The elf looked at Ralph, then James, who shrugged and tried to smile. With a barely perceptible roll of the eyes, the elf tucked the five dollar bill into his napkin and disappeared under the table.
Zane looked thoughtful. "I could get used to this."
"I don't think you're supposed to tip the house-elves," Ralph said uncertainly.
"I don't see why not," Zane said airily, stretching. "My dad tips everybody when he's travelling. He says it's part of the local economy. And it fosters good service."
"And you can't just tell a house-elf to go get some sleep," James said, suddenly realizing what had just happened.
"Why the heck not?"
"Because that's exactly what he'll have to go and do!" James said in exasperation. He was thinking of the Potter family house-elf, a sad little pug of an elf whose moroseness was only offset by his sheer bloodyminded determination to do exactly what was asked of him. It wasn't that James didn't like Kreacher. It was just that you had to learn precisely how to ask things of Kreacher. "House-elves have to do what is asked of them by their masters. It's just the kind of beings they are. He's probably heading back to his cupboard, or shelf, or wherever it is he sleeps even now and trying to work out how he's going to sleep in the middle of the morning." James shook his head, and then realized it struck him funny. He tried not to smile, which only made it worse. Zane saw it and pointed at him.
"Ha ha! You think it's funny, too!" he chortled.
"I can't imagine that they have to do everything we ask of them," Ralph said, his brow furrowed. "We're just students. We don't own the place or anything. And we're just first years."
"You remembered the name of the spell Sabrina used to make the Wocket look like a rocket?" James asked, turning to Zane, impressed.
"Visum-ineptio," Zane said, relishing the sound of it. "It means something like 'eye-fooling'. If you work through the Latin, you can sort of figure it out. Horace says it just helps people see what they think they are going to see."
James frowned. "So when that beam of light came out of the sky onto that farmer, he, sort of, expected to see an alien spaceship?"
"Sure. Everybody knows that a beam of light, at night, in the middle of nowhere means the little green guys are coming."
"You're a strange guy, Zane," Ralph said, not unappreciatively.
Just then, James sensed someone standing behind him. All three of them turned, looking up. It was the Slytherin girl from the previous night, the one who'd led the applause for James before his Sorting. She was looking down at him with a pleasant, vaguely indulgent expression. She was flanked by two other Slytherins, a boy with handsome, rather sharp features whose smile showed an awful load of teeth, and another girl, who wasn't smiling. Heat rushed to James' cheeks as he remembered he was sitting at the Slytherin table. Before he could think, he scrambled to get up, a chunk of toast still sticking out of his mouth.
"No, no!" the pretty Slytherin girl said, raising her hand toward him, palm out, stopping him in his tracks almost as if she'd used magic. "Don't stand. I'm happy to see you feel comfortable enough to sit at the Slytherin table with us. These are quite different times than those of your father. But I assume too much. Mr. Deedle, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your friend?"
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.