prescribed you to practice that particular spell. Understood?'
Zane and Ralph grinned at each other. James sighed. McGonagall nodded curtly, straightened herself, and continued briskly on her way. After five steps, she turned back.
'Oh, and boys?'
'Yes, ma'am?' Zane said.
'Two sharp flicks and the word 'nurglammonias'. Emphasis on the first and third syllables.'
'Yes, ma'am!' Zane replied again, grinning.
The school year descended through autumn, approaching the winter holidays. The football field became carpeted with leaves, crunching and kicking up under the feet of Professor Curry's Muggle Studies teams. The unofficial football tournament ended with James' team winning. James himself scored the winning goal, his third of the day, against goalie Horace Birch, the Ravenclaw Gremlin. His team collected around him, jumping and hollering as if they'd just won the House Cup. In fact, the winning team's house was rewarded one hundred points by Professor Curry, that being the best prize she could offer. The team circled James, heaving him onto their shoulders and carrying him into the courtyard as if he had just returned from slaying a dragon. He grinned hugely, his cheeks beet red in the chilly autumn wind, and his spirits were higher than they'd been all year.
The routine of classes and homework, which had been daunting during the first weeks, became dull and predictable. Professor Jackson assigned endless dreaded essays and sprung unsuspecting 'pop quizzes' on his class every couple of weeks. Zane told James and Ralph amusing tales of confrontations between Professor Trelawney and Madame Delacroix during his Tuesday night Constellations Club, which, like Divination class, both professors managed to share. On the Quidditch pitch, James continued to advance his broom skills with the help of both Ted and Zane until he began to feel cautiously confident that he might, indeed, make the Gryffindor team next year. He began to imagine how rich it might be to show up at tryouts next spring and wildly surpass everyone's memories of his first year attempts. Zane, for his part, continued to fly remarkably well for the Ravenclaws. Calling on his rather unique Muggle background, he invented a move he called 'buzzing the tower', in which he'd hit a Bludger around the press box, letting it gather speed as it circled back, then meet it on the other side, striking it again to add even more speed and a bit of direction. Using that trick, he had managed to knock two players completely off their brooms, leading to a few apologetic visits to the hospital wing.
Life for Ralph in the Slytherin house had been rough for a while. Tabitha had never actually spoken to him about his desertion of the debate stage or his abandoning of the Progressive Element meetings. James and Zane figured she'd ceased having any use for him when he'd returned to being James' friend. Eventually, the older Slytherins simply forgot about Ralph, apart from a few cool stares or snide remarks in the Slytherin common room. Then, surprisingly, Ralph began to befriend some other first- and second-year Slytherins. Unlike the blue badge wearers, none of them seemed all that interested in the broader world of politics and causes. To be sure, there was a sort of shifty guile to even the first-year Slytherins, but a couple of them seemed to genuinely like Ralph, and even James had to admit they were funny, in a double-edged sort of way.
Defense Against the Dark Arts became a favorite class of James, Zane, and Ralph. Professor Franklyn taught a very practical class, with many exciting stories and real-life examples from his own long and wildly various adventures. James, to no one's surprise, was a very good dueler. He admitted, with a sheepish grin, that he'd been taught quite a lot of defensive technique by his dad. Nobody, however, including James, was willing to go up against Ralph in a duel. Ralph's wand skills seemed remarkably haphazard when it came to defensive spell-casting. The first time he'd dueled, Ralph had attempted a simple Expelliarmus spell on Victoire. He struck out with his wand, a bit wildly, and a bolt of blue lightning had erupted from the end, singeing Victoire's hair so that a ragged bald stripe ran straight across the top of her head. She patted at it with her hand, then her eyes nearly boggled out of her head. She screamed in rage and had to be restrained by three other students from tackling Ralph, who was three times her size. Ralph backed away, apologizing profusely, his wand still smoking.
Only once, during an evening in the Ravenclaw common room, did anyone have the temerity to mention anything to James, Zane, and Ralph about the debate. They were just finishing their homework when a large fourth year named Gregory Templeton sat down at the table across from them.
'Hey, you were both in that debate, weren't you?' he said, pointing back and forth between Zane and Ralph.
'Yeah, Gregory,' Zane said, shoving his books into his backpack, his voice betraying his general dislike of the older boy.
'You were the one at the table with Corsica, right?' Gregory said, turning to Ralph.
'Er. Yeah,' Ralph said, 'but…'
'You tell her from me she's right on the mark, eh? I been reading a book that tells all about the whole thing. It's called The Dumbledore Plot, and it's all about how the old man and that Harry Potter cooked the whole thing up, start to finish. Did you know they made up the whole story about Riddle and the Horcruxes on the night the old man died? Some even say it was Harry Potter himself killed him, once they'd worked it all out.'
James struggled to control his temper. He looked levelly at Gregory. 'Do you even know who I am?'
Zane stared hard at the bottle in Gregory's hand. 'Hey,' he asked with forced casualness, surreptitiously pulling out his wand, 'what's that you're drinking?'
Ninety seconds later, James, Zane, and Ralph scrambled as Gregory spat nurgle water all over the common room table.
'Practicing!' Zane called, ducking under Gregory's grasping arms. 'I swear! I was supposed to practice that transfiguration! Your drink just got in the way! Ask McGonagall!'
The three boys successfully ducked from the room, laughing uproariously at the ensuing chaos.
By Christmas holiday, James was ready for a break. After lunch on his last day of class, James went up to the Gryffindor sleeping chamber to pack his things. The sky outside the tower window had grown chilly and grey, making him wish for the grand fireplace back at number twelve Grimmauld Place and one of Kreacher's very complicated hot chocolates, which consisted, at last count, of fourteen unnamed ingredients, including, he had been assured, at least a pinch of actual chocolate.
'Hey, James,' Ralph's voice called up the stairs, 'you up there?'
'Yeah. Come on up, Ralph.'
'Thanks,' Ralph panted, climbing the steps. 'I came up after lunch with Petra. She said you'd be here packing. All raring to go, I expect.'
'Yeah! We're having everyone over to the old headquarters for the holidays this year. Uncles George and Ron, Aunts Hermione and Fleur, Ted and his grandmum, Victoire, even Luna Lovegood, who you don't know, but you'd be keen on. She's the weirdest grownup I've ever met, but in a good way. Mostly. Grandmum and Granddad won't be there, though. They're visiting Charlie and everybody in Prague this year. Still, I think even Neville will be there. Professor Longbottom, I mean.'
Ralph nodded glumly, staring into James' trunk. 'Sounds swell. Yeah, well, I hope you have a happy Christmas and all that, then.'
James stopped packing, remembering that Ralph's dad was traveling for business over the holidays. 'Oh, yeah. So what will you be doing, Ralph? Will you be spending Christmas with your grandparents or something?'
'Hmm?' Ralph said, glancing up. 'Oh. Nah. Looks like I'll just be hanging around here for the holidays. Zane's not leaving until next week, so at least I'll have him to hang around with over the weekend. After that… well, I'll figure out something to do with myself.' He sighed hugely.
'Ralph,' James said, tossing a pair of mismatched socks into his trunk, 'do you want to come and have
