He had been under the legal age for the tournament, and had been the superfluous fourth contestant in a three wizard competition. He'd been in a room full of people who suspected him of cheating and dark magic, at best.
James glanced at the photo on the other side of the cup, the one of Diggory. His smile looked genuine and hearty compared to his dad's. James had never seen a photo of Diggory before, but it looked familiar nonetheless. He knew the story of Diggory, knew he had died next to his dad in the graveyard they'd been sent to, killed at the command of Voldemort. His dad rarely talked about that night, and James understood why, or at least thought he did.
He sighed, and then ran to catch up with Zane and Ralph.
Later that day, when James stopped in his room to swap books for his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he found Nobby waiting for him, scratching the windowsill impatiently. James grabbed the rolled parchment off Nobby's leg and read it.
Dear James,
Your father and I are thrilled to hear you are settling in well, as we knew you would. Your Uncle Ron says congratulations on becoming a Gryffindor, and we all concur. Can't wait to hear how your first day's classes go. Also, I hope you hear about this from us first: your father has been asked to go to Hogwarts for a meeting with the American wizards about international security and other matters of 'mutual interest'. I'll be staying home with Albus and Lil, but your father looks forward to seeing you next week. Make sure you are eating more than pastries and meat pies and be sure to get your robes and yourself washed at least once a week. (That was a joke. Actually, no, it wasn't.)
Love and kisses,
Mum
James folded the note into the book he was carrying as he ran down the steps. The knowledge that he'd be seeing his dad next week had left him with mixed feelings. Of course, he was excited to see him and to introduce him to his new friends. Still, he feared that the visit would also make the shadow of his famous father that much harder to escape. He was fleetingly thankful that Zane and Ralph were both Muggle-born, and therefore, relatively ignorant of the exploits of his legendary dad.