The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2)

by G. Norman Lippert

  By the evening of the last Quidditch match of the year, James had still not spoken to Albus. He determined he would do it that night after the match. As an early winter dusk descended over the grounds, dark, ominous clouds were pushing in from the east. By the time James and Rose were sidling into their seats in the Gryffindor grandstand, fat snowflakes had begun to fall. The snow made a thick, white curtain, transforming the pitch into a ghostly shadow play. Across the pitch, the Slytherin grandstand was nothing but a tall grey monolith.

  The players streaked from their holding pens, foregoing the traditional displays of aerial acrobatics for fear that they might crash into one another in the fog of snow even before the match began. Far below, barely visible, Gryffindor Captain Devindar Das shook hands with Tabitha Corsica, Slytherin's Captain. Shortly thereafter, the two captains kicked off, joining their teams in the air. Cabe Ridcully, the match official, released the Bludgers and Snitch and tossed the Quaffle into the waiting team formations. The teams sprang into action and the match was underway.

  James found it a very difficult match to watch, and not just because of the thick, blinding snowfall. He was still smarting from his failure to make the team for the second year in a row, and especially because he'd simply been too distracted to remember when try-outs were. He cursed himself repeatedly, thinking it should be him out there facing off against Albus as Seeker. It was nothing short of completely humiliating that Albus was showing him up on the broom. Fortunately, being a Gryffindor, James could legitimately cheer for Albus' opponents without it seeming like sour grapes. When Noah swatted a well-placed Bludger at Albus, striking him in the back and nearly throwing him off his broom, James leapt to his feet, hooting derisively. A moment later, he felt slightly guilty. Then he remembered that, most likely, Al had nicked the Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map and left James to take the blame for it. He hooted some more, shouting for Noah to aim for the head next time.

  In the end, despite a very closely played match, Gryffindor had won. Tara Umar, Gryffindor's Seeker, did a victory lap around the grandstands, Snitch held high, while the air rang with cheers and raucous commotion.

  James clumped down the stairs two at a time, meaning to catch Albus while he was still on the field. He ran out onto the snow-dusted grass, looking left and right for his brother. Finally, he saw him with his broom slung over his shoulder and his head down, apparently in deep conversation with Tabitha Corsica and Philia Goyle. Feeling a mixture of triumphant spite and righteous anger, James charged directly toward them.

  "We have to talk, Albus," he yelled over the noise of the departing crowd. "Mum sent me a Howler that should've been addressed to you, you know."

  Albus didn't respond, but Tabitha and Philia looked up. Philia scowled at James, but Tabitha's eyes were strangely bright and expressionless. She saw James approaching but didn't say anything.

  James stopped a few feet away, his face going red. He had the distinct impression that he was interrupting something, and felt infuriatingly awkward. He was supposed to have the upper hand in this situation, wasn't he? He cleared his throat loudly.

  "I hear you," Albus declared without turning around. Tabitha glanced away, out into the strangely silent snowfall. After a moment, she took Albus' broom and walked slowly toward the Slytherin holding pen. Philia followed, throwing a black look back in James' direction.

  "Your timing is pretty rotten, James," Albus said, turning around but not raising his eyes.

  "Well, I'm terribly sorry. Shall I make an appointment with your scheduler? I assume 'Tabby' would be in charge of that, yes?"

  "This isn't about me, you prat," Albus said, finally looking at James. "Tabitha is going through a very hard time. The loss tonight is sort of the last straw. It meant a lot to her. But I'm sure you couldn't care less about that. You only care when Gryffindors have problems."

  James narrowed his eyes and spread his hands. "What are you talking about, Al? I've hardly seen a speck of you ever since you disappeared into that Slytherin dungeon! So who exactly doesn't care what's going on outside his own house, eh? And not that you'd care, but I have very good reasons for hating that two-faced viper! Where were you last year when she was calling our Dad a liar and a fraud?"

  Albus shook his head, not meeting James' eyes. "That was then. The point is, James, you're a Gryffindor. You just don't understand the way she grew up and the things she's had to deal with. Of course I don't agree with everything they say down there, but you have to understand the way they've been taught. They have reasons for being angry. Especially Tabitha."

  James could barely listen. He stomped his foot on the field and nearly cursed. "It doesn't matter! Albus, they're just using you. How can you not see it? They don't have hearts! They don't care about you. Especially that silver-tongued minx. You'll regret ever being taken in by them! And don't say I didn't warn you."

  Albus lowered his brow and looked hard at James. "I promise I'll never say you didn't warn me, James. But I'll tell you right now that Tabitha has never talked to me the way you're talking to me right now. Nor has she ever talked about you the way you're talking about her. She's my friend. And to be honest, she needs friends right now—a lot more than I need a brother."

  James wanted to spit with rage. How could Albus be so completely obtuse? Albus stared at him as if he was simply waiting for James to go away.

  "You took the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map," James finally said, resorting to the one thing he knew he could feel indignant about.

  Albus' face changed. He looked truly puzzled and a little wary. "What are you talking about, James?"

  "Don't play all innocent with me, Al. You heard the Howler Mum sent me. Rose said everyone in the Great Hall heard it the other day at breakfast. She thinks I stole them, just because I borrowed them last year. You have to tell Mum the truth."

  "What truth, James?" Albus said, angry and exasperated. "You do have them! You must! I didn't take them!"

  "Of course you did! Don't lie to me! I can always tell!"

  "Well, then maybe you don't know me like you think you do! Don't pin this on me, James. I'm not letting you make me into the bad guy just because you hate that I'm a Slytherin."

  James spluttered. "What? That has nothing to do with it! I just don't want Mum to think—"

  "It has everything to do with it!" Albus yelled, and his voice sounded oddly flat in the thick curtain of snow. The pitch was nearly empty now except for the two boys. "You were so worried about getting into Gryffindor so you could be like dear old Dad and Mum. You tried so hard that you wouldn't let yourself be you! Well, I'm being me, and only me. Albus Severus Potter, Slytherin. You can be jealous all you want, but don't try to ruin it for me! I've been warned that you'll try. But believe me, you'll be sorry if you do."

  Albus turned and stalked away, disappearing quickly into the dense snow.

  "Al, wait!" James called, starting to follow his brother. He stopped after a few steps. "Look, Al, that came out totally wrong. I don't know what to say to all that, but blimey, there's no reason we need to go to war, is there? We can't let something stupid like our houses come between us."

  James could see that Albus had stopped. He was barely a grey shape in the silent snowfall. "You're the one making it a problem, James."

  "Look," James said awkwardly, "forget it, all right? But honestly… you really didn't take the map and Cloak?"

  Albus' grey shape stood silently, looking back at James. He seemed to shake his head, but James couldn't be sure. Then Albus said, "Are you going to go home for the holiday?"

  James blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Mum obviously thinks we talk more than we do," Albus said, as if in explanation. "She sent me a letter the day you got the Howler. The Burrow's been sold. The family is moving everything out over the holiday. It's the only time everybody is available to help. Makes for a pretty awful holiday, though. I told Mum I'm staying here. I don't want to see Granddad's world taken apart bit by bit."

 
James felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "They sold the Burrow?"

  The hazy silhouette of Albus seemed to nod this time. "Some old couple by the name of Templeton bought it. Not Muggles at least. They're going to tear it down and build a little summer cottage on the property. Mum says at least they're keeping the orchard."

  There was a long silence between the two brothers. Finally, James said, "I didn't know. Mum didn't say anything to me."

  "Like I said, she thought I'd tell you. And I just did. I'm not going home for that. Happy bloody Christmas, eh?"

  James couldn't help chuckling a little hollowly. "Go talk to Tabitha, Al. We'll figure everything out later."

  Without a word, Albus turned and vanished completely into the snow. James looked around. The grandstands were almost completely invisible. He seemed to stand in an island of snow-covered grass, surrounded by silently falling flakes. In the darkness, the curtain of snow looked more like ash. James brushed off his shoulders, sighed, and trudged off the pitch.

  Rose was equally upset about the sale of the Burrow, but she seemed to reluctantly understand the necessity of it. Together, she and James determined they would also stay at Hogwarts over the holiday. She even managed to make it seem like it might be a fun adventure. She immediately wrote a short letter to her parents asking if it would be all right for her to stay over. James added a note to Rose's letter, asking Aunt Hermione to pass the word on to his mum and dad that he'd decided to stay over as well, as had Albus.

  "They'll let us, of course," Rose nodded as she sealed the letter. "They know it'd be awful to see the place broken up over the holiday, especially since we've all spent so many happy Christmases there. Honestly, it'll probably be easier for them to manage if we aren't around anyway."

  As a distraction, James returned his attention to the threat of the Gatekeeper and the mystery of Merlin's involvement. He reminded Ralph and Rose that they were to be looking for the two Beacon Stones. He knew they might be very difficult to trace, but as it turned out, the first half of the Beacon Stone was very easy to locate.

  James, Ralph, and Rose were taking notes in the last Wizlit class before Christmas holiday when Merlin knocked peremptorily on the door, interrupting Professor Revalvier.

  "Ah, Headmaster," Revalvier said, smiling. "We were just speaking of you, in a sense. You do tend to crop up from time to time in the books of the kings, although in a much exaggerated manner, I am sure."

  Merlin approached the professor's desk. "Indeed. It is that very detail that I've come to discuss, briefly, if I may."

  The Headmaster lowered his voice so that only Revalvier could hear him. The class sensed an unattended moment, and immediately fell to hushed conversations and shuffling of papers, preparing to dismiss for lunch.

  Rose nudged James hard with her elbow. James looked over at her, irritated, and then saw her wide eyes and furtive glance. He followed her gesture. Merlin was standing very close to Professor Revalvier, whose smile had vanished. The Headmaster's hand hung at his side, very large and powerful-looking. He didn't have his staff with him, but that didn't mean anything. Merlin seemed able to produce it as necessary, as if he kept it in an invisible closet that followed him wherever he went.

  "What?" James whispered, not seeing what Rose was hinting at. Then, with a start, he saw the black ring on Merlin's hand. It sparkled dully, as if it reflected light only reluctantly. He shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been there on the night a thousand years ago when Salazar Slytherin had presented the ring to Merlin. And yet seeing it now, glinting evilly on the sorcerer's finger, made it all too real. Up until now, he'd been able to half-convince himself that it had all been a sort of dream.

  Revalvier nodded curtly, obviously unhappy with what Merlin had said to her. Merlin turned and left the room without sparing a glance at the class.

  "It seems that there is to be a slight change in this holiday's reading assignment," Revalvier said, closing the book on her desk. "The Headmaster feels it would be more beneficial for us to skip the last century of the Dark Ages and proceed directly to the Renaissance. He may have a point. The Renaissance is, as its name implies, the golden age of wizarding literature. Thus, you may disregard the rest of the current chapter in your textbooks and omit Hrung Hrynddvane from your holiday reading assignment. Perhaps you'll choose to spend that time getting an early start on Waddeljav's Book of Nameless Tales. If so, do keep a written record of the actual story names since they will surely change by the time we reconvene."

  As the class clambered toward the door, Rose pushed in between James and Ralph. "Did you see it?" she whispered.

  "Yeah," Ralph replied. "I guess there's no doubt about Merlin and this Gatekeeper thing anymore, is there? Why do you suppose he doesn't want us reading Hrynddvane's chronicles?"

  "It's obvious," James said in a low voice. "He knows there are things in there about him. He's trying to manage everybody's perceptions about the kind of wizard he is. Revalvier can tell us all she wants about how those histories are exaggerated into legends, but if people keep reading about how Merlin buried this army and flooded that camp and whatever else, there are bound to be people who start to question him. Like Ravenclaw said, he has a way of entrancing people who want to trust him. He needs to make sure everyone keeps wanting to think he's all noble and good."

  As the three crossed the library, Ralph angled into a narrow aisle, turning to face James and Rose. "So if Merlin has the stone, does that mean we're all done for?"

  "Not exactly," Rose said. "Remember, there were two rings, each with half of the Beacon Stone. Whoever has the other ring also has some influence over the Gatekeeper. As long as Merlin doesn't have both halves, he can't fully control it."

  "So our only hope is that the other half of the stone is in the right hands," James replied. "As long as one keeper of the stone is trying to hold the Gatekeeper back, its power will be limited."

  Rose looked worried. "For a while, yes. I hadn't had a chance to tell you what I've learned since we last talked about it. According to all the legends, once the Gatekeeper finds a human host—a host who has willingly killed to prove their worthiness—the stones won't influence it at all anymore. The Beacon Stone is the Gatekeeper's foothold in this world, but only until it becomes one with its human host. When that happens, it won't need the stones. Nothing will be able to send it back to the Void."

  "When did you read this?" Ralph asked, his face going pale.

  "Last night. I've been studying everything I can find about the Curse of the Gatekeeper. I compared notes with Cousin Lucy by owl, and she's right. A lot of it is pretty horrible and fantastic, but all the writings agree on the main details: The Beacon Stone summons the Gatekeeper when the bearer suspends in the Void for a long enough time; the Gatekeeper follows the bearer of the stone into our world, and the bearer becomes its Ambassador; the Ambassador can use the Beacon Stone to send the Gatekeeper back to the Void, but only as long as the Gatekeeper hasn't entered its human host. Once that happens, the Beacon Stone is useless and the Curse of the Gatekeeper is unleashed on the earth. When that happens, nothing can stop it."

  James frowned, trying to examine the legend from every angle. "So since the stone's been split in two, neither of the bearers can send it back even if they wanted to."

  "But what does the Gatekeeper want?" Ralph asked Rose. "Why does it want to destroy everything?"

  Rose's face had also gone pale. "It's really very simple. It hates us because we aren't it. It has always believed it was the only living thing. Now that it has discovered the world of humans, it refuses to share existence with us. Also, even more awful, it feeds on despair and agony like the world's hungriest and most powerful Dementor. But where Dementors only call up your own memories of the worst things that have ever happened to you, the Gatekeeper creates all new feelings. It can manipulate a person's mind at the most basic level, creating raw, sourceless panic and terror. That's what we read about in the tabloid article Lucy sent us. It was trying to f
igure those humans out, trying to work out the best way to produce what it hungers for. For now, it can only affect a few humans at once. But once it connects with its human host and becomes a part of the community of mankind, it'll be able to affect thousands and millions at once. It'll just suck the terror out of everyone until there's nothing left of them, then leave them like husks and move on. It'll move over the earth doing that until there's no one left at all."

  "No one but the host," Ralph squeaked.

  "Not even the host," Rose whispered. "In the end, it'll turn on them too. It wishes to be entirely alone. In the end, it'll break its own tool. The scariest thing is that the host may even know it. The host may be so full of pain and sadness and hate that they won't care. They may even wish for it."

  Something had pricked James' memory. Rose saw it on his face. "What, James? You look like you just swallowed a hippogriff egg."

  "My dream," James replied, touching his forehead. "What you're saying sounds a lot like the words of the voice in my dream. There's this black robed figure standing in the corner, talking all the time, telling the person in my dream that justice will be served, and the day of balance is coming, and it always says that the person in my dream is to be the hand that brings it about if they are willing, if they are up to the task that will prove their worth. And the person in my dream does seem to be willing. They seem to be very sad and very angry, all at the same time. It's as if they've felt a loss so great that it makes the whole world meaningless. Worse, that the whole world shouldn't even exist anymore, because it's the world their tragedy happened in. It's a very vengeful, hateful, hopeless feeling, but mostly, it's just sad, so sad that it's like a black wall that goes on forever with no gate or corners or top to climb over."