JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  “Mr. Henredon,” one of the green-robed witches said, firming her grip on the man’s arm. “Try not to get too excited. You’re still very weak. You’ve only been thawed enough to walk for a few hours.”

  “It was her!” Henredon shrieked, tottering on his legs. “She was the one!”

  James took Petra’s hand, tried to pull her away, but she was rooted in place, her eyes frowning, narrowing.

  “I dreamed of you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Every eye in the crowded room had turned to stare at her.

  “You’re confused, Mr. Henredon,” the second green-robed witch soothed, obviously shaken. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. Perhaps we should get you back to the medical center.”

  “SHE… FROZE ME!” Henredon shouted, his voice cracking, his eyes bulging in his pale face. “It was her in the Vault of Destinies! Her and some other horrible woman, but she’s the one that did it! Her!” He crumpled then, and the green-robed nurses struggled to hold him up. Others rushed forward to assist as pandemonium broke out. Voices babbled as students backed away from Petra and James, forming a widening circle of staring, frightened faces.

  “She froze me,” Henredon continued, weeping, his voice growing lost in the increasing rabble. “She came out of the Vault, smiling like a demon… and she froze me…”

  Within an hour, Harry Potter had arrived on campus and a gathering had assembled in a faculty lounge on the main floor of Administration Hall. In attendance were Harry, Chancellor Franklyn, Professor Cloverhoof, Petra, James, and a man James had never seen before who had arrived on campus only minutes before Harry Potter. The stranger wore all black robes, gloves, and a black hat with a very wide, flat brim. He had a pleasant face, although James thought there was something vaguely unsettling about it. As the man sat down on the bench near the dark window, James noticed that he seemed to be almost completely hairless. His face was as pink and smooth as a baby’s, with his hat pressed down onto his bare scalp so firmly that it rested on his ears. He smiled at James as he smoothed out his robes, and James glanced away.

  “It goes without saying,” Chancellor Franklyn began, still standing and stoking the fire with a long poker, “that this is a very serious and rather shocking accusation.”

  James glanced at his father, but Harry Potter’s face was as inscrutable as the poker in Franklyn’s hand. The man in the wide-brimmed hat, James noticed, was looking at Harry as well, smiling a small pleasant smile. Franklyn slotted the poker into its stand and turned around.

  “Mr. Henredon is one of our oldest and most reliable trustees. His service to the school has been entirely spotless. Thus, his allegation cannot be downplayed. If the confrontation that just took place had not occurred in front of much of the entire school, this would be somewhat simpler to address. As it is, direct and decisive action must be taken.”

  “But it couldn’t have been me that froze the poor man,” Petra said. “I wasn’t anywhere near the Archive when the attack took place. I was asleep in my rooms!”

  “You were on campus,” the man in the flat-brimmed hat clarified evenly, “which places you in the vicinity of the crime, regardless of your specific location. And being asleep is not what one would tend to call an airtight alibi.”

  “Excuse me,” Harry interjected, turning to the stranger. “I didn’t get your name, sir.”

  “I haven’t given it,” the man replied, still smiling pleasantly. “I assumed that that was the Chancellor’s honor. I’d hate to overstep my bounds.”

  “Pardon me,” Franklyn said with a note of impatience in his voice. “Mr. Potter, this is the honorable Albert Keynes, General Arbiter for the Wizarding Court of the United States. Mr. Keynes, Harry Potter is a representative of the European Ministry of Magic, visiting us in pursuit of his duties as that entity’s head Auror.”

  “A pleasure,” Keynes nodded smugly, obscuring his face for a moment behind the black brim of his hat.

  “I’m impressed that you were able to be here on such short notice,” Harry replied, unsmiling. “General Arbiter sounds like a rather demanding and important post.”

  The man laughed lightly. “The title sounds more grand than it is, I’m afraid. There are, in fact, many of us, stationed all around the country, performing our given duties to the best of our ability. My station covers only Pennsylvania, but I admit that the metropolitan Pittsburgh and Philadelphia areas do take up most of my time. I was in the vicinity when I received the message from Chancellor Franklyn.”

  Harry asked, “You represent the American Wizarding Court then?” Before the man could answer, however, Chancellor Franklyn spoke up.

  “We have a rather more hands-on approach to legal matters in the American magical world, Mr. Potter. A holdover from a time when magical individuals were scattered finely all across the country, making it necessary for the law to go to them, rather than the other way around. Mr. Keynes, in effect, is the American Wizarding Court.”

  “Judge, jury, and executioner,” Professor Cloverhoof quipped darkly, buffing his nails on his lapel.

  Keynes nodded. “Crude, but accurate enough, Professor,” he said, and then turned to Harry. “I am an arbiter, Mr. Potter. My job is to make impartial judgments based on examination of the evidence and interviews of everyone involved in any given case. This is why I have requested that your son join us. I understand that he has observed much of what has taken place in connection with the attack on the Hall of Archives. You need not fear for his involvement. I am trained to be utterly fair and objective.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Harry replied. “Can we expect a quick end to this matter, then?”

  Keynes clucked his tongue. “The role of the arbiter is simple, Mr. Potter, but we are trained to be exceedingly thorough. This is a particularly difficult case, as it is a matter of Ms. Morganstern’s word against that of Mr. Henredon’s. Judgments in such cases have been known to take months or even years to reach.”

  “But this is just stupid!” James interjected, his face reddening. “Petra was with Izzy when the Archive was attacked! That proves it wasn’t really her that froze Mr. Henredon.”

  “Proof is a ticklish concept, my boy,” Keynes said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “The young lady in question is the defendant’s sister, rendering her testimony suspect, at the very least. Further complicating matters, I am given to understand that this is not your first encounter with the law, is it, Ms. Morganstern?”

  Petra’s expression cooled slightly as she looked at the man in the black hat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “It might have slipped your memory,” Keynes admitted with a nod. “It was the Muggle police, after all. I understand that such mundane authorities might not command the respect of someone like yourself. As I mentioned, however; we arbiters are very thorough. On the way here, I perused the police report regarding what took place on the occasion of your last day at your grandfather’s farm. Granted, I had to read between the lines a bit, but there is no question that the events of that morning resulted in at least one death, and quite possibly two, although the second, I admit, is pure conjecture on my part. Do you remember now, Ms. Morganstern?”

  Petra stared at the man, her lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, she nodded once, curtly.

  “This is the first I have heard of these things,” Franklyn said, peering at Petra and then Harry. “Might I inquire as to why a known criminal was allowed to be offered a position at this school?”

  Harry didn’t remove his gaze from the man in the black hat. “Petra is not a known criminal,” he answered evenly. “The Auror Department conducted an investigation into the events at Morganstern Farm, and there was no indication of foul play. Warren Morganstern took his own life, as even the Muggle police report must show. His wife, Phyllis Morganstern, formerly Blanchefleur, has indeed gone missing, but since she was wanted for questioning regarding the deaths of both her first and second husbands, this is no great surprise.”

  K
eynes smoothed his robes again as he said, “Your own investigation notwithstanding, Mr. Potter, these factors must be considered when rendering judgment on this most delicate issue. I will be calling upon many resources and interviewing any number of individuals, both as witnesses and as character references. I may even need to call upon Mr. Morganstern’s widow, if, as you say, she is still among us. It may be months before I reach my verdict.”

  James didn’t like Keynes one bit and felt quite confident that regardless of how long the verdict took to reach, the man would find Petra guilty in the end. “What will happen to Petra if you decide she’s done what Mr. Henredon says?”

  Keynes leaned back and laced his fingers over his chest. “The law is very clear in such cases, unfortunately,” he said with undisguised relish. “Attempted murder can mean anywhere from twenty years to life in prison. Add to that the use of dark magic, the attack on the Vault of Destinies, and the thievery of a priceless relic in the form of the missing crimson thread—and yes, I do know of these things; as a member of the American Wizarding Court, not much escapes my notice—then it seems inevitable that Ms. Morganstern will spend the rest of her days in Fort Bedlam maximum security wizarding prison. Her sister, Izabella, will become a ward of the state. As a Muggle, it will be up to the Magical Integration Bureau to find her a new home in the nonmagical community. She is underage, fortunately, which means that the authorities at the Crystal Mountain will likely move to have her memory Obliviated. This would probably be best for all involved.”

  “What kind of awful person are you?” James exclaimed angrily. “You act like there’s nothing you’d rather see!”

  “James!” Harry Potter said sternly, placing a hand firmly onto his son’s shoulder.

  Keynes smiled again at James and tilted his head sadly. “It is true, young man. There is nothing I prefer to see more than for justice to be done. It is a mistaken kindness to coddle the guilty. Someday I hope you will come to see the truth of that. Although I have my doubts.” He glanced at Harry and sighed. James saw that Keynes’ upper lip was sweating lightly.

  Petra spoke then, her voice strangely calm. “What will become of me and Izzy during your investigation?”

  Keynes brightened a bit. “It is customary for the defendant to be handed over to the arbiter in charge of his or her case until such time as a judgment can be carried out. Therefore, from now until I reach my verdict, you shall be in my custody. Your sister, however, will be sent to the wizarding orphanage in Pittsburgh.”

  “My sister,” Petra said coolly, “will be staying with me.”

  “I’m afraid you are in no position to make such requests,” Keynes said, his smile widening. “It is a Muggle American tradition to deem the defendant innocent until proven guilty. It is a quaint notion that has no place in the Wizarding Court. Until such time as I may find you innocent, you are a suspect in a capital crime, thus you are considered a potential danger and a flight risk. You will be happy to comply with the rule of the law.”

  Franklyn cleared his throat. “Let’s not be too hasty,” he began, but Petra cut him off, her eyes still locked on Keynes’.

  “Wherever I go, Izzy goes,” she said. “It’s not a request.” Her voice sounded so calm that it was almost surreal, and yet James sensed a sudden chill in the room, making him shiver. Waves of cold seemed to be coming from Petra herself, where she sat next to him.

  “Such obstinacy will not do you well as I pursue your case, Ms. Morganstern,” Keynes said, his smile growing equally icy. “You may wish to alter your tone, lest I decide you are even more of a risk than I had heretofore envisioned.”

  “I doubt that would be a mistake,” Petra said. James was almost certain that he saw her breath come out in puffs of fog as she spoke.

  The tension in the air seemed to spike and James felt a sudden, inexplicable fear that something terrible was about to happen. Images flickered behind his eyes: a black castle, huge and dead, perched on the edge of a cliff; watching eyes hidden in shadow; a white hand holding a singularly ugly dagger with blood dripping from the blade. These were visions from Petra’s dreams. They came to him now, flashing like lightning, cold as icicles. Somehow, she was broadcasting them to him, apparently unintentionally, on that invisible silver cord that still connected him to her. It was as if she was cycling up, like some kind of magical generator. He felt it, and it was awful, terrifying. What was she? How could she be so mysteriously powerful? James looked across the room, toward Albert Keynes, and suddenly he wanted to yell at the man to shut up, to stop antagonizing Petra. Not only because James loved her, but because he was afraid of her.

  But then, surprisingly, James’ father spoke.

  “I completely understand your predicament, Mr. Keynes,” he said, and his tone of voice seemed to sap the tension from the room. “After all, I am a man of the law myself. I am responsible for Ms. Morganstern’s presence here. How would it be if I took responsibility for her, and her sister Izabella, during the course of your investigation?”

  James turned to look at his dad, wideeyed, as did Petra.

  “It’s a kind offer, Mr. Potter,” Keynes said stiffly, sitting up straight in his seat. “But one I am duty-bound to refuse. The law, as I have mentioned, is quite clear.”

  “And as I have said, Mr. Keynes,” Harry said a bit more loudly, “I am also a man of the law. And I’d like to remind you that international magical law provides allowance for foreign detainees to be given over to the custody of representative of their own nation during the course of any necessary legal proceedings.”

  Keynes looked hard at Harry, his eyes narrowed. The sweat on his upper lip glistened. James noticed that his father’s expression, however, was perfectly neutral, as calm as a river stone.

  “Are you quite certain, Mr. Potter,” Keynes said softly, “that this is the course of action you truly wish to take?”

  “I see no other option,” Harry replied, “for a man of the law.”

  Keynes smiled again, slowly. “So be it, then. As a representative of the American Wizarding Court, I release Petra and Izabella Morganstern into your custody. Do know, however, that this means that both the wizarding legal authority and the Magical Integration Bureau will be watching you very closely. There will be sentinels posted near your home around the clock.”

  “Then they can join the ones that are already there,” Harry replied with a sigh. “My wife has been known to invite them in for tea, although they have not yet taken her up on the offer.”

  “Mr. Potter,” Petra whispered, leaning close to him. “You don’t have to—”

  “Is there any other business to attend to, then?” Harry interrupted, looking briskly from face to face. “No? Then I suggest that I escort Ms. Morganstern and her sister to their flat where they can gather whatever things they need.”

  The meeting broke up and there was a scuffling of feet and a creak as the door was swung open. Professor Cloverhoof stood near the entry, allowing the others to leave before him. His face was inscrutable as he looked down at James and winked. James followed his father out into the main hallway that ran straight through the center of Administration Hall. Petra rejoined her sister, who was waiting near the lobby stairs with Zane and Ralph. When James and his father reached the main entry, Albert Keynes sidled close to Harry, his demeanor friendly, if a bit condescending.

  “I am aware, Mr. Potter,” he said in a low voice, “that you provided sanctuary to Ms. Morganstern and her sister once before. It was, in fact, immediately after the unfortunate events of their last day on Morganstern Farm. Could it be that you know a bit more about those events than you are letting on?”

  “I assure you, Mr. Keynes,” Harry replied, “you know as much as I do about these things, and perhaps more. Your information seems to know no bounds whatsoever.”

  Keynes laughed, as if Harry and he were old friends. “Alas, if only that were the case. I only ask, though, because I will find out. If there are any secrets you might wish to divulge now, it
could save us both some trouble later on. I fear that things could get a bit less… civil.”

  Harry paused for a long moment, and James looked up at him, watching. For a moment, James thought that his father would tell Keynes what he knew—that Petra had, in fact, been seen coming from the Hall of Archives on the night it was attacked, and maybe even that Merlinus Ambrosius harbored worries about Petra’s mental state, and even her overall goodness. Finally, however, Harry merely shook his head.

  “Feel free to interview me and my family, Mr. Keynes,” Harry said, glancing down at James. “We are in the habit of telling the truth. Sometimes, however, you have to ask the right questions.”

  Keynes nodded, as if this was exactly the sort of answer he had expected. “Very good. I will begin my investigation this very night, and if it becomes necessary, I will indeed take you up on your offer. For now, I bid you good night. And, er, good luck. I suspect you will need it.”

  With that, Keynes pushed open one of the heavy front doors and vanished into the darkness beyond, humming happily to himself.

  “Odious man,” Franklyn said with a sigh. “But such individuals are, arguably, the grease that oils the axle of civilization.”

  Professor Cloverhoof nodded. “And in much the same way, one feels the need to scrub one’s hands after coming into contact with them.”

  Murmuring agreement, the group made their way out into the chilly darkness.

  Walking between James and his father, Petra asked, “Are you sure you really want to do this, Mr. Potter? It’ll only make things harder for you and your family. I can handle myself, if I need to.”

  “It’s nothing,” Harry replied briskly, but then glanced down at her as they moved across the windy campus. In a lower voice, he said. “But pardon me for asking this, Petra, and know that I will only do so once: did you do what Mr. Henredon alleges? Were you involved, for some reason, in the attack on the Vault? Because Mr. Keynes, disagreeable as he is, is quite correct. The truth will be known. It is better to speak now than to be found out later. Are you guilty?”