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?"
20. The Long Ride Home
The 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 Bo
rleys. 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."
"So none of the things we saw in the Pensieve were about Tabitha after all, right?" Ralph said. "All those memories were about Petra. Scorpius let us believe Tabitha was the Bloodline because that's what his grandfather told him to do, just to keep us distracted from the real thing; is that it?"
"I don't care what you all say," Albus said determinedly, "that little squid is ten kinds of trouble. He just better stay out of my way."
Rose closed the book on her lap and looked up. "I admit he started out pretty awful, what with stealing the Cloak, map, and doll, and then lying to us about the Bloodline, but all of that was on his grandfather's orders. You can't really blame him for wanting to live up to the legacy of his family; he didn't know any better. Besides, even by the time he was showing us the memories in the Pensieve, he was beginning to have doubts about his grandfather's plan. That's why he didn't actually say Tabitha's name. He was halfway hoping we'd figure out it was Petra after all."
"And he did do the right thing in the end," James added. "He never knew that hurting Lily was part of the plan. When Lily was kidnapped, he totally gave up his grandfather and Tabitha. We'd never have learned the truth about Petra if Scorpius hadn't been there with us in the bathroom."
"I think both of you have crushes on him," Albus said dourly. "I'm not falling for that 'I'm just a poor misguided bad boy' bit. Someday, he and I are going to finish what we started on the train ride here."
"I'd be careful, Albus," Zane commented, raising his eyebrows. "I saw Scorpius at the last Defence Club meeting and he's gotten pretty slick with that Artis Decerto stuff. He was waxin' on and waxin' off like a boy ninja."
Albus rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
Ralph stood up and peered out the compartment door. "Hey, that reminds me: which direction are Louis and Victoire in?" he asked, peering up and down the train corridor. "Louis has a book on Middle Eastern defensive magic he said I could borrow over the summer."
"Victoire stayed behind," Rose answered. "She's staying with George and Ted in Hogsmeade until George and Angelina's wedding. And I usually try my best not to know where Louis is."
Ralph stretched and said, "I'm going to go walk a bit and try to find him. Who's coming?"
"I'm in," James answered, standing. "I'm going to fall asleep if I stay here. We shouldn't have stayed up so late playing Winkles and Augers last night."
"I'm going to ask the cart lady about her working hours," Zane interjected, opening the compartment door.
"Louis has a book on magical martial arts?" Rose asked Ralph as the five of them filed out into the corridor.
"He's really gotten into it," Ralph nodded. "Posters all over his dormitory of the Harriers and famous wizard martial artists and stuff. He even asked his mum to order him one of those hoods with the eye slits in it so he can look all mysterious."
"Our Louis?" Albus exclaimed, stifling a grin. "I should have known there was a repressed fighter buried under all that stuffed shirt."
"Debellows said he's got some natural talent," Ralph said, shrugging. "Of course, he said the same thing about you, James."
"And I got top marks on my Wizlit essay," Rose said pointedly, steering the conversation away from Professor Debellows, for whom she still had little respect. "Professor Revalvier said my insight on the golden age of wizarding literature was—"
James suddenly stopped in the aisle, forcing everyone to pile up behind him.
"Ow! Ralph, get off my toe, you bloody dump truck!" Albus cried. "What gives?"
"Do you see it?" James whispered urgently, pointing. Everyone stopped and craned their heads, looking in the direction James was pointing.
"What are we looking for?" Zane asked after a moment.
Rose said, "I don't see anythi—"
"There!" Albus interrupted, pointing over Zane's shoulder.
Something moved inside the network of flickering shadows near the end of the corridor.
"It's like a living shadow," Ralph said.
"It's the last Borley!" Albus declared, pushing past James. "And he's mine!"
"No magic!" James commanded. "Remember? That's how it grew last time!"
The Borley capered in moving shadows as the train pushed through the forest. It teased and cartwheeled, as if begging to be hexed. Suddenly, the door at the end of the corridor slid open, letting in the noise of the rushing wind and clacking wheels. All five students cried out in warning, stumbling over each other, but the Borley took advantage of the opening and leapt through the door just as it was sliding shut again.
"How very curious," the newcomer said in a deep voice. James looked up and rolled his eyes. It was Merlin, wearing his travelling cloak, his staff at his side.
"Merli—er, Headmaster!" Rose exclaimed, pushing forward. "It just went that way!"
"The Borley!" James added hastily. "The last one! It must have been on the train this whole time!"
Merlin's face darkened slightly. "We mustn't take any chances this time, my friends. I will follow it and corral it. Mr. Potter, you know what the Darkbag looks like, do you not? It is in my compartment, two cars behind you, number six. It will allow you inside. The trunk beneath the seat will open with this key. Meet us as soon as you can." The big man produced a golden key on a long loop of chain and held it out to James. James took it, feeling rather important.
"Quickly, Mr. Potter," Merlin prodded. "We haven't a moment to spare."
James turned on his heel and ran back the way they'd come, fighting the disorienting sensation of running full out in a moving, swaying train. He passed through two connectors and came to the compartment marked number six. The windows were smoked, but the door was unlocked. James entered quickly and saw the Headmaster's trunk peeking out from beneath the left side bench. He dropped to his knees and heaved it into the light. The small golden key fit snugly in the lock and turned with a minute click. When James threw the trunk open, he was surprised to see that the Darkbag was the only thing inside it, folded neatly on the wooden floor of the trunk. Of course, he realized, this was one of those magical trunks which opened onto different contents depending on what key you unlocked it with. Considering the great importance and potential danger of the Darkbag, which imprisoned the rest of the starving Borleys inside its seamless da
rk, James felt particularly honored to have been asked to retrieve it. He touched it a little fearfully, remembering Merlin's warnings about it, but it felt perfectly normal. It was simply a large, heavy, black cloth bag, cinched shut with a golden cord and bearing a long shoulder strap on the top. Having assured himself that the Darkbag was relatively safe to hold, James slung it around his neck and over his shoulder, wearing it like a backpack. He slammed the trunk, hung the key around his neck on its fine chain, and ran back toward the front of the train.
He was rather out of breath by the time he found everyone again. They were gathered at the head of the first car, staring hard at the door. Merlin looked up as James entered. His face was grim, but James thought he could sense some enjoyment in the big man's expression; the Headmaster was pleasuring in the hunt.
"We chased it here," Zane said, grinning. "It slipped right through the crack in the door, but the next car is the coal car. End of the line!"
"Miss Weasley," Merlin said, turning to her, "you will open the door on my mark. Mr. Deedle, your wand has rather unique properties, as you know. If the Borley manages to get past me, then you, and only you, may attempt to Stun it. Your spell will not halt it but will distract and attract it, giving me the time I need. I will place the Borley in a trance. Then, Mr. Potter, I will require the Darkbag."
Ralph gulped audibly, producing his huge wand.
"Got it," Rose said, a little breathlessly. James nodded understanding.
Albus stood back. "Last time, it was standing on the metal bit that holds the cars together," he explained. "So aim low."
"Thank you," Merlin nodded, smiling slightly.
Rose gripped the door handle and everyone took a deep breath. Merlin nodded at her and she pulled, jerking the door all the way open and letting in a push of warm, noisy air. James squinted in the barreling wind and smoke, and then gasped, his stomach plummeting. Merlin slowly took a step back, spreading his arms to keep everyone behind him.
The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) Page 55
