"Stop it, all of you," Petra said. "You're as bad as they are. There's a very good reason that the Sorting Hat sent him here. Give him a chance to prove it."
"It was just a joke, Petra," Graham muttered. "Hugo did worse to me at least once a week last year."
Gradually, the babble of voices returned to the room. Damien and Sabrina went back to their strange, hushed work. Rose leaned over to James.
"Do you think Petra's right?" she asked quietly. "Do you think he really does belong in Gryffindor?"
James thought back to last year when Ralph had gotten sorted into Slytherin. James had been certain that it had been a mistake. Now, knowing more about Ralph, he saw that the Hat might have known best after all.
He answered Rose, "Hagrid says the Hat knows what it's doing. I mean, you can't fool the Sorting Hat, can you?"
Rose didn't seem convinced. "Somebody fooled the Goblet of Fire, back in our parents' day. Anything's possible."
"But why would he want to come to Gryffindor?"
Rose shrugged. "I just hope he really is the real thing. Because if he's not, things are going to get very ugly. Especially after tonight."
"What's that mean?" James asked suspiciously.
Rose ignored him. "Why don't you run up and check on him?"
"Blimey, Rose! First, Cousin Lucy guilts me about how I'm supposed to look after Albus, now you want me to go nursemaid Scorpius-bleeding-Malfoy?"
"Just do it, James. By the time you come back, I bet Damien and Sabrina will be done and it'll be time to go."
"Sheesh," James said, climbing to his feet. "I'd never have pegged you for fancying the bad boy type."
"I don't fancy him," she frowned. "Just make sure he's going to be busy up there for a while, why don't you?"
James grumbled to himself as he crossed to the boys' dormitory stairs.
"It's just James. Don't stun me or anything," he called up as he climbed the steps. To his surprise, he found Scorpius in the second years' dormitory rather than the first years'. "Hey! That's my bed!"
James stopped at the top of the staircase, pointing. Scorpius had shoved James' trunk aside haphazardly and put his own trunk at the foot of the bed. He glanced up dismissively as he unpacked his things.
"Is it really?" Scorpius replied indolently. "Does it have your name on it?"
"As a matter of fact, it bloody well does," James exclaimed. "I carved it right there on the headboard plain as the nose on your pasty white face!"
"Where?" Scorpius said, squinting at the headboard. He produced his wand from his robes and aimed it lazily with his wrist. A flash of purple light burst across the head of the bed. When it was gone, James' name had vanished, buried under an ugly black burn mark. "I don't see it. Maybe you're a bit confused."
Scorpius turned, looking about the room. He pointed his wand again, producing another flash of purple light.
"There," he said, turning back to his trunk. "Now that bed has your name on it. Happy?"
James stalked over to a bed on the opposite side of the room. Glowing purple letters were scrawled across the headboard. In gothic script, they spelled 'WHINY POTTER GIT'.
"Look, you can't just…," James began, and then stopped, leaning in toward the letters. "And how'd you even do that? That was a nonverbal spell!"
"Is this better?" Scorpius asked, pointing his wand once more. "Mobiliarcha."
James' trunk shot across the floor, barely missing his legs. It struck the bed and burst open, belching half of James' things. Scorpius grinned crookedly as he levitated his books out of his own trunk. He floated them neatly into position on the windowsill.
James spluttered, "Look, Malfoy, this isn't even your dorm! You're a first year! You can't just move in wherever you want!"
"Seems that the first years' dorm is unusually full this year," Malfoy replied without looking at James. "My fellow first year Gryffindors informed me that I'd have to find lodging elsewhere. Frankly, I don't care where I stay in this benighted tower, but if my being here annoys you, then I believe I'll stay. If you don't like it, speak to the headmaster. He's a mate of yours, after all, isn't he?"
"They were just winding you up, you prat," James exclaimed hopelessly.
"Is it time for the sing-along yet?" Scorpius asked, finally glancing at James and pocketing his wand. "Or did you just come up to see how a wizard unpacks?"
James turned on his heels and tramped angrily down the stairs.
"If whatever you have in mind has anything to do with Malfoy," he said as he plopped back into the chair near the table, "it's probably too nice."
"That's the spirit," Damien replied without looking up from his parchment. James peered at it. He could see that Damien and Sabrina were drawing something, but it was covered in arrows, geometric scribbles, and scrawled notes.
"We can thank old Professor Stonewall for this one," Noah grinned. "Who says Technomancy has no practical purpose? Come on, it's time."
"If we still had your dad's Cloak, we wouldn't need a lookout," Damien explained reasonably. "But since we don't, that's your job."
Sabrina was virtually bouncing with excitement. The quill in her thick hair wobbled. "I'm going down to the landing," she announced quietly. "Catch up as soon as you can. You have to do the scriptey part."
Damien nodded. Noah, Rose, Petra, and Sabrina darted down the stairs at the end of the corridor.
James sighed. "Fine, I'm the lookout. What do I do if somebody comes?"
"All right, this is your story: you were going to the bathroom and you got lost," Damien replied. "Pretend that you're doubled over with the runs or something. Groan a lot, really loud. We'll hear you and know someone is coming."
James was appalled. "That is so wrong on so many levels! For one thing, I'm a second-year! How is it I got lost on the way to the bathroom?"
"Use your imagination," Damien said blandly. "Maybe you have to go so bad that you're delirious or something. Just be sure to groan really loud so we can hear you."
James opened his mouth to protest but Damien was already trotting down the stairs as lightly as he could. Resigning himself to his duty, James leaned against the wall and watched. He still didn't know what the Gremlins were up to, but he knew it had something to do with the new Heracles window. That was what Rose had meant when she'd said they couldn't have done it without him. He had broken that window last year, knocking a Muggle intruder through it during a midnight chase. Filch had fumed that there'd be no way to replace the window, and he'd been right. Fortunately, magic being what it is, it wasn't necessary to manufacture a perfect duplicate. The school had simply procured a special kind of stained glass window with magically imprintable glass. Petra explained that the window could be charmed so that the glass represented any desired pattern. Filch, being rather a traditionalist, had seen to it that the window represented the old Heracles window right down to the crack in Heracles' right little finger.
James determined to get a peek at what the Gremlins were doing to the window. Carefully, he straightened and tiptoed to the edge of the staircase. He could hear Sabrina and Damien whispering animatedly, but he couldn't see anything. James turned to go back to his hiding place and ran face-first into Merlin's beard.
"Bleah!" James spat, recoiling. "What are you trying to do, sneaking up on a bloke like that?"
Merlin's face was as impassive as ever. "I take it you are on sentinel duty, Mr. Potter?"
James deflated. "I was until I got a face full of beard. What is that stuff you put in it? Smells like the stuff Mum cleans pots with."
"Fear not, Mr. Potter. I shall assure anyone who asks that you were positively prostrate with bowel difficulties. I came to ask a small favor of you. You do not have to do it, but if you do, I will consider it compensation for the points that were deducted from your house."
James scrubbed at his face, shuddering, trying to get Merlin's beard oil off. "Yeah, sure, what do you have in mind?"
"I need you to convince Mr. Deedle and a third person of y
our choosing to help me retrieve some items for my office. They are essential to my work, but I require some assistance in acquiring them. You might say they have been in storage for quite some time."
"Like a thousand years or so?" James replied, feeling piqued. "I didn't know they had rental lockers for that long. How do you know your stuff's still there?"
"That is my concern, Mr. Potter, not yours. May I assume your help?"
"Doesn't sound like you need us," James muttered. "Why don't you get some of the other teachers to help you?"
"Because I am a cautious man," Merlin answered, smiling slightly. "I'd prefer to keep my inventory somewhat private, as there are those who might question the origins of some of my tools. This is why I have specifically chosen you and Mr. Deedle. You two have already proven, perhaps to a fault, that you know how to manage secrets."
"So I get Gryffindor's ten points back if we help you get your stuff? Sounds fair enough. I'm guessing that the deal only counts if we don't tell anyone though, right?" James said, looking up at the big man.
Merlin nodded. "Thus, you should choose your third helper carefully. We leave tomorrow afternoon. Meet me at the entrance to the old rotunda, and be prepared to walk."
Merlin turned to leave, his great robe swaying about him.
"Uh, Headmaster?" James called, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the Gremlins in the landing below. Merlin stopped and half turned back to James, one eyebrow raised. James asked, "Any sign of the Borley?"
Merlin shook his head. "But fear not, Mr. Potter. I have every reason to believe yours is the last one. It will show itself in due course. Perhaps next time, you will be better equipped to handle it."
A moment later, the big man had gone, somehow melting into the shadows of the corridor, his footfalls making no noise whatsoever. There was definitely something creepy about the ancient wizard. He seemed to carry a sense of wildness and night air with him, even inside the halls of the school. Obviously, Merlin had secret ways of knowing what was going on in the halls. After all, he'd known exactly where to find James and what he was up to. It occurred to James that it'd probably be a challenge to sneak past Merlin even with the Invisibility Cloak on.
Shortly, the Gremlins tiptoed up the staircase again. Rose was the last up, and she was covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.
As they threaded their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Petra asked, "Did you see anyone, James?"
James glanced at her, considering. After a moment, he shook his head. "No one worth mentioning."
It was the closest thing to the truth he could think of.
The next morning, as James was tramping down the stairway to breakfast, he was stopped by a noisy crowd gathered around the landing. Filch stood in the middle of it, staring up at the Heracles window. His cheeks were livid red and his eyebrows worked angrily. James could see the window clearly from his vantage point halfway up the staircase. The image of Heracles was gone. In its place was a fairly good representation of Salazar Slytherin. Strangely, he seemed to be grinning giddily and skipping down a winding path. He was arm in arm with a boy with unruly dark hair: Albus. A banner floated over their heads containing the words 'A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN?'. Worse, behind them, lying stricken on the path, was a pale boy with sharp features and white-blonde hair. The caricature of Scorpius had a word balloon coming out of its mouth. It read, 'FORSOOTH SALAZAR! BEHOLD MINE BREAKING HEART!'
"It's a line from a classic wizard love sonnet," Damien said smugly as he crowded in next to James. "One in ten people will probably get it, but it appeals to me somehow."
"You are such a geek, Damien," Sabrina said affectionately.
The sun presided over an unusually warm afternoon as James met Ralph near the great arch of the old rotunda. Beams of golden light made stripes across the marble floor and partway up the remains of the statues of the original founders. Nothing but their feet and parts of their legs remained after all these years. The broken bits were worn smooth from centuries of curious hands.
"She's coming," James said as he trotted to a stop next to his friend. "She just takes forever to get ready. What is it about girls and getting ready?"
Ralph shrugged. "Fiera Hutchins says that girls take longer to get ready because they actually get ready. She says boys just matt their hair down with spit, slap on some cologne, and call it done."
"So what's wrong with that?" James muttered.
Rose approached them from behind. She was looking cool and, James had to admit, much more prepared than he was. "I told you I was right behind you," she admonished.
"What's in the basket?" Ralph asked, nodding at the small satchel slung over her shoulder.
"Let's see," Rose said, cocking her hip. "My wand, some water, a few biscuits, a Bug-repellent Charm, a field knife, a pair of Omnioculars, an extra pair of socks, and some sunglasses." She looked back and forth between Ralph and James. "What? You said we were supposed to come prepared to walk!"
James shook his head. "How can you be so like your mum and your dad at the same time?"
"Just fortunate, I guess," Rose sniffed.
"We're supposed to be prepared to walk?" Ralph asked, furrowing his brow. "Is that anything like hiking?"
James set out across the rotunda floor. "Come on, Merlin said he'd meet us at the entrance, and when he gives directions, he means them."
"I don't even own hiking shoes," Ralph lamented, following.
The three stepped out into the warmth of the afternoon. At one time, centuries ago, the rotunda entrance had been the main entry to Hogwarts castle. Now it was virtually unused. The portico's huge doors were almost always left open, looking out over a long field of weeds and heather, ending at the edge of the Forest.
"Those are creepy," Rose said, looking back into the gloom of the rotunda at the remains of the statues. "They must have been enormous before they were broken. Whatever happened to them?"
"The statues of the founders?" James replied. "They were destroyed. A long time ago. In a battle or something."
"You don't know, do you?" Rose challenged, raising her eyebrows.
James didn't, but he wasn't about to admit it. He made a show of watching for Merlin.
Ralph frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder what ever happened to the pieces. You think they're still here, stored away in a cellar or something?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," Rose agreed. "There's room enough here for them to keep everything. They say the original founders themselves are buried here somewhere, although nobody knows where. All except Salazar Slytherin."
Ralph blinked at her. "Why isn't he buried here?"
"I thought you said you read Hogwarts: A History?"
Ralph turned to James. "Is she always like this? If so, remind me not to ask her any more questions."
"He's not buried here," James answered, "because he had a big row with the other founders and got kicked out of the school."
Ralph grimaced. "I probably don't want to know what that was about, do I?"
"I'm sure you can guess," James replied. "It's a good thing times have changed, eh?"
"Times never change," a deep voice said. James glanced up and saw Merlin climbing the steps from the field below. "But people do. Greetings, my friends. Are we ready to disembark?"
"If that means are we ready to hike," Ralph said tentatively, "I'm not sure I'm prepared to answer that."
Merlin turned on the steps and began to descend again into the grassy weeds at the bottom. James looked at Rose and Ralph, then shrugged and ran down the steps to follow.
"So how are we getting there, Headmaster?" Rose called. "Portkey? Broom? Side-Along Apparition?"
"I thought Mr. Potter had already informed you," Merlin replied without looking back. "We are going to walk."
"The whole way?" Ralph said, tripping over a patch of heather.
Merlin seemed to be enjoying himself. "It'll become easier as we go, Mr. Deedle. In my day—and I admit that that day was quite a long time ago indeed—people wal
ked virtually everywhere. It is good for wizards and witches to move within nature. It reminds us of who we are."
"I know who I am," Ralph grumbled. "I'm a bloke with cruddy shoes and a preference for food that comes in wrappers."
They reached the edge of the Forest and Merlin stepped into it without breaking his stride. There was no path, but Merlin seemed to know where to step. He barely made a footprint or bent a stalk of grass. James paused for a moment at the edge of the woods. Merlin wasn't slowing, and James knew that if he didn't keep up, he would quickly lose the big wizard in the density of the trees. He plunged in after him, trying as well as he could to match Merlin's giant stride.
"Hold up a minute," Rose called, plucking burs from her jeans as she walked. "Not all of us can commune with the oneness of nature and all that."
As they progressed, however, James noticed a strange thing. In some small way, he did seem to be connecting with the woods around him. It was as if the Forest blended with Merlin as he moved, opening for him and closing up again once he was past. If James, Ralph, and Rose kept close enough, they travelled in the wake of that opening. Briars bent away from them, streams sprouted smooth, dry stepping stones, and even the grass and brush laid down flat, softening the ground for their feet. No branches snagged them despite the fact that the woods were exceedingly dense. Even the reddening sunlight seemed to wend its way through the thick treetops, laying down a trail of light for them.
"Hey, James," Ralph said quietly, "how far do you think we've gone?"
"We've only been at it for half an hour or so," James replied, glancing up at the sun. "We can't have gone much further than Hogsmeade, depending on what direction we're heading in. It's hard to tell, isn't it?"
Ralph nodded. "Yeah, it is. I swear it feels like we've been walking only a few minutes and about a week at the same time."
"Your mind is playing tricks on you," Rose said. "It happens on long trips. The monotony gets to you. We're probably hardly out of sight of the castle. If only the trees would thin out a bit."
As Rose spoke, Merlin stepped into a blaze of orange light. James squinted as he followed, then gasped, catching himself and throwing out his hands to stop Ralph and Rose. They bumped him from behind.
James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper Page 11