James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing

appreciate the way you're talking about my house. Things are a lot different now than they were when your dad went here. If you're so worried about truth and history, you should be all for debate on the subject. Maybe Tabitha's right about you.'

        James sat back, his mouth dropping open.

        Ralph lowered his eyes. 'She wants me to be in the first school debate with Team A. I assume you know the topic. They're calling it 'Re-evaluating the Assumptions of the Past: Truth or Conspiracy'?'

        'And you're going to be on the team, then? You're going to argue that my dad and his chums made the whole Voldemort story up just to scare people into keeping the wizarding world a secret?'

        Ralph looked miserable. 'Nobody believes your dad made it up, but…' He didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence.

        'Well!' James cried, throwing up his hands. 'Great argument, then! I'm speechless! Tabitha sure has a great partner in you, hasn't she?'

        'But maybe your dad wasn't on the right side after all!' Ralph said hotly. 'Has that ever occurred to you? I mean, sure, people got killed. It was a war. But why is it that when your side killed people, it was a triumph of good, but when their side killed, it was an evil atrocity? The victors write the history books, you know. Maybe the truth of the whole affair has been skewed. How would you know? You weren't even born yet.'

        James threw his fork down onto the table. 'I know my dad!' he shouted. 'He didn't kill anyone! He was on the right side, because my dad is a good man! Voldemort was a bloodthirsty monster who just wanted power and was willing to kill anyone who got in his way, even his friends! You might want to remember that, since you seem to be choosing to side with people like him!'

Ralph stared at James and swallowed. James knew, in some small, distant part of his mind, that he was overreacting. Ralph was Muggle-born: everything he knew about Voldemort and Harry Potter, he'd only read in the last two weeks. Besides, Ralph was being fed all this by his housemates, who he was desperate to get along with. Still, James was furious to the point of wanting to hit him, mostly because he didn't dare hit any of the Slytherins who were directly responsible for the malicious, self-serving lies about his dad. James broke eye contact first. He heard Ralph gather his books and backpack.

        'Well,' Zane said tentatively, 'I was going to see if you two wanted to meet after the match tonight for Butterbeers with the Gremlins, but maybe I'll just take a rain check, eh?'

        Neither Ralph nor James spoke. After a moment, Ralph walked away.

        'You were pretty horrible to him, you know,' Zane said evenly.

        'Me?' James exclaimed.

        'Before you defend yourself,' Zane said, raising a hand in a conciliatory gesture, 'just let me say, you're right. Of course, it's all a load of crap. But it's Ralph. He's just trying to get along. You know?'

        'No,' James said flatly, 'not when 'getting along' means talking up a bunch of lies about my dad.'

        'He doesn't know they're lies,' Zane said reasonably. 'He's just a guy hearing all this for the first time. He wants to believe you, but he also wants to fit in with his house. Too bad for him they're all a bunch of wacked-out, power-crazed lunatics.'

        James felt slightly mollified. He knew Zane was right, but he still couldn't quite regret his outburst against Ralph. 'So? You're just a new guy hearing all this for the first time, too. Why aren't you running off to join the Progressive Element and chant slogans?'

        'Because lucky for you,' Zane said, throwing an arm around James' neck, 'I got sorted into Ravenclaw, and they all hated Old Voldy just as much as you Gryffindors. Besides,' he looked slightly wistful, 'I happen to think Petra Morganstern is, on the whole, just a little bit hotter than Tabitha Corsica.'

        James elbowed Zane away from him, groaning.

        They both went to the library for study period. Knossus Shert, the Ancient Runes professor, was monitoring the period, his thick glasses and long, skinny limbs in green robes making him look rather like a praying mantis seated behind the library head desk.

Zane was copying Arithmancy theorems, frowning as he worked them out. James, not wanting to disturb him, but equally disinterested in embarking on his own homework, pulled the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet out of his backpack, where he'd stuffed it at breakfast. He glanced at the lead articles again, pressing his lips together in disgust. Near the bottom of the front page, James was annoyed to see a picture of Tabitha Corsica. She looked like she always did: reasonable, thoughtful, and polite. 'Hogwarts Prefect Discusses Progressives Movement on Campus', the headline next to her picture read. Knowing he shouldn't read it, James glanced at a random couple of lines in the middle of the article.

        'Of course, my house doesn't believe in disturbing the harmony of the school for these discussions, but we respect the members of other houses as they voice their concerns,' Miss Corsica explained, her eyes full of regret for the disruptions of the day, but obviously recognizing the validity of her fellow students' motivations. 'Despite the Headmistress' reluctance to be clear about the debate schedule, I am confident that we will be allowed to forge ahead with our plan to foster a discussion about Auror practices and policies, and the assumptions those are based on, in an open and free-ranging debate format.'

        Miss Corsica, a fifth-year Slytherin, is also captain of her Quidditch team. 'I had my broomstick fashioned by Muggle artisans,' she explains shyly. 'They had no idea of the magical properties of the wood, and of course, I had it registered by the school as a Muggle artifact. But still, I just thought it would be nice to experience something handmade by our Muggle friends. It also happens to be one of the fastest brooms on the pitch,' she adds, biting her lip modestly, 'but I credit that to the hands that made it, as much as to the spells that infuse the wood.'

        James picked up the paper and flipped it over angrily, slapping it onto the table and earning a loud hush from Professor Shert.

        He stared unseeingly at the back of the paper. How could anyone believe such obviously contrived drivel? Tabitha Corsica and her special-order Muggle-made broom were just the icing on the cake, and she knew it. When James had seen her in the courtyard, Tabitha had been giving her interview with Rita Skeeter. James remembered the breathless eagerness on Skeeter's face as her quill danced across the parchment. Stupid, gullible woman, James thought. Still, apparently she was just being true to herself and her readership. James had been told about his dad's first encounters with Skeeter, back during the Triwizard Tournament. Aunt Hermione had caught on to the secret that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus, her animal form being that of a beetle. Eventually, Hermione had captured Skeeter in her beetle form, preventing her, for a time, from continuing her assault on the truth via her articles in the Daily Prophet. This morning, however, Harry had told James that the way to fight for the truth was not to argue with people like Rita Skeeter. Frankly, James preferred Aunt Hermione's methods to those his dad claimed to espouse these days.

        As he ruminated on this, James' eye roamed unseeingly over the headlines and pictures on the back of the paper. Suddenly, however, one headline caught his attention. He leaned over it, his brow furrowing.

Ministry Break-in Remains a Mystery

LONDON: Last week's burglary of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters leaves Aurors and officials alike baffled,