James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper jp-1

by G. Norman Lippert

  Applause rang out again, deafeningly this time, as Damien Damascus and Ralph began to hoist the curtains. Jerkily, the red velvet rose, and as it did, the applause grew louder. Spotlights came on, picking out the revealed stage elements. One of them glared on James, blinding him temporarily and hiding the audience. He struggled not to squint, remaining perfectly still until the curtain was entirely raised. And then, finally, as the applause diminished into silence, the scene on the stage launched into motion. Everyone moved at once, bustling and passing one another, forming a passable representation of a busy medieval square. And then, exactly as planned, Noah’s voice cried out, articulating his lines with meticulous care and volume.

  “Tis fine a day t’ appraise the troops, my king,” he blared, stalking across the stage next to Tom Squallus, who had a pillow stuffed into his vest, creating a fat belly over his skinny legs.

  “Indeed,” Squallus bellowed, turning and jamming his hands onto his hips. “And more the better time to ease my daughter’s wonderment for the peasant life. But look, my Astra comes!”

  And Petra moved into view, stepping out from behind a painted wooden rampart and into the light of a gold-tinted spotlight. James didn’t have to act as if he was astonished at how beautiful she looked. She smiled fleetingly at the fat king, and then turned to James, allowing her smile to grow more genuine. The crowd tittered and began to applaud again. Many of them knew this scene well, and knew its significance; this was the moment that the princess first spied the army captain with whom she’d soon fall in love. James, on his cue, stepped out of the line of soldiers and bowed over one outstretched leg, doffing his cap grandly. The applause was delighted and amused, and James suddenly decided that acting was a lot easier than he had expected.

  Act one proceeded with nearly effortless speed and ease. James found his lines coming easily to his tongue, and he pronounced them loudly and carefully, always being aware to face the audience and keep his chin up. During Donovan’s famous address to the troops, James allowed his eye to wander out over the crowd. He could barely see through the glare of the spotlights, but he could just make out the delighted smile and straight posture of his mum, the grim concentration of Lily as she tried to follow the story, and the crooked half-frown of Zane.

  During the scene change for act two, James was hastily stripped of his waistcoat and given a sailor’s kerchief. As he moved onstage, preparing to give his rousing—and very well-known—rallying speech, he saw Graham and Jason Smith manning the treadles of the wind machine. He launched into the speech, trying to summon the same anger and determination he’d felt when auditioning for the part early in the term.

  “Wizards and men, forth draw ye wands and wits,” he cried, unbuckling his scabbard and letting it fall to the floor. He produced the oversized prop wand and raised it. “To fight the violent seas this night, that by the morn we’ll hold our win, or lie in beds of ocean sand: our beaten glory’s shrine!”

  Just offstage, Graham and Jason treadled furiously as the crowd burst into applause and even a few hoots and whistles. The prop sail flapped in the increasing mechanical wind as if in the teeth of an oncoming storm, and the enormous painted backdrop trundled aside, revealing an angry cloudscape painted with blues and purples.

  The presentation marched on with its own strange inertia, bowling over the myriad little bumbles, forgotten lines, and missed cues that Professor Curry had promised would happen—and assured them the audience would barely notice. Graham appeared onstage for his scene, his face beet red and his eyes as round as plates. He’d been so worried about missing the cue for his only line that he interrupted the line before it, answering the question that hadn’t even been asked yet. Tom Squallus sputtered, trying to make sense of his own scripted response, as Graham grinned in relief, looking out at the audience and struggling not to wave at his parents. A bit later, Ashley Doone performed such an enthusiastic presentation of the Marsh Hag that James heard children crying in the audience. And then, during the magical sword fight between Treus and Donovan, which was performed in midair while suspended from a complicated system of ropes and pulleys, James’ sword was accidentally knocked from his hand during a particularly enthusiastic parry. It clanked to the floor and both James and Noah stared down at it dumbly for a moment. Then James, in a fit of inspiration, furiously unbuckled his scabbard and waved it triumphantly over his head. Noah grinned and they finished the swordfight clanging sword to scabbard as the crowd laughed and cheered.

  Finally, the climactic finale of act three was upon them. The king was dead, Donovan was defeated, and Treus, mortally wounded but clinging to life, had rescued Astra from the vengeful sleeping potion of the Marsh Hag. The castle had been struck by lightning and was crumbling into flames as a magical storm beat upon it, and James felt pretty sure that he knew now why this story was known as a tragedy. He limped across the stage, leading Petra toward the huge prop gate. The gate shook back and forth as Ralph and Sabrina stood behind it, rocking it with all their strength. Jason and Graham had once again manned the wind machine, billowing the castle’s banners with a good imitation of a magical gale; swinging orange spotlights mimed the effect of raging flames and lightning. James stumbled dramatically as he led his beloved Astra toward the gate.

  “Advance! We’re nearly free,” Petra cried, dropping to one knee next to James, as if imploring him. “The castle’s doomed, but hope prevails! O Treus, curse it not!”

  James was sweating under his costume, and it gave his face a fittingly dramatic sheen in the flashing lights. He smiled weakly at Petra and reached for her face. “I curse not hope,” he said, and then coughed. “I’ve braved the tempest’s watery wrath and fell that sorc’rer’s might. I’ve cursed them all to gaze upon your loving face, but hope? What life I’ve left, I live in barricades of hope. Though God Himself may shake this world to fall upon itself, my love and hope remain. Depart my dear and leave me now: I walk to death in peace!”

  “Pray no, beloved!” Petra cried, and even James was impressed by the mixture of anger and desperation she put into those three words. “For months and years I’ve longed for thee alone: my dreams, the home of thy desperate love! I’ll not depart my place at body’s side, lest unrequited dreams shall crush my soul!”

  “Then give me now a testament to love,” James said firmly, struggling to his feet and pulling Petra with him. “A kiss to cure the pains of death, this one to stand for all!”

  Petra hesitated, her eyes shining with emotion, and James was impressed with her acting. For a fleeting moment, he was quite glad that they had never rehearsed this scene together, for he felt sure that the spontaneous chemistry of this moment could only happen once. Petra leaned toward him, still holding his right hand. She closed her eyes as the lights began to dim and the wind machine cranked up to full power, streaming through her long hair. And then, as James closed his eyes, not even remembering to miss Petra’s lips, a bolt of blinding pain sank into his forehead. It burned through his phantom scar worse than anything he’d felt so far, and he stumbled, yanking his hand from Petra’s to clap it to his forehead. The lights blinked off and the stage fell into pitch darkness.

  The wind machine hadn’t stopped however. In fact, it seemed to be far stronger than James had ever felt it. It pushed him as he reeled, and he fell to the floor in the darkness, his right hand still clamped to his forehead. There was a long, ominous creak and then a resounding crash. Dimly, James understood that the wind machine had blown over the gate prop and that it had just missed him.

  “Petra!” he shouted, struggling to get up. There was movement all over the stage, and even now, the wind machine hadn’t stopped running. Something was very wrong. Wands were lit on the stage, and James had a sense of stage-hands rushing about, struggling to keep the rest of the set from blowing over. He scrambled to his knees, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  “Shut it down!” someone rasped desperately.

  “I can’t! It’s running by itself!
”

  “It’s shaking apart! Look out!”

  Suddenly, spotlights illuminated the stage again, blinding James. At that same moment, the wind machine produced a loud screech and rattle. One of the fan blades wrenched free and spun through the air, slamming into the turret backdrop. Off balance, the machine shook violently and tilted over. Stage-hands scattered as it loomed slowly and crashed to the stage floor where it finally clanked to a halt.

  Amazingly, no one seemed to have been hurt. James spun on the spot, looking for Petra. As he’d suspected, the enormous prop gate had fallen at his feet. For a moment, James was sure that Petra was beneath it. He dropped to his knees but could find no sign of her. She must have fallen safely on the other side.

  The house lights came up as Professor Curry rushed out on stage. The audience was babbling with alarm. Many people had stood, peering anxiously at the stage and calling the names of their children and relatives.

  “Please, calm down,” Professor Curry called, but her voice was lost in the rising chaos. “No one is hurt! Do return to your seats, everything is under control—”

  A woman’s scream pierced the amphitheater, and James gasped. The crowd fell silent as everyone looked to the source of the scream. James, from his vantage point on the stage, was among the first to see, and his blood chilled.

  Ginny looked down at the empty seat next to her, her eyes wild and stunned. “She’s gone!” she cried desperately, trying not to panic. “Lily’s gone! Where’d she go! She was here just a moment ago! Where’s my daughter?!”

  Zane stared down at the empty seat between him and Ginny. He glanced up at James, making eye contact, and then ducked down. He reappeared a second later holding a pair of small yellow shoes. His eyes were deadly serious as he held them up. Something had taken Lily, taken her right out of the amphitheater in that moment of dark chaos. Ginny took the shoes from Zane and looked around, her eyes pleading.

  “Lilyyyy!” she suddenly shrieked, her voice cracking. As if on cue, the audience exploded into frantic motion, scrambling for the exits, rushing the stage, calling names and babbling raucously.

  James darted offstage, stripping his costume coat off as he went. In the confusing backstage darkness, he could just see the doorway that led out to the seating area. He had to get to his mum and find out what had happened. He angled toward the door, but something moved out of the darkness, blocking him. James looked up, scrambling to a halt, almost running into the large, dark shape.

  “Come with me, boy,” a voice rumbled, and a very strong hand clamped onto James’ shoulder. Instinctively, James pulled away, but the hand held him firm.

  “Let me go!” James exclaimed, anger and panic mingled in his voice.

  “You must come with me,” Merlin answered, his voice low and calm. “The Gatekeeper is afoot, James Potter, and it seeks you.”

  “No!” James cried, and pulled away with all his might. He wrenched loose from Merlin’s grip and struggled to produce his wand. Merlin stepped after him, and James saw that he had his staff with him. There was no fighting the Headmaster. Without thinking, he ducked and leapt under Merlin’s arm.

  “James!” Merlin roared after him, but James refused to listen. He threw himself through the doorway and fell into the crowd, bowling several people over.

  “Mum!” he called, climbing onto a seat and scanning the crowd. “Mum!”

  A hand tugged at James’ sleeve and he lunged away, toppling off the seat and landing on a large figure, who grunted.

  “Ow! You’re heavier than you look!” the figure bawled, struggling out from beneath him.

  “Ralph!” James cried, getting up. “What’s happening?”

  Zane appeared next to Ralph, helping them both to their feet. “We have to get out of here,” he said over the noise of the crowd. “This place is a mess, and we know Lily isn’t here. Rose is waiting for us just inside the castle. Come on!”

  “Where’s Mum?” James called as the three threaded through the crowd.

  “Your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione took her inside as well,” Zane answered. “George and Ted are already planning to search the castle. Since it’s impossible to Disapparate from the school grounds, Lily must still be here somewhere.”

  Ralph’s face was tense with anger. “Who did this? Do you think this is what Corsica’s been planning? Does it have to do with the Gatekeeper?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” James replied as the three ran through the archway leading into the castle. Rose had been watching for them. She jumped forward to join them, her face pale and scared. Panting, James took a moment to tell them of his encounter with Merlin.

  “He said the Gatekeeper was looking for you?” Rose asked. “What’s that mean? Why?”

  James shook his head. “Who knows? The point is, he knows something big is going down tonight. He wanted me out of the way!”

  “Nobody has seen Tabitha all night,” Ralph interjected. “She never showed up for the play. Curry was right mad about it. She must be behind Lily’s disappearance!”

  “She’s involved, no doubt,” a new voice answered. James turned to see Scorpius approaching, his face tight and anxious. He shook his head. “Look, this isn’t how Grandfather said it’d happen… it’s all wrong. I came to help, if I could.”

  Rose spoke up, “You said your grandfather never told you how Tabitha was supposed to become the host of the Gatekeeper!”

  “Yeah,” Scorpius said quickly, meeting Rose’s eye. “Well, I know a little more than I let on, all right? I can explain now or we can start looking for James’ sister. What do you think, Weasley?”

  “What else haven’t you told us?” James demanded, advancing on Scorpius.

  Scorpius averted his eyes impatiently. “Look, all I know is that this isn’t how the plan was explained to me. I don’t know the details, but I do know this is all wrong. The longer we stand here arguing, the more danger your sister is in. Do you understand?”

  James narrowed his eyes.

  “You must be Scorpius,” Zane interjected, sticking out his hand. “I’ve heard loads about you. I’m Zane. I may have to curse you later, so I thought it’d be best to get introductions out of the way now.”

  Ralph rolled his eyes impatiently. “Come on! Let’s just go to the Great Hall! That’s where your mum went with everyone else. We can help with the search party.”

  “No,” James said, still looking at Scorpius. “There’s only one place we need to look, isn’t there? Second-floor girls’ bathroom, where Henrietta last saw Tabitha.”

  Rose frowned. “Why would she be there?”

  “I wondered the same thing when Henrietta said that,” James replied, already leading the way down the corridor. “But then I remembered: that’s where Moaning Myrtle lives.”

  “‘Moaning Myrtle?’” Zane repeated. “Who’s she?”

  “Oh, she’s a resident ghost,” Rose replied. “Lives in the bathroom because that’s where she was killed decades ago.”

  Zane screwed up his face as he walked. “She died in the potty? That seems pretty unlikely, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s complicated,” Rose answered wearily. “It wasn’t just a bathroom. It was also a portal to… to…” Rose gasped. “James, that’s it!”

  James glanced back over his shoulder, nodding. “Henrietta said Tabitha was up there talking to herself in the mirror, using some sort of foreign language.”

  Rose’s eyes were wide. “Of course! The Bloodline would be a Parselmouth, just like Voldemort! She’d be able to open the Chamber of Secrets even though it’s been closed and sealed all these years! That must be where she took Lily!”

  “I’ve been seeing it in my dreams all along,” James said. “If only I’d have recognized it before!”

  “Hey!” a voice suddenly called, halting the five in their tracks. James spun, expecting Merlin to come striding out of the shadows, his staff at the ready. Instead, two figures ran out of the darkness, one small and skin
ny and the other tall and bedraggled.

  “Albus!” Rose cried. “Ted! Is it you?”

  “Yeah,” Ted panted. “Your mum sent me, James. She’s worried sick about the lot of you.”

  “And I came mainly because I sneaked away when Mum wasn’t looking,” Albus proclaimed. “I couldn’t bear just sitting around and doing nothing.”

  “Ted, how’d you find us?” Zane asked, frowning.

  Ted blew out a deep sigh. “I have skills…” He tapped his nose. “Werewolf skills, if you must know. Between Rose’s soap and the peppermints in Ralph’s pocket, you lot are easier to sniff out than a dead Grindylow.”

  “Tell Mum we’re going to find Lily,” James said, straightening. “We know where she is and who has her.”

  “Do you now?” Ted replied seriously. “That’s pretty amazing considering your aunt and uncles are currently scouring the entire castle for her. What gives?”

  “It’s too much to explain,” Rose said. “Just pass on the message. We’re going to go get her back.”

  “Nothing doing,” Albus said, shaking his head. “She’s my sister too. If you know where she is, I’m coming along.”

  “Albus, it’s Corsica who has her!” James exclaimed.

  “Tabitha Corsica took Lily?” Ted interjected. “Why would she do that? Are you sure?”

  “We’re sure,” Ralph answered, nodding. “And we don’t have much time.”

  “What are we waiting for, then?” Albus said grimly. “I don’t care who has her. We’ll figure out the details after we get her back, all right? Come on!”