JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

'According to Jackson, somebody did find and open the Nexus Curtain once, somebody from this school, although it was a long time ago. His name was Professor Magnussen, and he apparently went through and never came back.'

       James pulled his goggles on over his head and seated them awkwardly over his glasses. 'Fascinating,' he said. 'Good for him. Wish I was there with him right now.'

       Zane rolled his eyes. 'You're not paying attention!' he said, punching James on his padded shoulder. 'Whoever attacked the Vault of Destinies stole a thread from the foreign dimension's Loom! It's an object from another dimension! Don't you see? It could be used to open the Nexus Curtain!'

       James stopped on the stairs and looked back at Zane over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. 'So whoever it was… they could have used the missing thread as a key and followed this Professor Magnussen bloke into… wherever he went? They could be… hiding there?'

       Zane nodded, his eyebrows raised. 'And if they did, then that would explain how the missing crimson thread vanished without any trace! No one's been able to track it down or even sense the slightest hint of it ever since the night the Vault was attacked. That doesn't make any sense at all with something that crazy magical unless they used it to escape into the World Between the Worlds! And if that's what they did, then no one is ever going to find them there because no one else has any way of getting past the Nexus Curtain! No one except maybe us!'

       'Zane has an idea!' Ralph rasped, smiling crookedly.

       James looked from one boy to the other, his brow lowered. 'You're both completely daft,' he said wonderingly. 'What in the world are you talking about?'

       'Adventure!' Zane announced happily. 'Honor, and mischief, and really wild stuff! And maybe saving the universe while we're at it!'

       'You can't be serious!' James proclaimed, shaking his head. 'My mum was right! You're both suffering from delusions of grandeur! My dad, and your dad, Ralph, and Merlin and all the rest of the best witches and wizards from two countries are working on this mystery, and you two think that they need a trio of school kids to give them a leg up?'

       Zane shrugged. 'Wouldn't be the first time,' he replied reasonably.

       'If you recall,' James said impatiently, 'the three of us failed miserably! We were supposed to prevent Merlin's return back during the Hall of Elders' Crossing, and instead we completely fell into Madame Delacroix's trap! We just got lucky because Merlin ended up being good! More or less. The world would probably be a lot better off if we had left everything well enough alone!'

       Ralph looked worriedly thoughtful, but Zane was unperturbed. 'Worked though, didn't it?'

       'What worked?' James asked, exasperated.

       Zane smiled. 'You're not worried about Clutch anymore. Now go! You'll do excellent.'

       James rolled his eyes, turned, and ran up the steps, following the last of his teammates.

       The rest of the night happened so fast, so breathlessly, that James could barely keep up with it. His clearest memory was of standing in the darkness of the platform, looking out over the brightly lit parapet grandstands and hearing the ringing roar of the gathered crowds. Banners snapped in the wind as a misty rain began to fall again, making the platform shine as if it was coated with oil.

       'Huddle up, team,' Wood shouted over the damp wind. 'It's the first match of the season, so let's take it easy out there. I want to see a solid, textbook match, just like we've been practicing. Begin with swallow formation, Bullies in front. Mukthatch, you'll start as Keeper, but be prepared to switch with Gobbins if they stack their Clippers. Got it?'

       The team grunted in understanding. Next to James, Mukthatch the Bigfoot nodded his shaggy head and barked a guttural woof of agreement. Wood looked around at the gathered faces, his expression tense, and then stuck out his right hand, palm down. As one, the rest of the team piled their right hands on top of his, Mukthatch last, his great furry-knuckled fingers as big as bananas.

       'GooOO FEET!' the team cried in unison, and then broke away, clutching their skrims. In the lead, Jazmine Jade dropped her skrim, stepped easily onto it, and kicked off into the darkness. The rest of the team began to follow her, forming the one-two chain of swallow formation.

James pressed his lips together tightly, swept his damp hair out of his face, and then strode toward the edge of the platform. His heart was pounding as he dropped his skrim next to him. He'd watching. The crowd cheered loudly, echoing in the mist all around, but James ignored them. He nodded to himself, planted his right foot onto the smooth flat of his skrim, and kicked off.

       The team circled sedately through two laps of the figure eight course, merging gradually with the members of Igor team, whose short green cloaks flapped wetly in the wind.

       'Hey Cornelius,' an older Igor boy called, swinging comfortably alongside James on his long silvery skrim. James had learned, after several confusing interactions, that 'Cornelius' was a generic American term for anyone with an English accent, based on a series of famous speeches given by former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge some decades earlier. 'I hope you aren't too attached to that board of yours,' the boy said, grinning meanly. 'I plan on splitting it in two before the night's out.'

       'You'll have to catch me first,' James replied lamely, avoiding the boy's eyes.

       'You'll want to keep an eye peeled when you cross at the intersection,' the boy nodded smugly. 'I'll be the one meeting you there, and I won't be playing nice. Igors play for keeps.'

       James grimaced, glancing down at the dark field far below. 'I'll keep that in mind.'

       As the final warm-up lap completed, both teams had spread throughout the rings of the course, mixing and assembling into their beginning formations. Mukthatch hovered on his skrim over the middle ring, crouched and ready with his Cudgel held before him, guarding the goal ring, which glowed faintly in the darkness. The Igor Keeper, a rangy girl with a round, freckled face, flexed her knees on her own skrim, watching Mukthatch out of the corner of her eye.

       Flying on a standard broom outside of the course, the match official, Professor Sanuye in a black and white striped tunic, raised a whistle to his mouth. As Jazmine and the Igor team captain crossed the center ring, Sanuye blew his whistle, announcing the start of the match. Three leather balls, the Clutches, spiraled up into the air from three different directions, and the teams instantly fell upon them in an explosion of motion.

       James was starting the match in the position of Clipper, but by the time he propelled his skrim through the center ring, all three Clutches had already been collected. He glanced around, crouching low over his skrim, and saw that Norrick had collected one of the Clutches. The other two had been claimed by Igor team. Grimly, James sped up, meaning to catch the Igor Clippers and try his best to knock them out of the rings, thus forcing them to relinquish the Clutches. He was no longer nervous or worried, nor was he afraid of falling off his skrim and embarrassing (or killing) himself. Now, all that mattered was the match. James became lost in the blur of the rings, the whoosh and buffet of the air as he passed by the other players, and the smack and thump as riders collided and spun away into the darkness.

At first, the intersection seemed dreadfully frightening, but soon James came to anticipate it, throwing a darting glance toward the crossing stream to see who might be coming to meet him while he prepared to dodge or feint around them. Eventually, in fact, he saw how he could use the intersection to his advantage, using his speed and maneuverability in a strategic manner. As the match progressed, James began to throw in little false maneuvers to trick the opposing offense into flying off course or cause them to ram into each other. Dimly, he was aware of the applause of the crowd as he performed these moves, but it seemed far away and unimportant.