Ralph coughed, clearing his throat in embarrassment. "Uh, this is my friend, James Potter. And this is Zane. I forget his last name. Sorry." He said the last to Zane, who shrugged, grinned at Ralph, then jumped to his feet and reached across the table to shake the Slytherin girl's hand.

        "Walker. Zane Walker. It is a distinct and heartfelt pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms…"

       The girl's smile broadened a tiny bit and she tilted her head, still looking at Ralph.

        "Oh!" Ralph said, jumping a bit. "Yes. This is, um, Tabitha Corsica. She's a prefect in Slytherin House, a sixth year, I think. Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. And the debate team. And, um… she has a really cool broom." Having exhausted himself of everything he could think of to say about her, Ralph slumped as if exhausted.

        Tabitha finally accepted Zane's hand, holding it lightly, then releasing it. "I'm glad to have officially made your acquaintances. Mr. Potter, or may I call you James?" she said, turning to him. Her voice was like silver bells and velvet, lower than James' own, but rather beautiful. He realized she'd asked him a question, shook himself, and answered.

        "Yeah. Sure. James."

"And I'd be delighted if you'd call me Tabitha," she said, smiling as if this gesture of familiarity pleased her immensely. "I'd just like to say, on behalf of Slytherin House, that we are glad you are among us, and we hope sincerely that any remaining," she glanced upwards with her eyes, considering, "prejudices will be left in the past, where they forever belong." She turned left and right, encompassing the two Slytherins with her. "We all have nothing but the highest respect and, yes, regard for you and your father. Can we, I hope, expect to all be friends?"

        The boy on Tabitha's right continued to smile down at James. The girl on her left studied a spot on the table somewhere between them, her face expressionless.

        "S-sure. Friends. Of course," James stammered. The silence of the rest of the hall seemed a huge thing. It swallowed his voice, made it tiny.

        Tabitha's smile warmed even further. Her green eyes twinkled. "I'm pleased that you agree. And now we will leave you to finish your, er, breakfasts. Tom? Philia?"

The three turned on the spot and swept away down the aisle.

        "What did you just agree to?" Ralph asked as they stood and followed the Slytherins at a careful distance.

        "I think James here has either just made a gorgeous friend or a sultry enemy," Zane said, watching the swoop and drape of Tabitha's robes as she turned the corner. "I can't say for sure which I am rooting for."

        James was thinking hard. Things certainly had changed a lot since Dad's and Mum's day. He just couldn't quite tell if they were, in fact, better.

        The three of them spent the rest of the morning exploring the school grounds. They visited the Quidditch pitch, which looked to Zane and James remarkably different in the bright, hazy sunlight than it had in the dark. Zane's mouth fell open when he saw a group of older students playing a scratch three-onthree Quidditch match. The players swooped in and out of formations, barely missing each other, calling out plays and occasional swear words.

        "Brutal!" Zane proclaimed happily as one of the players walloped a Bludger at an opposing player's head, knocking him into a barrel roll around his broomstick. "And I've been to a rugby match."

They passed Hagrid's cottage, which looked empty and dark, with no smoke in the chimney and the door shut tight. Shortly after, they ran into Ted Lupin and Noah Metzker, who led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A gigantic, ancient-looking willow tree dominated the edge of the clearing. Ted held out his arm, stopping Ralph as he moved toward it.

        "Close enough, mate," he said. "Watch this."

        Ted loosened the mouth of a large laundry bag he'd been dragging behind him. Out of it, he produced an object shaped roughly like a four-legged animal with wings and a beak. It was covered in multicolored scraps of paper whose colors shifted and swam in the light breeze.

        "No! It's a piñata!" Zane exclaimed. "In the shape of a… a… don't tell me! A… sphinxoraptor!"

        "It's a hippogriff," James said, laughing.

        "I like his name better," Ralph said.

        "Me too!" Noah added.

        "Silence!" said Ted, raising his hand. He lifted the piñata in his other hand, hefted it, and then threw it as hard as he could into the curtain of branches hanging from the willow. It vanished into the dense foliage, and for a moment, nothing else happened. Then there was a rustle among the whiplike branches. They writhed, as if something large was moving beneath them. Suddenly, the tree exploded into a violent flurry of motion. Its branches flailed wildly, slapping, groaning, and creaking. The noise it made was like a very localized windstorm. After a few seconds, the piñata was caught up visibly in the branches. The tree embraced it in dozens of coiling, angry whips, and then all of the branches pulled at once. It was as if the piñata had been dropped into a blender. Shreds of multicolored paper and wizard candy exploded as the ballistics charm core of the piñata triggered. Confetti and candies peppered the tree and the surrounding clearing. The tree thrashed in apparent annoyance at the sudden colorful mess in its branches, then seemed to give up. It settled into its original shape.

        Ted and Noah laughed uproariously. "Behold the death of the Sphinxoraptor!" Noah proclaimed. James had heard about the Whomping Willow, but was still impressed by both its violence and the other Gryffindors' casualness about it. Zane and Ralph simply stared, mouths agape. Without looking, Ralph plucked an Every Flavor Bean out of his hair and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed meditatively for a moment, and then glanced at James. "Tastes like taco! Cool!"

        James separated himself from the group a little later and made his way up the stairs to the landing outside the Gryffindor common room.

        "Password," the Fat Lady sang out as he approached.

        "Genisolaris," he replied, hoping it hadn't changed already.

        "Proceed," the painting answered, swinging open.

The common room was empty, the fireplace cold. James ascended to the sleeping chamber and headed for his bed. He was already feeling a warm sense of belonging in this room, even in its dozing, midday emptiness. The beds had been neatly made. Nobby, James' huge, brown barn owl, was sleeping in his cage with his head tucked under his wing. James flopped onto the bed, took a sheaf of parchment and a quill, and began to write, being careful not to spill ink onto the blankets.