“I could walk you to your rooms, Professor,” James offered, stepping forward and reaching for Trelawney’s elbow.
“No!” she nearly shrieked, snatching her elbow away from him. She struggled to moderate her tone. “No. Of course not. Just go. Please.”
James peered up at her face, his eyes wide, worried. “It was about someone who’s going on this trip, wasn’t it?”
Trelawney sighed hugely, shakily turning to lean against the wall and fanning herself with the end of a mauve scarf. “There are those who laugh at me,” she said, as if to herself. “They don’t believe in the cosmic harmonics. They doubt that I am one of its rare vessels.” She tittered a little madly, apparently forgetting that James was even there. He began to back away, half afraid to leave the professor alone, but knowing his fellow travelers were waiting for him. Trelawney didn’t look up at him, but continued to mutter nervously to herself, her face lost in the shadows of the corridor. Finally, shaking his head, James turned and began to run, following the distant voices from the rotunda.
“It was you, James,” Trelawney’s voice said blankly, stopping him in his tracks. “It will surprise no one that I have had very few true revelations in my life. Rarely do I remember them, nor is this time any exception, but for one thing: I saw you. You are the one. You are the instrument, but not the tool. You will shepherd the one who will bring down the darkness. Even now… even now…” Her voice had gone flat, resigned and dead.
James turned slowly to look back over his shoulder. Trelawney stood right where he’d left her, leaning against the wall, indistinct in the shadows.
“You’re confused. My dad was the Chosen One. Not me. It was his job to save the world.”
She shook her head slowly, and then laughed again. It was a thin hopeless sound. “Your father was indeed the chosen one. His task is finished. Now, the universe demands payment, and that payment will come by your hand. It is done. You cannot escape your destiny, any more than your father could his.”
“I don’t believe that,” James heard himself say. “Nothing is unchangeable. Whatever this payment is, I’ll fight it.”
“I know you will,” she said slowly, so sadly that it nearly broke James’ heart. “I know you will. But you will fail, dear boy. You will fail…” She exhaled on the last word, turning it into a long diminishing note, fading into the darkness. James shivered violently.
“James?” a voice called. It was his dad, Harry Potter. “Is that you? We need to move along, son.”
James glanced along the corridor and saw shadows approaching, growing longer in the torchlight.
“I’m coming, Dad,” he called. “I just… I ran into somebody. We were saying goodbye… She’s still—”
He turned around again, pointing, but Trelawney was gone. In the predawn darkness of the corridor, there was no sign of her whatsoever.
2. THE GWYNDEMERE
James couldn’t remember the last time he had been awake at such an early hour. The sun was barely a rose-grey suggestion on the horizon, leaving the rest of the sky scattered with faint stars and high clouds, frosted with moonlight. Mist rose from the school grounds and the grass was so wet that James could feel it through his trainers.
“Good morning, James,” Izzy, Petra’s sister, announced cheerfully, moving alongside him as the travelers made their way into the pearly dawn gloom. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”
“It is, actually,” James agreed, smiling at the younger girl as she skipped next to him, her blonde curls bouncing around her face. Izzy was a year older than James’ sister, Lily, but it was a little hard to remember that. Where Lucy tended to strike people as older than she really was, Izabella Morganstern had a simple innocence that made her seem rather younger. Petra had explained to James and his family that Izzy had been born with some sort of learning disability, one that had earned her the disdain of her own mother and very nearly doomed her to a life of dull servitude at the woman’s cold hand. James didn’t think that Izzy seemed slow, exactly. On the contrary, it was almost as if her brain was simply blissfully unencumbered by the sorts of nagging worries that left most people grumpy and irritable. James envied her a little bit.
“Petra didn’t want to get up when I tried to wake her,” Izzy said in a stage whisper, nodding toward her sister, who was walking some distance away, near Percy and Audrey. “She says she’s not a morning person.”
James nodded. “I’m not either, usually. But this is different, isn’t it?”
“It’s not like getting up for a day of work on the farm or anything dull like that,” Izzy agreed, grabbing James’ hand and skipping merrily. “We’re off on a grand adventure! We’re going for a ride on a ship, just like Treus. Aren’t we?”
“Raise ye forth thy wands and wits,” Albus commented from somewhere behind James. “Right ‘Treus’?”
“So how are we getting there, then?” Ralph piped up. James turned to see the bigger boy walking alongside Albus, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt. “Portkey? I’ve always wanted to travel by Portkey. Is it that stump over there?”
“You see who’s leading this little expedition, don’t you Ralph?” James replied, nodding toward the front of the group.
Ralph squinted. “Yeah. It’s Merlin,” he said, and then slumped as realization struck him. “Oh.”
Albus peered ahead at the Headmaster. “What’s that mean, then?”
“It means we’re walking,” James answered, grinning. “Merlin likes to commune with the secret whatsits of nature whenever he gets the chance, don’t you know.”
Ralph sighed. “Why’s he even coming anyway?”
“Simple,” a new voice answered. James glanced up to see Ralph’s father, Denniston Dolohov, walking nearby, his cheeks flushed in the pearly light that sifted down through the trees of the Forbidden Forest. “Back in his time, nobody knew anything about the ‘New World’, although lots of wizards and witches suspected its existence. He’s coming along for a few days before heading back to Hogwarts. I expect he wants to take a look around and see what life is like on the other side of the pond. It’d be like one of us traveling to the distant future and being offered a chance to visit cities on the moon.”
“Now that would be cool,” Albus sighed. “Much better than being carted off to stupid old America.”
“I’d be careful with talk like that,” Lucy said. James glanced aside and saw her walking on the other side of Izzy, her duffle bag slung over one shoulder. “I understand that Americans can be fiercely proud of their country. Not unlike some of us, of course.”
“Well, it’s easy for us, isn’t it?” Albus exclaimed. “I mean, we’ve got ourselves loads of history and traditions, going back thousands of years! They’ve got, what? About fifteen minutes and a tea party?”
“Speaking of tea,” Ralph said, rubbing his stomach, “I could use a bite.”
As if on cue, James’ mother drifted back from the front of the group. “Biscuits, anyone?” she said, carrying an open tin.
James shouldered his bag and grabbed with both hands. “Thanks, Mum.”
“Ah! Shortbread,” Izzy exclaimed happily. “We hardly ever got shortbread at home!”
“Merlinus says a little nourishment is needed for the journey,” Ginny commented, nodding. “After all, we’ve got a lot to do and a long way to go.”
“And we’re walking the entire way?” Albus asked around a mouthful of biscuit. “Seriously?”
Ginny nodded. “Merlin sent all of our trunks ahead yesterday afternoon. They’ll be waiting for us at the port. A little exercise will do you some good.”
“Maybe it’ll help you grow a bum,” Lucy suggested helpfully.
“Hah hah,” Albus chimed sarcastically. “So how long is this going to take anyway?”
“Yeah,” Ralph huffed, peering up at the trees as they passed overhead. “What if any of us, you know, faints from hunger or something along the way?”
“We’re here,” a voice called
from the front. To James’ surprise, he recognized it as belonging to Neville Longbottom. “Everybody stay close now.”
Albus boggled. “We’re here?”
“Is that Professor Longbottom?” Ralph frowned, puzzled. “I mean, fun’s fun, but shouldn’t somebody be staying back home to run Hogwarts?”
James, who’d been on one of Merlin’s magical walking trips in the past, grinned. Still clutching a biscuit in one hand, he ran ahead, joining the adults near the front of the group.
“Hi Uncle Percy, Aunt Audrey, Molly,” he called as he passed. “Hi Petra. Good morning.” He darted past her and slowed down as he found his dad, Merlin, and Neville Longbottom walking at the head of the troop. Sure enough, as James looked around, he could see that the trees here looked different. They were no longer the enormous old growth of the Forbidden Forest. These were young trees, choked with weeds and moss, leaning in the shifting wind. The air smelled briny and damp.
“Good morning, James,” Neville said, smiling down at him. “Excited?”
“I am!” James agreed, meeting Neville’s smile. “Why are you coming along? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Professor Longbottom has come at my request, Mr. Potter,” Merlin answered, striding easily down a winding, rocky path. “Besides, even Herbology teachers deserve the occasional holiday. Even if it is a working holiday.”
“The Alma Alerons have asked me to give a lecture,” Neville admitted sheepishly. “I was recommended to their Flora Department by Ben Franklyn himself. It seemed an opportunity not to miss.”
“Wands away, everyone,” Harry commented mildly. James looked up as the trees thinned and fell behind them. He could see now that they were on the outskirts of a small crowded fishing village. The morning sky was low and dull, packed with clouds over the rooftops. Smoke drifted listlessly from dozens of chimneys and the streets were wet, their cobbles shining dully. The group tramped their way single file down the curving, stony path until it met the street. An old man with a grizzled white beard was seated on a stool nearby, stooped beneath the awning of a fish shop. He pushed the brim of his cap up with a horny thumb as the group filed past.
“Good morning,” Harry Potter said cheerfully.
“Lovely day for a stroll, isn’t it then?” Ginny added, bringing up the rear.
“Nice town you’ve got here,” Albus cried, turning around and walking backwards, smiling at the man. “Smells a bit funny, but we won’t hold it against you!”
Ginny grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around.
The narrow street descended in a series of sharp switchbacks, passing crowded houses and shops, and eventually emptying out at the seashore. Wharves, docks, and piers festooned the coastline, making a haphazard silhouette against the steely sky. Some of the slips were occupied with rusting fishing boats, others with immaculate touring yachts, still others with enormous, looming cargo ships. Green waves smacked at the hulls, lifting and dropping them monotonously. Merlin whistled as he walked, leading the group along a warped boardwalk, passing ship after ship. Workers in heavy coats and dark woolen caps barely looked up as the group passed by, ogling and wideeyed.
“What kind of ship will we be going in?” Izzy asked, her voice full of wonder. “Will it be one of the big ones?”
“Probably not one of the big ones,” Petra answered with a smile in her voice.
“Is it a cruise ship?” Ralph mused hopefully. “They have buffets on cruise ships.”
The crew walked on and on. The sun finally began to burn away the dense clouds and became a hard white ball on the horizon, casting its reflection onto the ocean in a long blinding stripe.
“Here we are,” Merlin finally announced. They had reached the end of the boardwalk. It was virtually deserted, overshadowed by a rocky promontory decked with a very antiquated lighthouse. James was surprised to see his grandfather’s old Ford Anglia parked near the end of the boardwalk, its engine idling smoothly.
Albus frowned quizzically. “What’s Granddad’s car doing here?”
Ginny replied distractedly. “Go help your father unload now. Hurry, all of you.”
“Unload what?” Ralph asked as she herded them forward.
Merlin produced his staff, which always seemed to be with him, hidden somewhere just out of sight despite its rather impressive size. He tapped it on the boardwalk and the Anglia’s boot popped open.
“Ah,” Ralph said, answering his own question. “Manual labor.”
“Cool!” Albus crowed, running forward. “It’s got all of our trunks in it. Did you send it ahead all by itself? Can it drive on its own?”
“It was your grandfather who taught it that particular skill,” Merlin replied, smiling. “The more I learn about him, the more impressed I become. Put the trunks right here on the boardwalk, if you please. I will alert the portmaster of our arrival.”
“But where’s the ship?” James asked, glancing around the deserted pier below.
Merlin either didn’t hear him or chose not to answer. He strolled ponderously up the crooked, curving staircase that led to the door of the lighthouse.
“Hop to it, men,” Harry cried heartily, reaching into the boot and heaving out one of the trunks. As with many wizard spaces, the boot was rather larger inside than would have seemed possible from without. Eventually, James, Albus, and Ralph stood next to a precariously stacked tower of trunks, cases, crates, and bags.
“Good thing I had that biscuit,” Ralph breathed, wiping his brow. “Merlin was right. Traveling is hard work.”
James glanced up at the lighthouse, looking to see what the Headmaster was up to. As he watched, the small door in the side of the lighthouse opened. Merlin strode out, his head lowered as he traversed the narrow, leaning stairway.
“Hold tight, everyone,” he announced. “Prepare to board.”
Behind him, a loud, low note suddenly sounded, emanating from the lighthouse’s high lantern. It was a singularly lonely sound, echoing long and deep over the water. James recognized it as the sound of a foghorn. When the sound finally died away, chasing its echoes over the distant waves, a beam of light appeared from the decrepit lighthouse. Ginny gasped at the brilliance of it as it speared out into the gloomy morning, seeming to extend all the way to the horizon. Slowly, the beam began to turn.
James stumbled. He grabbed out and clutched a handful of Ralph’s sweatshirt, only then noticing that Ralph was staggering as well. The two of them clambered backwards against the Anglia.
“What’s happening?” Albus called.
“Stand fast, landlubbers,” Uncle Percy laughed, holding onto his wife Audrey and daughter Molly. “You just haven’t gotten your sea legs yet.”
“Watch,” Lucy announced, pointing toward the lighthouse’s beam.
James watched. Strangely, it seemed as if the beam was, against all probability, standing perfectly still. It was the world itself that was revolving, pulled around in a long smooth axis by the anchor of the spotlight’s beam.
“There,” Harry announced. “Our ship appears to be coming in.”
James followed his father’s gaze and saw a long sleek boat appearing from around the rocky promontory. Like the beam of light, the ship appeared to be standing perfectly still as the ocean revolved beneath it, sending its waves up beneath the bow and turning them into briny foam. The ship was long and sleek, with a polished wooden hull stained deep brown, festooned with glittering brass portholes and fittings, tall, complicated masts and a single black smokestack jutting up from the center. Painted white letters along the prow proclaimed the name of the ship: Gwyndemere.
Ponderously, the pier angled toward the ship until it pointed directly at it. Figures moved about on the deck of the ship, shouting to each other and manning the rigging. James grinned as one of the deckhands heaved a length of rope over the side, Disapparated from the deck, and then Reapparated on the pier seconds later to retrieve the rope as it thumped onto the planks. He looped it industriously around an iron bollard, anchor
ing the Gwyndemere to shore. That accomplished, the beam of light ceased turning and switched off. James stumbled again as the world seemed to shudder into place.
“Everyone aboard,” Percy called, striding down onto the pier, clutching his hat to his head as the wind picked up. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”
Merlin nodded approvingly, and then leaned toward the Anglia’s driver’s side window. He seemed to tell the car something, patted it lightly, and then stood back as it began to roll. It performed a neat three-point turn on the end of the boardwalk, and then puttered serenely away, its windows reflecting the low sky.
“I hope I packed enough socks,” Ralph commented, watching the Anglia amble away. “I’d hate to run out of socks.”
“I bet they have socks in America,” Albus replied, smacking the bigger boy on the shoulder. “Let’s risk it, eh?”
James smiled and followed his family down onto the pier, enjoying the sound of the waves and the misty breeze. Gulls circled overhead and alighted on the waves around the ship, where they bobbed like corks. More deckhands Apparated onto the pier, moving economically toward the stack of baggage, which they began to lug toward the ship.
A gangway appeared, steep and narrow, connecting the ship to the end of the pier. James couldn’t be sure if the gangway had grown out of the pier or extended down from the ship. Either option seemed just as likely. He ran ahead, chased closely by Lucy, Izzy, and Petra, who was laughing with delight.
Once aboard, James looked around with unabashed wonder. From the deck, the Gwyndemere seemed simultaneously huge and cozy. Its bow and stern decks were separated by two recessed walkways, one on either side of the ship, accessed by stairs at the front and back. The walkways enclosed a high, long deckhouse, which dominated the center of the ship, fronted with the pilothouse. James could see men in white jackets and caps inside, moving busily about. An enormous ship’s wheel turned gently back and forth as waves rocked the ship.
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