In the fireplace, Ron seemed to shrug. "Who can tell? Nobody has asked him yet. But first thing's first." Ron grew serious and studied James. "You know him best, nephew. You were there when he came out of the past. You were the one who talked him into coming and helping Hogwarts and the wizarding world. What do you think? Do you think he'd be a good headmaster? Do you think we should ask him?"

Noah leaned back against the base of the couch, looking at James, waiting for his response. James knew he should think about it, but he already knew his answer. Merlin was a complicated man, and he wasn't exactly what anyone could call 'good', not in the sense that Albus Dumbledore or even Minerva McGonagall were good. But James knew one thing for sure: Merlin wanted to be good. It was hard to tell if it was better to have a headmaster who was good by nature or one that was good because he had to try to be so every day, but James was old enough to know that it was a risk worth taking. Besides, the Gremlin part of James whispered, it might be fun having a headmaster who'd banish someone like Tabitha Corsica to the netherworld with a glance.

        "Ask him," James said, nodding once, emphatically. "If the Ministry goes for it, ask him. And I hope he accepts."

        "Woo hoo!" Noah hooted, throwing his hands in the air.

        "Keep it to yourselves, for now," Ron said sternly. "If word gets out before your dad and Hermione arrange things at the Ministry, it could spoil everything. Got it?"

        Noah nodded. James smiled agreement.

        "Your dad took back the cloak and the map, did he?" Ron asked James, changing the subject.

        "Yeah. And I'm apparently going to be grounded when I get back. Two weeks off my broom."

        Ron clucked his tongue. "Just when you were getting pretty good on it, I hear. Ah well. You know your dad has to keep up the look of the thing, punishing you and all, but he's proud of you. Take it from me."

        James' smile widened and his cheeks flushed.

        "Not that I'd try it again, mind you," Ron said, his grin vanishing. "Once is a charm. If you pull something like that again, Ginny will probably decide to home school you in the basement. Take it from me, she's no one to fiddle with, James."

Later that afternoon, James met Zane and Ralph outside as the Alma Alerons gathered to disembark. As they watched, the three flying vehicles were driven out of the Garage, and then the Garage was broken down and packed inside the trunk of the Dodge Hornet.

        "There's something deep and mystical about that, but I can't quite put my finger on it," Zane said thoughtfully.

        "What? The Garage being packed into what it was housing a few minutes ago?"

        "No. The way Professor Franklyn seems to get more and more popular with the girls the closer it gets to his departure." It was true. Franklyn was quite popular with the ladies, from the oldest staff matron to the first-year girls, who giggled when he passed them, touching each lightly on the head. The only women he seemed to have no effect on were the Headmistress and Victoire, who claimed to believe he was a pompous old blowhard. Ted had explained that one of the benefits of being old was being free to flirt with any girl you wanted, because none of them took you serious enough to get offended. Zane found this remarkably instructive.

        "When I get old, I'm going to flirt like that," he said wistfully.

        "He's not even flirting," James said, narrowing his eyes. "He's just smiling at them and acting all self-effacing, like he always does."

        "That just shows what you know about flirting."

Ralph rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised you aren't taking notes."

        "He should offer a class," Zane said seriously, watching Franklyn bow and kiss Petra Morganstern's hand goodbye. Petra grinned and glanced aside, her cheeks reddening a little. When Franklyn straightened, she leaned in and gave him a chaste little peck on the cheek.

         "Ladies and gentlemen of Hogwarts," he said, turning to address the crowd, "it has been our distinct pleasure to serve you this year. It has been, as I knew it would be, a remarkably instructive year for us. We have strengthened our resolve to work with the European magical community to maintain fairness and equity worldwide, not only for the magical world, but for all humanity." He scanned the crowd, beaming, and then took off his glasses and sighed. "We are, I suspect, at the beginning of challenging times. The winds of change are blowing. On both sides of the ocean, we face forces that would shake our culture to its foundations. But we have made friends, you and us, and united we will stand, regardless of what may come. I have been around for a very long time, and I can say with some degree of confidence that change is always in the wind. The challenge of good men is not to thwart change, but to mold it as it comes, so that it may benefit rather than destroy. After this year, I am indeed confident that we may succeed in that endeavor."

There was a round of applause, although it felt to James a little perfunctory. Not everyone in the crowd agreed with Franklyn, and not all for the same reasons. Still, it had been a good speech, and James was glad Franklyn had made it. While the crowd was still cheering, Franklyn climbed into the Volkswagen Beetle. He waved once from the open door.

        Someone tapped James on the shoulder. He turned, and then had to look up. Professor Jackson was standing behind him. Tall and dressed in black, Jackson looked more imposing than ever. He looked down his nose at James, his bushy brows low.

        "I thought you might wish to have this," Jackson said. James noticed that the man was holding a small wooden box. Jackson looked at it in his hands, and then handed it to James. "It was found in Madame Delacroix's quarters. I believe it belongs to you more than it does to anyone. Dispose of it as you see fit."

        James held the box, which was surprisingly light. It was a strange greenish color, covered in deep, carven scrollwork. It reminded him of the vines on the door of the Grotto Keep. He looked up to ask Professor Jackson what it was, but the man was already striding across the courtyard toward the Stutz Dragonfly. He stopped when he reached the vehicle, and then turned, raising one hand to the assembly, his face as stony as his nickname. The crowd cheered, a much longer and more sustained ovation than even Franklyn had received. Surprisingly, Jackson had become a favorite at Hogwarts, not so much in spite of his curmudgeon-like demeanor as because of it.

        Once Jackson had climbed into the vehicle, the rest of the assembly boarded quickly. The greycloaked delegates from the American Department of Magical Administration had arrived from London the day before to join their fellows for the trip back to the States. They filed into the vehicles, nodding goodbyes to the assembly. Last were the porters, who packed the enormous pile of luggage into the apparently bottomless trunks of the vehicles, and then climbed into the front seats to drive.