moment later, he thumped lightly to the floor and began to stalk off along the aisle, his tail sticking up.
'Well,' Zane blinked, 'pardon me for living.'
Ralph said, 'Maybe he was offended by the word 'rat'.'
'Come on,' James suggested, turning back to the shelves. 'Forget him. He's just a cat. If you remember, he thought we were supposed to be in Igor House.'
Zane glanced at James. 'Have you wondered if maybe he was right?'
James met his friend's gaze and frowned. 'What do you mean? Bigfoot House fits us just fine. What's some old cat know that we don't?'
'I'm just saying,' Zane replied. 'There's a reason he's here. Maybe it's worth thinking about.'
James felt impatient. He stopped and stared up at the dark ceiling for a moment. 'There,' he said, glancing back at Zane and Ralph. 'I've thought about it. Can we get on with it now? This place creeps me out.'
Zane shrugged. Dismissing the cat, the three returned to their search of the shelves. A few minutes later, Zane called out. James and Ralph trotted down the aisle to join him.
'It's…,' Ralph began, and then swallowed thickly. 'It's… a skull.'
James held his wand closer. Two objects were pushed into a small cubby hole, and one of them was indeed a human skull, missing its jawbone. The other was a woman's boot, very old and scuffed, made of black leather. The card affixed to the front of the shelf read: 1859, OCTOBER 5, I. K. MAGNUSSEN INTERROGATION 1.
'Maybe it's not real,' James suggested, peering at the yellowed skull.
'It sure
'It's just an old bone,' Zane said, rolling his eyes and reaching for the skull. 'I'll carry it. Grab the boot and let's get this over with.'
As quickly as they could, the three boys carried their acquisitions back up to the room of the Disrecorder. James breathed a sigh of relief as he walked beneath the thick, tiny windows embedded in the domed ceiling. It was dark outside now, but it was nice to see the faint blue glow of the night sky above.
'Who wants to do the honors?' Zane asked, holding up the skull and peering at it. 'What do you think, Mr. Bones?' He moved the skull like a puppet and answered in a higher voice, 'I think you should, Zane-brain, since you're so cool and dashing. And this was your idea after all.'
James sighed wearily. 'Quit it. You're freaking out Ralph.'
'I'm not freaked out,' Ralph objected, his face pale. 'I mean, yeah, I am. But just a little.'
'Let's get to it then,' Zane squeaked, puppeting the skull again. 'Upsie-daisy.'
With a small clunk, Zane set the skull onto the concave bowl of the Disrecorder.
Instantly, the room changed. It brightened and became much smaller. James, Ralph, and Zane turned on the spot and found themselves in a dim corner, peering into a sort of cramped study. Fire crackled in the brick fireplace and darkness pressed against the tall windows. Three men were seated at a table, two on one side, facing the third. James was not entirely surprised to see that Chancellor Franklyn was one of the men seated at the table. He looked only slightly younger, with a rather less rotund middle. The man next to him wore the black robes and hat of an arbiter, although his skin was dark and he had a thin beard. In the center of the table, looking like a Halloween decoration, was the yellowed, jawless skull. The dark man had just finished tapping it with his wand.
'Douglas Treete, General Arbiter of the Wizarding Court of the United States of America, Philadelphia Station,' he said blandly. 'Overseeing the preliminary interrogation of one Ignatius Karloff Magnussen, detained for various charges, including theft and misuse of corpses, torture, and suspicion of murder. I have chosen to use this skull as the relic for this interrogation since it serves as Exhibit A for the case in question. I am accompanied by Benjamin Amadeus Franklyn, Head of the Alma Aleron Technomancy Department, and immediate superior of the defendant. Professor Magnussen, if you would state your full name for the record.'
James turned his attention to the man seated across from Franklyn and the arbiter. Magnussen was large with a barrel chest and a square head crowned with a fringe of short grey hair. His expression was grim, his dark brow lowered over a sharp, finely sculpted nose.
'I am Professor Ignatius Karloff Magnussen the Third,' he said, and James was surprised by the man's cultured, pleasant voice. Unlike most Americans, Magnussen spoke with a distinct British accent.
Zane leaned toward James and Ralph and whispered, 'I heard that he never approved of America's break from England. In protest, he always spoke in what he called 'the King's English'.'
James frowned and listened as Treete, the arbiter, spoke again.
'You are aware of the allegations against you, Professor Magnussen?'
Magnussen didn't respond. He simply stared across the table, his eyes like steel marbles. Treete cleared his throat.
'For the record, Professor, you are accused, at the very least, of dabbling in forbidden practices that threaten the stability of the dimensional hierarchy. Is it true that you have sought to control the future by exploitation of the Wizarding Grand Unification Theory?'
Magnussen remained utterly impassive. James could tell that the man was listening, for he stared at the men across from him as if he intended to pin them to a corkboard like butterflies. He simply did not seem to feel the need to respond to their questions. Franklyn, for his own part, appeared completely miserable. His face was pale behind his square spectacles.
'So be it, then,' Treete said, adjusting his own glasses and peering down at a parchment in front of him. 'You are further accused of opening a rift between dimensions, something legendarily referred to as the Nexus Curtain, with no regard to the consequences. How do you respond to this allegation?'
Magnussen did not stir. He might as well have been an extremely lifelike statue.
Treete had apparently resigned himself to Magnussen's silence. 'Additionally, sir, you are accused of stealing bodies from the campus graveyard and conducting unlawful dissections of them. This skull, as I have mentioned, is Exhibit A in regard to that allegation. It was found in the basement of this very house, along with the sort of tools one might expect to use for such purposes. Furthermore, you are suspected in the abduction and torture of as many as eight Muggle citizens of the city of Philadelphia. Evidence of hasty Obliviation has only succeeded in destroying these victims' ability to identify their tormentor, but has left traces of memories of this school and the magical world at large.'
Treete took off his glasses and stared hard at Magnussen. 'Such acts, if they are proven to be true, break any number of very serious laws, Professor, not to mention the law of common human decency to which we all profess to ascribe. None of these, however, are as serious as the final accusation. As you are certainly aware, the corpse of a young Muggle woman, an impoverished local seamstress by the name of Fredericka Staples, was recently found in an alley near the entrance to this school. Her body was mutilated nearly beyond recognition and she was missing a single boot. That missing boot, sir, was discovered two nights past in the basement of this home. I must ask you again: how do you respond to these allegations?'
Magnussen stirred for the first time, but when he spoke, he addressed Franklyn. 'Was it you who summoned the authorities?' he asked, his voice merely conversational.
'You gave me little choice,' Franklyn replied quietly. 'Research is one thing, Ignatius. This…' He shook his head.
Magnussen smiled tightly. 'You always were too weak to appreciate the risks associated with any great endeavor. You, Benjamin, are an academician. You are not like me. You are not an explorer.'
