As he joined the crowd of students filing into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, James saw another of the badges on a Slytherin's robe. 'Progressive Wizards Against Magical Discrimination', it read. He felt a sort of aimless, sinking feeling, and then he noticed the newspaper clipping tacked to the wall near the door. 'Harry Potter to Join International Wizarding Summit', ran the headline. Below it, smaller type read 'Head Auror to Meet United States Representatives During Hogwarts Ceremony. Security Questions Prevail.' Pinned to the newspaper clipping so that it obscured the photo of a smiling adult Harry Potter was another of the blue badges. 'Question the Victors', it flashed.

        "Come on," Ralph urged, joining James. "We'll be late."

        As they navigated the crowded room and found two seats near the front, Ralph leaned toward James. "Was that your dad on that newspaper story?"

        James had assumed Ralph hadn't noticed it. He glanced at Ralph as they sat down. "Yeah. Mum just wrote me about it. He'll be here beginning of next week. Big meeting with the Americans, I guess."

        Ralph said nothing, but looked uncomfortable.

        "You already knew about it, didn't you?" James whispered as the class quieted down.

        "No," Ralph muttered, "at least, not specifically. My housemates have been talking about some sort of protest all day, though. Looks like it's about your dad, I guess."

        James stared at Ralph, his mouth open slightly. So that's what Tabitha Corsica and her Slytherins were up to, behind all the friendly smiles and speeches. The Slytherin tactics had changed, but not their purpose. James pressed his lips into a grim line and turned to the front of the room as Professor Franklyn approached the main desk. Professor Jackson was walking next to him, carrying his black leather case and talking in a low tone.

        "Greetings, students," Franklyn said crisply. "I suspect many of you have already met Professor Jackson. Please forgive the short delay." Jackson eyed the seated students from over his shoulder, his face like granite. Zane's nickname for the man did seem to be rather appropriate, James thought. Franklyn turned back to Jackson and spoke in a hushed voice. Jackson seemed discontent with what Franklyn was saying. He set his case down on the floor next to him, freeing his hand to gesture minutely.

James looked down at the case. It was only a foot or two from where he sat in the front row. Jackson was never seen without the case, which was unremarkable in nearly every way apart from the fact that he guarded it so closely. James tried not to listen in on the conversation between the two professors, which was obviously meant to be secret. Of course, that made it all the more intriguing. He heard the words 'grotto' and 'Merlin'. Then a third voice pierced the room.

        "Professor Jackson," the voice said, and while it wasn't a loud voice, it rang with an air of understated power. James turned around to see who was speaking. Madame Delacroix was standing just inside the doorway to the room, her blind gaze hovering somewhere over everyone's heads. "I thought you might like to know dat your class is awaiting you. You are always such a…," she seemed to search the air for the right word, "stickler for punctuality." Her voice had a slow drawl that was somehow both French and Southern American. She smiled vaguely, then turned, her cane clicking the floor, and disappeared down the hall.

        Jackson's face was even harder than normal as he stared at the now empty doorway. He glanced pointedly at Franklyn, and then dropped his gaze, reaching for his case. He froze in mid-reach, and James couldn't help glancing down toward the professor's feet. The black leather case had apparently come slightly open when he'd set it down. Its brass catches glinted. No one else seemed to have noticed except for James and Professor Jackson. Jackson resumed reaching for his case, slowly, clicking it closed with one large, knobby-knuckled hand. James had only a narrow glimpse into the case. It appeared to be stuffed with folds of some rich, dark cloth. Jackson straightened, picking the case back up, and as he did so, he glanced at James, his stony face grim. James tried to glance away, but it was too late. Jackson knew he'd seen, even if he didn't know what it was.

        Without a word, Jackson strode back up the aisle, moving with that purposeful, sweeping gait that looked so much like an old battleship under full sail, and then turned into the hall without looking back.

        "Thank you for your patience," Franklyn said to the class, adjusting his glasses. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. By now, most of you know my name, and many of you, I assume, know something of my history. Just to get some of the obvious questions out of the way: Yes, I am that Benjamin Franklin. No, I didn't actually invent electricity for the Muggles, but I did give them a small push in the right direction. Yes, I was a part of the American Continental Congress, although for obvious reasons, I was not one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. At that time, I used two different spellings of my name, only one of which was known to the Muggle world, which made it easier for me to know which correspondences to open first. Yes, I realize my face graces the American one hundred dollar bill. No, contrary to popular myth, I do not carry sheets of uncut hundreds around to snip out and sign for admirers. Yes, I am indeed quite old, and yes, this is accomplished through means of magic, although I assure you that those means are a lot more mundane and prosaic than many have assumed. Emphatically no, I am not immortal. I am a very, very old man who has aged rather well with a little help. Does that cover most of the obvious questions?" Franklyn finished with a wry smile, surveying the remarkably full classroom. There was a murmur of assent.

"Excellent. Onward and upward then. And please," Franklyn continued, opening a very large book on his desk, "let us avoid any 'it's all about the Benjamins' jokes. They weren't funny two hundred years ago and they are even less funny now, thank you."

        Crossing the grounds on their way to dinner in the Great Hall, James and Ralph were passing Hagrid's cabin when they noticed the ribbon of smoke coming out of the chimney. James broke into a grin, called Ralph to follow, and ran up to the front door.

        "James!" Hagrid bellowed, opening the door. He threw his arms around the boy, completely engulfing him. Ralph's eyes widened and he took a step backwards, looking Hagrid up and down. "So good to have a Potter back in school. How's yer mum an' dad, an' li'l Albus an' Lily?"

        "Everybody's fine, Hagrid. Where've you been?"

        Hagrid stepped out, closing the door behind him. They followed him as he crossed the grounds toward the castle. "Up the mountains meetin' with the giants, that's where. Grawp and me, we go every year, don't we? Spreadin' goodwill an' tryin' to keep 'em all honest, for whatever it's worth. Stayed a li'l longer this year on account o' li'l Grawpy findin' himself a girlfriend. Who's yer mate here, James?"