The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) (75 page)

"It is enough to divide her," Merlin answered. "And she will never conquer that one small part of her that belongs to him. It will always be there, wheedling, poisoning, tempting, lying. Further, his power is her power. She has shown that she uses that power—granted, for good, so far, such as in healing Albus' leg—but how long will she be able to control it? Even now, she leaves these walls to return to a loveless and bitter life. She has denied herself the return of her own parents so that Lily and you, James, might live. Meanwhile, she watches you go home to loving parents and a life she can only dream of. Don't think that, despite her actions, she will not lie awake on cold, lonely nights, pining hopelessly for her dead parents, and wondering, wondering, if on that fateful night in the Chamber of Secrets she made the wrong choice."

James shook his head, not wanting to believe it. "She'd never think that. Petra is good."

"She
wants
to be good," Merlin agreed. "I will grant you that, James. Let us hope that that is enough."

Harry approached James and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Scorpius has agreed to help us locate his Grandfather Lucius. He's actually a little more enthusiastic about it than I'm comfortable with, to tell you the truth, but his grandfather's lies and manipulations have turned the boy into quite a valuable ally for us. Still," he said, turning his attention to Merlin, "what of Tabitha Corsica? She's returned the map. Apart from Stunning Ralph, she hasn't technically done anything wrong whatsoever, despite her best efforts. I have no jurisdiction over her at all."

"Leave her to me," Merlin replied, sitting down at his desk again. "She is not so far gone that she cannot be helped. I have known someone like her."

"You're kidding!" James said, getting to his feet as his father prepared to leave. "You think Petra's going to go all Dark Lord on us, but you think there's hope for Corsica just because you've 'known someone like her'?"

Merlin looked up at James, his brow lowered. "Perhaps I misspoke," he said, his voice rumbling. "What I meant to say was I have been someone like her."

James stared at the Headmaster, frowning in consternation, but Harry steered him away with his hand. "Come on, son," he said, smiling a little. "The Headmaster has a lot to do. I saw your performance on the Omnioculars, by the way. You're quite the little actor. Makes me wonder about the time you told me you had nothing to do with that broken clock in the parlor, eh?"

James changed the subject as quickly as he could. "So are you heading home right away?"

"No, actually," Harry answered, closing Merlin's door. "I'm going to check in on Albus down in the Slytherin quarters. And then I, er, owe someone a visit, apparently."

James began to tromp down the spiral staircase. "Who's that?"

"Moaning Myrtle," his dad sighed, smiling. "Rose insisted. She said she promised. Just come and get me if I'm in there for more than an hour, all right?"

T
he last week of school went by as if blown by a hard wind. Zane stayed over, spending a night both with James and Ralph in their dormitories, sleeping on cots provided by the house-elves, and staying the rest of the time in his old house dormitory. The Ravenclaws were happy to see him, and Horace Birch proudly proclaimed him a lifelong Ravenclaw "despite the fact you're a ruddy Yank and a coffee drinker, even though everybody knows all true Ravenclaws live on tea and Butterbeer."

To James' delight, a review of The Triumvirate appeared in the Daily Prophet, carefully glossing over the kidnapping of Lily as 'an unfortunate scare involving a temporarily lost child' since she had turned up later that evening apparently unhurt and perfectly cheerful. The review had called the play a 'surprisingly inventive and entertaining bit of academic theatre' despite the somewhat controversial Muggle production techniques implemented by the director, Muggle Studies professor Tina Grenadine Curry. This was blithely forgiven when the reporter had discovered that the Muggle generators, which were purportedly operating the stage lights, were running rather mysteriously without a drop of petrol in them, therefore rendering the nonmagical claims of the production completely moot.

"Here we go," Rose said, pointing at the newspaper at breakfast on the last day of school. "'James Sirius Potter, portraying the part of the beloved Treus, proved that neither youth nor inexperience can prevent a delightful performance in someone so well-trained and obviously inspired. Young Mr. Potter's surprising Thespian talent leads this reporter to muse that, in his case, the apple certainly did not fall far from the tree, even if it did perhaps fall in an entirely different vocational orchard.'"

"That's the fifth time you've read that," James said, grinning and red-faced.

"Not that you mind," Zane said, nudging his friend.

Ralph asked, "What's it mean about James falling down in a different orchard?"

"It means James is as talented as his father," Rose proclaimed, folding the paper, "Just in some quite different ways. No one could ever imagine Harry Potter performing in a play, could they?"

"I suppose not," James agreed, still grinning sheepishly. "But I think that's about enough acting for me."

Zane shook his head. "You say that now, but you just wait. Pretty soon, you'll start missing the spotlight. You know, my dad works in the Muggle film industry. He could probably hook you up with a part in a movie. There's even talk of remaking the movies based on that magical book series. You'd be perfect for it!"

"Not a chance," James insisted, but he was drowned out by the chorus of enthusiastic agreement. He decided not to fight it, and in the end, everyone agreed that, in fact, Albus would probably better fit the part, despite the fact that he couldn't act as well as James.

"I'd do it though," Albus said seriously. "I could even do my own spells! Would they allow that, you think?"

Zane shook his head as everyone laughed.

That night, James enlisted Zane's help in removing the lightning bolt scar from his voodoo doll. Carefully, Zane used his wand to magically scrub the marking from the tiny burlap forehead. Strangely, James could feel the progress of it. It tingled, and the tingle diminished as the scar vanished. Finally, Zane handed James the doll, nodding at a job well done.

"Clean as the wind-driven snow," he proclaimed.

James examined it. Sure enough, there was no sign that the scar marking had ever been there. He wrapped the doll in a cloth and put it in the bottom of his trunk. He wasn't sure what he would do with it now that he knew it could be used rather dangerously, but he suspected he would simply give it back to his mum. Now that she knew to keep an eye on it, he felt confident that there was no one who'd take better care of it.

At dinner on the last day of school, Gryffindor was awarded the House Cup, primarily because of late points added to their score by Merlin for James and Petra's performance in the play. James was very happy about the award, and as the Gryffindor table exploded into applause, congratulating James and Petra, he felt, perhaps for the first time, that he was living up to his father's legend as a Gryffindor. At the end of the Gryffindor table, floating uncertainly but with a nervous smile on his face, the ghost of Cedric Diggory waved at him. The Grey Lady wafted next to him, her pale face inscrutable but apparently content.

For the evening's entertainment, the Hufflepuffs put on a very amusing puppet show rendition of
The Triumvirate,
making affectionate fun of everyone involved. James laughed until tears ran from his eyes. When he looked to share the joke with Petra, however, her seat was empty. He didn't see her at all the rest of the night.

Finally, the next morning, it was time for the trip home. Zane had his small bag packed, whistling lightly as James lugged his trunk out to the steps.

"It'll be great to ride the train again," Zane said, smiling happily. "I miss that old cart lady. She wasn't there when I rode into Hogsmeade with your mum, you know that? Apparently, she only works the official Hogwarts Express runs. Better profit margin, I guess."

"Hmph," James said, plopping onto his trunk. "I didn't know that."

"I bet she'll be there more often, though, once they open up the new route. I saw the place where they're expanding the track through the mountains. It'll connect with some new wizarding village over on the other side of some gorge. I can't remember the name of the gorge or the village, but your mum said once they finish the track, it'll save travelers loads of commute time and Floo powder. I bet the cart lady'll have a lot more customers then."

"I'm sure she'd be glad you were so concerned for her welfare," James said, rolling his eyes.

"I can't help it," Zane agreed. "I'm just a caring kind of guy. Oh yeah, that reminds me, I think I figured out the secret of Tabitha's crazy broom."

James perked up. "Yeah? What was it?"

Zane reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small envelope. "Albus let me take a look at the bit of the broom he'd been using as a splint. I broke it open and Gennifer and Horace helped me do some tests on it. Look." He handed the envelope to James.

James thumbed it open and peered inside. It contained a tiny shred of black fabric.

"I wouldn't touch it," Zane said. "I did accidentally, and it still feels pretty oogie."

"'Oogie'?" James said, handing the envelope back to Zane.

"Sorry. Technical term I picked up from Raphael back home. Hinky. Creepified. Completely off the spook-o-meter."

"I get the picture," James sighed. "But what is it?"

Zane plopped down next to James on his trunk. "Remember last year when you explained corked brooms to me?"

James nodded. "Sure. When a Quidditch player threads something magical into their broomstick, basically turning it into a big giant wand."

"Yeah, well, we weren't so far-off about Corsica's," Zane replied. "We thought it was corked because it was Merlin's staff, but obviously, that was a red herring. It was corked because it contained a big, long strip off the robe of a Dementor."

"A Dementor?" James exclaimed, turning to look at Zane. "How's that even possible?"

Zane shrugged easily. "Beats me, but there's no question about it. Maybe Corsica's people are friendly enough with those things that they were able to get a hand-me-down. After all, you said the Dementors were loyal to Voldy and his pals."

"They weren't so much loyal to him as they were evil like him, but still… you could be right."

"It checks out," Zane nodded. "If what Merlin told you is true, Dementors are the same stock as the Borleys. They come from outside of time, and can manipulate it a little. That's pretty much what Tabitha's broom seemed to do, wasn't it? It knew just enough of the future to know where it needed to be. Fortunately for you and Albus, it took on the purpose of its owner."

"Wow," James breathed, looking at the envelope in Zane's hand. "I know that thing saved Albus' and my life, but still, I have to say I'm glad it got destroyed. Corked with a Dementor's robe! That's super creepy."

"Oogie, even," Zane agreed, pocketing the envelope. "Albus said I could keep this. I'm going to give it to Chancellor Franklyn when I get home so he can study it. I bet I get brownie points from here to doomsday for it!"

James shook his head, smiling at his friend's irrepressible temerity.

Shortly thereafter, Ralph, Rose, and Albus dragged their trunks out to the step as well, awaiting Hagrid's carriage to the station. James smiled in the sunlight. It was going to be a fun trip home.

"You still haven't really told us what happened on the other side of the chasm," Ralph said as the train picked up speed, leaving Hogsmeade station. "I mean, what was the real deal with Petra anyway? Was she under the Imperius Curse or something?"

James shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. She was being deceived. She had no idea that she was the Bloodline of Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy arranged for the Invisibility Cloak, my voodoo doll, and the portrait of Voldemort to be planted into the box of her father's things before it ever left Azkaban. She was blinded to the portrait and doll, tricked by the little part of Voldemort in her blood. Later, when she heard the voice of the portrait in the cave, she thought it was the voice of her dead father. It sounds mad, but I think she was feeling a little mad anyway after finding out all that stuff about her mum and dad."