The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) (50 page)

"It was awful that some of your family were so bad in the past," Rose replied, "but that was a long time ago. People shouldn't blame you for that."

Ralph sighed. "I suppose not, but they do. And honestly, I can't blame them. It's why I still go by the name Deedle. I hate my own grandparents even though they're long dead. Dad remembers them, and he wants to believe they weren't as bad as they seem. He's sort of trapped between loving them and hating them. But what kind of parents abandon their kid because he's different? What kind of people make that kid swear to never seek them out, or even talk about them?"

Rose didn't have an answer to that. The three wandered the halls aimlessly, passing tall windows, moving in and out of pools of cold winter sunlight. After a few minutes, James told Ralph and Rose about his conversation with Albus after the last Quidditch match.

"He says he didn't take the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map?" Rose said. "Do you believe him?"

James shrugged. "I don't know. He sure seemed honest about it. But he was really moody. Apparently he's pretty tight with Tabitha and her Fang and Talons cronies, and they've been telling him that I'm jealous of him, that I'm going to try to mess things up for him somehow."

"And are you?" Ralph asked.

"What?" James replied. "Oh yeah. I keep forgetting you're a Slytherin too. No, Ralph. I'm not jealous of Al, and I'm not going to try to sabotage him. I just don't want him to fall for any of Tabitha's lies. She's already got him convinced that she needs him because she's going through some mysterious personal tragedy."

Rose arched her eyebrows. "Really? What tragedy?"

"I don't know. She was all upset after the match, and not just because they lost."

"She has been pretty ugly around the common room lately," Ralph said. "She's not been her normal polite, ice queen self at all. She's snapping at people a lot, and stalking around, or sitting all by herself in the corner, mooning over parchments and books. I've even seen her send Philia and Tom Squallus away. But she doesn't send Albus away. It looks a little odd, really. I mean, she's a seventh-year and a foot taller than him. Not a likely pair, if you ask me."

"Curious," Rose said, narrowing her eyes. "I wonder what's going on with her."

"But what about the Cloak and the map?" Ralph asked. "If Albus really doesn't have them, and you don't have them, James, then who does?"

James slumped. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't care. Maybe Dad misplaced them somehow. Maybe Kreacher hid them away in his cupboard. He used to do that all the time at Grimmauld Place with all old Mrs. Black's stuff."

"You should tell your mum to check there," Rose said.

"It's not my problem, Rose," James snapped.

"It's your problem if she keeps thinking you stole them," Rose replied smoothly. "But whatever suits you. Maybe you prefer letting everyone think you're a thief."

The three stood by a window overlooking the courtyard. At the bottom of the main steps, Hagrid was loading trunks and bags onto a carriage, preparing to transport a group of students to the Hogwarts Express for their trip home. James sighed.

"I'd better go pack," Ralph said. "Dad's picking me up at the station tonight. We're spending the night in Hogsmeade so he can meet with some storeowners there, and then we're going back to London tomorrow."

"Sounds fun, Ralphinator," James said, trying to buck up a bit. "Have a good holiday. Stay out of the Shrieking Shack."

"Count on it," Ralph agreed. "I avoid anything with the word 'shrieking' in it."

B
y the next day, the school had emptied almost entirely. The corridors seemed eerily dark and silent with most of the classrooms shut and locked. As James made his way to breakfast on Sunday morning, he saw Cedric Diggory's ghost at the end of a long hall. He seemed to be in conversation with the Grey Lady. Both were floating slowly down the hall away from him. James decided not to interrupt them. Was it possible that Cedric fancied the Grey Lady? She was pretty enough, in a ghostly way, and she didn't appear to be much older than Cedric in human terms. In another sense though, she was several centuries older than Cedric, but maybe that didn't matter in the ghostly realm. Either way, it was far too bizarre for James to think about. He continued on his way to breakfast, shaking his head.

In the Great Hall, Rose was sitting at the Slytherin table with Albus. As James joined them, he heard them talking about the sale of the Burrow. It was a thoroughly depressing conversation, and James stayed out of it. Later, he suggested that the three of them go out and build snowmen in the courtyard. This was heartily agreed to, and the three spent the noon hours happily laughing and romping in the new snow. They succeeded in building a rather ridiculously large snowman, using their wands to levitate the enormous snowballs into position since they were far too heavy to lift. James and Rose attempted to levitate Albus himself up to the snowman's head to attach the carrot nose, but they were unable to keep him upright. Albus rolled over in the air until he was floating upside down. His hat fell off and plopped into the snow twelve feet below.

"Don't drop me!" he yelled, flapping his arms like an awkward bird. On the ground, wands in hand, Rose and James laughed so hard that tears squeezed from their eyes and rolled down their red cheeks.

"The carrot, Al!" Rose cried breathlessly. "Stick it in! What's the matter? Can't you fly?"

"Give me a broom and I'll fly," Albus griped, kicking his legs to turn himself upright again. "Next time, you get carrot duty, Rosie."

The three finally blundered inside as the sun lowered toward the horizon in a blaze of orange and pink. They left their snowy cloaks, hats, and gloves in a dripping trail as they made their way to the Great Hall for cocoas and afternoon snacks. James was glad of the break and the time to spend as a family. He purposely avoided talking about Merlin or the missing Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map.

"We should do this again next year," Rose said, smiling over her cocoa, her cheeks red. "It's sort of fun having the place to ourselves. Next year, we can get Hugo and Lucy and everybody else to stay with us."

"What about Louis?" Albus asked, smiling crookedly.

"He can stay too, I suppose, just so long as he doesn't talk," Rose said magnanimously.

"He probably wouldn't want to stay," James commented. "He went home this year with Victoire, you know. Of course, she wants to see Ted. Louis is just along for the ride."

"Are they spending all their time out at the Burrow packing?" Rose asked.

Albus shrugged morosely. "Packing's all done. Grandma Weasley managed that all by herself. I mean, how hard is packing for a witch like her? The big job is dividing everything up. Grandma and Granddad had an awful lot of stuff. And then there's the ghoul to take care of."

"Who's getting that?" Rose asked, frowning a little distastefully. "It better not end up in my mum and dad's attic."

"I bet it does," James replied, stirring his cocoa. "In fact, I bet your parents just move it into your room while you're at school. After all, it still looks quite a bit like Uncle Ron when he was our age. They may even like it better than you."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You'll have to try harder than that to get a rise out of me, James Potter."

"I bet it's in your room even now," Albus said thoughtfully, "wearing your make-up and trying on your knickers."

Rose nearly knocked her cocoa over lunging for Albus. James and Albus hooted laughter, earning an annoyed look from a house-elf cleaning a nearby window.

Time crept by surprisingly slowly as Christmas approached. James, Rose, and Albus spent the time playing Winkles and Augers in each other's common rooms, exploring the snow-covered grounds, and visiting Hagrid in his hut. Meals were taken in the company of the few remaining students and teachers, among whom were Fiera Hutchins, Hugo Paulson, and, to James' surprise, Josephina Bartlett, whose vertigo was only slightly better. She could manage sitting on a bench at the Ravenclaw table, although if she happened to drop a bread crust or a fork, she was completely unable to bend over to retrieve it. James felt a little sorry for her, but then he saw her yelling tersely at one of the house-elves to retrieve a new fork for her and determined that her arrogance and general insufferability had not been greatly affected by her predicament.

On Christmas morning, James was rather shocked to be awakened by the smell of fresh kippers and a deep, bullfrog voice.

"A merry Christmas to you, Master James," the voice said. "Lays there like a stone, he does, like his breakfast will stay hot by pure and simple magic until he decides he's ready to eat it, which it will, of course, but only because Kreacher works so hard day and night to hone the best Warming Charms for it…"

"Kreacher?" James asked blearily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. A tray of immaculately prepared breakfast had been laid over his legs. A black rose and a candy cane protruded from a tiny alabaster vase in the corner of the tray. "What are you doing here?"

"Sent by your dear mum, Master James," Kreacher said, bowing low. He was standing at the end of James' bed, dressed only in his tea towel despite the cold of the room. "Already served Christmas breakfasts to Master Albus and Mistress Rose. Your presents await you below."

"James!" Albus called from the common room stairs. "Come on! Kreacher won't let us unwrap anything until we're all together! Orders from Mum, of course. So chow down already!"

James bolted a few bites of the kippers and drank his pumpkin juice, thanked Kreacher, then flung himself out of bed. Rose and Albus were seated by the fire below, drinking tea and wearing green hats with jingle bells on the tips. Rose grinned and shook her head, ringing the tassels.

"Festive, eh? They came from my mum. She knew we'd not have decorated or anything. Put yours on!"

She tossed one of the hats to James. He smiled and jammed it onto his head. Kreacher came slowly down the stairs. He had also donned one of the hats, although he wore it like it weighed a hundred pounds. The hat covered his eyes. He pushed it up with a thumb, peering at James, Rose, and Albus with one eye. "All present and accounted for," he said to himself. "Merry Christmas, Masters and Mistress."

He snapped his fingers. There was a change in the light of the room and James sensed that a sort of protective field had been removed from the stack of presents. Albus whooped and leapt off the couch, attacking the biggest one with his name on it. James grinned happily and joined in.

Kreacher remained with the three until all the presents were unwrapped, then, dutifully, he collected all the cast-off wrapping paper and ribbons. He rolled the debris up, compressing it into a remarkably dense, colorful ball, and then, strangely, stuffed it inside his green tasseled hat. He put the hat back on his head while Rose struggled not to giggle at the silliness of it.

"Kreacher has been asked to inform you that your parents will speak to you tonight via Floo Network," the elf warbled. "Kreacher takes his leave of you now, Masters and Mistress. Do have a pleasant holiday."

"You too, Kreacher," Rose said around a mouthful of gingerbread witch.

"Indeed," Kreacher replied. He raised a spindly arm and snapped his fingers. The elf vanished in a puff of greenish smoke.

"Always liked that elf," Albus proclaimed. "Knows how to keep it businesslike, he does. No beating about the bush."

Rose said, "I feel a little sorry for him. What does he get for Christmas?"

"Oh Rose, you're as bad as your mum," James replied. "Two Christmases ago, Mum and Dad tried to give Kreacher a Christmas present. It was just a little basket with a pillow in it for him to sleep on. They bought it at a Muggle pet store, because the little brute refuses to sleep in a regular bed. He didn't want to accept it though, and when they insisted he keep it, he wouldn't even use it like he was supposed to. He's been using it ever since as a basket for carrying around the laundry!"