James Potter and the Hall of Elders' Crossing [1]

by G. Norman Lippert

  A man’s voice spoke a low command in some strange language James didn’t recognize. It sounded both beautiful and frightening. There was the sound of the gate’s vines unfurling again, and then footsteps clacked hollowly on the stone steps of the terraced floor. Professor Jackson moved into view, walking resolutely down into the center of the Grotto Keep behind Madame Delacroix.

  “Professor Jackson,” Madame Delacroix said, her heavily accented voice ringing in the stone bowl of the grotto, “you never fail to meet my expectations.” She still hadn’t turned around. “Nor you mine, Madame. You are early.” “I was savoring de moment, Theodore. It’s been a long time coming. I’d be tempted to say ‘too long’, if I was a believer in chance. I am not, of course. This is how it was meant to be. I have done what I was meant to do. Even you have performed the role you were preordained to perform.”

  “Do you really believe so, Madame?” Jackson asked, stopping several feet behind Delacroix. James noticed that Jackson had his hickory wand in his hand. “I wonder. I, as you know, am neither a believer in chance nor destiny. I am a believer in choices.”

  “It matters not what you believe, Theodore, as long as your choices lead to the right ends.” “I have the robe,” Jackson said flatly, abandoning the pretense of polite conversation. “I have always had it. You will not get it from me. I am here to see to that. I am here to stop you, Madame, despite your best efforts to keep me away.”

  James almost gasped. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling it. Jackson was here to stop her! But how? James felt a cold dread dawning on him. Next to him, Ralph whispered almost silently, “Did he say…”

  “Shh!” Zane hissed urgently. “Listen!” Delacroix was making a strange, rhythmic sound. Her shoulders shook slightly with it, and James realized she was laughing. “My dear, dear Theodore, I have never attempted to thwart you. Why, if I had not allowed a token resistance to your presence on dis trip, you’d have never chosen to come at all. Your stubbornness and suspicious nature are my best tools. And I needed you, Professor. I needed what you had, what you believed so ardently dat you were protecting.”

  Jackson stiffened. “Do you believe I was foolish enough to bring the robe with me tonight? Then you are more arrogant than I thought. No, the robe is safe. It is secured with the best hexes and counterAccio charms ever created. I know that, for they were created by me. You shall not find it, of that I am certain.”

  But Delacroix was laughing harder. She still hadn’t turned around. The beam of light illuminating the chair seemed to be growing brighter, and James realized it was the accumulated light of the planets. They were moving into place. The time of the Hall of Elders’ Crossing was nearly upon them.

  “Oh, Professor, your confidence cheers me. With enemies such as yourself, my success is all the more delicious. Do you think I haven’t known all along dat you guarded the robe of Merlinus in your case at all times? Do you think I was not preparing for de robe to be delivered to me from the moment I first arrived here? I haven’t had to lift so much as a finger, and yet de robe comes to me of its own accord dis very night.”

  James had a horrible thought. He remembered that day in Defense Against the Dark Arts, when Jackson had followed Professor Franklyn into the classroom, speaking in low tones. Madame Delacroix had come to the door to tell Jackson his class was waiting. James had glanced down at that moment, and the case had mysteriously come open. Was it possible that Madame Delacroix had caused that to happen, just so that James would see inside? Had she tried to use him somehow? He remembered Zane and Ralph saying that the capture of the robe had been easy. Somehow too easy. He shuddered.

  “James,” Ralph whispered urgently, “you didn’t bring the robe with you tonight, did you?”

  “Of course not!” James replied. “I’m not crazy!”

  Zane leaned in to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “Then what’s in the book bag?”

  James felt terror and anger mingling inside him. “The Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak!” Ralph reached up and clutched James’ shoulder, turning him so that they were face to face. Ralph’s expression was horrible. “James, you don’t have the Invisibility Cloak!” he rasped, his voice cracking. “I do! You left it with me in the Slytherin holding pen, remember? I used it to escape! It’s in my trunk, back in the Slytherin boys’ quarters!”

  James simply stared at Ralph, petrified. Below them, in the center of the Grotto Keep, Madame Delacroix continued to cackle.

  “Mr. James Potter,” she called through her laughter, “please feel free to join us. Bring your friends if you so desire.” James felt rooted to the spot. He wouldn’t go down there, of course. He would run. He knew now that he had the robe of Merlinus in his book bag, that he had been tricked into bringing it along, tricked into thinking it was the Invisibility Cloak. Now was the moment to flee. And yet he didn’t. Ralph pushed him, urging him to go, but Zane, on James’ other side, slowly stood up and pulled out his wand.

  “The voodoo queen thinks she’s pretty smart,” he said out loud, stepping around the pillar and pointing his wand at her. “You’re as ugly as you are evil. Stupefy!” James gasped as the bolt of red light shot from Zane’s wand. The curse struck Madame Delacroix directly in the back and James watched for her to collapse unconscious. She didn’t move, however, and James was dismayed to see that the bolt of red light had passed straight through her. It struck the ground near the throne and vanished harmlessly. Delacroix was still laughing as she turned to face Zane.

  “Ugly, am I?” Her laughter dried up as her gaze met Zane’s. She was no longer blind or old. It was, in fact, her wraith, the projected version of herself. “Evil? Perhaps, but only as a hobby.” The wraith of Madame Delacroix raised a hand and Zane was lifted from his feet roughly. His wand flew from his hand and he thumped against the tree-pillar, his shoes three feet from the ground. He seemed to be stuck there, as if on a hook. “If I was truly evil, I would kill you now, wouldn’t I?” She grinned at him, and then pivoted, pointing her arm at the place where James hid. “Mr. Potter, please, it is silly of you to fight me. You are, after all, almost my apprentice in dis endeavor. Bring Mr. Deedle with you. Let’s all enjoy the spectacle, shall we?”

  Jackson had turned when Zane came forward, watching with a noticeable lack of surprise, his wand still out, but pointed at the floor. Now he looked on as James and Ralph stood jerkily, as if against their will, and began to march down the steps toward the center of the grotto. His eyes met James’, his bushy dark brows low and furious. “Stop, Potter,” he said quietly, raising his wand halfway, pointing it at the floor in front of James and Ralph. Their feet stopped moving, as if they’d suddenly landed in glue.

  “Oh, Theodore, must you prolong dis?” Delacroix sighed. She swung her arm toward him and performed a complicated gesture with her fingers. Jackson’s wand flicked out of his hand as if on a string. He grabbed for it, but it darted up and away. Delacroix made another gesture with her hand, and the wand snapped in midair, as if broken over a knee. Jackson’s face didn’t change, but he slowly lowered his hand, staring hard at the two pieces of his hickory wand. Then he turned back to Delacroix, his face white with fury, and began to pace toward her. Delacroix’s hand moved like lightning, darting into the folds of her clothing and coming out with her horrible graperoot wand between her fingers.

  “Dis may only be a representation of de real thing,” she said playfully, “conjured from the dirt of dis place, just like dis version of myself, but I assure you, Theodore, it is exactly as powerful as I think it is. Don’t make me destroy you.”

  Jackson stopped in his tracks, but his face didn’t change. “I can’t let you go through with this, Delacroix. You know that.” “Oh, but you already have!” she cackled gleefully. She pointed the wand at Jackson and flicked it. A bolt of ugly orange light shot from it, sending Jackson flying violently backwards. He landed hard on the upper stone steps, grunting in pain. He struggled to get up, and Delacroix rolled her eyes. “Heroes,”
she said disdainfully, and flicked her wand again. Jackson flew off the ground and rammed against another of the tree-pillars lining the grotto. He hung there, apparently knocked unconscious.

  “And now,” she said, lazily pointing her wand in the direction of James and Ralph, “please, join me.” The two boys were lifted from the ground and transported down the rest of the steps. They dropped clumsily to their feet in the grassy space at the bottom of the grotto, directly in front of the wraith of Madame Delacroix. Her eyes were emerald green and piercing. “Give me de robe. And please, don’t make me harm either of you. I only ask de one time.”

  The book bag slipped off James’ shoulder and struck the ground at his feet. He looked down at it, feeling dazed and completely hopeless. “Please,” Delacroix said, and flicked her wand. James fell to his knees as if something extraordinarily heavy had landed on his shoulders. His hand plunged into the bag, clutched the robe, and pulled it out. Ralph struggled to grab it, but he seemed locked in place, unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. “Don’t, James!”

  “I’m not,” he said hopelessly. Delacroix’s eyes sparkled greedily. She reached out a hand and delicately took the robe from James. “Free will is highly overrated,” she said airily.

  “You won’t win,” James said angrily. “You don’t have all the relics.”

  Delacroix looked up from the robe, meeting James’ eyes with an expression of polite surprise. “Don’t I, Mr. Potter?” “No!” James said, gritting his teeth. “We didn’t get the broomstick. Tabitha still has it. I’m not even sure if she knows what it is, but I don’t see her bringing it to you now, either way.” He hoped he was right as he said it. He didn’t see the broomstick anywhere in sight, and Tabitha certainly didn’t seem to be present, unless she was hiding, like they had been.

  Delacroix laughed lightly, as if James had just made a very witty remark at a party. “Dat was de perfect hiding place, wasn’t it, Mr. Potter? And Miss Corsica is such the perfect individual to harbor it for me. Why, it’s so perfect, in fact, that you never stood a chance of learning that it was, in fact, a clever lie. Interesting as it may be, Miss Corsica’s broomstick is nothing more than a convenient ruse. No, like de robe, de Merlin staff has also found its way to me tonight, regardless of what you might think. It has been cared for very well, in fact.”

  The rather beautiful wraith of Madame Delacroix turned to Ralph and held out her hand. “Your wand, please, Mr. Deedle.”

  “N-no,” Ralph protested, his voice almost a moan. He tried to back away.

  “Don’t make me insist, please, Ralph,” Delacroix said, raising her own wand toward him. Ralph’s hand jerked up and went to his back pocket. Trembling, he produced his ridiculously huge wand. For the first time, James saw it for what it was. It wasn’t just unusually thick, whittled to a point at one end. It was part of something that was, at one time, much larger, worn down with age, but still, as had been repeatedly shown, extremely and inexplicably powerful. Delacroix reached out and, almost daintily, plucked the Merlin staff from Ralph’s hand.

  “Dere was no point in my risking my own capture by smuggling such a thing onto the grounds. Surely someone would have detected it, had it been in my possession. Thus, I arranged for it to be sold to you and your charming father, Mr. Deedle. I was your salesman, in fact, though in a different guise. I do hope you enjoyed the use of the staff. Quite powerful, wasn’t it? Oh, but now I see,” she added, turning almost apologetic, “you thought that it was you who was de powerful one, didn’t you? I’m so sorry, Mr. Deedle. Did you really think you’d have been allowed to enter the Keep if you hadn’t had de staff of Merlin with you? Su rely even you can see de humor in dat, can’t you? You, a Muggle-born. Please, forgive me.” She laughed again, lightly, maliciously.

  She turned then, and very carefully began to arrange the relics on the throne. James and Ralph looked at each other miserably, and then James tried to look back at Zane, who was still stuck to the treepillar behind them, but the darkness was too thick.

  Madame Delacroix stepped back from the throne, breathing in a great, long breath of anticipation. She positioned herself between Ralph and James, as if they were compatriots. “Dere we go. Oh, I am so pleased. I do hate to say it, but everything has worked out exactly as I had planned. Enjoy the spectacle, my young friends. I cannot guarantee dat Merlinus will not destroy you with his arrival, but surely you do not think dat too high a price to pay to observe such a thing.”

  “It’ll be worth it if it destroys you, too,” James said through gritted teeth.

  “Such venom,” Delacroix replied, smiling. “No wonder you made such a good apprentice.” The robe of Merlin had been draped across the back of the throne, as if Merlin would simply shrug into it when he appeared. The last bit of Merlin’s staff leaned against the front of the throne. The beam of combined moon and starlight had become very bright, drawing a dim line through the darkness from the hole in the domed ceiling to the center of the grassy area below. The three relics glowed in the shimmering, silvery light. The time of the Hall of Elders’ Crossing had come.

  James heard something. He knew Madame Delacroix and Ralph had heard it, too. All three turned their heads, trying to locate the source of the noise. It was low and whispering, coming from all directions at once. It was tremulous and distant, almost like a low note on a hundred far-off flutes, but it was growing louder. Madame Delacroix glanced about, her face a mask of glee, and yet James was sure that, wraith or not, there was a hint of fear on her face as well. She suddenly gripped both boys’ arms in her steely hands. “Look!” she breathed.

  Tendrils of mist were pouring in between the pillars of the grotto, bringing the sound with them. James glanced around. The tendrils were seeping in between the branches of the domed ceiling as well. They were as insubstantial as smoke, but moved intelligently, with growing speed. They snaked toward the throne, and there they began to collect. As the tendrils combined, they writhed and collapsed, forming only hazy shapes at first, and then hardening, coming into focus. A line of slightly curved, horizontal bars coalesced in the center of the throne. With an involuntary shudder, James saw that they were the ribs of a skeleton. A spine grew from them, both up and down, connecting to two more shapes, the skull and the pelvis. This, James realized, was an Apparition happening in extreme slow motion. The atoms of Merlin were streaming back together, fighting the collected inertia of the centuries. The sound that accompanied the Apparition was growing both in volume and pitch, rising through the octaves and becoming almost human.

  “Hey, voodoo queen,” a voice immediately behind James suddenly said, making all three of them jump. “Dodge this.” A length of log slammed down onto Delacroix’s head, disintegrating it into a hundred clods of wet dirt. Instantly, the Body-Bind Curse on both James and Ralph fell away. James spun and saw Zane holding the end of the log, pulling it back out of the mess of Delacroix’s wraith, which was struggling to rebuild itself. From the shoulders up, Delacroix seemed to be made entirely of broken dirt, writhing roots and worms. The wraith’s hands scrabbled at the ruined neck, trying to push the clods back into shape.

  “She forgot about me when Merlin started forming!” Zane shouted, yanking the log free and hoisting it back over his shoulder. “I fell off the pillar and just grabbed the closest heavy thing I could find. Get the robe and the staff!” Zane swung the log like a baseball bat, taking off one of Delacroix’s arms at the shoulder. It hit the ground and shattered into a mess of dirt and worms.

  James jumped forward and snatched a handful of Merlin’s robe, reaching his left hand through the forming shape of the wizard. He pulled, but the robe fought back, struggling to maintain its position. Digging his heels into the soft earth, James yanked as hard as he could. The robe wrung from the back of the throne, coming through the skeletal shape seated on it. The shape gripped the arms of the throne and seemed to scream, bringing the pitch of the haunting drone up another octave. Ralph lunged and grabbed at the staff, which was growing
in length even as the figure on the throne gained solidity. He jumped back with it, holding it high over his head.

  The wraith of Madame Delacroix seemed caught between trying to reform itself and trying to get the robe and the staff back into place. It waved its remaining arm wildly at Ralph, then clawed at the robe in James’ hands. Zane danced behind the wraith, the log held high, then brought it down again, burying it almost waist deep in the disintegrating figure. James glanced toward the Merlin throne and saw that the figure there, which had formed to a full skeleton with ghostly musculature clinging to it like moss, was writhing horribly, beginning to melt again into mist. The sound of Merlin’s Apparition had become a keening shriek.

  And then, as if out of nowhere, another figure was among them. It resolved from the darkness beyond the Grotto Keep, moving with terrible speed. It was the dryad with the horribly long, blue fingernails, but only just barely. There was something else moving within the shape, as if the dryad was merely a costume. A new voice joined the keening wail of the half formed Merlin.

  Master! No! I will not fail you! Your time has come at last! The figure split somehow, completely abandoning the form of the dryad. It became simply two enormous, black talons. They lunged simultaneously at James and Ralph, snatching the robe and the staff back and sending the two boys sprawling to the stone steps. The talons spun, placing the relics back into their positions, and then retracted, falling into dust, as if exhausted.