"What is the meaning of this…," Lucius breathed. He reached for his wand, but couldn't seem to find it in his robes. "Where is my wand?" he said, looking past James to the Gatekeeper. "I demand to know where you have taken me, you foul creature!"
"This is the man," the Gatekeeper whispered over James' shoulder. "On his hands is the blood of dozens. It was his plan that both you and your sister die in the Chamber of Secrets. He is responsible for the death of Petra Morganstern's parents, and it is by his will that she has been cursed with the demented soul of Lord Voldemort. Even now, this merciless wretch plots murder and death. His heart is a black box of hate. Kill him, James. Rid the world of this madman. Surely he deserves it. Kill him. Do it now." As it spoke, the Gatekeeper backed away, as if giving James room.
James had meant to refuse. It was on his tongue to say no, but suddenly, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Gatekeeper was right. Lucius Malfoy did deserve to die. He was irredeemable. James felt the wand in his hand even before he realized he was reaching for it. It was Ralph's. It felt hot and huge in his palm. It felt deadly.
"What is this?" Lucius purred, narrowing his eyes. "You send a boy to finish me? I know this one. He is as weak as his father is stupid. He will not do it. He hasn't the strength."
"He taunts you," the Gatekeeper said silkily, eagerly, its voice coming again from the air all around. "Show him how wrong he is. Kill him."
James' hand trembled as he leveled Ralph's wand. It seemed to hum in his fist. It wanted to kill Lucius as much as he did. And then, when the deed was done and Lucius lay dead at James' feet, he'd have his grandfather back. And Sirius Black could be Dad's godfather again, just as he always should have been. James glanced back, and saw both Sirius and Arthur watching him. They were both frowning slightly, as if they couldn't quite see what was happening.
"James," Arthur said, his voice worried. "Be careful, son."
"'James'?" Sirius said to himself, glancing at Arthur. He looked back at James, realization dawning on his face. "We're dead," he said simply. "And somehow, some way, you're Harry's son, aren't you? Who is that beyond you… Lucius Malfoy! Beware, James Potter!"
James turned back, looking up into the smug face of his nemesis.
"Do it," the Gatekeeper hissed. "Kill him now!"
Lucius growled, "You cannot! You're weak!"
"I'm not!" James sobbed. He tightened his grip on the wand and pointed it directly at the taller man's heart. And then, with blissful suddenness, assurance washed over him. He wasn't weak. He could do exactly what he had to do. In his mind, he heard both Helga Hufflepuff and Merlin's voices: the right thing to do is always simple, but it is never easy.
"I am a warrior," James whispered to himself, gritting his teeth. "And the sign of a true warrior… is knowing when not to fight."
With that, James lowered the wand. He dropped it, and then turned his back on Lucius Malfoy. Slowly, he began to walk away.
"James Sirius Potter!" the Gatekeeper shouted. "You cannot turn aside! Kill him! You owe it to the world! You owe it to yourself and your father! You cannot deny the power I am offering you!"
James looked at his grandfather sadly, his heart breaking. Arthur smiled proudly and nodded at him.
"Strong, that boy is," Sirius said, his eyes black and sparkling. "Just like his father before him."
Slowly, the pools of light faded. Arthur and Sirius descended into darkness.
James kept walking. He was nearly at the edge of his own circle of light when he heard Lucius Malfoy's voice behind him.
"If you will not kill to become the host of the Gatekeeper," he said, his voice oozing hatred, "then I will!"
James knew that Lucius had picked up Ralph's wand. He felt it pointing at him. He stopped in his tracks, not turning around.
"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius hissed, spittle flying from his lips with the force of his rage. The bolt of green light sizzled through the air and struck James squarely in the back. James felt the force of it, and it pushed him forward slightly. Still, he did not turn. He stood precisely on the edge of light and shadow.
Lucius stared at the boy, his eyes narrowed and a grimace of hatred carved on his face. The boy should fall now; he was dead. Lucius waited, still holding the rough, green-tipped wand, still pointing it at the boy's back.
There was a faint ripping sound. A long, ragged tear suddenly separated along the fabric of the Darkbag on James' back, spreading from the point where the Killing Curse had struck it. James felt movement in the Darkbag. Something was awakening inside it. Many somethings, in fact, and they were hungry.
"What kind of trick is this?" Lucius drawled nervously, taking a step backwards. He eyed the rip in the Darkbag as a noise began to emanate from it. James steeled himself, curling his hands into fists. The noise increased, becoming a loud, busy thrum. And then, violently, the Darkbag erupted. Borleys poured from the hole where Lucius' Killing Curse had ruptured it. They'd tasted the raw magic of the curse, and they wanted more. They streamed through the air toward Lucius like a cloud of bats.
Lucius' eyes bulged at the sight of the advancing Borleys. Instinctively, he waved the wand at them, firing spells randomly. Jets of light blared from the wand, and the Borleys went into a feeding frenzy, ravenous and strengthened by the magic. They fell on Lucius in a cloud.
James finally turned, letting the shredded Darkbag slip from his shoulders. When he looked back, Lucius was completely engulfed in the Borleys. They swarmed over him, devouring him alive. He screamed as they feasted on him, sucking the magic from him, vampirelike. He seemed to be shrinking. He collapsed to his knees, unseen through the boiling, shadowy mass. It was horrible, and yet James couldn't bring himself to look away. Finally, Lucius' body seemed to completely come apart. He dissolved into a sort of crumbling ash and crumpled to the floor, his last scream rasping, echoing into nothing. Satisfied, the Borleys exploded away, screeching and vanishing wildly into the darkness. Within seconds, they were gone, lost in the Void.
James stepped forward. What was left of Lucius Malfoy poured out of his sleeves and the neck of his robe like ashen powder. James knelt and, very carefully, plucked two things from the crumbling dust of Lucius' hand. As he stood, he pocketed one of them: Ralph's wand. The other, he held in his hand, feeling the small, dark power of it.
"Put that down," the Gatekeeper ordered, and its voice had changed, become deeper, less human. "You know not what you have done."
James shook his head. "I know exactly what I've done," he said.
"You cannot defy me!" the Gatekeeper roared, and it revealed itself once more. It no longer looked human, however, but like an enormous cloud of swirling smoke and ash. Eyes swarmed through the cloud, all of them furious, glowing red. "No one can defy the Gatekeeper! Release the stone! You cannot contain its power!"
"That's true," James said, no longer afraid of the Gatekeeper, "but I know someone who can."
He turned, somehow knowing that Merlin would be standing nearby. Perhaps James had even somehow caused him to be there. He walked over to the big wizard and held out his hand. In it, the ring sparkled brightly. Darts of light flashed off the black facets of the Beacon Stone.
Merlin smiled a slow, humorless smile. Gently, he took the ring and placed it on his finger, seating it alongside its twin.
"And now," Merlin said, raising his hand, "as your earthly Ambassador and bearer of the complete Beacon Stone, I command you! This is not your world, nor shall you occupy it! Begone, Beast of the Abyss, Gatekeeper of the Void! I banish you to the nothingness that shall forever be your home! Depart this moment, and never return!"
The cloud of ash and smoke roared. It made to fall upon Merlin, attempting to consume him, but a sudden, enormous crack of vivid light appeared in the darkness, slashing it open. The roar of the Gatekeeper turned into a shriek as it was pulled upward, toward the crack. It fought against the force, spinning and writhing, and for a moment, James thought it looked like a huge, inverted cyclone. And then, with a blinding fl
ash and a clap of thunder, it was gone, banished back to the Void from which it had come.
James blinked in the silence. He took a deep breath and turned back to Merlin, exhausted.
"Is it gone?" he asked. "Gone for good?"
Merlin nodded slowly. "The door between the worlds is shut."
It was over. James turned to look back, curious to see if there was any remaining sign of that blinding crack into which the Gatekeeper had vanished. There was nothing but blackness and silence. And then—
There was a flash and James stumbled; light and noise exploded around him. He squinted, gasping for breath in the sudden noise and rush of air; he was back on the rear of the Hogwarts Express engine again, as if he'd never left it. Trees blurred past, just as before, but when James looked out over the coal car behind him, the air was bright and clear.
"The Dementors are gone!" he called to Merlin.
"Sent back to the Void along with their master," Merlin agreed, nodding.
James grinned in relief, and then suddenly remembered the train's perilous destination. "We have to stop the train!" he yelled, his eyes widening. "It's going to go off the unfinished bridge! Everyone on board will be killed!"
Merlin nodded again, his face turning grim. Once again, James opened the door of the engine compartment. Instead of darkness, however, this time he found a cramped interior space, stiflingly hot. At the front of the compartment was a bank of incomprehensible dials and gauges. Above this, two broad windows looked out over the oncoming track.
"Which one is the brake?" James called, scanning the dials and levers helplessly.
"That large lever on the floor," Merlin replied, pushing up his sleeves. "Grip the handle and pull as hard as you can, James. No matter what happens, don't let go."
James wrapped his hands around the large lever, which was nearly as tall as he was. He coiled to pull it but then made the mistake of looking out the front windows. The trees had cleared ahead, revealing a broad, mountainous panorama. The track stretched out before them, spanning a dizzyingly deep, rocky gorge, but only partially. Less than halfway across, the bridge stopped, unfinished. James' knees went weak.
"Pull it, James!" Merlin ordered, raising his arms, his face hard as granite. "Don't let go under any circumstance!"
James gasped a breath and yanked the lever as hard as he could with both hands. Gears below the engine's floor screeched and clanked as the braking mechanism engaged. Steam released explosively from the boilers on either side of the engine, sending up great white clouds. The train lurched and began to slow, but James knew there was no way it would stop in time.
Next to him, Merlin held up his arms. He was muttering quickly under his breath, his eyes closed. James looked up at him from where he stood, tugging the brake lever. The great sorcerer was trembling very slightly, nearly vibrating. Sunlight suddenly poured in through the engine's windows, and James knew they had cleared the trees at the cliff's edge. The train had begun its journey over the gorge, swiftly approaching the end of the bridge. Behind James and Merlin, nearly all of the students of Hogwarts and their teachers were hurtling along, breathless, possibly even clueless of their fate. The train continued to slow, its wheels grinding, screeching, sending up sparks, but it was no use. James craned to look through the windows and saw the end of the track approaching alarmingly fast. A wooden 'X' had been erected across it to keep workers from accidentally walking off the end. It looked pathetically fragile as the huge crimson engine bore down on it. And then, fleetingly, James saw motion at the end of the track. Something green was moving just beyond, so fast that he could barely see it. Even as James watched, however, the end of the track disappeared beneath the sightline of the engine's windows. He gritted his teeth, pulling the brake lever with all his might, and waited for the long, sickening drop.
The engine lurched noisily as if it had bumped over a curb, and James nearly lost his grip on the brake lever. Next to him, Merlin swayed but remained upright, hands still raised, still muttering under his breath. Amazingly, the train did not fall. It continued to move forward, pushed by the weight of the cars behind it, slowing almost imperceptibly. Like Merlin, the engine suddenly seemed to be vibrating. As it gradually lost its momentum, the vibration increased, becoming a noisy, jarring shudder that threatened to shake the engine apart at its bolts. One of the windows exploded in a starburst of glass, peppering the inside of the compartment with glittering shards. James winced as bits of glass and warm autumn air blew past him. A moment later, he craned to look through the broken window, his eyes wide and disbelieving as the gorge spread beneath the advancing train. The engine slowed, rattling and grinding until finally, after what seemed an eternity, it lurched to a halt. The sudden cessation of inertia threw James off balance and he stumbled to one knee, still gripping the brake lever.
Silence descended on the engine, shocking after the noise and chaos. It rang in James' ears. Shuddering, he took a deep breath and struggled to stand, shaking bits of glass from his hair.
"That was—" he began, and then jumped up, throwing his shoulder under Merlin's arm as the big wizard began to collapse. "Ugh! You're—unf!—heavy! What's wrong?"
Merlin struggled to hold himself up. He groaned and clamped a hand to his head as if to keep it on his shoulders. Slowly, he managed to support himself, and leaned against the wall of the engine compartment. James glanced up at him, frowning curiously, and then peered closer.
"What's happened to you?" he asked breathlessly. "You look… old!"
Merlin's face, not exactly young to begin with, was lined with wrinkles. There were heavy, dark circles under his eyes. Even his beard and hair seemed to have grown and become threaded with iron grey. He looked up wearily, saw James' concerned look, and smiled ruefully.
"Twenty years in thirty seconds," he said, his voice dry and cracked. "Losing two decades that quickly does tend to take it out of someone."
James boggled at him. "Where'd you lose it?"
"Right beneath this train," Merlin said, pushing himself up and turning. "Come. I cannot guarantee it'll hold much longer. We need to get everyone off this train, and quickly."
James followed the great sorcerer, and as he did, he felt the strangest sensation; it was as if the engine was swaying slightly, like a tree limb in a stiff breeze. As they clambered over the coal car and into the first passenger compartment, returning to the joyful congratulations of Rose, Ralph, Zane, and Albus, James couldn't help glancing down. The wheels of the train seemed to be choked with fresh green leaves and vines. Butterflies flitted amongst them, their wings flashing in the afternoon sun.
Half an hour later, James stood with the rest of the train's passengers a quarter of a kilometer away, spread along the edge of the gorge. They were awaiting a second train, which had been dispatched to carry them the rest of the way home.
Zane kicked a stone over the ledge and watched it bounce down the crags into the trees below. "What was it like up there in the engine?" he asked James.
"Terrifying," James said with feeling. "I thought we were dead, no question about it."
Rose asked, "Did you see him do it?"
"I saw him do something. I didn't know what he was up to."
"Twenty years' growth in thirty seconds," Albus said wonderingly. "I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't looking at it."
"The thing that amazes me most," Ralph commented, staring out over the gorge, "is that he got the tree to grow in the shape of the tracks!"
Once more, James looked out over the forested gorge between the mountains. From this angle, he could see it clearly. The unfinished train bridge ended less than halfway across. Growing from the end of the bridge, however, spreading another third of the way across, was what appeared to be a giant sequoia tree grown perfectly sideways. The tree was lush with foliage, billowing slightly in the freshening breeze. The Hogwarts Express sat atop it, steam still issuing from its boilers in a long white ribbon.
"He sent twenty years of his own life into making that tree
grow," Rose said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Talk about communing with nature."
Zane nodded. "Yeah. He's still down in the hollow right now, 'communing' with the tree sprite of that sequoia. I'm just glad Merlin's the one that gets to explain to that tree how it grew so fast," he said, grinning. "And why it's got a steam train sitting on its trunk."
James, Rose, and Albus sat in the tall grass of the yard, blinking disconsolately in the morning sunlight. Nearby, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione stood talking quietly. James looked up, peering along the length of the dirt drive.
"See anyone?" Albus asked, kicking his heel in the grass.
James shook his head. "They're late."
"Why should they hurry?" Albus griped. "They already paid for it. All they have to do is sign the papers and get the key. Not that they'll ever use it."
"I wish this was all over," Rose said, sighing sadly. "I know it was my idea to come and say goodbye to the Burrow, but now that I'm here, I can barely look at the old place. Just knowing the new owners are going to tear it down…"
"Grandma and Lily are looking into flats in the city," James commented. "That could be nice. It'll be easy for her to take care of, and we could go see her whenever we want."
Albus muttered, "It won't be the same. Not without the Burrow."
James sighed. George and Angelina's wedding had been the day before, and, not surprisingly, it had been a very spirited affair. Everyone had been there, including Hagrid, Neville, and even Professor McGonagall. The former Headmistress had even danced a little, which had left the students slack-jawed with amazement. By contrast, sitting in the yard of the Burrow for the last time, waiting for the new owners to come and take it over, felt particularly disheartening. "A beginning almost always means an ending," James' dad had said as they got ready that morning, but James hadn't found that particularly comforting. Not for the first time, James found himself thinking of the final dream he'd had when he'd still had the phantom scar; the dream in which a somewhat grown-up Albus had given his wand to the young woman—Petra?—In the graveyard, who had proceeded to launch the Dark Mark and then turn the wand back on him. Obviously, that had never happened, and yet James simply couldn't shake the feeling that it was a sort of prophecy or prediction. Tabitha had told James that Albus was a boy with great potential, and that, James felt sure, had not been a bluff. Tabitha believed it. What did it all mean? James gazed at his brother in the sunlight—his brother, who bore the names of both a great Gryffindor and a great Slytherin, who looked so very much like his father, the Boy Who Lived.
The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) Page 57