James had been curious about something ever since that day on the train. “How do you catch them if you can’t use magic on them?”
“Old elements, James Potter,” Merlin replied, and his voice had that strange, hypnotic quality that James had last heard when the wizard was talking a confession out of Denniston Dolohov, Ralph’s father, last spring. The Forest was becoming quite dark, and James wished again that he could see Merlin’s face. He had the creepy sensation that Merlin was talking to him without using an audible voice. Merlin went on, “Old elements that few in this age even know of, much less understand. I have a very curious bag, a Darkbag, which has nothing in it. When I say that it contains nothing, Mr. Potter, I do not mean that it is merely empty. The bag is full, packed even, with the last remaining relic of pure darkness, left over from the dawn of time. It is into this bag that the Borleys go, for there is only one thing that a creature of shadow needs to exist in, and that is light.”
“Does it kill them?” James asked quietly.
“Nothing can kill a Shade, Mr. Potter. They can only be contained. They remain locked in the Darkbag, starved for magic, desperate for escape, but utterly diminished with no light to define them. The Ministry of Magic has utilized a similar, albeit crude, method for containing Dementors ever since they were deemed untrustworthy as guards of Azkaban. They are sealed in the cellars of their old ward, Azkaban itself, captive in chambers rendered magically lightless. There, their powers are greatly diminished, though not decimated. They howl, Mr. Potter. I am told it is a dreadful sound, and I believe it.”
James shivered. After a minute, he asked, “So what happens if the Darkbag gets torn open?”
For the first time, Merlin turned. James saw one eye of the wizard looking back at him over his shoulder. Still, he didn’t break his stride. “The Borleys would escape as a swarm, of course, Mr. Potter. Starved for magic, they would attack the first source of magic they found and devour it.”
“D-devour it?” James said. “But you said they were harmless. Like barnacles.”
“I said that one Borley, in its entry state, was mostly harmless. Many Borleys, some in advanced states, and all desperate from their imprisonment, would be anything but harmless. In the event of the Darkbag’s destruction, the barnacles would become piranhas. But this is impossible, Mr. Potter. I am the keeper of the Darkbag, and that means it is utterly safe.”
James sighed. “Is that the famous Merlin bluster you told me about last year?”
Merlin finally stopped. He turned and squatted, his eyes level with James. He smiled and his eyes twinkled in the rising moonlight. “No, Mr. Potter,” he said in his normal voice. “That is the famous Merlin oath you have not yet learned of. You may count on it.”
“Finally,” Ralph said as he and Rose caught up to them. “A break. Rose, you still have those biscuits? How about a sharesy?”
When they finally reached the castle, Merlin led them straight through the halls and up the spiral staircase to his office. Apart from the enormous desk and the dozens of portraits that lined the walls of the Headmaster’s office, the room was unnaturally empty. James glanced around and saw the portraits of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, his brother’s two namesakes. Both portrait frames were, for the moment, unoccupied.
“I wanted to thank you three for your assistance this afternoon,” Merlin said, and he sounded almost hearty now that they had returned. “Thus, I thought you might like to see my cache opened.”
Rose widened her eyes with interest. “You’re going to show us what’s in it?”
“Not precisely, Miss Weasley, although you will certainly see its contents in time. No, I mean that perhaps you might like to see it opened. It is, if I do say so myself, rather a good bit.”
James smiled quizzically. “Well, sure. If you say so. Let’s have a look.”
Merlin seemed pleased. He carefully bent and set the small wooden box on the floor. There was a clasp on the front, holding the lid shut. Merlin lifted the latch and stood back.
Slowly, the lid began to rise. It seemed to lift like a drawer out of the box, sliding upwards much further than the depth of the box should have allowed. There was another drawer embedded in the front of the first drawer. James moved around the box and saw that there were, in fact, drawers on all four sides of the main drawer. The vertical drawer reached man’s height and stopped with a shudder. With a soft click, the drawers on all four sides began to roll out. The sides of each new drawer bore yet more drawers. Slowly, they unrolled, each surface revealing more and more compartments. It was beautiful to watch, and yet it boggled the mind. James’ eyes seemed to resist what they were seeing. They watered a bit as the box expanded, filling the center of the room. Finally, after about a minute, the drawers stopped. James, Rose, and Ralph walked around the mass of drawers, doors, and complicated locks and hinges.
“That was definitely a good bit,” James said, awed.
“Much better than a pile of trunks,” Rose agreed.
“Wonderful,” Ralph sighed. “Mysteries and enigmas galore.” He looked pleadingly at James. “Can we go eat now?”
James grinned. The three students headed toward the door leading out of the Headmaster’s office. James was the last to go through, but just as he was leaving, Merlin called his name. James stopped and turned as Ralph and Rose started down the spiral staircase.
“I have returned your subtracted ten points, Mr. Potter, and added ten as well,” Merlin said. “You did very well in the cavern. You will remember, of course, that secrecy is essential.”
“Sure,” James replied. “Not a word to anyone.”
Merlin nodded, meeting James at the door. “Of course,” he said, lowering his voice, “I do not know precisely what Lord Farrigan said to you while I retrieved the box, but I expect his words would also not bear repeating to anyone within these halls. That includes Mr. Deedle and Miss Weasley. As you know, the dead can be very… persuasive. I’d hate to see any conspiracies take root.”
James looked up at the Headmaster. The big man was like a giant next to him. James nodded slowly. Merlin seemed satisfied.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Do enjoy your dinner. You’ve earned it.”
A moment later, James found himself standing next to the closed door of the Headmaster’s office. He looked at it thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Come on, James!” Rose called up. “The gargoyle says it’s cherry posset for dessert tonight! I never get sweets like that at home!”
James shook his head slightly. If Merlin didn’t want James to tell Rose and Ralph what the skeleton had said, then there was surely a good reason. But Merlin had only said he shouldn’t tell anyone within the halls of Hogwarts. If it came to it, there was technically no reason James couldn’t tell his parents, and they could tell whomever they wished, couldn’t they? Satisfied with that, James turned and climbed down the spiral staircase to join his friends.
5. ALBUS AND THE BROOM
James met Ralph at the base of the steps on Monday morning. The halls were already filled with the clamor and bustle of the start of school, and even though James knew he’d probably be missing the freedoms of summer by the end of his first week, for the moment he was still looking forward to classes.
“Got my schedule all set,” Ralph proclaimed happily as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. “Got Defence Against the Dark Arts with that Debellows bloke first thing this morning.”
“Check that,” James said. “I’m there too. Strange that he didn’t require a book. He must just be so smart about the whole thing that he doesn’t need one. This should be excellent.”
“Debellows rules,” Graham said as James and Ralph plunked down at the table. “You know he once took on two vampires at once with only a Beater bat and a Muggle pencil.”
“A pencil?” Ralph furrowed his brow.
“To stab them with, of course. It was the closest thing he had to a wooden stake.”
Ralph scre
wed up his face, thinking. “That must have been one bloody sharp pencil.”
Rose had already finished her breakfast, having arrived earlier. “I hear that this is going to be a very practical Defence Against the Dark Arts class, even for first-years. Apparently, Debellows prefers a hands-on approach.”
“Well, just look at the fellow,” Noah said, turning to gaze at the man still finishing his breakfast at the teachers’ table. “He looks like he’s ready to pounce even when he’s sitting still.”
Sabrina leaned over the table and said in a stage-whisper, “I think Noah has a bit of a man-crush on him.”
“Oh shut up,” Noah replied. “You didn’t grow up collecting Debellows Harrier action cards. I just can’t believe he’s going to teach us how to battle the Dark Arts. I hope he shows us how to do the Perseuspinch maneuver.”
“I had an action figure that did that,” Graham nodded. “I tried to use it on my mum, once. Got me in no end of Barney.”
“I have to wait until Wednesday for my first class with him,” Rose complained. “Tell me how it goes tonight, won’t you?”
James nodded, his mouth full of toast. Across the room, James could see Albus sitting in the middle of the Slytherin table, smiling and laughing with his new friends. Strangely enough, most of those around him were older students. Tabitha Corsica and Philia Goyle smiled and nodded as Albus spoke.
“Come on,” Ralph said, pulling James’ collar. “Let’s get to class a little early. I want to see what this Debellows is all about.”
“Hang on,” James said, collecting his bag. He climbed off his bench and skirted the edge of the hall, heading around toward the Slytherin table.
“Hey, Al,” he called.
Albus looked up, following the sound of James’ voice. “Hi, James! Didn’t see you all weekend. What’s up?”
“Can you spare a minute to walk with your brother to first class? I want to hear about your adventures in your new house.”
“That’s sweet,” Tabitha said warmly. “Go ahead, Albus. We’ll chat again at lunch and make arrangements for Wednesday.”
“Excellent!” Albus nodded happily. “All right, come on, big brother. I’ve got Herbology with Neville first thing.”
As they broke away from the Slytherin table, Albus was positively bursting with excitement. “I got my ring key already, see? Spent the whole weekend getting the grand tour with the Fang and Talons. Did you know the Slytherin rooms have their own casting range? We can practice almost any spells and curses we want on these enchanted dummies. If you get a curse right, the dummy drops on the floor and does this hilarious imitation of the effect. Not that I’m any good at the wandwork yet, but Tabby says I shouldn’t rush it.”
James nearly choked. “‘Tabby’?”
“Yeah,” Albus nodded. “Tabitha Corsica. She’s the unofficial head of Fang and Talons. I mean, nobody is really an official anything in the club. It’s really just a joke with the Slytherins.”
James looked back at Ralph, his eyebrows raised.
“Tabitha tried to get me in last year, before the debate. It’s kind of a secret society, although there’s not much secret about it if you’re a Slytherin.”
“Tabby says it’s fine for me to talk to you about it, James,” Albus assured. “But I’d keep it hush-hush if I was you. I mean, we don’t want just anybody to know about it. What fun would that be?”
“So what’s going on with Tabitha this Wednesday?” James asked.
“What?”
“This Wednesday,” James said, stopping as they reached the archway leading outside to the greenhouses. “Tabitha said she’d make arrangements with you about something.”
“Oh, that,” Albus said, glancing out at the glass buildings twinkling in the morning sunlight. “That’s just for Quidditch tryouts. She says she’d love to see me get on the team.”
James smiled uncomfortably. “But you don’t have a broom or anything. Trust me, those house brooms are useless. I couldn’t even fly in a straight line until I got my Thunderstreak.”
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Albus said, shouldering his pack and grinning. “Tabby says she’ll let me use her broom for the try-out.”
James’ mouth dropped open, but Albus turned away before he could say anything. “Got to be off, big brother,” he called over his shoulder. “Can’t be late to first class!” He strode out into the sunlight, joining a few other first-year Slytherins who’d been skulking nearby. James turned to Ralph, his mouth still hanging open.
“First I heard of it,” Ralph said, raising his hands, palm out. “I’m not part of ‘Tabby’s’ crew, you know.”
“But that broom…,” James sputtered, “it’s… it’s evil!”
“Come on,” Ralph said. “Let it go for now. Class starts in five minutes.”
As James turned reluctantly to follow Ralph, he passed Scorpius on his way out to the greenhouses. Scorpius smirked at James and bumped him with his shoulder. James almost said something, but a nearby Slytherin beat him to it.
“Forsooth, mine breaking heart, Malfoy!” the boy called, clutching his chest. There was a chorus of laughter. Scorpius ignored them.
“Why isn’t Debellows having class in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom?” Ralph asked, studying his schedule as they threaded through the crowded corridors. “This is taking us all the way to the other side of the castle.”
James shrugged, distracted. “Couldn’t guess.”
They reached the designated room and filed in with the rest of the secondyears. The classroom was huge with a very high ceiling and high windows along one wall. There were no chairs or desks. Instead, there were padded mats on the floors, old-fashioned dumbbells arranged in a long rack, and an assortment of clockwork dummies and complicated apparatuses covered with pads and pommels.
Morgan Patonia, the Hufflepuff, walked in and stopped, looking around the space. “Hmph. Welcome to the Hogwarts gymnasium,” she said in a bewildered voice. “I didn’t even know we had one of these.”
The class shuffled nervously around the space, not quite sure what to do with themselves. Kevin Murdock, the Slytherin with whom James had had Technomancy the previous year, grabbed a couple of the dumbbells and hefted them, showing off for a pair of Ravenclaw girls who rolled their eyes.
“Greetings, class!” a voice boomed heartily. James turned to see Professor Debellows striding into the room from a rear door. He was dressed in a short tunic and sandals and had a towel slung around his neck. “As you know, I am your new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Kendrick Debellows. I hate being called Professor anything, so feel free to call me by my first name. We’ll not stand on protocol in this class. I want you all to think of me as your friend and partner. Do have a seat, all of you.”
James saw Ralph glance around, as if he expected a row of chairs to have suddenly appeared. The rest of the class was doing the same thing, their faces vaguely confused.
“On the mats!” Debellows laughed. “My word, this is going to be a learning experience for all of us, I daresay. On the mats, students. Anywhere you like. That’s the spirit.”
James hunkered down with his back against one of the clockwork dummies. As he leaned against it, it emitted a soft click and a whirring sound. The arm of the dummy popped upwards and the hand balled into a huge, padded fist. James boggled up at it, then at Ralph. Ralph looked characteristically worried as he settled uncomfortably on the mat.
“I don’t know what kind of classes you are used to in the past, students,” Debellows said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels. “In fact, I have specifically asked not to be told of the methods of your previous Defence teachers. I have my way of doing things, a way that proved very successful during my years as the leader of the Harriers, and I intend to implement the same methods here. Many of you will be familiar with my exploits, but let me assure you: this is not a lecture class. We will not be discussing my adventures at great length, although th
ey may from time to time prove instructive and illustrative. No, this is going to be a class where we do things. To learn is to perform! And perform you shall. You will most likely end up sore and exhausted. You may return from our classes bruised, sweaty, and bedraggled. But you will become strong! I will do my best to teach you everything I have gleaned from my years of confronting the Dark Arts. Now, I will require a volunteer.”
Debellows’ gimlet eyes roamed eagerly over the crowd of secondyears. A Ravenclaw named Joseph Torrance raised his hand tentatively.
“Excellent, that’s it, don’t be shy,” Debellow’s called heartily. “Come on up here, young man. I don’t know your name, but I’ll call you Ignatious.”
“My name’s Joseph,” the boy said, joining Debellows at the front of the room.
“Joe, then. Fine, fine. What I want you to do, Joe, is pretend to be a werewolf. I want you to attack me.”
“Attack you, sir?” Joseph said a bit uncertainly.
“Yes, yes, as a werewolf. Just lunge at me, go for the throat. Don’t be afraid to hurt me.”
Joseph swallowed, glancing out at the room, then back at Debellows. Gamely, he crouched, raised his hands with his fingers hooked, and charged, making a fair attempt at a ravenous howl. Just as he jumped, Debellows spun. In a blur of motion, he hooked one leg over the boy, spun him upwards into the air, produced his wand, and shouted an unintelligible command. Joseph froze in midair a moment before he’d have crashed to the mat. His face was still contorted in a comedic growl.
The class had barely had time to gasp before it was over. There was a moment of awed silence, and then a burst of applause. Graham nudged Morgan, nodding excitedly and pointing.
“He’s perfectly all right,” Debellows called, shaking back the sleeves of his tunic. “He’s not even paralyzed, just suspended. Isn’t that right, Ignatious?” He patted the boy on his upraised foot.
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