James shook his head slowly. “I’ll never figure you out, little brother,” he said appreciatively.
“Don’t even try,” Albus replied.
James nodded and rejoined his brother, leaning on the railing and watching the oily black waves.
Below-decks, James knew, his mum was putting Lily to bed, probably singing a nighttime song to her just as if everything was normal. Elsewhere, possibly in the captain’s quarters, his father and Titus Hardcastle were discussing what was to come. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey had gone down to their berth immediately, doomed to sleep in the same ship that bore their dead daughter. Molly had already been asleep by then, held in her mother’s arms. James guessed that Aunt Audrey would probably not let go of her for the entire night, but would sleep sitting upright on the bed, leaning against the headboard, taking what comfort she could from the sleeping breath of her surviving child.
Lucy was dead. It struck James as completely impossible and ridiculous. Reluctantly, he replayed the memory of her last moments, recalled the horrible helplessness of watching Judith raise her hand with murder in her eyes. Lucy had been trying to save Izzy, and had acted almost without thinking, rushing forward into the teeth of her own doom.
With a shudder and a dry sob, James realized two things: that Lucy really was gone, and that he had loved her. It hadn’t been the same sort of love that he felt for Petra, but it hadn’t merely been the love of a cousin either.
Could he have done something to save her? Should he have acted sooner? Or held her back somehow? Heat rushed to his cheeks as he considered this, and felt the first deep pangs of regret.
I’m sorry, Lucy, he said in his thoughts, in the deepest depths of his heart, almost as if it were a prayer. I should have done something. I should have stopped her from hurting you. Forgive me…
In response, he remembered Lucy on the day of the Valentine’s dance, when he had almost kissed her for the first time. I forgave you that very night, she’d admitted shyly, I can’t stay mad at you…
But it was only a memory. Lucy’s voice was stilled forever. Tears pricked James’ eyes, but he refused them. He knew that if he let them come, they wouldn’t stop coming for a long time, and he was just too tired to go through that now. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, pushing the tears away. Next to him, purposely not watching, Albus sighed sadly.
Beneath them, the ship cut a smooth wake through the harbor, heading out into the ocean and leaving the half-dark twin cities behind.
James felt terribly alone. Somewhere out there, falling further and further behind them, were Petra and Izzy. And what of Judith, the Lady of the Lake? Had she retreated back into the World Between the Worlds? James thought not. This was her world now—her chaos. She wouldn’t miss it, no matter what. James had a strong, sinking feeling that none of them had seen the last of her.
Eventually, the pressing darkness became too much for James and Albus. Without a word, they walked along the deck and found the doorway that led below. They followed the corridor until they discovered the berth that belonged to their parents. Harry was there now, along with Ginny, who was indeed singing to Lily as she drifted to sleep.
At least they were still all together. That counted for a lot, if not everything.
That night, the five of them stayed together in a single berth, piled like cats on the two large beds.
The next morning, James unpacked what clothes he had. They had been hastily gathered by his own mum from his dormitory room before she’d Disapparated to meet them at the pier, and she had forgotten his favorite pair of jeans. He sighed, reminding himself to ask Ralph or Zane to send them to him, and was about to toss his duffle bag beneath the bunk when he noticed something tumbling loosely in the bag’s bottom. He raised it again and peered inside. In the darkness was a small bundle of parchment, closed so tightly that it didn’t show the slightest seam. James recognized it immediately and his heart trip-hammered.
He touched the packet briefly, but nothing happened—no overwhelming visions or telepathic blasts. Carefully, he retrieved the packet and laid it on the small table of his room. Feeling a strange mixture of hope and trepidation, he tapped the packet with his wand, whispering the spell that would open it.
The parchments unfurled, blooming, as before, like an origami flower, but the pages were no longer covered with Petra’s handwriting. Now, there was only one line, written in the center of the top page. James leaned over the parchment, his brow furrowing as he read.
Remember the silver thread. You didn’t let go. For better or worse, I’ll never forget that.
She hadn’t signed it, but then again, she hadn’t needed to. James closed the parchment packet again and simply stared at it. Finally, after nearly a minute, he picked it up. He put his wand in his right back pocket and the parchment packet in the left.
There, he carried it from then on, until the very last time he ever saw her.
The End.
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Document creation date: 1.10.2011
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JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES jp-1 Page 74