James Potter and the Hall of Elders' Crossing

by G. Norman Lippert

  “It’ll be worth it if it destroys you, too,” James said through gritted teeth.

  “Such venom,” Delacroix replied, smiling. “No wonder you made such a good apprentice.”

  The robe of Merlin had been draped across the back of the throne, as if Merlin would simply shrug into it when he appeared. The last bit of Merlin’s staff leaned against the front of the throne. The beam of combined moon and starlight had become very bright, drawing a dim line through the darkness from the hole in the domed ceiling to the center of the grassy area below. The three relics glowed in the shimmering, silvery light. The time of the Hall of Elders’ Crossing had come.

  James heard something. He knew Madame Delacroix and Ralph had heard it, too. All three turned their heads, trying to locate the source of the noise. It was low and whispering, coming from all directions at once. It was tremulous and distant, almost like a low note on a hundred far-off flutes, but it was growing louder. Madame Delacroix glanced about, her face a mask of glee, and yet James was sure that, wraith or not, there was a hint of fear on her face as well. She suddenly gripped both boys’ arms in her steely hands. “Look!” she breathed.

  Tendrils of mist were pouring in between the pillars of the grotto, bringing the sound with them. James glanced around. The tendrils were seeping in between the branches of the domed ceiling as well. They were as insubstantial as smoke, but moved intelligently, with growing speed. They snaked toward the throne, and there they began to collect. As the tendrils combined, they writhed and collapsed, forming only hazy shapes at first, and then hardening, coming into focus. A line of slightly curved, horizontal bars coalesced in the center of the throne. With an involuntary shudder, James saw that they were the ribs of a skeleton. A spine grew from them, both up and down, connecting to two more shapes, the skull and the pelvis. This, James realized, was an Apparition happening in extreme slow motion. The atoms of Merlin were streaming back together, fighting the collected inertia of the centuries. The sound that accompanied the Apparition was growing both in volume and pitch, rising through the octaves and becoming almost human.

  “Hey, voodoo queen,” a voice immediately behind James suddenly said, making all three of them jump. “Dodge this.”

  A length of log slammed down onto Delacroix’s head, disintegrating it into a hundred clods of wet dirt. Instantly, the Body-Bind Curse on both James and Ralph fell away. James spun and saw Zane holding the end of the log, pulling it back out of the mess of Delacroix’s wraith, which was struggling to rebuild itself. From the shoulders up, Delacroix seemed to be made entirely of broken dirt, writhing roots and worms. The wraith’s hands scrabbled at the ruined neck, trying to push the clods back into shape.

  “She forgot about me when Merlin started forming!” Zane shouted, yanking the log free and hoisting it back over his shoulder. “I fell off the pillar and just grabbed the closest heavy thing I could find. Get the robe and the staff!” Zane swung the log like a baseball bat, taking off one of Delacroix’s arms at the shoulder. It hit the ground and shattered into a mess of dirt and worms.

  James jumped forward and snatched a handful of Merlin’s robe, reaching his left hand through the forming shape of the wizard. He pulled, but the robe fought back, struggling to maintain its position. Digging his heels into the soft earth, James yanked as hard as he could. The robe wrung from the back of the throne, coming through the skeletal shape seated on it. The shape gripped the arms of the throne and seemed to scream, bringing the pitch of the haunting drone up another octave. Ralph lunged and grabbed at the staff, which was growing in length even as the figure on the throne gained solidity. He jumped back with it, holding it high over his head.

  The wraith of Madame Delacroix seemed caught between trying to reform itself and trying to get the robe and the staff back into place. It waved its remaining arm wildly at Ralph, then clawed at the robe in James’ hands. Zane danced behind the wraith, the log held high, then brought it down again, burying it almost waist deep in the disintegrating figure. James glanced toward the Merlin throne and saw that the figure there, which had formed to a full skeleton with ghostly musculature clinging to it like moss, was writhing horribly, beginning to melt again into mist. The sound of Merlin’s Apparition had become a keening shriek.

  And then, as if out of nowhere, another figure was among them. It resolved from the darkness beyond the Grotto Keep, moving with terrible speed. It was the dryad with the horribly long, blue fingernails, but only just barely. There was something else moving within the shape, as if the dryad was merely a costume. A new voice joined the keening wail of the half formed Merlin.

  Master! No! I will not fail you! Your time has come at last!

  The figure split somehow, completely abandoning the form of the dryad. It became simply two enormous, black talons. They lunged simultaneously at James and Ralph, snatching the robe and the staff back and sending the two boys sprawling to the stone steps. The talons spun, placing the relics back into their positions, and then retracted, falling into dust, as if exhausted.

  The figure on the throne shuddered violently, drawing itself back together, and the tendrils of mist roared toward it, solidifying now with terrible speed. The bones grew muscles, layer upon layer. Organs bloomed inside the chest and abdomen, forming from the veins out. The body filled the robe, and the robe took shape over it. Skin collected on the body like dew, first as a filmy membrane, but thickening, growing ruddy and tan. The fingers clutched the staff, which had grown to a length of six feet, tapered gently at the bottom and with a heavy, knobbed end. Runes ran up and down the staff, pulsing with a faint green light. The noise of Merlin’s return resolved into a long scream, and the wizard finally ran out of breath, his head thrown back, the chords of his neck drawn taut as wire. After a long moment, he drew his first breath in a thousand years, filling his huge chest, and lowered his head.

  Master! a ghostly voice cried out. James looked from the figure on the throne to the shape that had resolved out of the awful talons. It was a small man, almost invisible. He panted, his bald head glistening in the faint moonlight. You have returned! My work is complete! I am released!

  “I have returned,” the voice of Merlin agreed. The face was stony, the eyes locked onto the ghost. “But what time is this you have returned me to, Austramaddux?”

  Th-the world is made ready for you, Master! the ghost stammered, its voice high and frightened. I… I waited until the perfect time for your coming! The balance of the magicked and the magicless is ripe for your hand, Master! The time… the time is come!

  Merlin stared at the ghost, utterly unmoving.

  Please, Master! Austramaddux screamed, falling to his ghostly knees. I have watched for centuries! My duty… my duty was more than I could bear! I waited as long as I could. I only helped a little! I found a woman, Master! Her heart was open to me! She shared our goals, so I… I encouraged her! I helped, but only a little! A little!”

  Merlin’s gaze moved from Austramaddux to the wraith of Madame Delacroix, which had mostly reconstituted itself. It flung itself to its knees, and when it spoke, the voice sounded as if it came through a mouthful of dirt. “I am your servant, Merlinus. I have summoned you to fulfill your destiny, to lead us against de Muggle worms. We are prepared for you. The world is ripe for you.”

  “This puppet of filth is to be my muse?” Merlin said, his voice low but nearly thundering with intensity. “Let us see her as she is, then, not as she wishes to be seen.”

  Delacroix straightened herself and began to speak, but nothing came out. Her jaw worked, almost mechanically, and then, chillingly, deep choking sounds began to emerge from her throat. The wraith’s hands floated upwards, rising to clutch at the neck, then to scrabble at it, digging in with long fingernails so that strips of muddy flesh began to peel away. The throat bulged, almost like that of a bullfrog, and the wraith suddenly bent at the waist, as if it was going to be sick. Merlin’s eyes blazed at the wraith and his staff glowed softly, the runes rippling with their inner li
ght. Finally, violently, Madame Delacroix’s wraith heaved and the jaw split wide open, far past its logical limits. Something ripped forth from the yawning, horrible mouth. It poured out onto the ground before it. The wraith’s body shrunk as the mess poured from its mouth. It was almost as if the wraith turned inside out, emptying itself out of its own mouth, until all that was left was the thing lying prone on the ground, writhing and awful. It was Madame Delacroix as she really was, somehow transported from her remote place of safety and vomited from her puppet form. She wracked against the floor as if in great pain, her shape emaciated and bony, her eyes blank grey orbs, staring blindly at the ceiling.

  “Austramaddux, you have brought me to a dead time,” Merlin said, his low voice filling the grotto like the roar of a thousand deeps. He turned away from the pathetic shape of Madame Delacroix, returning his gaze to the cowering ghost. “The trees have awakened for me, but their voice is nearly mute. Even the earth sleeps the sleep of centuries. You have returned me to suit yourself and yourself alone. You were a faulty servant when I agreed to apprentice you, and I have returned only to realize the depth of that mistake. I discharge you from my service. Begone.”

  Merlin raised his free hand and held it, palm out, toward the ghost of Austramaddux. The ghost paled even further and shrank away, raising its hands as if to deflect a blow. No! No, I was faithful! Please! Do not discharge me! I fulfilled my duty! I was faithful! Nooo!

  The last word elongated and rose in pitch, climbing the scale as the ghost seemed to shrink. For a moment, it assumed the form of the blue dryad, cringing and desperate, then it began to lose its shape entirely. It dwindled, and James saw that it contracted in the same proportion as Merlin’s closing hand, as if the wizard were squeezing Austramaddux in his outstretched fist. The ghost’s last word bled into a wail of horror, diminishing even as the ghost collapsed into a bright, flickering point of light. Merlin squeezed his fist, and then opened his hand with a roll of the fingers. The ghost popped, vanished, leaving only the echo of its final scream.

  Finally, as if noticing them for the first time, Merlin turned his attention to James, Ralph, and Zane. James moved forward, not sure what he would do, but knowing in his heart he had to do something. Merlin raised his hand again, this time towards James. James felt the world soften around him, darkening. He fought it, tried to shout out against the descending oblivion, but it was no use. He could fight the power of Merlin as much as a gnat might fight a gale. The world streamed away, funneling down to a point, and at the center of the point was the upraised hand of Merlin, pulling him in. There was an eye in the center of the hand, blue like ice. The eye closed, and Merlin’s voice said one word, a word that seemed to fill the blackness where the world had once been, and that word was ‘sleep’.

  18. The Tower Assembly

  Dawn was a faint pink line on the rim of the horizon when James opened his eyes. He was lying uncomfortably on the grass at the bottom of the Grotto Keep, and he was cold to the bone. Moaning, he rolled to a sitting position and took stock of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the Merlin throne was gone. There wasn’t as much as a depression in the grass where it had stood. The second thing James noticed as he raised his head and looked around was that the Grotto Keep was no longer a magical place. In the absence of the Merlin throne, the island was quickly returning to its wild, random nature. The sense of haunting, gothic architecture was slipping away. Birds sang in the thatch of tree branches overhead.

  “Oh-hh,” a voice nearby groaned. “Where am I? Somehow, I have the terrible feeling that a cup of coffee and a fireplace is not about to appear before my eyes.”

  “Zane,” James said, getting shakily to his feet. “Are you all right? Where’s Ralph?” “I’m here,” Ralph muttered. “I’m just taking inventory of all my bones and major bodily functions. So far, nothing alarming, except that I need a bathroom even more than St. Lokimagus.”

  James climbed the steps into the gloom of the upper terraces of the grotto. The early morning light was faint and grey, barely making it through the brush and trees of the island. Zane and Ralph were climbing unsteadily to their feet.

  “Merlin’s gone,” James said, looking around. “And I don’t see Jackson or Delacroix, either.” He stepped over the broken bits of Jackson’s wand and shuddered.

  “Guess we were wrong about him, weren’t we?” Ralph said.

  “We were wrong about loads of stuff,” James agreed softly.

  Zane rubbed his lower back and groaned. “Hey, we didn’t do too bad, considering everything. We almost stopped Merlin’s return, thanks to a handy length of log and my catlike reflexes.” His voice sounded hollow in the flat echo of the grotto, and he fell silent. The three boys found the opening that led out to the dragon’s head bridge, hacked through some weeds that had grown up to choke the space, and stumbled out into the dawn. The bridge had partially collapsed, and bore almost no resemblance to the frightening dragon’s head anymore. The bank bordering the forest was muddy and wet, covered in morning dew.

  “Hey look,” Ralph said, pointing. There were tracks in the fresh, slippery mud.

  “Looks like two people went that way. Away from the school,” Zane said, bending over to study the sloppy markings. “You think one of them was Merlin?”

  James shook his head. “No. Merlin wasn’t wearing shoes. That looks like Delacroix and Jackson to me. She probably left first, and then he set out after her when he came to. Besides, something about Merlin tells me he doesn’t leave tracks unless he makes a point of it.”

  “I hope Jackson breaks her in half when he catches her,” Zane said, but without much passion.

  “I hope she doesn’t break him,” Ralph replied morosely. “You saw what she did to his wand.”

  “Don’t remind me,” James muttered. “I don’t want to think about it.” He began to walk forward, heading generally into the woods where they’d left Prechka, but with no real destination in mind. He had a terrible suspicion about where Merlin had gone, and he, James, was responsible for that. Twice, Delacroix had called him her apprentice. She had influenced him, somehow, and he’d allowed it. He had played right into her plan, bringing the robe to her. She was right. She hadn’t had to lift so much as a finger. True, things hadn’t seemed to work out very well for her in the end, but that didn’t mean much. A lone, rogue Merlin might be even more dangerous than a Merlin in league with people like the Progressive Element. At least they tried to operate under a guise of respectability. Merlin was from a different time, a more direct and deadly time. A nearly crushing weight of guilt and hopelessness pressed down on James as he plodded forward. Zane and Ralph followed quietly.

  Prechka was gone. James wasn’t surprised, really. Her footprints were pressed into the dewy earth like dinosaur tracks. Without a word, the boys followed them, shivering and wet with dew. Mist filled the woods, reducing the world to a handful of black trees and dripping bushes. As they walked, the mist grew bright, absorbing the sun, and finally began to burn away. The forest awoke with bird song, and the scampering of unseen creatures in the brush. And then, surprisingly, there were distant voices, calling for them.

  “Hey!” Zane said, stopping and listening. “That’s Ted!”

  “And Sabrina!” Ralph added. “What are they doing out here? Hey! Over here!”

  The three boys stopped and called to the two Gremlins, who responded with hoots and hollers. A gigantic shape loomed out of the mist, moving almost delicately through the trees.

  “Grawp!” Zane laughed, running to meet the giant.

  “Boy, you three look like Inferi leftovers,” Ted called down from Grawp’s shoulders. “You spent the whole night out here?”

  “It’s a long story, but yes,” Zane called up. “Short version: Merlin’s back, the voodoo queen’s on the run, and Jackson was a good guy after all. He’s after her as we speak, results unknown.”

  “Is there room up there for three more, Grawp?” Ralph said, shivering. “Only, I think i
f I have to take one more step, I’ll drop dead.”

  Grawp knelt and the three boys clambered onto his back, crowding in with Sabrina and Ted. Before climbing up, James flexed the fingers and wrist of his right hand. There was no pain, and the bones of his arm seemed sturdy and straight. He stripped off the splint and jammed it carelessly into his pocket.

  “How’d you two get out?” James asked Ted when he was crammed in next to him, holding handfuls of Grawp’s straw-like hair for support. “I thought all of you were under house arrest.”

  “That was last night,” Ted said simply. “Things have gone pretty crazy at the school since then. Merlin showed up in the middle of the night, and let me tell you, that bloke knows how to make an entrance.”

  “He rode Prechka right into the courtyard and had her kick the front doors in,” Sabrina explained. “He obviously speaks Giant, and he had her really wild. Then he climbs off and just puts her to sleep. She’s still there, snoring next to the main entrance like the world’s largest pile of laundry.”

  “We all woke up when we heard the noise of the doors being smashed in,” Ted went on. “After that, it was pandemonium. Students running all over the place in their night clothes, trying to figure out what’s going on. People were already pretty uptight, what with that Prescott guy still on the grounds and nobody knowing what he’s up to. And then here’s this bloke who’s built like a boulder and dressed like a cross between a druid and Father Christmas, stalking through the school, putting people to sleep with barely a look, clacking this enormous staff on the floor as he goes, loud enough to echo around the whole place. Then he sees Peeves and the weirdest thing happens!”

  “What?” Zane asked hopefully. “Did Peeves blow a raspberry at him and get turned into a floor lamp or something?”