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.
'The lake woods are just an extension of the Forbidden Forest,' Harry said. 'If there is a place where things like the naiads and dryads can exist, it'd be there. Still, if it's true, they haven't been seen for hundreds of years. Of course we'd think of them as myth.'
'What do you mean, 'if it's true'?' James asked, a little louder than he'd intended to. 'We saw her. She spoke to us.'
'Your father is being an Auror, James,' McGonagall said placatingly. 'All possibilities must be considered. You were all under a great deal of stress. It isn't that we don't believe you. We must simply determine the most likely explanation for what you saw.'
'Seems like the most likely explanation to me is that she was what she said she was,' James muttered under his breath.
James purposely hadn't told his dad or any of the other adults the last thing the sprite had said, the part about the successor, the blood of the enemy beating in another heart. Part of his reluctance was in his remembrance of his dad's stories of how the wizarding world had treated him, Harry Potter, when he'd returned from the Triwizard Tournament maze with the tale of Voldemort's return, how he had been doubted and discredited. Another part of it was that his dad wasn't even prepared to believe the part about the dryad. If he doubted that, how could he accept that the dryad had predicted a new kind of Voldemort's return, through an heir, a bloodline? But the thing that had finally determined James not to tell was his memory of the very last words the dryad had spoken: Your father's battle is over. Yours begins.
The conversation had droned on long after all the details had been described and discussed, long after James had grown bored with it. He wanted to get back so that he could sleep, but more than that, he wanted time to think about what the dryad had said. He wanted to work out what the island was for, what the poem on the gate meant. He worked to remember it, itching to write it down while it was still fresh in his mind. He was sure, somehow, that it all fit in with the story of Austramaddux and the secret plot of the Slytherins to bring back Merlin and start a final war with the Muggle world. He wasn't even asking himself anymore if it was true. It had to be true, and it was up to him to prevent it.
Finally, the adults finished talking. They had determined that the mysterious island, while obviously dangerous, was just one of the many mysterious and inexplicable dangers that made the Forbidden Forest forbidden. The primary concern was still discovering how the intruder had gotten in, and making sure no one else was able to do it again. With that resolution, the meeting broke up.
Headmistress McGonagall had accompanied James, Zane, and Ted back to the castle, instructing them to do their best to keep the discussions of the night a secret.
'Especially you, Mr. Lupin,' she said sternly. 'The last thing we need is you and your band of hooligans running off into the woods in the middle of the night attempting to duplicate Mr. Potter's and Mr. Walker's experiences.'
Fortunately, Ted knew enough not to try to deny the possibility of such a thing. He merely nodded and said, 'Yes, ma'am.'
James only saw his dad once more during his visit, and that was after classes that evening, just as Harry, Titus, and the Ministry officials were preparing to leave. Neville had returned to Hogwarts that afternoon, and he chaperoned James to the Headmistress' office to say goodbye to Harry and the rest. The group planned to travel via the Floo Network, as they had arrived, and had decided upon the Headmistress' fireplace for their departure since it was the most secure. If it struck Neville odd that the office now belonged to his former teacher, who he'd known as Professor McGonagall, instead of to Albus Dumbledore, he didn't let on. But he did pause for a moment next to the portrait of the former headmaster.
'Off again, is he?' he asked Harry.
'I think he generally just sleeps here. Dumbledore's got portraits all over the place,' Harry sighed. 'Not to mention all his old Chocolate Frog cards. He still shows up in them sometimes just for fun. I keep mine in my wallet, just in case.' He pulled his wallet out and slipped a dog-eared card out of it. The portrait space was empty. Harry grinned at Neville as he put it back.
Neville moved to the group congregated around the fireplace. Harry squatted down next to James.
'I wanted to thank you, James.'
James hid the look of pride that surfaced on his face. 'I was just doing what you asked us to do.'
'I don't just mean coming along with us and helping us find out what happened,' Harry said, putting a hand on James' shoulder. 'I mean for spying the intruder on the field and pointing him out to me. And for being alert enough to see him the other times. You've got a sharp eye and an alert mind, my boy. I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not.'
