JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  James accepted the object, which was about the size of a small tray and about the same shape. Carefully, he unwrapped it and looked down at it in his hands.

  “Cool,” Zane said, peering over James’ shoulder. “Now you can comb that bird’s nest you call a haircut.”

  Ralph shook his head over James’ other shoulder. “Somehow, I think that’s for something besides just checking your hair on the way to class.”

  The thing in James’ hands was a mirror in a simple silver frame, apparently perfectly normal except that it felt unusually heavy in his hands. James didn’t know if it was the frame or the mirror itself that gave the object its weight. He glanced inquiringly up at Merlin.

  “It is, in fact, perfectly appropriate for viewing yourself in,” the Headmaster nodded, smiling. “But Mr. Deedle is quite right. That is not all it is good for. Do you happen to have your wand upon you, James?”

  James nodded. He set the mirror onto a nearby table and produced his wand from a pocket sewn into the inside of his blazer.

  “Excellent,” Merlin said, stepping aside. “Now tap the glass and say ‘mirror, mirror shard of three, show me where I wish to be.’”

  James narrowed his eyes up at the big wizard.

  “Go on, James,” Zane prodded. “Make with the magic. I’m dying of curiosity here.”

  James shrugged and tapped the glass with his wand, repeating the phrase exactly as Merlin had said it. As one, the three boys leaned forward, filling the mirror’s surface with their reflections. Almost immediately, however, the reflection sank away, replaced by a swirling silvery fog. James and Ralph recognized it almost immediately.

  “The Amsera Certh?” James asked breathlessly. “But…” He stopped, distracted by a scene that seemed to swim up from the depths of the Mirror, as if its surface was the face of a very deep pool. The image shimmered and resolved into the unmistakable shapes of the Gryffindor common room, albeit dark and empty, with only the ruddy glow of the fireplace illuminating its furnishings.

  “No way!” Zane exclaimed. “It’s Hoggies! But where’s everybody at?”

  “It’s the middle of the night there, you big div!” Ralph laughed. “But is that really what we’re seeing? Is it really Hogwarts?”

  “It is,” Merlin nodded.

  “But how?” James asked, turning to peer back at the Headmaster. “If this is the Amsera Certh, why’s it so small? And why would you give it to us?”

  “It is as I said,” Merlin replied, his face somber. “The magical world is simply too precarious to bear the weight of such extremely magical objects as the Amsera Certh. I determined that I must break it up, divide its powers, in order to prevent its influence from adversely impacting the fabric of reality. The truth is, now that I know of the existence of such things as the Vault of Destinies, I am even more confident that I have made the right choice.”

  “What about the Focusing Book?” Ralph asked, referring to the book that was the magical counterpart to the original Magic Mirror.

  “Destroyed forever,” Merlin sighed. “As with the Mirror of Erised, the Amsera Certh is reduced to only its most basic and illusionary powers without the aid of its Focusing Book. With the Book destroyed, and the Mirror divided, its impact upon the world is far lighter. I used my arts to enchant this bit of the Mirror, connecting it to the mirror over the hearth in your former dormitory common room, James. With its help, you will be able to see and interact with your friends at home whenever you wish. I have given your father another Shard, similarly enchanted, which will allow him to speak to his associates at the Ministry of Magic.”

  “Excellent!” Zane nodded. “This is way better than using lunarflies and doppelgangers. Raphael will be dead jealous when he hears about this.”

  “Alas,” Merlin said gravely, “you must not tell anyone about the Shard. As divided and diminished as its powers are, it must still be kept hidden from those who would wish to use its magic for wicked purposes. Use it to communicate with your friends as you wish, but tell no one here what the Mirror can do or what its origins are. Can you swear obedience to these requirements?”

  “Sure,” James answered slowly, nodding. “But… I mean, is it… safe?”

  “If you are referring to your inadvertent usage of the Amsera Certh last term,” Merlin said, smiling crookedly, “I assure you, the Mirror’s days of capricious trickery are quite over. Like any magical tool, this Shard is exactly as safe as that which you might choose to do with it.”

  James nodded, relieved. “Nice. Thanks, Headmaster. We’ll be extra careful with it. And we won’t tell anyone else about it. Will we?”

  The other two boys agreed easily and James rewrapped the Shard in its cloth. Shortly, Merlin bid the three boys goodbye and rejoined Professor Longbottom and Chancellor Franklyn in the guest room’s parlor. James waved goodbye to Neville, and then, in a lower voice, told him that he’d done an excellent job putting those Progressive Element rabble-rousers in their place at the previous night’s assembly. Neville nodded sheepishly and thanked James.

  “Enjoy your new surroundings, boys,” Franklyn said. “I suspect you will find yourselves quite at home within the halls of Apollo Mansion.”

  James nodded, feeling dismissed and not particularly liking it. Ralph, however, dragged him by the elbow and a minute later, the three had ducked out of the rear door of the guest house and crossed into the shadow of the common dorm. It had grown rather darker by then, with low clouds obscuring the few stars. The wind switched restlessly and hissed in the tall grass that surrounded the buildings.

  Inside, Ralph and Zane manhandled the larger trunks out into the hallway, lugging them toward the dumbwaiter and the waiting clockwork monkey. James slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and unzipped it awkwardly, meaning to stuff the Shard inside it along with his dirty laundry and toiletries. He turned comically on his feet, reaching around himself to work the Shard into the depths of the bag on his shoulder, and suddenly, shockingly, the world went away.

  There was no disorienting sense of speed and no jolt, as with Apparition or Portkeys. The world simply clicked off like a light, and in its place was darkness. James sensed himself still standing, but there seemed to be nothing around him. Emptiness pressed on him like weights, and when he opened his mouth to call out, there didn’t seem to be any air, either to breathe or to conduct sound waves.

  Panic gripped him suddenly, but before he could act upon it, the darkness swept away. It was as if a monstrous wind blew, bringing with it brightness and light, a ghastly, dead environment, a sky like a gravestone and a looming, black shape, hideous and somehow prehistoric, the architectural equivalent of a petrified dragon. The scene boiled all around James, perfectly still but impossible to look at, as if it was comprised of darning needles, all poking toward him, assaulting his senses. James tried to recoil from the sights, but he was unable to move. A voice came out of the vision, huge and clanging, as if it was the voice of the sky and the earth itself. “She watches,” the voice said calmly. “She watches and she waits. Soon I must go to her. It is the only way.”

  James recognized the voice immediately, even though he’d never heard it sound so huge and terrible. It was the voice of Petra Morganstern. It was the voice of Morgan.

  And then, as suddenly as it began, the vision blew away. The dormitory room sprang back into existence around James again, feeling tiny and hot, remarkably mundane in the wake of the teeming vision. A thump came from the ground at James’ feet and he looked down dully. His duffle bag had slipped from his shoulder and fallen to the floor. The wrapped Shard poked from the unruly clothing inside. Next to it, unearthed from the depths of the laundry, was Petra’s dream story, compressed into a small dense packet of parchment. It glowed very faintly with silvery light.

  James raised his right palm and saw the thread there, the one that had connected him to Petra when she had fallen from the stern of the Gwyndemere. The thread trailed off like a line of smoke, vanishing after a few feet, fading even
as he watched. Somehow, the silver thread was still there, connecting him to her. More importantly, that connection had triggered something when he had touched her dream story. It had been a vision, but one so powerful and shocking that he’d barely been able to register it. Something, he felt quite sure, was happening with Petra, possibly at this very moment. Was something bad happening to her?

  Was she causing something bad to happen?

  A minute later, James joined Ralph and Zane in the hallway. They forced the dumbwaiter doors shut, enclosing the luggage and the clockwork monkey inside. With a ratcheting clatter, the dumbwaiter began to descend toward the lobby below.

  “What’s with you?” Zane asked, peering sideways at James. “You look white as a ghost.”

  James shook his head. “I don’t know. I think… something’s happening.”

  “Something’s always happening, isn’t it?” Ralph frowned as they clumped down the stairs.

  “I don’t know…,” James said again, faintly.

  They retrieved the trunks from the dumbwaiter and began to lug them out onto the common dorm’s stoop.

  “Whoa,” Ralph said suddenly, looking up. “What’s going on over there?”

  James didn’t want to look, but did anyway. The sky had lowered ever further. It swirled unnaturally over a point nearby, like a very slow, inverted cyclone. Lightning flickered silently in the clouds and wind switched restlessly over the campus, whickering in the trees and scouring dead leaves over the footpaths.

  “Where are you going?” Zane called as James stepped slowly down onto the lawn, watching the sky. He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved along the lawn, skirting the fountain and its birdbath gargoyles, keeping his eye on the strange, swirling cauldron of clouds. It was making a noise, a sort of dull rumble, like the sound of a hundred freight trains in the dark distance. It was very nearly a growl.

  “Is that… you know… normal?” Ralph asked Zane as they moved alongside James. “Like, tell me that it’s some sort of side effect of the way the school jumps around in time, right?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Zane answered seriously.

  James lowered his eyes from the swirling purple maelstrom of the clouds and found himself looking at the squat mass of the Hall of Archives. The stormy phenomenon was directly above the building.

  “She watches,” James heard himself say. “She watches and she waits.”

  A tongue of lightning connected the clouds and the Hall of Archives, and the ground leapt beneath James’ feet. A blast of purple light illuminated the building from within, spearing through every crack and from the seams of every brick. Pencil beams shot from the tiny windows in the domed roof, spearing up into the sky. A split second later, the light was gone, leaving only blinding green afterimages on James’ retinas.

  “What,” Zane asked in an awed voice, “was that?”

  James shook his head very slowly. The sky seemed to have exhausted itself. The clouds broke up slowly overhead and there was a lingering coppery taste in the air. In the darkness beneath the Hall of Archives portico, the door opened. Two figures strode out into the dusky evening light and descended the steps. One of them was robed in black from head to toe and James found himself thinking of the mysterious woman whom he had first met in the midnight halls of the Aquapolis, the one who had appeared again later, during the attack on the Zephyr, and then vanished afterwards. She walked on into the deepening darkness, but the second figure lingered for a moment on the footpath, looking around slowly.

  “Is that…?” Ralph began, but there was no point in finishing the question. All three boys could see who it was.

  It was Petra. She looked around with interest, as if seeing the campus for the first time. Her dark eyes stopped when she saw the three boys, but it was James that she seemed to focus on. She smiled slowly. And then she waved.

  “What is happening here?” a voice demanded shrilly. James turned around and saw Chancellor Franklyn moving swiftly across the darkened campus, nearing them. His face looked very pale in the stormy darkness. Merlin and Neville Longbottom were following him, looking around carefully.

  “Did you feel it?” Zane asked. “The ground shook! Right when the lightning happened! Pow!”

  Franklyn passed the boys with barely a glance, approaching the Hall of Archives and its open door. The dim lights that had previously shown from the building’s tiny windows had been extinguished in the aftermath of the blast.

  “Oh dear,” Franklyn muttered darkly. “Oh great heavens. What has happened…?”

  Merlin stopped near James. Without taking his eyes from the Hall of Archives, he asked in a very low voice, “Did you see anyone?”

  James considered lying. For a moment, he considered telling Merlin that he hadn’t seen anything at all, especially not Petra looking strange and vaguely malevolent. The moment passed.

  “I saw Petra,” he answered quietly, almost whispering. “She and someone else—a woman I think—came out of the Hall right after… whatever it was.”

  Merlin nodded slowly, with grave emphasis. He didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t need to.

  10. JAMES AND THE SKRIM

  Students had begun to gather in the darkness around the Hall of Archives by the time Professor Jackson arrived and set up a perimeter of Werewolf House upperclassmen to guard the entrance. The grey-clothed students stood with military precision, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes staring out over the crowd as if daring anyone to try to pass them. Ralph, James, and Zane stood well back from the gathering observers, watching the proceedings with mixed curiosity and trepidation.

  Ralph frowned at the Werewolf guards in the near distance. “What kind of stuff do they have in the Archive anyway?”

  “I was only in there once before,” James replied, shrugging.

  Zane was impressed. “Are you kidding?” he rasped. “I’ve been on campus a whole year and I’ve never once been allowed into the Archive chambers. Hardly anyone gets to go inside except for Bad Hadley and his student tech crew.”

  “Is that a difficult crew to get on?” Ralph asked, looking aside at Zane.

  “Nah, they’re always looking for new members,” Zane replied, shaking his head. “There’re sign-up sheets all over campus. But that’s like actual work. I wasn’t that curious.”

  James asked, “So who’s Bad Hadley anyway?”

  “Hadley Henredon,” Zane answered, lowering his voice. “He’s the Archive custodian. A Muggle, but totally devoted to his job. There’s some long tedious story about how he got the position in the first place, but you’ll have to ask somebody else about it if you really want to know. He’s old and terminally cranky, and he goes by loads of nicknames around the campus: Bad Hadley, Hadley the Horrible, the Henredonkey, Captain Fisheye, Evil Enos, etc, etc, etc. Us Zombies came up with most of them.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed,” Ralph muttered.

  Just then, Harry Potter and Oliver Wood arrived, crossing the lawns and cutting through the noisome throng. Zane saw them first, and grabbed Ralph’s sleeve.

  “Come on,” he hissed, ducking through the knot of students.

  “Where are we going?” Ralph asked, following along with James in tow.

  Zane glanced back with a crooked grin. “Where else? To see what happened inside the Archive.”

  James shook his head as they ducked through the babbling crowd. “They’ll never let us in there,” he whispered harshly.

  “Sure they will,” Zane replied without looking back. “Just follow me and walk like you don’t expect anyone to stop you. You’d be amazed how often that works.”

  James found himself falling into step behind his own father and Professor Wood as they ascended the steps. Next to him, Zane glanced around wisely, as if he was taking inventory of the pillars around the portico. He had his wand in his hand, held importantly at his side. James produced his own wand and held it the same way. Behind them, Ralph scuffled up the steps, pushing his lank hair o
ut of his face. Almost before he knew it, the three boys found themselves ushered into the darkened entryway of the Hall, following in Harry Potter’s wake. The noise of the nervous crowd fell away behind them.

  “Mr. Potter,” a voice echoed from the inner chamber. “I’m glad to see you’ve arrived. Your particular expertise might be of great value as we descend to the Archive floor.” It was Chancellor Franklyn, his wand lit and held overhead, providing the only light in the huge empty room.

  “He seems to have gained some stowaways as well,” a woman’s voice commented. James recognized the Wizard Home Economics professor, Mother Newt, as she moved into the light next to Franklyn. “Excuse me, boys, but this is no place for students. You must leave this instant.”

  “We’re witnesses!” Zane exclaimed suddenly, pushing James and Ralph forward. “The three of us saw it happen!”

  “You witnessed the attack on this building?” Franklyn clarified, narrowing his eyes at Zane.

  “Attack?” Ralph replied. “We saw lightning strike it. And we saw—”

  “They were moving their belongings into their new house, Chancellor,” Merlin interrupted. “If you’ll recall, they visited us in the guest house a short while before. Their activities placed them in the vicinity of the phenomena when it occurred. It may prove valuable to interview them presently.”

  “And this one,” Harry said, shaking his head and smiling down at James, “is my son, of course. He and these other two are quite trustworthy. I have called upon their services in the past.”