JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

Went, whose a… er…'

       'It's all right,' Wood said, smiling a bit more easily. 'I know about Mr. Paddington. Wentworth's parents made arrangements with the school administration to keep his, er, heritage a secret. They themselves are part of the Crimson Teetotalers League. That means they've trained themselves not to require blood at all. Extremely dedicated to their new lives they are, which is why they felt it was important for Wentworth to receive a normal magical education. One would think that he would have ended up in Vampire House, of course, but as you might imagine, Apollo Mansion is a much better fit for him.'

       James nodded meaningfully. 'Yeah, we spent some time in Vampire House. They think real vampires have to be like the ones in Remora's stupid books—all unbelievably good- looking and tragically romantic and rubbish like that.'

'In all fairness,' Wood said, as if he felt it was his duty. 'Some vampires are like that.' Here, he paused and bobbed his head thoughtfully. 'Although not very many, admittedly. You understand then, why so many real vampires, werewolves, and even the occasional pixie, actually come to live with the Foots. Don't you?'

       'Because here, they can be who they are, and not just what they are.' James stopped and frowned. 'Er, right?'

       Wood nodded heartily. 'Well said, James. That's exactly it. But there is one more thing that the former Bigfoot President and Chancellor Franklyn impressed upon me when I took this post.' He leaned forward and crossed his arms on his desk, cupping his elbows. He studied James seriously. 'They told me that Bigfoot House really is the moral core of all the campus societies. And as such, it is held to a rather higher standard of conduct. Fairness, honesty, respect, courage, these are the things that are exemplified by the Bigfoot banner, and these must be applied to all areas of life. Most specifically, at least as far as you and I are concerned, these qualities are meant to be demonstrated on the sporting field. Chancellor Franklyn was very clear about this when he asked me to take the post of House President. He knew I had played professional Quidditch, you see, and worried that I might allow my love of victory to cloud my judgment in this regard. Winning, he told me, must always be secondary to self respect and the courage of one's convictions. I vowed to them that I completely concurred with that philosophy. In the years since, I have tried very hard, James, to maintain that record—not a record of wins and losses, you see, but a record of honorable matches, well-played and strenuous, with an eye, ultimately, to fairness and respect.'

       Wood stopped, and James realized that the professor's eyes had grown rather unfocused. He wasn't quite looking at James, but rather into the darkness of the game room. James waited, fearing the worst—that Wood was going to forbid Team Bigfoot from using their recently acquired game magic in the night's tournament match.

       'We've lost every year,' Wood finally said, blinking and returning his gaze to James. 'Not just the tournament, but nearly every single match. We've always had a good team, a solid team, but we've never won. We were building character, though. At least, that's what I told myself. And building character is important, no question.'

       Wood paused again, as if struggling with himself.

       'Character is important,' James began, but Wood waved him into silence.

       'I've allowed you to teach Team Bigfoot game magic, James,' he said seriously. 'It was against my better judgment, but I allowed it. Because I saw that while you were teaching the team to play in a way that was decidedly unlike previous Bigfoot teams, going back over a century, you were still managing to play each match with respect, honor, and fairness. Er, Mostly. And then, you introduced the concepts of the magical martial arts—Artis Decerto. You built that clockwork contraption in the back garden, with the help of Professor Cloverhoof and some of the Zombie House students. This, again, was contrary to my better judgment. And yet I allowed it. Perhaps it was a mistake. And yet, I saw that there might be some good in it. Artis Decerto is a respected discipline, after all, if used wisely and with self-control.'

       Wood was nodding slightly, thoughtfully. James was afraid to speak now, afraid of the boom he felt certain was about to fall. He held his breath. Wood met his gaze once more, gravely this time.

       'I received a visit from the Chancellor this morning, James,' he said carefully. 'He is… concerned. He has been watching the progress of Team Bigfoot very closely, and while he is not claiming that we have done anything wrong, precisely, he did acknowledge some growing trepidation about our very non-traditional methods. It has reached his attention that you have been making the rounds to the other houses—all but Werewolf House, of course—seeking assistance in defeating Team Werewolf in tonight's match. James, is this correct?'

       James felt pinned to the chair. He pressed his lips together so tightly that they became a thin white line on his face. He nodded, once.

       Wood sighed and leaned back in his chair again. 'Chancellor Franklyn made his wishes quite clear, James. He is no longer only worried about the integrity of Bigfoot House, but of the entire school in general. He feels that you have broken the unspoken code of Apollo Mansion, and reversed the moral standard that we are meant to uphold for the sake of the rest of the campus.'

       'But—!' James began, only to be waved into silence again by Professor Wood.

       'He did not tell me what to do, James,' the professor went on. 'He left the decision to me, and I've been thinking about it all day.'

       Wood stopped once more. He seemed to be studying James, his face very stern and solemn. Nearly thirty seconds went by. The disarmadillo snorted, stirred and got up. It waddled over to Wood, who petted it on its plated head, not taking his eyes from James.

       'I've made my decision,' the professor finally said quietly, emphatically. 'You see, I am aware of the things people say about me around the campus. I am aware that they believe I don't have the heart to win anymore; that I left my passion for victory on the Quidditch pitch back in England. Maybe they are even partly right. After the Battle, it was hard to think about using magic that way again, even in a sporting match. And yet, I believe in the deeper mission of Bigfoot House. I am committed to it, no matter what. And thus, James, after my conversation with Chancellor Franklyn this morning, I have made my decision. I have decided to do… nothing.'

       James blinked. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, and then craned his head toward the man behind the big crooked desk. 'Excuse me, sir?'

       'I'm not going to do anything,' Wood said simply, raising his eyebrows and turning his hands palm up over the desk. 'I've been watching you lot myself, James. I've seen the exact same things that the Chancellor has, and yet I have interpreted them entirely differently. You have learned to play the game very well, all of you, and to strive for excellence, all without sacrificing your integrity or the dignity of your opponents. You have trained yourselves to become superior based solely on your skills and discipline. You have sought to be creative and intelligent on the Clutch course while still playing with honor. Now, you have succeeded in rallying nearly the whole school to your side—going so far even as to earn their entirely fair and legal assistance. Where Chancellor Franklyn sees potential debauchery, I happen to see a team that has played so well, and yet so fairly, that even those whom they have defeated wish to assist them on to further victory. If this in itself does not perfectly exemplify the sort of moral standard that Bigfoot House has always strove to maintain, then I daresay nothing does.'

       As Wood spoke, a grin of dawning realization grew onto James' face. Wood wasn't going to forbid them from using the new game magic. Wood almost seemed, in fact, to be encouraging them to go on exactly as planned.

       'Really, Professor?' James asked, barely able to contain himself. He gripped the fat arms of his reclining chair, pulling himself upright.

       'Really, James,' Wood agreed, meeting James' smile. 'Under one condition.'

       'What's that, sir?' James asked, somewhat warily.