James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

“Yeah! Looked like a shadow, but standing all by itself!”

  James reached the door and yanked it open. Misty air and the deafening clack of the train’s wheels poured in. The tiny connecting breezeway rocked disconcertingly, but the creature was there, capering in the alcove of the doorway leading into the next car. James reached for it, but it slipped beneath the door, making itself so flat as to virtually disappear.

  “Come on!” James said, yanking the next door open. “I want to see what this thing is! I owe it a thrashing!”

  The next car of the train was exactly like the previous. Compartments all along the right side were full of Hogwarts students, chattering and laughing. James ignored them as he chased the creature down the corridor. It scampered in and out of the shifting light, capering up the walls and leaping over the floor. James realized he still had his wand in his hand. Quickly, he tried to remember all the spells Professor Franklyn had taught him last year in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

  “There it goes!” Albus stopped, pointing. “It’s heading for the engine! We can’t go in there, can we?”

  James was determined to follow the shadow creature. He ran forward as it shimmied into the sliver of light between the door and the wall. James could see through the tiny window of the door. The next car wasn’t a passenger car, but the coal car that fuelled the engine. The noise of the crimson locomotive was noticeably louder here. He reached for the door handle and pulled, but it was locked.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Albus said as James pointed his wand at the door.

  “Alohomora!” James said loudly. There was a yellow flash and the door slid partway open. James grabbed the handle and yanked the door aside.

  Cool, misty air and bits of soot blew into the compartment. The coal car was a black iron wall on the other side of a connecting knuckle. Beneath the giant knuckle, the ties of the train tracks flickered past. The shadow imp danced on the knuckle, maintaining a dizzying balance in the barreling wind and noise.

  James pointed his wand. “What are you?” he called down to it. “What are you doing here?”

  The creature suddenly bent down. It wrapped its many-jointed arms around the pin that secured the knuckle together. It began to pull fiercely, trying to force the pin out and disconnect the train.

  “Stop it!” James commanded, trying to keep his wand steady in the push of wind and mist. “Stop it or I’ll Stun you! I know how to do it!”

  The creature increased its ferocity, yanking on the pin wildly. James drew his breath.

  “Stupefy!” he yelled at the exact moment that a large hand grabbed his wrist, pulling it up. The spell rebounded off the iron wall of the coal car and vanished into the blowing mist outside. James spun as far as he could, his arm still held upright in a vice-like grip.

  “That would not be a wise idea,” Merlin said in his calm, rumbling voice. He was standing directly behind James, resplendent in his dress robes and oiled beard, his eyes locked on the shadow creature. He released James’ hand but did not step back.

  James shifted aside as the wizard moved forward. Albus was standing nearby, his eyes wide.

  Merlin spoke to the creature. James couldn’t understand the words but recognized the language Merlin had used when speaking to Headmistress McGonagall on the Sylvven Tower, the night after his arrival. It was a very dense language, full of corners and tongue-twisting piles of consonants.

  The imp stopped pulling the pin of the knuckle and slowly stood up, as if transfixed. It stepped into the compartment, almost between Merlin’s feet, and stopped, swaying slightly as the train rocked. Merlin slid the door shut, closing off the wind and the clack of the wheels. He stepped back, still keeping his eyes on the shadowy shape.

  “Mr. Potter,” he said calmly, “would you be so kind as to stand guard for a moment? I need to retrieve something from my compartment. I’m afraid I was rather unprepared when I saw you running past in pursuit of the Borley.”

  “The Borley?” James said, looking down at the slowly swaying creature. “Er, yeah, sure. What do I need to do to guard it?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Merlin said. “I’ve entranced it, but the words won’t last long. Just watch it in case it awakens again.”

  “What should we do if it does?” Albus interjected, pushing between Merlin and James.

  Merlin looked down at him. “Tell me which way it goes,” he rumbled. He turned to stalk heavily down the corridor. “Oh, and boys?” he said, looking back at them over his shoulder. “Whatever you do, use no magic in the Borley’s presence.”

  A moment later, the connecting door opened and slammed as Merlin passed through.

  “What in the world is a Borley?” Albus asked, staring down at the entranced shadow shape.

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “So that was Merlin, eh?”

  James nodded. “He’s pretty hard to miss.”

  Halfway down the corridor, a compartment door slid open. Both Potters looked up as a boy stepped out into the corridor. The boy glanced back in the direction Merlin had gone, and then turned to James and Albus. His face was cold, disinterested, and very pale. James recognized the son of Draco Malfoy.

  “Mischief already?” the boy commented. “And already in trouble with the new Headmaster to boot.”

  “Well, it’s no business of yours either way,” James said, trying to stand in front of the tiny shadow creature.

  “I know you,” the boy said, smiling and narrowing his eyes. “The two Potters. I can’t remember your first names. What’s the point, really?”

  “What do you want?” James asked, trying to put some authority into his voice. He was a secondyear, after all. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  “At first, I wanted to see if you were as thick as I’d heard. The story among the Slytherins is that the older of you has delusions of being a great hero, just like your father supposedly was. But now that I see that you’re both only a pair of frightened kids, I just want to see what you have cornered there,” the boy said, gesturing toward the floor at James’ feet.

  Albus stepped forward. “Like he said, it’s none of your business. Why don’t you shove off, Scorpius?”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t plan to,” the pale boy said, still smiling indulgently. “I’m the curious type, I am. Let’s have a look, why don’t we?”

  “I saw your dad last week,” James said. He realized he still had his wand in his hand.

  “Yes,” Scorpius said, rolling his eyes. “At the old man’s funeral. He thought it was the noble thing to do, I suppose. Mother didn’t agree, but she goes along with Father’s ideas like a good wife should. Personally, I didn’t see the point. It’s hard to feel bad about one dead Weasley when there are so many more to take his place.”

  James felt something rush past him and glanced down, certain that the shadow creature had reawakened. He was only aware of what was happening when he heard the thump that followed. Albus had rushed Scorpius, throwing him against the wall of the compartment hard enough to make the boy stagger. They collapsed to the floor in an untidy jumble.

  “How dare you? Get your hands off me!” Scorpius cried, struggling as Albus wrestled to keep him down.

  “Take that back!” Albus yelled furiously. “Take it back right now!”

  More doors opened along the corridor. Curious students gathered, some grinning and pointing.

  “James,” Sabrina Hildegard, a fellow Gryffindor, said as she stepped into the corridor. “What’s going on? First, the connecting door is left open, and then—”

  There was a sudden crack and a flash of red. Scorpius clambered to his feet, his face livid. He pointed his wand wildly, but Albus lunged at him.

  “No!” James shouted. “Albus, stop!”

  There was a furor of voices and clamoring figures as Scorpius stumbled backwards, trying to evade Albus’ reaching arms. Another spell ricocheted off the ceiling of the compartment. Suddenly, James remembered the Borley. He spun around, looking fo
r it, but the creature was gone. Desperately, he scanned the corridor.

  “No spells!” he shouted, holding up his hands, but no one noticed him. James was jostled as more students pressed into the narrow space, crowding to see the fight. He spun around, looking for the creature, and suddenly saw it. The Borley leapt within the shadows of the milling students. It was much larger than it had been at first, and seemed rather more solid. It jumped to the floor and James heard a thump as it landed. Unthinkingly, he pointed his wand at it. The Borley saw him and lunged as if to attack. James pulled his wand up and ducked. The creature went over his head and disappeared into the throng that filled the corridor.

  “BE STILL!” a very large voice boomed, and James didn’t have to guess who it belonged to. He grimaced and slumped against the wall.

  The crowd of onlookers silenced immediately. A moment later, the corridor had emptied again as the milling students slipped sheepishly back into their compartments, leaving James, Albus, and Scorpius. Albus had a handful of Scorpius’ robes. Scorpius still had his wand in his hand. He tried to slip it surreptitiously into his robes.

  Merlin rolled his eyes slowly. “So,” he said in his low, rumbling voice, “can any of you tell me in which direction it went?”

  3. THE SORTING

  “Y ou can’t take ten points from Gryffindor before we even get to school!” James insisted, trotting to keep up with Merlin’s massive stride. Albus followed, glancing back angrily.

  “Deducting points from the offender’s house is the preferred method of discipline at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter,” Merlin said distractedly. “I asked you to guard the Borley. And not to allow any magic to be used in its presence. Failing that, you were to at least point me in the direction of its escape. I’d not be fulfilling my duties as Headmaster if I didn’t mete out some form of discipline for your complete disregard of my direction.”

  “But Scorpius did the magic!” James insisted, jumping in front of the Headmaster and forcing him to stop. “It’s not my fault he’s a hotheaded git! I did everything I could to stop him!”

  Merlin was scanning the corridor slowly. “Did you truly do everything you could, Mr. Potter?”

  James threw up his hands. “Well, I suppose I could have sat on Albus to prevent him from attacking the bloody loudmouth!”

  Merlin nodded, and then looked down at James, giving him his full attention for the first time. “It is true, what they say, Mr. Potter: I come from a much different age. When I give instruction, I do not do so lightly. It will behoove you to remember that a lack of effort in carrying out those instructions goes much poorer with me than an excess of effort. Do you understand?”

  James worked through the sentence in his head, nodding slightly. He glanced up at the Headmaster and shook his head.

  “It means,” Merlin replied slowly, “that I expect you to do everything within your power to carry out my requests. If sitting on your brother might have helped, then next time, I expect you to do exactly that. The Borley has escaped, and more importantly, your negligence has allowed it to gain power. It will not be as easy to transfix next time. And you should be aware that, up until a few minutes ago, it was relatively harmless.”

  Merlin’s lowered brow and glittering eyes made the point very clearly. James still felt unjustly accused, but he nodded his understanding.

  “What is it?” Albus asked. “This Borley thing.”

  Merlin turned away, half dismissing the boys. “They are a form of Shade: shadow creatures. They are purely magical beings, and as such, they feed on magic. They’ll taunt young or foolish wizards into using magic on them so that they might feed and grow. When they are tiny, they are harmless. As they grow…”

  James looked around the compartment, following Merlin. “What do they grow into?”

  “I believe,” Merlin said gravely, “that you call them ‘Dementors’.”

  Both James and Albus knew about Dementors. James shuddered.

  “I think I saw this same Borley a week ago, back at my grandparents’ house,” James commented. “And then later, at the eye doctor’s. It made a horrible mess, but a few minutes later, when the doctor came into the room, the mess had vanished. Everything was back to normal. I thought I’d imagined it.”

  “You didn’t imagine it,” Merlin said, stopping at the end of the corridor and turning. “The Borleys come from a realm outside of history. They can manipulate tiny pockets of time, bunching minutes together like a wrinkle in a rug and then poking directly through them. You saw its actions, so you remembered them even after it leapt back in time and undid them.”

  Albus screwed up his face in concentration. He shook his head. “But why would it do that?”

  “It’s a defensive reflex,” Merlin said curtly. “They use it to cover their tracks. It’s somewhat akin to a squid squirting ink to confuse its enemy.”

  “Confused me all right,” James nodded.

  “So if you can’t catch them using magic,” Albus asked, “how do you catch them? What do you do with them after you, er, transfix them? You said you needed to go get something. Is it in that bag?”

  “Please return to your compartment, boys,” Merlin ordered, turning and opening his own compartment. He shouldered the large, black bag. “We will be arriving at the station soon. You should get into your robes.”

  “Yeah, but—” Albus began but was silenced by the closing of the compartment door. The windows were smoked, blocking any view of the interior.

  “Well, that was educational,” Albus commented as they retraced their steps back along the train’s corridors.

  James said nothing. He felt rankled by the way he’d been held responsible for the escape of the Borley. How could Merlin have blamed him and allowed Scorpius to get away without even a stern look? James had been looking forward to the start of the school year partly because he had a sort of rapport with Merlin, the new Headmaster. After all, James had been inadvertently responsible for the famous wizard’s return from the distant past. Also, they had worked together at the end of the last term to thwart a cunning plot to cause a war between the Muggle and magical worlds. And yet, even before their arrival at Hogwarts, James seemed to have gotten on Merlin’s bad side.

  As he and Albus returned to their compartment, James remembered the words Rose had said at the beginning of their trip: a wizard as powerful as Merlin could be all the scarier because he’s not evil but just selfish.

  But of course that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Merlin wasn’t selfish, just different. James knew Merlin as well as anyone did. He’d even been consulted about whether or not the famous wizard would be a good Headmaster. He wasn’t dangerous. He was just from a much different time. Merlin had said so himself. He came from a much more serious, grave age. Not only was it important for James to remember that fact, it was important for him to help the rest of the students understand it as well.

  By the time Albus yanked the door to their compartment open, it had begun to rain in earnest. The windows of the train were streaked and spattered with huge drops. Ralph was asleep on his seat with his tabloid open on his chest. Rose was buried in her book, barely noticing the brothers’ return. And James was becoming rather certain that this year might not be quite as fun as he’d first thought.

  As the light began to fade from the day and the rain finally abated, James, Albus, and Ralph dug their robes out of their satchels. Both James and Albus’ robes were rather sadly wrinkled. Rose looked up from her book and clucked her tongue at them.

  “Haven’t you two ever learned how to fold your clothes?”

  “Boys don’t learn things like that,” Albus said, trying to smooth out the front of his robe with his hands. “We learn cool things. Secret boy things that I’m not even allowed to tell you about. Girls get stuck learning how to pack clothes so their husbands look good when they go out to their jobs.”

  “I’m not even going to respond to that,” Rose said, shaking her head sadly. “I only hope your sister is learning her le
ssons better than you did. The son of a famous woman Quidditch player should know better.”

  Ralph raised his eyebrows. “I think I know an Anti-Wrinkling Spell. You want me to try it out?”

  “No thanks, Ralph,” James said quickly, “no offense, but I still remember you burning a bald stripe on Victoire’s head last year.”

  “That was a Disarming Spell,” Ralph said defensively. “My wand is a little sensitive about those. The problem isn’t getting them to work but keeping them from working too well.”

  “Hmm!” Rose said pointedly, “I wonder why that might be?”

  “So you really tackled him, eh?” Ralph said to Albus, reverting to a former topic.

  “Knocked him clean off his feet,” James said, nudging his brother. “It was pretty good even if it did get me into trouble.”

  “You need to learn some self-control, Albus,” Rose said, finally putting her book aside. “He may be hard to like, but you are at Hogwarts now. You can’t go around tackling everyone who says something you don’t like.”

  “Something I don’t like?” Albus said, glaring at Rose. “Did you miss the part where he insulted our dead granddad? There’s such a thing as honor, you know! I’ll do it again if he so much as looks at me sideways.”

  “I didn’t say you shouldn’t retaliate, Albus,” Rose said meaningfully. “I just said we’re at Hogwarts now. You retaliate with magic.”

  “Yikes,” James said, laughing a little nervously. “The apple really fell far from the tree with you, Rosie.”

  Rose looked hurt. “I may be my mum’s daughter, but I’ll have you remember that I’m a Weasley, too.”

  Albus grimaced. “Well, I can’t do any real magic yet. Besides, it felt so good to knock him down.”

  Rose shot James a serious look. “Then I hope you’re getting your bum in gear. Looks like you’ll be spending a lot of the year sitting on your little brother.”

  “He’s his own problem from now on,” James said. “Besides, Scorpius deserved it. That stupid twit was trying to Stun Albus. His parents have been teaching him curses already. It’s a good thing Albus has a good reach.”