Along with Harry, James, Neville, and the representatives from the Ministry, most of the Hogwarts teaching staff was present, including Professor Curry. To James' consternation, Curry told Harry all about James' skills on the football field, assuring him that she would work to see that said skills were developed to their fullest extent.

        Contrary to his dad's suspicion, the meal was remarkably diverse and enjoyable. Madame Delacroix's gumbo was the first course. She carried it to the table herself, somehow not spilling a drop despite her blindness. Even more curiously, she directed the ladle with her wand, a gnarled and evil-looking length of graperoot, dishing a portion into each bowl at the table while she stared at the ceiling and hummed rather disconcertingly. The gumbo was indeed spicy, thick with chunks of shrimp and sausage, but James liked it. Next came fresh rolls and several varieties of butter, including a brown and sticky goo that Jackson identified as apple butter. James tasted it carefully on a hunk of bread, and then spread a gigantic dollop on the remainder of his roll.

        The main course was rack of lamb with mint jelly. James didn't consider this typical American food, and commented as much.

        "There's no such thing as American food, James," Jackson said. "Our cuisine, like our people, is simply the sum total of the various world cultures we come from."

        "That's not entirely true," Franklyn interjected. "I am pretty sure we can lay undisputed claim to the spicy buffalo wing."

        "Will we be having those tonight?" James asked hopefully.

"My apologies," Franklyn said. "It is rather difficult to collect the ingredients for such things unless you possess Madame Delacroix's unique voodoo capabilities."

        "Is that so?" Neville inquired, helping himself to more mint jelly. "And what abilities are those, Madame?"

        Madame Delacroix composed herself, having given Professor Franklyn a wilting, albeit blind glare. "De old man, he don't know what he speaks of. I just know about de sources he not as familiar with, bein' more int'rested in his machines and gizmos."

        Franklyn's smile, for the first time, seemed icy. "Madame Delacroix is being modest. She is, you may already know, one of our country's foremost experts on Remote Physio-Apparition. Do you know what that is, James?"

        James didn't have the slightest idea, and yet something about the milky gaze of Madame Delacroix made him reluctant to say so. Franklyn was watching him earnestly, expecting a response. Finally, James shook his head. Before Franklyn could explain, however, Harry spoke up.

        "It just means that the Madame has, let's say, different means of getting around."

        "'Different means' is one way to put it," Franklyn chuckled. James felt uneasy, hearing that chuckle. There was something nasty in it. He noticed that Franklyn was emptying what was likely his third glass of wine. "Think about it, James. Remote Physio-Apparition. Can you factor it out? It means that poor old blind Madame Delacroix can project herself, send a version of herself out into the wide world, collect things, and even bring them back. And the beauty of it is, the version of herself she can project isn't poor or old or blind. Isn't that right, Madame?"

        Delacroix stared blindly at a spot just over Franklyn's shoulder, her face a grim mask of anger. Then she smiled, and as James had seen on the day of the Americans' arrival, the smile transformed her face. "Oh, deah Professah Franklyn, you do tell such tales," she said, and her strange bayou accent seemed even thicker than usual. "My skills were never as grand as ye speak of, and they're far less now that I'm de old woman ye see before ye. If I could project such a sight, I hardly think I'd ever let anyone see me as I really am."

        The tension in the room broke and there was laughter. Franklyn smiled a bit tightly, but let the moment pass.

        After dessert, Harry, James, and the rest of the Hogwartians retired to the common room again, where Franklyn's Daylight Savings Device had reproduced a condensed and shimmering version of the Milky Way. It lit the room with a silvery glow that James thought he could very nearly feel on his skin. Jackson offered the adults an after dinner cocktail in tiny glasses. Neville barely touched his. Both Miss Sacarhina and Mr. Recreant sampled tiny sips and gave forced, rather strained smiles. Harry, after holding it up to the light to look through the amber liquid, downed his in one gulp. He squinted and shook his head, then looked inquiringly at Jackson, unable to speak.

        "Just a little of Tennessee's finest, with a little wizard afterburn thrown in," Jackson explained.

        Finally, Harry thanked the Americans and bid them goodnight.

        Retracing their steps through the darkened corridors, Harry walked with his hand on James' shoulder.

        "Want to stay with me in the guest quarters, James?" he asked. "I can't guarantee I'll be able to see much of you after tonight. I'll be busy all day tomorrow, meeting with the Americans, keeping our friends from the Department of Ambassadorial Relations from making 'an international incident' of themselves, then I'm off home again. What do you say?"

        "Sure!" James agreed instantly. "Where are your quarters?"

        Harry smiled. "Watch this," he said quietly, stopping in the middle of the hall. He turned around and paced idly, looking thoughtfully up at the dim ceiling. "I need… a really cool room with a couple of beds for me and my boy to sleep in tonight."

        James stared at his dad quizzically. Several seconds went by as Harry continued to pace back and forth. He seemed to be waiting for something. James was about to ask him what he was up to when he heard a sudden noise. A low grind and rumble came from the wall behind him. James turned around just in time to see the stonework alter and shift, reforming itself around a huge door that hadn't been there a moment before. Harry glanced down at his son, smiled knowingly, then reached and opened the door.

        Inside was a large apartment, complete with a set of draped bunk beds, framed Gryffindor posters on the walls, a wardrobe containing Harry's trunk and James' school robes, and a fully equipped washroom. James stood inside the door, opening and closing his mouth, speechless.

        "The Room of Requirement," Harry explained, plopping onto a low, overstuffed chair. "I can't believe I never told you about it."

        James got ready for bed, but his dad simply changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater and freshened up in the basin.

        "I need to go out for a little while," he told James. "After dinner tonight, Professor Franklyn asked me to meet him privately. He wanted some time to discuss a few things outside of tomorrow's official meetings." There was something about the way Harry said this that told James his dad preferred a private chat over an official meeting anyway. "I shouldn't be too long, and I'll be just down the hall, in the Americans' quarters. Breakfast tomorrow, you and me?"