The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2)

by G. Norman Lippert

"Petra?" James said, stepping forward. "You mean the package from her father?"

  Ted frowned and shook his head. "James, it wasn't from her father. The Ministry sent it. It was all of her father's belongings. He'd willed them to her when he died in Azkaban years ago. When she turned seventeen, the Ministry released them to her. She never even knew he'd been incarcerated. Amongst the old shirts and shoes, there was a note. It was addressed to the baby daughter he'd never met. He told her he believed that the guards would soon kill him, but that he couldn't do anything to stop it. They thought he was protecting his former Death Eater employers, but he really wasn't. He didn't know anything about them; they'd never told him their names or even showed him their faces. He wanted Petra to know that he would have turned his bosses in if he could've, and that… well, that he loved her, and that he was sorry he'd never be there for her."

  "It was Petra?" James whispered, barely allowing himself to consider it. "That can't be!"

  Ted nodded seriously. "She doubted it herself. She went to Merlin about it, and showed him the letter. He offered to show her the truth in that Magic Mirror of his, but he warned her that she might not truly wish to know. She looked anyway, and she saw it all, exactly as it'd happened. They threw her father into the Dementor pit. It was… it was awful. She was completely devastated."

  Rose glanced from James to Ted, her eyes wide. "But she never told anyone she was an orphan, did she? We all assumed she had a mum and dad like the rest of us!"

  "Petra was raised by her grandparents, but she never told us that," Ted replied. "The Gremlins and I, whenever we saw them at the station, we just assumed they were her parents and that they'd had her late in life. She never talked about them, and we always sort of guessed that she didn't have a very happy home life. They'd only ever told her that her mother had died in childbirth. They never spoke of her father at all, and Petra learned not even to ask."

  "I should've known," James said, touching his forehead. "I saw her in my dreams over and over. I believed it was Tabitha because I couldn't see her face, but it all fits now. The dark shape in the corner… it talked about restoring the people she'd lost. It told her she would be allowed to avenge them, and even get them back. I even saw them… her parents, reflecting in a sort of glowing green pool! Petra believes the Ministry killed her father, and her mother died as a result, and now she's going to do what she thinks she has to do to get them back! The dark shape in my dreams, it said there was only one way to do it—blood for blood!"

  "Lily!" Rose gasped, covering her mouth.

  "She wouldn't!" Albus said, shaking his head. "Petra would never hurt Lily. Would she?"

  "Morganstern!?" Tabitha half sobbed. "Impossible!"

  "Not really," a different voice answered mournfully. "If you think about it, I mean."

  Everyone turned to a ghostly figure seated on the windowsill in the corner.

  "Myrtle!" Rose cried. "How long have you been there?"

  "That's Moaning Myrtle?" Zane asked, arching an eyebrow. "I expected something a little more… er…"

  "It's rude to speak of people as if they aren't there," Myrtle chided sadly. "Even if, technically speaking… they aren't. But don't worry, I'm… used to it." She sighed hugely.

  James spoke up. "Sorry, Myrtle, but this is really important. What do you know about this?"

  "Oh, now everyone runs to Myrtle, don't they? 'What have you seen, Myrtle?' 'Tell us everything you know, Myrtle.' But I know how it goes: the moment I tell you, you'll forget about poor, pathetic Moaning Myrtle. It was the same with your father, James Potter. Your brother looks a lot more like him, even though he's not got that silly fake scar on his forehead."

  "What's she talking about, James?" Albus asked out of the corner of his mouth.

  James shook his head. "I'm sorry, Myrtle, but this is really serious. Our sister is in trouble. You have to help us!"

  "I know," Myrtle cooed. "Poor little Lily. Perhaps she'll keep me company here in the toilet."

  "Myrtle!" James cried, exasperated, but Rose placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. She turned to the ghostly figure, a thoughtful look on her face.

  "You know, Myrtle, if you help us, I bet Lily's father would be really grateful. I bet he'd even come to visit you, to tell you how much he appreciates all your help."

  Myrtle looked petulantly at Rose. "Harry? He wouldn't. Would he? He probably doesn't even remember me."

  "I'm certain that he does," Rose said confidently. "I've heard him speak of you. He'd probably be very pleased to, er… catch up with you."

  Myrtle seemed to brighten a bit. "Do you really think so? Oh, it's been so long, but I knew he'd come back someday. I've always had a special place for him."

  "Yes," Rose nodded. "But first, do tell us. What have you seen? What do you know about Petra?"

  "Oh yes," Myrtle replied morosely. "Poor thing. She never once spoke to me, you know, all the times she was here. She probably believed I couldn't see her under that Invisibility Cloak, but those only work on the living."

  Zane stepped forward. "Petra has the Cloak! When was she here, Myrtle? What did she do?"

  Myrtle flitted down next to Zane and placed a ghostly arm around his shoulders. "Oh, often. She spent the most time down there over the holidays, when few other people were in the school. But she's been down there at least once a week lately. I don't know what she does down there, of course. I, er… don't follow her. But then, not twenty minutes ago, she came through with little Lily. Just before Tabitha came back again with that silly map."

  "Where did Petra take Lily, Myrtle?" Ted asked impatiently. "Did they go into the Chamber of Secrets?"

  "Well, of course, you silly boy," Myrtle said, tilting her head coquettishly. "Where else?"

  Albus shook his head, exasperated. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

  Myrtle peered at him mistily. "Because no one ever asked," she answered simply.

  James turned, stalking back into the center of the room. "How do we get down there?" he demanded. "Where's the door?"

  "Hah!" Tabitha exclaimed, still crumpled on the floor under the watchful eye of Ted Lupin. "You'll never get through! If I couldn't open it, no one can! Only the true Bloodline can speak the incantation to open the Chamber of Secrets!"

  "Is that true, Myrtle?" Rose asked, turning back to the ghost.

  "Oh no," Myrtle replied, shaking her head slowly. "No, no, no. Loads of people have opened the Chamber. That horrible Ron Weasley opened it years ago, just by imitating the sounds Harry Potter had made. If he could do it, anyone could."

  "You worthless little—" Tabitha cried, straightening. "All that time you watched me trying… You let me make a fool of myself!"

  "You didn't need my help," Myrtle sniffed.

  "Myrtle," James said seriously, stepping carefully toward the ghost. "We don't have much time. Can you tell us the incantation?"

  "Don't you dare!" Tabitha exclaimed, her voice splintering.

  "That's enough out of you, Corsica," Ted warned, raising his wand. "Shut up or I'll Stun you. It's the least you deserve."

  "It's an awful sound," Myrtle said, ignoring Tabitha. "It gives me shivers to hear it, and I'm dead. I always jumped down into my U-bend before Petra said the incantation."

  "Please, Myrtle," Rose begged. "How does it go? We have to get down there."

  Myrtle looked sideways at Rose, raising one eyebrow. "You really think Harry will come and see me? You promise?"

  "I promise," Rose nodded. "Please tell us."

  Myrtle sighed and flitted slowly to the center of the room. Carefully, she opened her mouth and produced a horrible, hissing noise. It was guttural, almost gurgling. It made James' hair stand up.

  When she was finished, Zane looked around and asked, "So who's going to do it? I know I can't make a sound like that."

  Ralph took a deep breath. "I'll try it," he announced, sighing with resignation. "After all, I'm a Slytherin."

  Nobody argued. Ralph opened his mouth and imitated the noise as
well as he could. James thought he did a remarkably good job since the same sounds in Ralph's mouth still sent chills down his spine. As soon as he finished, a grating rumble shook the bathroom. The sink directly behind Ralph began to lower, receding into the floor. Tabitha gasped and moved aside, her pale face a mask of awe and jealousy.

  "Come on," Ted said grimly. "We have to hurry."

  "You can't go, Ted," Rose said, touching Ted's arm. "Unless you plan on taking Tabitha along, too. She's a seventh year. I might be able to guard her, but I'd feel a lot better if you did it."

  Ted grimaced in frustration, looking away and fingering his wand. Finally, he turned back. "You go," he said reluctantly. "I'll guard Corsica, but we won't leave until you come back, understood? Besides, it's just Petra down there, right? You'll be able to talk sense into her. She'd never hurt anyone."

  James nodded, but he wasn't at all sure that Ted was right. Ted hadn't had the dreams. "Right. Let's go." He took a deep breath and turned toward the ancient stairway.

  "And James," Ted called, "Tell Petra the same thing she told me! This isn't the way! Tell her I said that, all right?"

  James nodded, and then plunged down the stone steps, his friends following closely.

  19. The Sacrifice

  James illuminated his wand as he trotted down the ancient stone staircase. Rose and Albus followed, eyes wide, with Zane and Ralph in the rear. James' phantom scar had been aching ever since that horrible burst of pain when he'd moved to kiss Petra; now, as he entered the dark chamber, the ache increased to a throbbing pulse.

  "I was in the Chamber of Secrets once before," Rose called, her voice echoing in the dark, cavernous space. "Years ago, when it was still on the Hogwarts tour. My parents refused to go down with me because they'd already seen it of course, and didn't want to relive any of that, so I went with Uncle George. There wasn't much to see, really, since they'd taken the dead Basilisk out years ago. It was just an open space underground. Most of it had caved in."

  James gasped and stumbled to a stop, throwing out one hand to warn the rest and holding his wand high in the other.

  "Was this a part of the tour when you were here, Rose?" he asked breathlessly.

  Rose stopped behind him, her eyes widening. Behind her, Ralph and Zane clambered to a halt as well.

  The floor ended at James' feet as if it had been broken away. Beyond it, seamless black space indicated a chasm of unimaginable depth. Ominous whooshing sounds wafted out of the blackness, and as James raised his wand, its light glinted off the edges of huge, swinging blades.

  "No," Rose breathed. "This was definitely not a part of the tour. Where did it come from?"

  "I'd say it was opened only recently," Zane said, pointing. "Look!"

  James saw what Zane was pointing at. A pair of huge stone doors stood open on either side, overlooking the depths of the chasm before him.

  "How did Petra open those?" Rose asked incredulously. "They must weigh tons!"

  "I'm more interested in how she crossed that," Ralph said, gesturing at the chasm and the huge swinging blades. "We'll never be able to follow her!"

  James stooped down and hefted a medium-sized rock. He weighed it thoughtfully in his hand, and then heaved it out over the chasm as hard as he could. It tumbled into the darkness, turning slowly, and then there was a flash and a spark as one of the magical blades swooped down. It pulverized the rock in midair, and then sucked back up into darkness.

  James looked aside at Rose and Ralph, his eyes wide. Ralph shrugged helplessly.

  Albus drew a deep sigh. "I think I might know a way to cross that," he said, as if he dreaded admitting it.

  "What, Al?" James asked, but his brother had already turned. He walked a few paces away until he stood at the base of the stone steps again. He glanced back.

  "Dad taught me this one," he said. "It saved his life once. Maybe we can use it to save Lil." He turned back to the stairs, raised his own wand, and as loudly as he could, shouted, "Accio broomstick!"

  Almost a minute passed, and James had begun to doubt the spell had worked when an exclamation of alarm echoed down the stone steps.

  "No!" Tabitha's voice cried. "Not my broom! You can't!"

  Ted called over her, "Incoming!"

  The broom dipped down the stone steps and halted next to Albus. James, standing nearby, could hear the faint hum of the broom. He remembered it well from his doomed attempt to commandeer it last year.

  "You can't be serious," Zane said, stepping forward and examining the broomstick. "This is Tabitha's broom! The bogus Merlin staff from last year. You're not going to try to ride it across that chasm, are you?"

  "It's my broom now," Albus said grimly. "Tabitha gave it to me, although she may well be regretting it."

  Rose proclaimed, "But you can't just fly across! You saw what happened to the rock! I don't know how Petra made it across with Lily, but there must be some other way!"

  Albus strode to the edge of the chasm and straddled the broom. "This is no ordinary broom, Rose. I don't know where Tabitha got it, or how it works, but it knows where it needs to be. In a way, it's kind of the reverse of James' Thunderstreak. It knows where to go, and it puts it into the mind of the rider. The broom won't let us get chopped. And besides, we don't have a choice. Hop on behind me, James, and hold on as tight as you can."

  James gulped and climbed onto the broom, wrapping his arm tightly around his brother's waist.

  "Wait!" Rose cried. "This is mad!"

  "That's why we can't wait, Rose," James said, gritting his teeth. "If we wait, we'll realize how completely daft this is. Go, Al!"

  James felt Albus tense. Together, they coiled, and as Rose reached forward to grab James, her face terrified, Albus threw himself forward, taking James and the broomstick with him.

  The broom plummeted under the weight of both James and Albus, and James squeezed his eyes shut, hugging his brother as he leaned over the broomstick, struggling to pull it upright. The broom corrected swiftly, angling upwards and accelerating. James still had his lit wand in his fist. He gripped Albus with his left arm and held the wand aloft, fighting the force of their momentum. Wandlight flashed off a long, steely blade as it dropped alongside them, scything the air. Albus lurched sideways as the broom banked away, and James nearly dropped his wand, fighting to hold on. The air hissed on all sides as huge, curved blades sliced the darkness, dropping like swords and barely missing them. Amazingly, the broom seemed to determine the course on its own, dodging with lightning speed through the flashing, deadly barrage. James struggled to hold on, trying to keep his body as close to the broom and Albus as possible. There was a high, rasping sound as one of the blades sliced a neat seam in his robe, and James felt the chill of the metal whoosh past his skin. He yelped and leaned away, pulling the broom slightly off course.

  Albus swore, trying to correct, but it was no use. The broom seemed to have lost its bearing. It pushed upwards beneath them, and James had a sense that they were nearing the other side of the chasm. Suddenly, a rough stone wall loomed into view, as if it were falling on them. Albus pulled up, trying to help the broom to reach the ledge, but it was too high. The broom struggled, flying nearly straight up, still weaving past falling blades. And then, suddenly, there was light and space, and James was spinning off the broom, flailing for something to hold onto. He landed hard on stone, rolled, and scrambled up, his chin scraped and bleeding but otherwise unhurt.

  Albus lay ten feet away, dangerously near the edge of the chasm they had just traversed. He moaned and clutched his head.

  "Al!" James called, stumbling over to him. "Are you all right?"

  "I think we crashed," Albus replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. "That was just sick, wasn't it? Ow!"

  James glanced down, "Oh no! I think we broke it!"

  "My leg?" Albus asked, examining his shin critically. "Ouch! I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to bend in that direction, but it's nothing Madam Curio won't be able to fix, right?"

  James
blinked at Albus' crooked leg. "Oh. Ew. No, that's not what I meant. Sorry, Al. I meant that." He pointed at the broomstick, which was splintered messily into two pieces.

  "Oh no! That hurts even worse than my leg! How are we going to get back now?" Albus exclaimed, picking up one of the pieces.

  James shook his head. "Like you said, let's just rescue Lily, and we'll figure out the rest later."

  Albus started to scramble to his feet, and then hissed in pain, falling back. "I'm no good, James. Unless you plan on carrying me, I'm stuck here."

  "Come on, I can't do this by myself!" James said, feeling a sudden, helpless anger.

  "Well, if you hadn't pulled us out of control back there, I wouldn't be in this condition, you stupid berk!"

  "Me? Whose idea was it to ride the Broom from Hell across the pit in the first place?" "Well, you sure weren't coming up with any brilliant ideas, were you?" "Shh!" James suddenly hissed, half turning.

  "Don't shush me, you big git!" Albus cried. "If my broken leg wasn't still attached, I'd beat you with it!"

  "SHHH!" James insisted, waving one hand frantically. He cocked his head, listening. Albus stopped and listened as well, furrowing his brow.

  "It's a voice," he whispered. "Sort of. That's creepy,"

  "It's coming from that cave over there," James pointed. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see a greenish light flickering from the mouth of the cave.

  "Go, James," Albus whispered urgently. "Go get Lily back if you still can. And if you can't, I swear I'll kill you."

  James nodded. "All right. I just hope nobody else beats you to it."

  He took a deep breath, still staring at the green glow of the cave mouth, and then began to walk toward it.

  James' phantom scar began to sing a long, high note of pain. It rang in his ears, throbbing with the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Petra wouldn't really hurt Lily, would she? He truly wanted to believe she wouldn't, but he remembered the dreams, remembered the coaxing, lulling, infuriating words of that phantom voice. It had promised Petra she could get her parents back if only she was willing to make the hardest choice of all, to repay blood for blood. Petra was obviously not in her right mind. She was in a sort of trance, wasn't she? She was under the control of that horrible voice, and the last shred of the soul of Lord Voldemort which beat in her veins. But even as James approached the entrance to the cave, he knew that was not entirely true. Petra was being influenced, yes, but she wasn't being forced to do anything. The shred of Voldemort wasn't enough to completely control her, only to sway her, to coax and persuade her. The greatest influence inside Petra was her own broken heart, and her deep, unspoken rage, and the desperate, bottomless hunger for judgment on those who'd taken her parents from her. In the thrall of those emotions, James knew that Petra may well do almost anything if she was convinced that it would satisfy those needs.