Later, at dinner, James saw Zane and Ralph sitting together at the Ravenclaw table. He saw Zane look over once, and was glad that he didn't try to come over and talk to him. He knew it was extremely petty of him, but he was still sick with jealousy and the shame of his embarrassment. He ate quickly, and then wandered out of the Great Hall, unsure where he would go.
The evening was pleasant and cool as the sun dipped behind the mountains. James explored the perimeter of the grounds, listening to the song of the crickets and throwing stones into the lake. He went to knock on the door to Hagrid's cabin, but there was a note on the door, written in large, clumsy letters. The note said that Hagrid was up in the forest until Monday morning. Spending time with Grawp and Grawp's lady giant friend, James figured. It was beginning to get dark. James turned and headed dejectedly back in the direction of the castle.
He was on his way up to the common room when he decided to make a side trip. He was curious about something.
The trophy case was lit with a series of lanterns, so that the cups, plaques, and statues each glinted brightly. James walked slowly along, looking in at the team photos of decades-past Quidditch teams, their uniforms outdated, but their smiles and expressions of hearty invincibility eternally unchanged. There were gold and bronze trophies, antique Snitches, game Bludgers strapped down with leather belts, but still wiggling slightly as he passed.
James stopped near the end and looked in at the Triwizard Tournament display. His dad smiled the same uncomfortable smile, looking impossibly young and unruly. James leaned in and looked at the picture on the other side of the Triwizard Cup, the one of Cedric Diggory. The boy in the picture was handsome, guileless, with the same expression on his face that James had seen in the old Quidditch team photos, that expression of perpetual youth and seamless confidence. James studied the photo. The expression was what had kept him from making the connection the first time he'd seen the picture.
"It was you, wasn't it," James whispered to the picture. It wasn't really a question.
The boy in the picture smiled his smile, nodding slightly, as if in agreement.
James hadn't expected an answer, but as he started to straighten up, something changed on the plaque below the Triwizard Cup. The engraved words sank into the silver plaque, then, after a moment, new words surfaced. They spelled out slowly, silently.
James Potter
Harry's son
A shiver thrilled down James' back. He nodded. "Yes," he whispered.
The words sank back into nothing. Several seconds went by, and then more words drifted up.
How long
Has it been
James didn't understand the question at first. He shook his head slightly. "I… I'm sorry. How long has it been since what?"
The letters receded and spelled again, slowly, as if they took great effort.
Since I died
James swallowed. "I don't know, exactly. Seventeen or eighteen years, I think."
The letters faded out very slowly. No more formed for almost a minute. Then:
Time is so strange here
It feels longer
Shorter
James didn't know what to say. A sense of great loneliness and sadness had crept into the corridor, filling the space, and James himself, like a cool cloud.
"My--" James' voice caught. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again. "My dad and mum, Ginny, used to be Weasley… they talk about you. Sometimes. They… they remember you. They liked you."
The letters faded, surfaced.
Ginny and Harry
I always knew
There was something there
Cedric's ghost seemed to be seeping away, leaking out of the air of the corridor. The letters faded slowly. James had wanted to ask more questions, had meant to ask about the Muggle intruder, how he was getting in, but now it seemed unimportant. He just wanted to say something to lessen the pall of sadness he'd sensed in Cedric's presence, but he couldn't think of anything. Then the letters came once more, spelling out very faintly and slowly.
Are they happy
James read the question, considered it. He nodded. "Yeah, Cedric. They are. Weare."
The letters evaporated as soon as James spoke, and there was something like a sigh all around him, long and somehow exhausted. When it was over, James glanced around the corridor. He could tell he was alone again. When he looked back at the plaque below the Triwizard Cup, it had reverted to its normal state, covered in elaborate, engraved words. James shivered, hugged himself, then turned and began to walk back toward the main hall. The ghost had finally spoken, and it was Cedric Diggory.
We are happy,James thought. As he climbed the steps to the common room, he realized it was true. He felt a little silly about the way he'd mooned around all weekend, stirring his jealousy and sense of failure like a stew. At this moment, it all seemed unimportant. He was just glad to be here, at Hogwarts, with new friends, challenges, endless adventures before him. He ran along the hallway to the portrait hole, wanting nothing more at that moment than to spend the last couple of hours of his first weekend at Hogwarts having some fun, laughing, forgetting the silliness of the whole Quidditch disaster. He realized, reluctantly, that on some level, it was even a little funny.
As he entered the common room, he stopped and looked around. Ralph and Zane were there, sitting with the rest of the Gremlins around the table by the window. They all looked up.
"There's our little alien," Zane said happily. "We're trying to work your broom-handling skills into the routine. What do you think of a Roswell crash kinda gig? Ralph's got his wand all ready to catch you."
Ralph wiggled his wand and smiled sheepishly. James rolled his eyes and went to join them.
James awoke late Monday morning. He ran into the Great Hall hoping to grab a piece of toast before Transfiguration class and met Ralph and Zane, who were just coming out.
"No time, mate," Ralph said, hooking James' arm and turning him around. "Can't be late to first class. McGonagall teaches it and I've heard bad, bad things about what she does to tardy students."