James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  “A thousand years and more have I resided at my post

  And watched the tide of years forever ebb upon my host

  Fair Hogwarts alters not despite the weight of ages raging

  For Hogwarts knows that time revolves, while she is only aging

  The rise of villains coincides, to keep the balance rightly

  With dawning heroes in whose eyes good justice blazes brightly

  In recent past, dread Voldemort rose up with might so scary

  That fate did send a hero boy, the orphan Potter, Harry

  And thus unveiled the drama of time’s everlasting scheme

  The players change, the venues shift, but constant is the theme

  The root of evil always finds a new and fertile garden

  But valor’s heart is ever strong to bring us fate’s good pardon

  And this, you see, brings us to me, the Hat that does the Sorting,

  For ‘tis my task to keep the balance right for evil thwarting

  For witnessed I the dawn of that long battle that endures

  And long as that old struggle lasts, my duty hope ensures

  I see the seed that guarantees the role of every student

  And place them best into the House that grows that seed most prudent

  In Hufflepuff, the seed of loyalty and diligence

  For Ravenclaw, the vine of knowledge grows with common sense

  Brave Gryffindor breeds valor and courageousness of heart

  And Slytherin gives those who love ambition their good start

  They go there hence into their House as sign of their vocation

  But many sense it gives a hint of deeper motivation

  Make no mistake, judge not the one upon their house of Sorting

  But always look instead to gauge the way of their comporting

  For good can come of any House, regardless of its banner

  And evil, too, can spread its leaves within the finest manor

  Beneath my brim now come and sit to hear my declaration

  But be assured, you bring along your heart’s own inclination

  It matters not what happens while you sit upon this chair

  The true judge of your character is what’s beneath your hair.”

  As the Sorting Hat finished its song, the Hall erupted into applause. James grinned, craning to look across the room toward Ralph, who smiled back a little sheepishly. If anyone needed to hear the Hat’s most recent song, it was Ralph, whose assignment to Slytherin had been a source of rather constant consternation during the previous year. As the applause died away, Professor McGonagall approached the Hat, producing a long parchment from her robes. She unrolled it and studied it through her tiny spectacles. She nodded to herself, lowered the parchment, and picked up the Sorting Hat by its tip.

  “Cameron Creevey,” she announced loudly. “Please join me on the dais.”

  A very small, very nervous-looking boy climbed the steps and clambered onto the stool. There’s no way I looked that young and scared when I sat on that stool, James thought to himself, smiling. He remembered it very well: the voice of the magical Hat in his head considering him, debating which house would best suit him. It had been a close call. Moments before he’d climbed the dais, as then-Headmistress McGonagall had called his name, the Slytherin table had broken out in applause. A beautiful, albeit severe-looking, darkhaired girl named Tabitha Violetus Corsica had led the applause, and as James looked back on the memory, he thought for the first time that the Slytherins’ applause had merely been a ruse, intended to sway him into accepting an assignment to Slytherin. As scared as he’d been, as worried as he’d been about the responsibility of following in his famous father’s footsteps, James had almost fallen for it. For a fleeting moment, under the brim of the Sorting Hat, James had considered becoming a Slytherin, and the Hat had concurred. Only at the last second had James firmed his resolve, proving that he meant to be a Gryffindor, like his parents before him.

  “Gryffindor!” the Sorting Hat proclaimed. Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat from Creevey’s head as the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers. Cameron Creevey grinned in obvious relief as he ran down the steps. He crammed into the front of the table, sitting between Damien and a seventh-year named Hugo Paulson.

  “Thomas Danforth,” Professor McGonagall called, reading from her parchment. A moment later, the Ravenclaw table cheered as the bespectacled boy smiled sheepishly, joining his new housemates. As the Sorting continued, James glanced around the hall, picking out all the faces he knew. There was Victoire, sitting resplendently amidst her seventh-year Hufflepuff friends. Gennifer Tellus and Horace Birch whispered to each other at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and James remembered Zane telling him that they had begun seeing each other over the summer. Across the room, Tabitha Corsica sat smiling politely, her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her. On her left sat Philia Goyle, whose bricklike face was as expressionless as ever. Tom Squallus sat on Tabitha’s right, his blonde hair combed neatly and his eyes almost unnaturally bright and alert. It almost looked like the trio of Slytherins were up to something, but James reminded himself that they always looked like that. They were probably just waiting for the Sorting of their new mate—

  “Scorpius Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall called, lowering her parchment and glancing down at the remaining first-years. Scorpius curled the corner of his mouth as he turned. He climbed the steps and sat jauntily on the stool, one leg kicked out in front of him. The Hat threw his face into shadow as Professor McGonagall lowered it.

  Several seconds went by. The room had become rather restless as the older students got bored with the ceremony, but they silenced again as the pause grew longer. The Hat sat perfectly still on Scorpius’ head. Scorpius himself didn’t move. James looked around, surprised at the delay. Everybody knew that the Malfoys were Slytherins. Their family was known to have been among Voldemort’s strongest supporters. Lucius Malfoy, Scorpius’ grandfather, was said to still be in hiding for crimes he’d committed as a Death Eater, although James’ dad had denied it. “He just likes to believe he’s the most wanted man in the wizarding world,” Harry had chuckled to Ginny one morning over breakfast. “His worst punishment is living in a world where his idol is dead.” Still, there couldn’t be any question about a Malfoy’s house, could there? They nearly defined what it was to be a Slytherin. Perhaps something was wrong with the Hat. James nudged Graham, who glanced at him and shrugged curiously.

  “Gryffindor!” the Sorting Hat suddenly sang out, pointing its peak at the ceiling.

  Complete, stunned silence filled the hall as the Hat was lifted from Scorpius’ head. His chin drooped and he closed his eyes. After a long moment, he climbed off the stool and clumped slowly down the stairs. The Gryffindor table remained absolutely silent as Scorpius approached it. He passed the head of the table, where most of the newly named Gryffindors sat staring, wide-eyed. James watched as Scorpius stalked the entire length of the table, not raising his eyes. When he reached the end, he stopped for a moment, apparently unwilling to actually sit down. Finally, he slumped onto a bench on the end. He raised his eyes, and James saw that they were tinged with red. Scorpius glared at James. After a long moment, he pressed his lips together and turned his gaze to the front of the hall.

  “Albus Potter,” McGonagall called into the silence. James couldn’t help glancing aside at the Slytherin table. Tabitha wasn’t rising to applaud this time. Strangely though, she was still smiling her polite smile, apparently completely unperturbed by Malfoy’s Sorting.

  Albus looked back over his shoulder as he climbed the steps to the dais. James assumed he was looking at him; he smiled encouragingly and nodded to his brother up on the dais. Albus showed no sign that he’d seen him. He approached the stool and stared down at it for a moment. Professor McGonagall nodded curtly to him. Albus squared his shoulders, turned, and sat down.

  There was no idle chatter now as the Sorting Hat settled onto Albus’ head. Every eye
in the room watched. Everyone knew that Albus was going to go to Gryffindor. James had only ever joked about it because he was so sure it was only a joke. A Potter could never really be sent to Slytherin. But as James thought that, he remembered the look of hate on Albus’ face when Malfoy had insulted him on the Hogsmeade platform. Albus had always been a passionate boy. That could be a very good thing, a beautiful thing. But, as James had very recently thought, it could also be a little scary. Too late, James realized that Albus had not turned to look back at him, James, when he’d climbed the stairs to his Sorting. He’d turned to look back at Scorpius, to make sure he was watching. He wanted to make sure Scorpius wouldn’t miss what was about to happen.

  “Slytherin!” the Hat proclaimed loudly. There was a sustained, collective gasp, filling the hall. Professor McGonagall raised the Hat from Albus’ head, and even she seemed surprised at the pronouncement.

  Albus was grinning happily, but he wasn’t looking at the table belonging to his new house, which had erupted into wild applause. Albus was looking down the length of the Gryffindor table. James didn’t need to follow his brother’s gaze to know who he was looking at, but he did anyway.

  Scorpius Malfoy stared back at Albus, his eyes baleful, his mouth a grim, white line of pure hatred.

  4. TRIAL OF THE GOLDEN CORD

  As dinner appeared on the tables and the assembly began to eat, James couldn’t help craning to see what was happening at the Slytherin table. Albus was seated next to Ralph, but he was deep in animated conversation with Trenton Bloch, Ralph’s best Slytherin friend. As James watched, the two boys erupted into raucous laughter. Even Ralph was smiling and nodding as he gnawed a chicken leg.

  “Something wrong with your neck, James?” Graham asked around a mouthful of stew.

  “I’m just trying to see what’s going on,” James said. “It just isn’t right! Albus can’t be a Slytherin!”

  Rose, beaming about her own Sorting into Gryffindor House, leaned toward James. “You keep on saying that, but as I recall, you were the one winding him up all summer about becoming exactly that.”

  “Well, yeah, but I was never serious!”

  Graham followed James’ gaze, peering across the hall to the table under the green banner. “Looks like he’s having a grand time of it. Even Corsica is talking to him.”

  “Well,” James exclaimed stridently, “she would, wouldn’t she? She was trying to make all nice with me last year as well, up until she called my dad a liar in front of the whole school. She’s probably just as pleased as can be that they’ve got a Potter in Slytherin. Who knows what kind of propaganda she’ll fill his head with? It’ll be her crowning achievement.”

  “Albus can take care of himself, James,” Noah said dismissively. “Besides, you said yourself you were almost sent to Slytherin last year.”

  “I should go check on him,” James said, moving to stand. Damien reached over and pushed him back into his seat.

  “Let him be,” Damien said. “He looks to be doing just fine.”

  “But he’s in Slytherin!” James cried, exasperated. “He can’t go to Slytherin! He’s a Potter!”

  “You want to talk about surprises,” Rose said, lowering her voice, “even as we speak, a Malfoy is sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table.”

  James had nearly forgotten about Scorpius. He turned, following Rose’s glance. Scorpius wasn’t eating. The Gryffindors nearest him were studiously ignoring him, laughing and joking loudly. Scorpius caught James looking at him. He narrowed his eyes and smiled grotesquely, making a parody of those around him. Then he rolled his eyes and turned away.

  “That’s the one that really baffles me,” Graham muttered. “How’s a greasy git like him end up a Gryffindor?”

  Rose reached for another roll. “You don’t know what’s in his heart,” she said. “The Sorting Hat sees who you really are, not what your family has always been. Maybe there’s more to Scorpius Malfoy than meets the eye.”

  James shook his head. “Not a chance. I heard the way he talked about Granddad. He’s horrible. Besides, he was as proud as a peacock about his Slytherin heritage.”

  “None of that makes him a Slytherin,” Rose commented carefully.

  “That’s true,” Damien concurred. “Being nasty isn’t necessarily a ticket into Slytherin. Like the Hat said, Slytherins are usually known for ambition. Maybe after a few decades of backing the losing horse, guys like Malfoy are finding raw ambition a little harder to come by.”

  “So that makes him Gryffindor material?” Graham asked disgustedly. “I can barely stand to look at him. What’s Gryffindor about him?”

  Nobody had any response to that. James couldn’t help glancing aside again, looking down the length of the table to where Scorpius sat. The boy looked completely disinterested and aloof, but James knew it was a façade. He’d seen the expression on Scorpius’ face when he first sat down at the Gryffindor table. James remembered his own fears on the night of his Sorting, worried that he’d not make it into Gryffindor, that he’d disappoint his family and fail to live up to the expectations of the son of Harry Potter. Was Scorpius dealing with the same sort of situation in reverse? James suspected he was, but his pride wouldn’t let him show it. And then there was Albus, who, to James’ complete amazement, had apparently allowed the Sorting Hat to send him to Slytherin just to spite Scorpius.

  Without planning it, James climbed off the bench. He walked to the end of the table and stopped next to Scorpius. The pale boy pretended not to notice him.

  “Well,” James began, not entirely sure what to say, “looks like we’re going to be housemates.”

  Scorpius still didn’t look at James. He seemed to be gazing out over the other tables, his eyes halflidded, as if bored.

  “I suppose we didn’t get off too well, back on the train,” James continued. He felt the eyes of the rest of the table upon him, and he hoped that this was a good idea. “But since we’re going to be living in the same rooms for the rest of the year, I thought maybe it’d be best just to start over. Welcome to Gryffindor, Scorpius.”

  James stuck his hand out, the same way he’d seen Scorpius’ dad do it when he’d spoken to Harry at the funeral. Scorpius was still staring idly out over the hall. Slowly, he turned his head, looking disdainfully at James’ proffered hand.

  “Well, that’s very sweet, Potter, but don’t go wasting your manners on me,” Scorpius said, allowing a crooked grin to curl his lip. “We may have to share a house, but that doesn’t make us mates. You think I’m all broken-hearted at not being selected for Slytherin? Well, you’re wrong. I’m perfectly happy being a Gryffindor. In fact, I consider it a golden opportunity. I intend to prove to you what it really means to be a Gryffindor. After all these years of sloppy heroics and lucky breaks, I might just show you what courage really looks like.”

  James realized he still had his hand sticking out. “Yeah,” he replied, dropping his arm to his side. “Well, good luck with that, then. Have it your way.” He turned away, but Scorpius spoke again, stopping him.

  “I’m not so sure about little Albus as a Slytherin though,” he said conversationally. “At first, I was concerned they might just eat him alive. But now it looks like I was wrong. Little Potter boy might have a bit more Slytherin in him than I thought. ASP, indeed.”

  James looked back at Scorpius, who was still grinning crookedly. “I thought you didn’t even know our first names.”

  Scorpius shrugged languidly. “I guess I was lying,” he replied. “That was back when I thought I was going to be a Slytherin. Now that I’m a member of the scarlet and gold, I’ll make it a point to always be truthful, won’t I?”

  Amazingly, a few of the Gryffindors chuckled at that. Scorpius reached for his goblet and raised it, as if saluting.

  “Here’s to new legacies,” he announced, raising one eyebrow sardonically. “There’s a toast you can agree with, right, Potter?”

  James finally caught up with Albus as he was leaving the Great
Hall in the company of his new housemates. Albus appeared to be quite popular among the Slytherins as they gathered around him, laughing raucously.

  “Really, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Albus was saying. “I mean sure, growing up the son of the most famous wizard in the world has its perks, but it doesn’t get me any special privileges here at Hogwarts. Especially with you lot, eh?”

  There was another round of laughter. Obviously, Albus was making the most of his rather shocking house assignment. James shouldered his way into the crowd and grabbed Albus’ elbow.

  “Hey, easy, big brother,” Albus called as James pulled him away. “This is my brother, James, everybody. He gets his bossiness from Mum’s side of the family. Don’t start the party without me, eh?”

  Albus turned back to James near the base of the stairs. He pulled his elbow out of James’ grip, his face turning annoyed. “What’s the big idea, James? I want to see my new rooms.”

  “Slytherin!” James hissed, glancing back over his shoulder at the waiting gang of students. Tabitha Corsica smiled crookedly and nodded in his direction.

  “Yeah, Slytherin,” Albus shrugged. “Same as you’ve been saying all summer.”

  James turned back. “Don’t pretend I talked you into this, Al. You knew I was just ribbing you. Tell me the truth. Did you do this just to spite Scorpius?”

  Albus rolled his eyes. “Get off my back, James. How was I to know Malfoy was going to get Sorted into Gryffindor?”

  “I saw the way you looked back at him when you went up to the dais. You wanted to show him up! That’s a stupid reason to go to Slytherin. Come on, Al! This affects your whole school life! You’re a Slytherin, now!”