James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  “Who’s getting that?” Rose asked, frowning a little distastefully. “It better not end up in my mum and dad’s attic.”

  “I bet it does,” James replied, stirring his cocoa. “In fact, I bet your parents just move it into your room while you’re at school. After all, it still looks quite a bit like Uncle Ron when he was our age. They may even like it better than you.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get a rise out of me, James Potter.”

  “I bet it’s in your room even now,” Albus said thoughtfully, “wearing your make-up and trying on your knickers.”

  Rose nearly knocked her cocoa over lunging for Albus. James and Albus hooted laughter, earning an annoyed look from a house-elf cleaning a nearby window.

  Time crept by surprisingly slowly as Christmas approached. James, Rose, and Albus spent the time playing Winkles and Augers in each other’s common rooms, exploring the snow-covered grounds, and visiting Hagrid in his hut. Meals were taken in the company of the few remaining students and teachers, among whom were Fiera Hutchins, Hugo Paulson, and, to James’ surprise, Josephina Bartlett, whose vertigo was only slightly better. She could manage sitting on a bench at the Ravenclaw table, although if she happened to drop a bread crust or a fork, she was completely unable to bend over to retrieve it. James felt a little sorry for her, but then he saw her yelling tersely at one of the house-elves to retrieve a new fork for her and determined that her arrogance and general insufferability had not been greatly affected by her predicament.

  On Christmas morning, James was rather shocked to be awakened by the smell of fresh kippers and a deep, bullfrog voice.

  “A merry Christmas to you, Master James,” the voice said. “Lays there like a stone, he does, like his breakfast will stay hot by pure and simple magic until he decides he’s ready to eat it, which it will, of course, but only because Kreacher works so hard day and night to hone the best Warming Charms for it…”

  “Kreacher?” James asked blearily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. A tray of immaculately prepared breakfast had been laid over his legs. A black rose and a candy cane protruded from a tiny alabaster vase in the corner of the tray. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sent by your dear mum, Master James,” Kreacher said, bowing low. He was standing at the end of James’ bed, dressed only in his tea towel despite the cold of the room. “Already served Christmas breakfasts to Master Albus and Mistress Rose. Your presents await you below.”

  “James!” Albus called from the common room stairs. “Come on! Kreacher won’t let us unwrap anything until we’re all together! Orders from Mum, of course. So chow down already!”

  James bolted a few bites of the kippers and drank his pumpkin juice, thanked Kreacher, then flung himself out of bed. Rose and Albus were seated by the fire below, drinking tea and wearing green hats with jingle bells on the tips. Rose grinned and shook her head, ringing the tassels.

  “Festive, eh? They came from my mum. She knew we’d not have decorated or anything. Put yours on!”

  She tossed one of the hats to James. He smiled and jammed it onto his head. Kreacher came slowly down the stairs. He had also donned one of the hats, although he wore it like it weighed a hundred pounds. The hat covered his eyes. He pushed it up with a thumb, peering at James, Rose, and Albus with one eye. “All present and accounted for,” he said to himself. “Merry Christmas, Masters and Mistress.”

  He snapped his fingers. There was a change in the light of the room and James sensed that a sort of protective field had been removed from the stack of presents. Albus whooped and leapt off the couch, attacking the biggest one with his name on it. James grinned happily and joined in.

  Kreacher remained with the three until all the presents were unwrapped, then, dutifully, he collected all the cast-off wrapping paper and ribbons. He rolled the debris up, compressing it into a remarkably dense, colorful ball, and then, strangely, stuffed it inside his green tasseled hat. He put the hat back on his head while Rose struggled not to giggle at the silliness of it.

  “Kreacher has been asked to inform you that your parents will speak to you tonight via Floo Network,” the elf warbled. “Kreacher takes his leave of you now, Masters and Mistress. Do have a pleasant holiday.”

  “You too, Kreacher,” Rose said around a mouthful of gingerbread witch.

  “Indeed,” Kreacher replied. He raised a spindly arm and snapped his fingers. The elf vanished in a puff of greenish smoke.

  “Always liked that elf,” Albus proclaimed. “Knows how to keep it businesslike, he does. No beating about the bush.”

  Rose said, “I feel a little sorry for him. What does he get for Christmas?”

  “Oh Rose, you’re as bad as your mum,” James replied. “Two Christmases ago, Mum and Dad tried to give Kreacher a Christmas present. It was just a little basket with a pillow in it for him to sleep on. They bought it at a Muggle pet store, because the little brute refuses to sleep in a regular bed. He didn’t want to accept it though, and when they insisted he keep it, he wouldn’t even use it like he was supposed to. He’s been using it ever since as a basket for carrying around the laundry!”

  “Honestly, Rose,” Albus agreed, “Kreacher isn’t made to be happy. We try. We really do. Especially Dad. Kreacher and him have a sort of history.”

  “I know,” Rose said. “He just seems so miserable.”

  “Hah!” James exclaimed. “This is ecstatic by Kreacher’s standards. I’ve heard about what he was like when Dad first inherited him. Kreacher sent him a box of maggots for a Christmas present.”

  “He didn’t!” Rose gasped, covering her mouth.

  Albus pulled a homemade green and silver scarf out of one of his unwrapped boxes. He threw it around his neck. “Trust us, Rosie. This is Kreacher happy. Otherwise, we’d have gotten leeches for breakfast instead of kippers.”

  That afternoon, Albus took James and Rose down to the cellars and showed them the Slytherin’s spell-casting range. Just as Albus had described, the room was long and low with clockwork dummies installed against the far wall. Albus illustrated how the range worked by whipping out his wand and shooting a Stinging Hex at one of the dummies. It lifted its wooden arms and shook them in a parody of pain, as if it were being peppered with bee stings. Albus repeated the spell, laughing. James laughed as well, but a little nervously. Rose didn’t laugh at all. She looked distastefully at Albus and crossed her arms.

  Christmas dinner in the Great Hall was as resplendent as any dinner James had ever attended despite the fact that the room was only a fifth full. Professors Knossus Shert and Lucia Heretofore, the new Potions teacher and Head of Slytherin House, were seated at the table on the dais. Hagrid sat between them, talking loudly and looking like what he was: a half-giant between two rather slight people. Heretofore looked obviously disgusted by Hagrid, although she masked it behind a thin smile. To James’ surprise, Petra Morganstern was seated in the middle of the Gryffindor table, smiling slightly as Hagrid attempted to lead his fellow professors in a round of Christmas carols.

  “I didn’t know you were here for Christmas,” James said, sitting down at the table across from Petra.

  “Yeah,” Rose agreed, “where’ve you been?”

  “I went down to Hogsmeade for a few days,” Petra answered. “Did a little shopping. No point in moping around here all holiday.”

  “Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?” Rose asked.

  Petra shrugged, still smiling up at the dais. “No point, really. I already got my present, didn’t I?”

  James raised his eyebrows. “You mean that box that came by Ministry owl last month? We were all wondering about that. It came from your dad?”

  Petra nodded and sipped her Butterbeer. “Madam Rosmerta had this shipped from the Three Broomsticks for tonight. Did you know that? I talked to her yesterday.”

  “So what did you get for Christmas?” Albus asked. “I got a new scarf, a box of sweets, and a Remembrall. Honestly, Mum sho
uld’ve given the Remembrall to James so he could keep track of Quidditch tryouts.” He grinned at James.

  Petra looked at Albus, still smiling. “It was just some stuff. It wouldn’t mean much to anyone but me.”

  “So that’s why you ran off to open it by yourself,” Albus commented. Rose kicked him under the table.

  Petra shrugged. “It’s nice to have some time by ourselves, isn’t it? I’m taking the time to learn my lines. Would you like to rehearse a little, James? Professor Curry would probably put us in her will if we came back from break knowing all of our lines.”

  “Sure!” James said, a little too enthusiastically. He modulated his tone and added, “I mean, whatever. If you want to. I don’t have much else planned.”

  “You don’t have anything else planned,” Albus smirked. “What, you have an interview with the Minister of Magic we don’t know about? Ow! And Rose, you can stop kicking me under the table already!”

  Petra grinned at Albus, then James. “I’ll see you later in the common room. Bring your script and we’ll read through it, all right?”

  James nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Petra left, walking slowly, thoughtfully.

  “James is in love with his leading lady,” Albus mocked, making kissing noises.

  “I’m not in love with her, you prat,” James scowled, pretending it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

  “Oh James, you’re not fooling anyone,” Rose said, shaking her head. “It’s obvious. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

  “Shut up!” James said, blushing furiously. “Just because I have to pretend to be in love with her for the play doesn’t mean it’s happened for real! Maybe I’m just a very good actor!”

  Rose tried to mask a grin. “Well, then, you really are getting into your role, aren’t you? I had no idea you were so dedicated to the craft. It’s a good thing you aren’t scripted to murder anyone.”

  James rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re both completely daft. Think whatever you want.”

  Albus studied James for a moment, and then made more kissing noises at him. “Oh Petra, I’m just a boy, but you make me feel like such a man!”

  James grabbed a roll and hurled it at Albus, who collapsed into delighted laughter.

  When James returned to the common room a little while later, leaving Rose and Albus singing Christmas carols with Hagrid in the Great Hall, he was pleased and a bit flustered to find Petra sitting in a chair near the fire, script in hand. He ran up the steps to his dormitory, retrieved his own copy of the script from his satchel, and tramped back downstairs again, telling himself the entire time not to be a fool, that Rose and Albus certainly couldn’t be right about his falling in love with Petra, and most of all, that even if it was true, it was preposterous to think she could ever return those feelings. She was nearly five years older than James, smart as could be, and totally stunning. Girls like Petra simply did not fancy gawky younger boys who still hadn’t managed the knack of an Anti-Pimple Charm. James’ face was flushed by the time he rejoined Petra, plopping onto a nearby couch.

  “Alas, my dear Treus,” Petra quoted, turning a page in her script, “thou doth set mine heart aflutter. Shall we start from the top?”

  James began to answer, but his voice came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll read whoever you’re talking to, and you can do the same for me.”

  “I can do a pretty good Donovan,” Petra agreed. “I even considered trying out for the part.”

  “And I suppose Noah could’ve played Astra?” James grinned.

  Petra nodded. “A century ago, men often played the roles of women in these kinds of plays. Some places didn’t even allow women to act at all. Turnabout is fair play, I’d say. Besides, sometimes I think it’d be fun to act the part of the evil rogue with the awesome powers. Women are always the pawns in these stories.”

  James thought she was possibly the prettiest pawn he’d ever seen, but he determined not to say it. He cleared his throat again and began to read aloud. Two hours later, once they’d finished the read-through, James noticed that Albus and Rose had entered the common room. They were seated at a rear table with Hugo Paulson, who was teaching Albus some Winkles and Augers techniques. James caught Rose looking at him furtively, a small smile on her lips.

  “Hey, James,” Albus called, pocketing his wand. “Remember, we’re supposed to be talking to Mum and Dad via Floo Network tonight. Or should I tell them you have more pressing matters to attend to?”

  James glared at Albus, who simply grinned back at him.

  “It’s fine, James,” Petra sighed, closing her script. “I’ve had enough of this for tonight anyway. I’m going to head upstairs and write some Christmas letters. Thanks for the help.”

  “It was fun,” James agreed. “See you around, Petra.”

  As James watched Petra cross the room to the girls’ dormitory stairs, Rose joined him on the couch.

  “You really should be careful, James,” she said in a quiet voice.

  James barely heard her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Petra’s not in a position to respond the way you’d like her to.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James insisted, finally turning around and closing his script. “We were just rehearsing.”

  “It isn’t just the age difference, you know. That’s not that big of a deal in the long run. You need to realize that Petra’s heart is obviously elsewhere.”

  James furrowed his brow and looked at Rose. “What’s that mean?”

  “Well, it’s obvious, James,” Rose said, lowering her voice even further. “Petra didn’t go down to Hogsmeade to do any shopping, no matter what she said. She was hoping to catch Ted before he left for the Burrow.”

  “Why would she do that?” James asked, blinking.

  Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head. “She’s still in love with him, you prat. She’s broken-hearted that he left her for Victoire.”

  “But Noah said that she never really loved him,” James said, frowning. “He said she knew all along that he wasn’t a good match for her.”

  “She may say that, but the heart does what it wants, doesn’t it? She loves Ted. It’s obvious. I just don’t want you to do or say anything that could ruin your friendship with her. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  James slumped back against the couch. “What do you think I am, Rose? A complete idiot? Even if what you say is true, I’d never say anything about it to Petra.”

  “Sorry, James. Unrequited love is as poison to the soul, isn’t it?”

  “Ha, ha,” James replied crossly. “That’s Treus’ line in act two. You’re very funny.”

  “Look,” Albus yelled, jumping up from the table in the corner. “The grate! Hi, Dad! Happy Christmas!”

  “Happy Christmas to you, son,” Harry Potter’s face grinned from the coals of the fireplace.

  “Hi, Uncle Harry,” Rose chimed, climbing off the couch to kneel in front of the grate. “How’s everything going at the Burrow?”

  Harry seemed to shrug. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s not the way any of us would prefer to spend the holiday, but today was all right. Lily is staying with Andromeda Tonks, and everyone here sends their love. Kreacher says you all looked well enough. Did you like your presents?”

  “I love the scarf,” Albus replied. “And the Remembrall. And the sweets were great too.”

  “Don’t tell me you ate them all already, son,”

  “I did, but don’t tell Mum. I’m a growing boy, Dad. Got to keep bulked up for Quidditch!”

  Albus and Harry spent a few minutes discussing the Quidditch season, and Harry congratulated Albus on making Slytherin Seeker even though he admitted he was glad Gryffindor had so far edged them out of the tournament.

  “There’s a whole line of people who want to say hi,” Harry said. “Quit pushing, Hermione!”

  Harry’s face sank out of the coals and was replaced a
moment later by Hermione’s distinctive features and thick hair. “Happy Christmas, Rosie,” she cried, “and you too, James and Albus. Are you all doing well?”

  “Well enough,” James said. “It’s been a mad year so far. It’s a lot to explain.”

  Rose grinned at her mother. “James is right. We have an awful lot to tell you about. Our first week here, Merlin took us for a hundred-kilometer walk through the woods to go and get this magical box of all his stuff, and—”

  “Just a moment, Rosie,” Hermione said. “Ron, I’ll ask in a minute. And do you really want to eat that biscuit? How many have you had?”

  Hermione’s face vanished from the grate. A second later, Ron’s grin surfaced. “Hey, Rosie! Are these two taking good care of you? ‘Cause if they aren’t…”

  “Hi, Uncle Ron,” Albus said happily. Ron had always been Albus’ favorite. “I’m a Slytherin!”

  “Hi, Dad,” Rose grinned. “How’s Hugo?”

  “Everyone is fine here, considering everything,” Ron said, his grin fading. “Ted and Charlie got in a fight over something Victoire said, although nobody seems all that sure what it was. George drank a little too much Firewhisky, tripped over the ghoul, and broke his left pinky finger on some trunks. And your Grandmother is either yelling at everybody or breaking down in tears. It’s a glorious Christmas all round. Come to think of it, do you blokes have a spare bed there? I think I’d even be willing to bunk out with you in the Slytherin quarters, Al.”

  “Yeah!” Albus agreed instantly. “Come on over by Floo! You can have Ralph’s bed!”

  From behind Ron, Aunt Fleur’s voice said, “You are not going anywhere, Ron Weasley.”

  “It was a joke, Fleur. Bloody hell.”

  Ron’s face sank out of the coals. There seemed to be some commotion, then Ginny appeared.

  “Hi, boys! Hi, Rose! Happy Christmas!” she said, smiling.