James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  James nodded, disheartened, and continued to climb the ladder. The Dementors swirled around him but kept their distance. James scrambled over the lip of the coal car and dropped onto the irregular pile of coal inside.

  Behind him, he heard Merlin’s voice call out firmly, “Chrea Patronym!”

  There was a burst of silvery light and the swarm of Dementors broke apart, repelled by the force of the glare. James glanced back and saw Merlin clambering onto the pile of coal behind him, his staff glowing greenly in his hand. In front of Merlin, standing between him and James, was a large, ghostly jackal. The silvery light pulsed from it, and it bore its shining teeth in a silent snarl, forcing the Dementors back. James felt a little better seeing Merlin’s ferocious Patronus, and he wasn’t surprised at the form it had taken. He turned back and slowly began to force his way along the length of the coal car, struggling over the rough chunks of black coal. Trees whipped past, and James could tell that this length of track was unfamiliar. He had no idea how long they had until the train met the unfinished bridge. Panic tried to grip him, but James fought it back, concentrating on the task at hand.

  Finally, he met the other end of the coal car and clambered through an open iron door. A shovel rattled on the small platform behind the engine, but there was no one in sight. Merlin climbed through the iron door behind James, but his Patronus jumped over the front of the coal car, landing on the platform with its hackles raised. The noise of the engine made it almost too loud to speak. Merlin nodded toward the closed door in the rear of the engine. It was painted bright red, just like the rest of the engine. Across it, in gold letters, were the words ‘Hogwarts Express Engineers Only’.

  James reached for the door handle and heaved it open. It was pitch dark inside the engine compartment. James took a deep breath, steeled himself on the swaying, speeding platform, and stepped into the waiting darkness.

  The noise and wind vanished instantly. There was no sense of speed or motion at all. Nor did the space inside the engine feel hot or confined, as James had expected. It felt huge, silent, and eerily cool.

  “James,” a voice said comfortably, “how good of you to come.”

  James glanced around, but he couldn’t see anyone. There was no sign of Merlin, or anything else for that matter. The space seemed completely dark and featureless but for a pool of dim light that James stood in. “Where am I?” he asked, gathering his wits. “Where’s Merlin?”

  “He’s near,” the voice answered cryptically. “Interesting fellow, Merlinus, don’t you think? He was the first human I ever met, you know. His fear tastes particularly piquant.” The voice sighed in a selfsatisfied manner. “As far as where you are, that’s a rather more difficult question to answer. I didn’t want you to be overly concerned about your friends, so I took us… away. Outside of time. Outside of… well, everything, really.”

  “Where are you?” James demanded, glancing around.

  “Oh, I keep forgetting,” the voice said, laughing lightly. “You humans don’t much like the whole ‘godlike voice out of nowhere’ sensation, do you? I’m right here.”

  On the word here, the voice localized. James turned toward the sound and saw a figure standing before him. It was exactly the same figure he’d seen in Merlin’s Magic Mirror, right down to the tattered robe with no feet and the dark, featureless hood. James scrambled back from it, gasping.

  “I apologize again,” the figure said, reaching up. “Perhaps this is a bit better.”

  The figure of the Gatekeeper touched its hood and then swept it back. James was afraid to look but couldn’t help himself. He winced at the revealed shape, and then frowned a little.

  “You’re the Gatekeeper?” he asked, stepping forward again. “You look a little like… like my dad. But not exactly.”

  “This isn’t how I truly look, of course,” the figure said offhandedly. “I’m still learning about humans, I admit, but I’ve come to understand the sorts of shapes you find acceptable.” The Gatekeeper smiled disarmingly. “You expected something awful, I presume? A thousand eyes and a long, forked tail? That sort of thing?”

  James nodded, and then shook his head. “I don’t know what I expected. It doesn’t matter, really. What do you want?”

  “Right down to business,” the Gatekeeper said, nodding curtly, still smiling. “That’s what I respect about you, James Sirius Potter. No sentimentals. I’ll tell you what I want. I want to help you.”

  James shook his head. “I’m not buying that. You’re a liar. You want me to be your host so you can stay here on the earth and destroy everything. I’ve learned all about you. You just want to use me.”

  “Alas,” the Gatekeeper said, frowning a little, “put like that, it sounds rather awful, doesn’t it? On the surface of it, I mean.”

  “Well…,” James said, a little uncertainly, “yeah, it does.”

  The Gatekeeper nodded, pressing its lips together. “I guess that settles it, then. You say no to me, I get no human host. Shortly, I’ll lose my footing on this earthly plane and be forced back to the Void. You win.” The figure shrugged, as if mildly disappointed.

  “Yeah…,” James agreed tentatively, “I guess that’s pretty much it.”

  “In that case, do you mind if we just chat for a moment, James? There’s no harm in that, is there?”

  “Er, I guess not.”

  “You fancy Miss Morganstern, don’t you?” the Gatekeeper said, arching an eyebrow at James and winking. “I don’t blame you. Really, I don’t. Delightful girl. She and I were supposed to be… very close. I have to admit, though, that I had my doubts about her. Your dead Voldemort has his rather devoted followers, and they insisted she was the one for me, but I suspected differently. And, of course, I was right. I’m always right, James. That’s not pride talking, mind you. Uncertainty is the hallmark of timebound creatures. I see history as an open book, from start to finish. I know how things are going to happen because, metaphorically speaking, I’ve already skipped to the last page.” The Gatekeeper sighed indulgently. “Let me ask you something, James: do you know who I really am?” it asked, tilting its head.

  “You’re the Gatekeeper,” James answered carefully. “You’re evil.”

  “Yes, yes,” the figure said, waving a hand impatiently. “But besides all of that. I have loads of names other than that one, you know. There is one that I am particularly fond of. I think it’ll amuse you.”

  James shook his head, feeling increasingly cautious. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Then let me illuminate you, James,” the Gatekeeper said, suddenly approaching James and dropping to one knee. It looked closely at him, its eyes sparkling mischievously. “James, my boy, do you remember the story? The one your friend Ralph regaled you with in Wizard Literature class? You do, don’t you?”

  James nodded, perplexed. “Sure, but I don’t see…”

  “You don’t see because you don’t look!” the Gatekeeper interrupted. It lowered its voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I, James, am the King of the Cats!”

  James backed away as fear tingled up his back.

  “Think about it,” the Gatekeeper insisted, standing again and following him. “I sit at the base of the steps, Lord Guardian of the doorway between the living and the dead! I determine who passes through the Void, who proceeds into the Everlasting! And, I might add, I am also the Lord of… who comes back!”

  The Gatekeeper deftly snapped its fingers. Another pool of light appeared and James couldn’t help glancing at it. A figure was climbing to its feet in the pool of light, looking around in surprise and wonder. James gasped and his heart leapt.

  “Grandfather…,” he said, taking a step forward.

  “James!” Arthur Weasley said, laughing a little. “What are you doing at the Ministry? And what in the world was I doing on the floor? I must have tripped, clumsy me.”

  “Grandfather!” James exclaimed, moving to run to him, but the Gatekeeper place
d a hand on James’ shoulder, stopping him.

  “You cannot touch him, James,” the Gatekeeper said sorrowfully. “Not yet. Perhaps in time.”

  “But how…,” James cried.

  Arthur Weasley tilted his head and smiled crookedly at James. “Is this part of your grandmother’s secret design?” he asked. “It is, isn’t it? I know she’s been planning some sort of surprise party. She’s never been able to fool me, although I let her believe she can, the dear. Where’s everyone else?”

  “He cannot see me,” the Gatekeeper said, looking back at Arthur. “Those that pass through never do.”

  “Are… are you real?” James stammered, giddy excitement welling inside him. “Is it really you, Grandfather?”

  “What kind of question is that, James?” Arthur said, looking around. “Where are we, anyway? This isn’t the Ministry after all. I have to admit, I’m rather dumbfounded. Did I get off at the wrong grate on the Floo Network?”

  “No, Grandfather!” James cried. “You’re… you had a—”

  “Shh,” the Gatekeeper said. “Don’t tell him.”

  “Why are you doing this?” James suddenly demanded, looking up at the robed entity before him. “That can’t really be my grandfather! He’s dead!”

  “Death is just a doorway,” the Gatekeeper replied, shrugging. “You never knew that it was a two-way door. You love your grandfather, do you not?”

  “What would you know about that?” James demanded, fighting tears of frustration and anger.

  “I admit the concept is foreign to me,” the entity answered, “but I have learned enough of humans to know it is of great power to you. You’d have your grandfather back if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  James bit his lip, his emotions raging. In the second pool of light, Arthur was patting his pockets distractedly, as if looking for something. “Wrong address,” he muttered, laughing a little nervously. “Where’d I put that packet of emergency Floo powder? Molly always insists I carry it. She’ll crow for days about the fact that I finally needed it.”

  “Yes!” James blurted, tears welling in his eyes. “I love my grandfather. But he’s gone! You can’t trick me! I won’t do what you ask even if it means getting him back!”

  “Selfless,” the Gatekeeper said seriously, nodding. “A very respectable trait. I admire it, I really do.” It raised its hand and snapped its fingers again.

  A third pool of light appeared. James turned to look, blinking through a blur of tears. A figure seemed to stumble backwards into the light. He was tall and thin, wearing dark robes; his long black hair was ratty and matted with sweat. He caught his balance and spun on the spot, his wand out. Wild eyes spotted James and the man stopped, breathing heavily, obviously confused.

  “Harry?” he called, frowning in consternation. “You’re not Harry. Are you?”

  James couldn’t believe his eyes. “Sirius?” he gasped. “You’re Sirius Black!”

  “Ten points for you,” Sirius replied. “Where am I? Where’s Remus and Harry and the rest? Where’s bloody Bellatrix, for that matter? I’m not through with that witch.”

  “Sirius!” James called, hitching a sob, completely at a loss. “It’s… it’s over! You were k—”

  “The dead don’t wish to know such things,” the Gatekeeper interrupted, shushing James. “But surely you can see who this is. Sirius Black. More importantly, your father’s long lost godfather.”

  James nodded, barely hearing.

  The Gatekeeper went on. “Deny yourself all you wish, James. Return your grandfather to the realm of the dead. But will you be able to live with yourself knowing that you turned down the opportunity to give your father the one man whose love he has ached for every day of his life? Will you ever be able to look your father in the eye again, knowing you have denied him his greatest wish: to have his godfather returned to him?”

  James’ mind was reeling. “But they’re not real!”

  “What does that even mean, James?” the Gatekeeper demanded. “Look at them! They know not their own fates! For them, no time has passed whatsoever. They believe they are real! Who are you to tell them otherwise?”

  “I don’t know!” James cried, clutching his head.

  “It is so simple, James,” the Gatekeeper soothed, advancing on him. “I am the King of the Cats. You may join me and see all those you’ve lost returned to you. Your grandfather, your father’s godfather, even your long dead grandparents. There is no drawback, James, only one small price. A price you won’t even mind paying, I assure you. A price you will be glad to pay!”

  “What is it?” James asked helplessly, looking back and forth between Sirius Black and Arthur Weasley.

  “A small thing, a trifle,” the Gatekeeper said, reaching out to James and placing its hands on his shoulders. “A service to the world, really.”

  “I’m not going to kill anyone,” James said, shaking his head, tears streaming down his face.

  “Look,” the Gatekeeper whispered gently, turning James around. “Look before you answer.”

  Behind James was another pool of light. One last figure stood inside it, seeming rather surprised to be there. Long white hair hung on either side of a haggard face, and the eyes were filled with hate. James could instantly see the family resemblance. It was Lucius Malfoy.

  “What is the meaning of this…,” Lucius breathed. He reached for his wand, but couldn’t seem to find it in his robes. “Where is my wand?” he said, looking past James to the Gatekeeper. “I demand to know where you have taken me, you foul creature!”

  “This is the man,” the Gatekeeper whispered over James’ shoulder. “On his hands is the blood of dozens. It was his plan that both you and your sister die in the Chamber of Secrets. He is responsible for the death of Petra Morganstern’s parents, and it is by his will that she has been cursed with the demented soul of Lord Voldemort. Even now, this merciless wretch plots murder and death. His heart is a black box of hate. Kill him, James. Rid the world of this madman. Surely he deserves it. Kill him. Do it now.” As it spoke, the Gatekeeper backed away, as if giving James room.

  James had meant to refuse. It was on his tongue to say no, but suddenly, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The Gatekeeper was right. Lucius Malfoy did deserve to die. He was irredeemable. James felt the wand in his hand even before he realized he was reaching for it. It was Ralph’s. It felt hot and huge in his palm. It felt deadly.

  “What is this?” Lucius purred, narrowing his eyes. “You send a boy to finish me? I know this one. He is as weak as his father is stupid. He will not do it. He hasn’t the strength.”

  “He taunts you,” the Gatekeeper said silkily, eagerly, its voice coming again from the air all around. “Show him how wrong he is. Kill him.”

  James’ hand trembled as he leveled Ralph’s wand. It seemed to hum in his fist. It wanted to kill Lucius as much as he did. And then, when the deed was done and Lucius lay dead at James’ feet, he’d have his grandfather back. And Sirius Black could be Dad’s godfather again, just as he always should have been. James glanced back, and saw both Sirius and Arthur watching him. They were both frowning slightly, as if they couldn’t quite see what was happening.

  “James,” Arthur said, his voice worried. “Be careful, son.”

  “‘James’?” Sirius said to himself, glancing at Arthur. He looked back at James, realization dawning on his face. “We’re dead,” he said simply. “And somehow, some way, you’re Harry’s son, aren’t you? Who is that beyond you… Lucius Malfoy! Beware, James Potter!”

  James turned back, looking up into the smug face of his nemesis.

  “Do it,” the Gatekeeper hissed. “Kill him now!”

  Lucius growled, “You cannot! You’re weak!”

  “I’m not!” James sobbed. He tightened his grip on the wand and pointed it directly at the taller man’s heart. And then, with blissful suddenness, assurance washed over him. He wasn’t weak. He could do exactly what he had to do. In
his mind, he heard both Helga Hufflepuff and Merlin’s voices: the right thing to do is always simple, but it is never easy.

  “I am a warrior,” James whispered to himself, gritting his teeth. “And the sign of a true warrior… is knowing when not to fight.”

  With that, James lowered the wand. He dropped it, and then turned his back on Lucius Malfoy. Slowly, he began to walk away.

  “James Sirius Potter!” the Gatekeeper shouted. “You cannot turn aside! Kill him! You owe it to the world! You owe it to yourself and your father! You cannot deny the power I am offering you!”

  James looked at his grandfather sadly, his heart breaking. Arthur smiled proudly and nodded at him.

  “Strong, that boy is,” Sirius said, his eyes black and sparkling. “Just like his father before him.”

  Slowly, the pools of light faded. Arthur and Sirius descended into darkness.

  James kept walking. He was nearly at the edge of his own circle of light when he heard Lucius Malfoy’s voice behind him.

  “If you will not kill to become the host of the Gatekeeper,” he said, his voice oozing hatred, “then I will!”

  James knew that Lucius had picked up Ralph’s wand. He felt it pointing at him. He stopped in his tracks, not turning around.

  “Avada Kedavra!” Lucius hissed, spittle flying from his lips with the force of his rage. The bolt of green light sizzled through the air and struck James squarely in the back. James felt the force of it, and it pushed him forward slightly. Still, he did not turn. He stood precisely on the edge of light and shadow.

  Lucius stared at the boy, his eyes narrowed and a grimace of hatred carved on his face. The boy should fall now; he was dead. Lucius waited, still holding the rough, green-tipped wand, still pointing it at the boy’s back.

  There was a faint ripping sound. A long, ragged tear suddenly separated along the fabric of the Darkbag on James’ back, spreading from the point where the Killing Curse had struck it. James felt movement in the Darkbag. Something was awakening inside it. Many somethings, in fact, and they were hungry.

  “What kind of trick is this?” Lucius drawled nervously, taking a step backwards. He eyed the rip in the Darkbag as a noise began to emanate from it. James steeled himself, curling his hands into fists. The noise increased, becoming a loud, busy thrum. And then, violently, the Darkbag erupted. Borleys poured from the hole where Lucius’ Killing Curse had ruptured it. They’d tasted the raw magic of the curse, and they wanted more. They streamed through the air toward Lucius like a cloud of bats.