James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  “Well, that’s what some people believed,” Rose said, shrugging. “But Merlin himself never actually said so. Officially speaking, he never said anything again. He was never again seen in public, and it’s right after that that Austramaddux talks about Merlinus ‘leaving the society of men until the time was ripe for him’. It’s no wonder people have been suspicious all these centuries.”

  “And still are today,” James said pointedly.

  “That doesn’t mean I agree with everything people have said about him,” Rose replied quietly. “But it certainly makes one understand how Merlin might have developed a bit of a serious grudge. Love makes people do mad things.”

  James sighed. “I’ve got a plan, Rose,” he admitted in a low voice. “I wasn’t sure I was going to go through with it, but I am now. I need to clear Merlin’s name if I can. I’m going to find out the truth about whether he is involved with those people we saw, and that horrible, er, thing in the smoky cloak.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes at James. “You know something about that thing, don’t you?” she asked. “You’re hiding something. Does it have to do with that weird pain you get in your forehead sometimes?”

  “What?” James said, startled. “No! I… er, I don’t feel that anymore.”

  “Right,” Rose nodded. “You smacked your forehead and yelled in pain that day outside the Headmaster’s office because you suddenly remembered the extra credit answer on your Arithmancy test.”

  James deflated. “Look, yeah, I still feel it sometimes. I don’t know where it’s coming from. But it doesn’t have anything to do with Merlin, all right?”

  “Scorpius says you’re having bad dreams,” Rose said, looking closely at James.

  “Bloody hell, Rose! What’s he doing, staying up nights taking notes?”

  “He says you’ve been talking in your sleep and getting all worked up. He can’t hear what you’re saying, but it always seems to be the same. And it’s happening a couple of times a week.”

  James glared at Rose, and then looked away. “Yeah, so what? I hardly ever even remember the dreams. And even when I do, they don’t make any sense. There’s always a voice talking, and flashing blades, and the sound of old machinery. Someone is walking and I’m following them, but I can’t see who it is. And then there’s water and some weird faces. So what? It’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “I know you well enough to know you don’t believe that.”

  James shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what it’s all about. Maybe it does have something to do with the weird pain I get on my forehead sometimes. Cedric… Cedric says he can actually see a scar there. He says it glows green.”

  “No!” Rose exclaimed, as if she thought that was the coolest thing she’d ever heard. She leaned in, studying James’ forehead. “Can you see it when you look in the mirror? Does it glow when you turn off the lights?”

  “This isn’t funny, Rose!” James said, backing away. “But at least it means I’m not a nutter. If Cedric sees it, then it isn’t in my head.”

  “Yeah,” Rose agreed. “Technically, it’s on your head.”

  James grimaced at his cousin. “But the point is that this has nothing to do with how I intend to find out the truth about Merlin.”

  “How, James?” Rose asked seriously. “I mean, Ralph’s right about one thing: if Merlin is involved with that evil plot, he’s one scary character to go up against. He’d have no qualms about getting you out of the way. Let Ralph and me help you, at least.”

  James shook his head. “I don’t need help, Rose. Sorry. It’d just get you two into trouble too if we got caught.”

  Rose had always been very practical. She nodded solemnly. “When are you going to do it?”

  James’ face grew determined. “Tonight, if I can. If everything goes right, we’ll know the truth by tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.”

  “You’ll need more than luck, you berk,” Rose said. “I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”

  James thought of the way Merlin had found him in the halls, both when he’d been standing guard for the Gremlins and when he’d gone for the rolling chalkboard. Merlin knew when things were going on around the school, and he’d know what James was up to if James wasn’t very careful.

  “So do I, Rose,” James agreed as he and his cousin walked down the corridor toward the Great Hall, “so do I.”

  James had a simple plan. He’d talked Cedric’s ghost into helping, although it had been a close thing. Cedric didn’t like going into the Headmaster’s office now that Merlin was occupying it, and there was some sort of boundary that prevented ghosts from entering the Headmaster’s personal quarters. Still, Cedric could hover outside the windows and see when the lights went off. Presumably, Merlin slept sometime. When the lights in his quarters had been off for an hour, Cedric was to come and wake James.

  James went to bed that night certain that he wouldn’t sleep a wink. He was nervous about his plan, partly because he thought he might be caught no matter how sneaky he was and partly because he was afraid of what he’d discover if the plan succeeded. Every time he began to drift to sleep, he’d imagine he was hearing Cedric coming to wake him. It was silly because the ghost made no noise whatsoever unless he wanted to, so James would never hear his approach. Still, every bump and creak caught James’ attention until, eventually, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

  He had the dream again, but it was different this time. As always, it began with the swish and glimmer of metal blades, frighteningly close, and the rumble of ancient machinery. There was the voice, silky and ingratiating, a little maddening. It echoed so that James couldn’t understand it, but occasional phrases slipped through. “Time is not yet come…,” the voice said, and “The task set before you…” and “… bearer of redemption…” In the dream, James shuddered.

  There was a figure walking with him, but all James could see in the darkness was a faceless silhouette. James seemed to float with the figure, as if carried by it somehow. He felt the scar on his head like a weight. Then, for the first time, light bloomed in the strange space. It emanated from the pool, green and flickering, throwing dancing ripples over every surface. The walls were stone, old and slick with moss. James had a sense of being underground, far from the light of day. The voice continued to speak as figures moved in the brightly glimmering water, like reflections from another world. The voice came from a figure in the dark corner, draped in black. As it spoke, the two faces formed in the water again, their expressions both sad and hopeful, pleading. They were clearer this time, rippling just under the water’s surface: a man and a woman, younger than James’ parents. James’ companion gasped and dropped to kneel, crawling to the water’s edge, reaching to touch the rippling surface.

  “Stop,” the voice commanded. “The time is not yet come. You would join them in that world, not return them to this one. Their blood calls for payment. Only then can they cross over. But you can extract that payment. You are the one to bring about redemption, not only for them, but for all who’ve gone over at the will of the oppressors. You are the hand of balance. Your duty is harsh, and your burden heavy, but it is not without its rewards. You will have them back. And you will live to see the day of change. If you wish it.”

  “I wish it,” the voice of James’ companion whispered, and James whispered it as well, helpless not to. His voice made no sound at all.

  He awoke, startled by some noise. The dream remained vivid in his memory so that it almost felt like he was still dreaming. He sat up in his bed and could tell by the moonlight that it was the very dead of night. Nearby, Graham slept with one arm dangling over the bed. The room was full of the silence of deep sleep.

  “Cedric?” James whispered very quietly, careful not to wake anyone. He threw back his covers and slipped out of bed. There was no sign of the ghost. Perhaps he was down in the common room. James collected his wand and his glasses from his satchel and made his way t
o the stairs. He stopped near the doorway, noticing something strange. Scorpius’ bed was rumpled but empty. James narrowed his eyes. Where was that little viper? He thought about Scorpius telling Rose he’d heard James talking in his sleep. Why had Scorpius been awake those times? He was surely up to something. Reluctantly, James determined to think about it later. He had more important things to do now. He turned and crept down the stairs to the common room.

  The room was completely empty and dark except for the dull red glow of the fireplace. There was still no sign of Cedric’s ghost. James whispered his name again, a little louder this time, but there was no response. James sighed and walked over to the fireplace. As he plopped into the high-back chair, a voice spoke up brightly, shocking him.

  “Hey, James!” the voice said. “Where’s everybody at?”

  James spluttered, looking around. “What? Who… Zane?!”

  Zane stood by the fireplace, apparently leaning on the mantle, although he didn’t quite seem to be touching it. He grinned mischievously. “Who else? You got my duck, I see.”

  “Your—” James began, still recovering from the shock. “No. What? Your duck? What are you doing here?”

  “I sent you a message by duck a few minutes ago,” Zane said, referring to the Protean rubber ducks they used to send notes to each other. James had completely forgotten about his. “I assumed you got the message. I told you and Ralph to meet me by the fireplace in five minutes. So where’s everybody else? This place is dead as a doorknob.”

  James rolled his eyes. “So that’s what woke me up! Zane, it’s the middle of the night,” he exclaimed, stifling a grin. Zane’s utter precociousness always amazed him. “Ralph’s in bed down in the Slytherin quarters. You forgot the time difference again!”

  “Oh yeah,” Zane said, grimacing. “It’s only eight here. I mean, there. Where I really am. So what do you think of this? Much better than the lunarfly dust. Do I look all right?”

  James squinted. “Well, you did a minute ago. You’re starting to fade a bit around the edges. How are you doing it?”

  “It’s pretty good, eh?” Zane replied. “Another of Professor Franklyn’s brainstorms. The beauty of it is its simplicity. You ever hear of a Doppelganger?”

  James frowned. “Er, yeah, actually. It’s a mythical double of yourself. It shows up to warn you of your own impending death, right?”

  Zane nodded brightly. “Yeah, exactly. Franklyn figured if we faked the circumstances of untimely death, the Doppelganger might show up. Then, when it did, we could harness it and send it out to relay personal messages, like this one.”

  “So you’re in mortal peril over there?” James asked, furrowing his brow.

  “Yes and no. The Doppelganger has to think so, but Professor Franklyn has it all worked out. There’re loads of fail-safes. I’m only technically in mortal peril. When we finish talking, I’ll be in the clear again. It’s all a little complicated, but the Department has worked out most of the bugs. You have your wand with you?”

  “Er, yeah,” James answered.

  “Shoot me with it, will you? It doesn’t matter how. A Stinging Hex or something. I’m starting to fade out.”

  “What? I mean, are you sure?”

  “Totally. Make it quick. See, the problem with this method of communicating is maintaining the magic over long distances. We need a boost from your end to keep it up; otherwise, I’ll just fade out.”

  James produced his wand and, reluctantly, pointed it at the fading figure of Zane. “Acervespa,” he pronounced. A thin, needlelike bolt shot out of his wand. Zane’s figure seemed to absorb the bolt. It grew suddenly solid again.

  “That hit the spot,” Zane said. “So how’re things across the pond?”

  “Ugh,” James said, slouching in his chair. “Complicated. Albus is a Slytherin, I’m getting phantom broadcasts through some kind of ghost scar, the son of Dad’s mortal enemy stole my bed, and everybody is worried Merlin has gone evil.”

  Zane grimaced. “Whoa. That’s a mouthful. One thing at a time. You don’t think the big guy’s gone evil, do you?”

  James shook his head tiredly. “No, but some people do. Even Rose does. Especially after the other night.”

  James told Zane about the scene in the Amsera Certh Mirror. Zane listened critically, one corner of his mouth cinched up in his unique expression of thoughtfulness.

  “So what happened then?” Zane asked once James had finished.

  “What do you mean? That’s it. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I mean, how’d Merlin get back if you shut the Focusing Book on him?”

  “I don’t know,” James mused. He hadn’t really thought about it. “But he did get back. I guess he has other means of getting around. If that was really him.”

  “It was him,” Zane said, nodding. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

  James frowned, but before he could object, Zane went on. “But the good news is he must have been there for all the right reasons. Otherwise, you’d be toast, wouldn’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” James asked warily.

  “I mean, he saw you, didn’t he? You said that the pale dude pointed out of the Mirror right at you, and everyone turned to look. That means Merlin saw you. If he was in league with these guys, he’d have come for you three the moment he got back. You’d all be banished to the Netherworld, or whatever it is guys like Merlin do to their enemies.”

  James furrowed his brow. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “Of course you hadn’t,” Zane shrugged. “I was always the brains of the outfit.”

  James grimaced. “Well, either way, I’ll know more after tonight. In fact, I thought you were my wakeup call. I’ve got some sneaking around to do and I’m a little nervous about it. I don’t even have the Invisibility Cloak this time. So anyway, what about you? How are things at Alma Aleron?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” Zane said, shaking his head. “Classes are positively huge, and the wizarding community over here is way different. There are actual Sasquatches in some of my classes. Bigfeet! And let me tell you, they’re a lot smarter than they look, even if they do only talk in grunts. Also, the Progressive Element is all over the place around here, only they don’t call themselves that. They just talk a lot about how the old ruling elite have always halted change and stifled progress, stuff that sounds all great until you remember that change and progress are the same things that make milk go sour. Anyway, a lot of them give me the evil eye because they think they know what happened there at Hogwarts last year. Madame Delacroix’s in prison, you know. A lot of people talk like she’s a hero, like some kind of political exile. It’s completely quantum to me.”

  “The voodoo queen’s in prison?” James asked, his eyes going wide. “They have wizarding prisons there?”

  “Well, it’s more of a mental hospital, but it’s under total lockdown. She was never really the same after that night in the Grotto Keep. She got a little cracked, if you know what I mean. Technically, she’s just under observation. In fact, she’s right here on campus, in the medical building. Hey, Cedric. How’s the ghosting going?”

  James looked up and saw Cedric moving across the room, smiling halfheartedly.

  “It’s time,” the ghost said, addressing James.

  “That’s right,” Zane said, “you have your big plans to spy out the Headmaster. Look, are you certain that’s a good idea? That guy must have anti-spy traps all over the place. You can’t just waltz into his office even if you did have the Invisibility Cloak.”

  “I’ve got a plan,” James said, firming his jaw.

  “Oh,” Zane replied, rolling his eyes. “Well, if it’s as solid as the plans we came up with last year, then I feel loads better.”

  “You’re fading out again, mate,” James said, climbing out of the chair and turning to join Cedric. “Pop up anytime you want.”

  “You can count on it. Good luck. And James?”

  James stopped and turned. Zane
was fading almost to nothing. He looked even ghostlier than Cedric.

  “Keep me in the loop, you know? I was there when Merlin showed up. If he has gone to the dark side, I want to know about it. Maybe I can help.”

  “He hasn’t,” James said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Zane grinned. “I didn’t say I was worried.”

  A moment later, the figure of Zane evaporated like a puff of smoke.

  As they slipped through the portrait hole, Cedric asked, “What was that all about?”

  James shook his head. “Just Zane being Zane. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  “So what do you need me to do?”

  James took a deep breath and looked down the very dark, very silent corridor. “Just get me into the Headmaster’s office,” he whispered. “After that, as Zane would say, it’s all quantum.”

  James had hoped that the password to the Headmaster’s staircase hadn’t changed since he, Ralph, and Rose had gone to ask permission to start the Defence Club. By the time he got to the gargoyle guarding the entrance, he’d nearly forgotten the old Welsh phrase, but when he remembered it and said it aloud, the gargoyle stepped tiredly aside.

  “Nothing good comes from such a late visit,” the gargoyle muttered as James and Cedric passed. “But then again, what do I know? My head’s made of marble.”

  At the top of the staircase, Cedric walked silently through the office door. A few moments later, the bolt shot back from the inside and the door creaked slowly open.

  “They’re all asleep,” Cedric whispered, indicating the headmasters’ portraits. “Even Dumbledore and Snape.”

  James nodded and crept into the room. The office was quite dark and foreboding despite the sound of mingled snores from the portraits. A single beam of moonlight laid a stripe across the floor, up the front of the massive desk, and across Merlin’s Focusing Book. James crept across the floor toward the desk, not wishing to look at the Amsera Certh but unable to avoid it. The surface of the Mirror was thick with rolling, silvery smoke, casting its own pale light on the nearby furnishings.

  “I only n-need a few m-minutes,” James whispered, his teeth chattering. The Headmaster’s office was unusually cold. James could see his breath puffing as he spoke. “I just need you t-to lock the door afterwards…”