JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

rest of the horseshoe on its cornerstone and then make sure that that house wins the Clutch tourney. If we're lucky, it'll be Hermes Mansion. We Zombies are up for a win this year. I can feel it.'

       James slumped as a sinking certainty settled over him. He shook his head slowly.

       'I don't think,' he said morosely, 'that it's going to be Hermes Mansion.'

       'Wow,' Ralph said a short time later as the three boys stood in the bushes in front of Bigfoot House. 'How'd you know?'

       'Couldn't say,' James answered with a sigh. 'It just makes a certain kind of backward sense, doesn't it?'

Zane nodded firmly, his lips pressed into a tight line as he stared down at the cornerstone of Apollo Mansion. Sure enough, the bottom edge of the stone showed the twin markings of the top of the silver horseshoe. 'So,' he said heartily, still nodding, 'in order to open the Nexus Curtain and potentially prove the innocence of our good friend Petra Morganstern, the worst Clutch team in a decade has to win the tournament against the best Clutch team in a decade. Is that about it? Do I have this straight?'

       'I'm afraid so,' James answered dourly.

       Zane nodded some more. 'Well, then,' he said, 'one thing above all else is absolutely certain.'

'What's that?' Ralph asked, a little hesitantly.

       Zane looked gravely at both James and Ralph and then answered, 'You're gonna need a bigger Gauntlet.'

       Over the following weeks, James approached Team Bigfoot's Clutch magic practices with renewed vigor. They did indeed expand the Gauntlet, adding a gyroscopic flight pad section where players could mount a skrim and fly in place with simulated wind, turns, and, most important of all, attacking clockwork opponents. Using this, players practiced Artis Decerto in flight, learning to perform midair flips, barrel rolls, horizontal leans, and an entirely new maneuver, known as the Drop, in which a player would fall flat onto the length of their skrim, their fingers curled over the front edge, reducing their target area and wind resistance, and effectively transforming themselves into missiles. In this posture, the player was able to use his or her skrim as a shield, deflecting spells by pulling the leading edge upwards, forcing the spells to bounce off the bottom.

       'Wow!' Gobbins cheered as Jazmine performed an impressive dropping barrel roll through a group of clockwork Bullies, complete with mechanical Cudgels. 'Way to thread the needle, Jaz!'

       'I gotta admit, James,' Norrick said, shaking his head, 'I wasn't buying into this whole Artis Decerto thing at first. But between the new magic we've been practicing and these crazy new moves, I think we might just have a chance to get into the tournament.'

       'Get into it nothing,' Wentworth exclaimed, his eyes boggling behind his huge glasses. 'We've got a chance to win that baby! Especially now that the Pixies and Igors have been knocked out of the playoffs! It's down to the Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies and us! And we haven't even started using any of these new moves yet!'

'Let's not get too confident,' James warned despite his own cautious confidence. 'It's one thing to do these maneuvers in the Gauntlet. It's another thing entirely to pull them off on the course. Besides, our next match is sudden death against the Zombies and they've been practicing in the Gauntlet same as we have, thanks to the fact that we needed Zane and Professor Cloverhoof 's help to build it.'

       'I watched them practice on it yesterday,' Jazmine gasped, jumping off her skrim as Ralph halted the Gauntlet around her, 'from the window on the upstairs landing. They aren't taking it all that seriously. They didn't use the flight pad at all.'

       'Graarph,' Mukthatch agreed, hopping onto his skrim and piloting it into position for his own turn on the pad. 'Wurgh raffwabffle.'

       'What'd he say?' James asked Norrick behind his hand.

       'He says the Zombies' weakness is the fact that they don't take anything seriously. They prefer tricks and surprise to discipline and practice.'

       'Wow,' Ralph said, blinking. 'He said all that?'

       'Sasquatchian is a very economical language,' Norrick replied, nodding wisely. 'I've been taking it since grade school. They have a hundred words for dirt, but no word for quit. Kind of tells you everything you need to know about 'em, doesn't it?'

       James nodded.

       Later, on the night before the Bigfoots' last match against Team Zombie, James met Zane on the porch of Hermes Mansion.

       'Did you try to talk to them about it?' he asked the blonde boy, who shook his head grimly.

       'It's a pride thing,' Zane explained in a low voice, glancing back at the house behind him. 'Team Zombie hasn't been beat by the Foots since, like, forever. That tie game you handed them last match was bad enough. And this is a playoff death match! The winner goes on, the loser goes home! I can't just tell them, 'Hey fellas, why don't you throw this thing to the Bigfoots, eh? I can't tell you why, but it'll keep some girl you don't know from being sent to Fort Bedlam and who knows, maybe even save the universe from collapsing in on itself because of some missing thread! Whaddaya say?' Sorry James, you know I'm on board with you, but there's no way that Bludger will fly.'

       James shook his head in exasperation. 'Can you, like, slip a dose of Weasley's Silly Serum into their morning coffees or something? Or hex some invisible weights onto their skrims?'

       Zane looked aghast. 'Sabotage the Zombies?' he hissed, mortified. 'Look, mate, I'm on your side and all, but rule number one of Zombie House is that you never ever prank your own house.' Zane stopped and glanced aside thoughtfully. 'Well, actually, rule number one is to always keep the cellar door locked from the outside so the ghoul doesn't sneak upstairs at night and have parties with all the other house ghouls. Boy, do they make a terrible mess. And do they eat? Sheesh. Last time there wasn't anything left but a box of dried leech chews and half a jar of El Salsa Grenado. But not pranking your own house is definitely rule number two. Without a doubt.'

       'But…!' James began, but Zane cut him off with a raised hand.

       'Sorry, James. I just can't do it. We Zombies may not have much of a code of ethics, but the few ethics we do have, we stick to like glue. Capiche? You guys'll just have to win it fair and square.'

       James sighed deeply and nodded. As he turned to leave, however, Zane tapped him on the shoulder.

       'But I'll be rooting for you guys,' he whispered with a crooked smile. 'You can do it. Keep between Warrington and Hurst, eh? I can't tell you why, but if you do that—stick between those two like beetle butter between two slices of white bread—then you'll do just fine.' He winked conspiratorially and then turned back to his house, whistling an innocent tune.

       The afternoon of the match turned out to be bright and warm, resulting in a very exuberant turnout of spectators. The grandstands were packed to overflowing, crowded with waving banners and handmade signs. To James' surprise, there seemed to be nearly as many Bigfoot colours and banners as there were Zombie supporters.