On the Friday before Christmas, James, Ralph, Albus, and Lucy made their way to the Warping Willow, duffle bags slung over their shoulders and breaths of mist puffing into the frigid air. The first snow of the season had fallen that morning, covering the campus with a blanket of sparkling white and effectively hiding all of the flagstone paths, so that the four left winding, crisscrossing trails of footprints across the mall.
Once they congregated under the Tree, Lucy spoke the incantation that James had first heard from the undead Professor Straidthwait’s account of the night Ignatius Magnussen had escaped.
“Abitus,” she said, tapping the snow-crusted trunk with her wand. She turned to James as the Tree began to move subtly all around them. “Professor Remora taught me that.”
James nodded, not explaining that he’d heard it himself from a different professor. Lucy sidled next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and her gloved hand laced fingers with his. James’ face reddened a little and he looked away, watching as the campus became hidden behind the shifting whip-like branches of the Warping Willow.
The transition to the outside was swifter than that which occurred whenever Professor Baruti took his PotionMaking class to visit Madam Ayasha in the old Indian city of Shackamaxon. Within a few seconds, a push of wintry air shivered the Tree’s branches and James saw the tiny walled courtyard beyond. Snow still frosted the ground, turning the trash-strewn yard into something nearly as magical as the university they had just left.
“Merry Christmas, friends,” a deep grating voice said as the four stepped into the dull daylight. Flintlock stood near the gate, his rocky face sculpted into a crooked smile. His diamond eyes sparkled happily.
“Hey, Flintlock!” Albus cried, stepping to pat the rock troll on his huge rough elbow, which was as high as the boy could reach. “Aren’t you cold? It feels like about fifty below out here!”
“Cold?” the troll repeated slowly. “I suppose the temperature has dropped a tiny bit, hasn’t it? I’d barely noticed.”
“Barely noticed!” Albus scoffed. “Last time we saw you, it was the end of summer. I could have fried a flobberworm on your forehead at noon.”
The troll shrugged, making a sound like boulders rolling on gravel. “I have found that you humans are far more affected by tiny shifts in the weather than am I. You may not be aware that I was born in the crucible of the earth’s furnace, where lakes of lava wash on beaches of pumice. I remember it only vaguely, but fondly. When the temperature reaches five thousand degrees, then I will comment on the weather, as do you.”
Albus shook his head. “You won’t be commenting on it to me, that’s for sure.”
The troll nodded and chuckled. With one languid movement, he reached for the gate. It squeaked noisily as he wrenched it open. A long brown car was waiting next to the curb beyond, a plume of exhaust dancing behind it. The passenger’s window powered partly down and James spied his Uncle Percy in the driver’s seat.
“Come on, you lot,” he called. “Boot’s open. Throw your bags back there and pile in. Hello Lucy dear! Happy Christmas, all of you!”
“Happy Christmas, Dad,” Lucy called, finally unlacing her fingers from James’ hand as she angled toward the boot of the car. James breathed a sigh of entirely mixed emotions.
It was very warm in the car as Uncle Percy navigated the narrow, slushy streets, muttering to himself in irritation at the slowness of the Muggle traffic and occasionally tapping the horn, making fussy little bleeps. James took off his stocking cap and stared out the windows, watching the city go by.
The drive took rather longer than James had expected, and James recognized vaguely that they were passing through the historical section of the city. He wished that Zane had come along with them for Christmas, if only so he could tell them about the buildings they were passing, his infectious enthusiasm brightening what was, otherwise, a fairly boring trek. As it was, the blonde boy had left school the day before, taking the train back to his parents’ house in Kirkwood, Missouri. Before Zane had departed, however, James had finally decided to share with both he and Ralph some of the things that he had thus far kept a secret.
He’d begun by telling them about the strange prediction that had occurred during his Precognitive Engineering midterm, when he had envisioned the strange, impending convergence between the mysterious lady, himself, and the twin entities of Petra and Morgan, somehow separate even though they were both merely parts of the same person.
Then, because the two seemed vaguely connected, he’d described his last encounter with Professor Trelawney in the dawn corridors of Hogwarts, the day when they had begun their journey. Zane and Ralph had listened with wide eyes, obviously understanding the significance of such a haunting prophecy coming from the lips of the otherwise comical old professor.
Finally, James had reminded them of what had happened on the stern of the Gwyndemere, when he had miraculously conjured the shining silver thread that had saved Petra’s life. He explained that the thread was still there, still somehow connecting him to her, and that that was how he knew she could be trusted.
“I can see her dreams and feel her thoughts, sometimes,” he’d said, although he hadn’t told them about the written dream, the one that had conjured the frightening vision of the nightmare island and the black castle, before vanishing entirely. He had vowed to Petra not to tell anyone about the dream story and he meant to keep that promise. “I know that she’s telling the truth about not being involved with the attack on the Vault of Destinies, no matter what we saw on that night. It couldn’t have been her because when she says she wasn’t there, I can sense that she’s telling the truth. I don’t think she could lie to me even if she wanted to.”
James didn’t really know if this was true or not, but he did know that she sincerely believed that she was innocent. This was what he had most wanted to impress upon Zane and Ralph, since their belief in that fact was going to be essential to the success of their attempts to clear her name.
“We’ll work it all out after Christmas break,” Zane had said eagerly. “You spend some time working on your cousin Lucy. After all, Rose is right: if we don’t know what the dimensional key is, we won’t recognize it when we follow Magnussen into the past. Lucy’s all googly-eyed for you, so it should be no problem to convince her to let us scour Erebus Castle for clues.”
James’ cheeks had heated a bit at that. “She’s not googly-eyed for me. She’s my cousin, if you remember.”
“Have you taken a good look at her lately?” Zane had asked, cocking his head and pointing at his face. “Not much of a family resemblance. I’d guess the only blood you share is the blood pudding you all put away last Weasley family picnic.”
“Shut up,” James had protested. “You’re daft.”
Ralph had shrugged with one shoulder. “I think he’s right, James. Even Rose and Scorpius say so. Rose says Lucy’s been sweet on you ever since last year.”
James hadn’t been able to argue it any further. He knew that it was true, as uncomfortable as it made him. He was, however, a little rankled about the fact that he’d been, apparently, the last person to find out about it. He couldn’t quite bring himself to manipulate Lucy’s feelings for him (whatever they were) to get a tour of Erebus Castle, but maybe if he just asked nicely, that would be enough. After all, she was his cousin. They’d always gotten on very well, which was more than he could say for some of his other cousins, particularly Louis. Why would Lucy say no?
Silently, James cursed himself for having asked Lucy to go to the Halloween Ball with him. Why hadn’t Zane and Ralph warned him since they had all apparently known how Lucy felt about him?
“We’re almost there,” Lucy said from the front seat of the car, turning to smile back at James. “We’ll all be staying over at your parents’ flat for Christmas Eve. Won’t that be fun?”
James nodded and forced a smile. “Sure, Lu.”
Next to him, Albus began making obnoxious kissing noises. James shoved him hard enou
gh to knock his hat off.
Uncle Percy parked the car in an underground parking structure and led the troop to the silvery doors of a large elevator.
“Muggle condominiums,” he said disdainfully, pressing the up button. “Refitted for magical occupancy, thankfully, at least on the thirteenth floor.”
The doors swooped open and the group clambered inside. There was no thirteen on the bank of lit buttons, but Percy didn’t seem to mind. Producing his wand, he tapped the buttons for floor number one and floor number three. Immediately, the doors shuttled closed again, and the elevator lurched, rocketing upwards much faster than any elevator James had ever ridden before. His feet left the floor for a split second as the lift shuddered to a sudden stop.
“Here we are,” Percy said briskly, watching as the doors socked open once more. James had expected a hallway, but the lift apparently opened directly onto his parents’ flat. It was quite large and open, with high ceilings, heavy decorative woodwork, and a rather baroque chandelier hanging over the entryway. From the perspective of the open elevator, the living spaces all seemed to run together, forming an airy blend of kitchen, dining room, and parlor. James’ sister Lily was seated at the dining room table across from Izzy, a collection of half-decorated sugar cookies and coloured icings spread between them.
“They’re here!” Lily called, looking up and grinning.
Behind James, Percy sighed. “Being Head Auror,” he muttered, stepping into the high foyer, “certainly has its perks.”
Shortly after their arrival, Uncle Percy left again, meaning to pick up Molly at the nearby magical elementary school and then collect Audrey at their flat. Ralph joined Lily and Izzy in icing duties, using his wand to recolour the icings with stripes, sparkles, and the occasional flashing He appeared quite pleased with himself and James was glad. Lucy and Albus went upstairs to explore the bedrooms and stake out the best beds for themselves while James climbed onto a stool near the kitchen and pulled a plate of tiny mincemeat pies toward himself.
“Your father’s still at work,” Ginny, James’ mum, said with a hint of worry in her voice. She was in the kitchen, cooking madly, as she was wont to do whenever she was fretting. Back at Marble Arch, Albus had had a pet name for their mum whenever she got like this. “Look out,” he’d say, usually slamming the bedroom door behind him, “Hurricane Ginny’s on the rampage. Tie everything down before she blows in here and gives it a good cleaning.”
“That’s an awful lot of puddings,” James commented, peering over the countertop. “Expecting the Harriers for dinner, are we?”
Ginny sighed and dusted her hands on her apron. She took a moment to look around at the crowded countertops. “You know,” she replied, “whenever Christmas comes around, I seem to forget that I’m not still a kid living at the Burrow, with Mum and me downstairs baking everything under the sun and my brothers eating it all up nearly as fast as we pull it out of the oven. Some habits are hard to break.”
James wished that they were having Christmas at the Burrow like they normally did. He asked, “Will we see Grandma and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and everybody?”
“We’ll probably talk to them by Floo,” Ginny answered, using her wand to stop a huge wooden spoon from stirring a bowl of dough. “But not until tomorrow after breakfast. It’s always so difficult to remember the time change and all. We’re lucky we’re connected to the international Floo Network at all. If it wasn’t necessary for your father’s work…” Her voice trailed away, distracted. She pulled the refrigerator door open so quickly that the milk bottles rattled, and then stood staring into it, as if she’d forgotten what she was looking for.
“Where is Dad anyway?” James asked, frowning. “And Petra too?”
Ginny let the refrigerator door swing closed again and looked at James, her face tense. “He’s working,” she said, and then drew a brisk sigh. “I haven’t told your brother or sister this, James, so if you breathe a word about it to them, I swear I’ll blend cockroaches into your eggnog. If I don’t tell someone, though, I think I’ll burst. The fact is: your father’s on a raid.”
“Ah,” James said, nodding. “And you’re worried about him.”
“Nonsense,” she lied unconvincingly. “Your father can take care of himself. With any luck, he’ll be home within the hour. It’s a big night for him. If all goes well…”
“Who’s he raiding?” James asked in a low, eager voice. “Did he track down those W.U.L.F. nutters?”
“Shh!” Ginny rasped sharply, and then visibly calmed herself. “Sorry. Yes.” She came over to meet James at the little breakfast bar. “I’m so nervous lately. Those Magical Integration Bureau men were bad enough, lurking in their black cars on the corner, watching our windows, following your father around when he so much as goes to the store for milk and bread. Now, there’re people from the American legal administration as well, hovering about like bats in their black cloaks and hats. They’re worse, since you never know where they are. If tonight goes well for your father, though…”
“What’d he find?” James prodded, eyes wide. “Did he track down the people who attacked us on the train?”
Ginny shook her head, more in wonderment than negation. “It’s huge,” she whispered, “this Wizard’s United Liberation movement. It wasn’t just the attack on the Zephyr. They were the ones who hired those pirates to waylay us during our voyage. They’ve been dead set against us being here at all, and for good reason. Titus Hardcastle and your father have been tracking them for months, even calling in some favors with Draco Malfoy at Gringotts. I’m amazed that Draco helped at all, considering how much trouble he could get into if his goblin bosses found out. There’s financial support going into the W.U.L.F. from all over the world, but the base is right here in the United States. Titus and your father followed the money and finally found the organization’s underground headquarters. A group of American wizarding police are helping your father right now. With any luck, they’ve already descended on the place and rounded up the ringleaders.”
“Wow,” James breathed, impressed. “I wish I could see it!”
Ginny shuddered. “Ugh, not me. I can barely stand to think of it. All of those awful people, and your father right in the middle of them.”
“Dad can take care of himself,” James grinned, mimicking his mother’s words. “Remember? Nobody out-Aurors him. Those W.U.L.F. gits will be spending Christmas in Azkaban.”
Ginny nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. But I doubt they’d send them back home for that. They’ll do their time here in the States. I can only hope that they find that poor Muggle senator and rescue him. Who knows what they’ve filled his head with by now, assuming he’s, er…”
“Still alive?” James suggested.
“Don’t talk that way,” his mum shuddered again. “Go and say hello to Petra, why don’t you? She’s up in her room. First door on the right.”
James nodded and dropped lightly from his stool. Tramping up the stairs, he heard Albus and Lucy talking nearby, their voices echoing into the hall. The second door on the right was cracked open, but the room beyond was dark. James knocked lightly on the door.
“Hey Petra,” he called softly, not wishing to wake her if she was napping. “Happy Christmas. Come downstairs and help me eat some of these desserts, eh?”
The door creaked open a little at James’ knock. He peered inside with one eye. In the dimness, he could see two narrow beds and a dresser. One of the beds was rumpled, the pillows humped together haphazardly.
“Petra?” James called again, pushing the door further open. The room was empty, although the bed certainly appeared to have been recently occupied. He frowned into the room, and then turned and retreated back into the hall. He followed Albus and Lucy’s voices until he found them in a bedroom near the end, kneeling on the floor next to a pile of wrapped presents.
“Oh,” Albus said, glancing up at James and lowering his brow. “It’s just you. We thought Mum was onto us.”
J
ames frowned, watching as his brother trained his wand on one of the larger presents. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like,” Albus replied. “Getting a peeksie. Hang back if you don’t want to know whether you’re getting a new skrim or a box of underpants.”
James shook his head. “Have either of you seen Petra yet?”
Lucy glanced up. “No,” she said, tilting her head. “Why?”
“Just wondering. I thought I’d say hello. That’s all.”
Lucy shrugged and shook her head, her eyes still on James.
“All right,” he replied. “Whatever. Carry on, then.”
“Don’t tell Mum,” Albus warned as James turned away. “I’ll hex you good if you do.”
On the way down the hall, James peered into Petra and Izzy’s bedroom again. It was still dark and empty, although the rumpled bed gave the strangest impression that someone had been lying on it only moments before. James shook his head again and tromped back down the stairs.
Dinner came and went and James’ dad still had not arrived home.
The rest of the adults tried to maintain a festive atmosphere, but James sensed that there was a lot of tension in the air. Audrey and Percy sat near the fireplace and roasted chestnuts while Ginny and Denniston Dolohov cleaned up the kitchen, talking idly in low voices. Petra had not shown up for dinner at all, which James thought was a little odd.
“She’s begun keeping rather strange hours ever since the debacle with that Mr. Henredon,” Ginny had admitted to James. “I think she’s worried and afraid, poor thing. I can’t blame her. A new country, and all of a sudden, she’s in legal trouble, all over a case of mistaken identity. I mean, I feel bad for the poor man who was attacked, but to accuse a teenaged girl of such a thing…”
“But,” James said, furrowing his brow, “she wasn’t upstairs when I went up to say hi to her. Her room was empty.”
Ginny shrugged. “She was probably in the loo, silly.”
James frowned. He was almost certain that the bathroom had been empty as well when he’d passed it, but he didn’t press the issue. Shortly thereafter, Petra had, in fact, come down the stairs, smiling sleepily and greeting everyone.
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