James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

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!"

"I didn't choose this, you know," Albus said, lowering his voice and looking James in the eye. "The Sorting Hat does the Sorting. That's what it's for, James."

"But Dad said—"

"Yeah, well, maybe things have changed. Or maybe the Hat didn't think I wanted to be a Gryffindor bad enough. Either way, when I put it on, the only thing that came into my head was a vision of me in the house of the green and silver. And the truth is, for the first time ever, I kind of liked it."

James frowned. "But all summer long, you were completely dotty about it. I mean really, Al, I wouldn't have wound you up so much about it if it hadn't gotten such a rise out of you."

Albus shrugged and looked around, taking in the stairway and the Entrance Hall. "Maybe I did it just to spite you, then. That'll teach you to rag on me about stuff. I might just go and do it after all, eh?"

James grimaced, exasperated.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, James," Albus said, clapping James on the shoulder. "Time's have changed, haven't they? The other thing Dad told me on the platform was that if I did become a Slytherin, they'd have gotten themselves a brilliant new member. You can be king of Gryffindor House, all right? I'll work my magic in Slytherin and we'll have all of Hogwarts by the tail."

James shook his head but smiled a little. "You are the boldest little twonk ever, Al. I almost believe you. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Not in the least," Albus nodded gravely. "But it's never stopped me before. Listen, don't tell Mum and Dad about this yet. I want to tell them myself, right?"

James grimaced. "What do you think I am, a squealer?"

"Well, you did squeal on Ted and Victoire at the station this morning."

"I told you—"

Albus raised his hands, backing away. "That's between you and your conscience, big brother. I best be getting back to my new housemates. Ralph says they have sweet broom cakes and real Turkish Delight down there first night. I can't wait to have that flagon of Butterbeer in front of the snake's head fireplace, eh?"

James sighed as Albus rejoined his new housemates heading down into the cellars. As he turned to climb the staircase, he was met by Rose.

"Ralph says he'll keep an eye on Albus," Rose said reassuringly. "Frankly, Slytherin probably is a better fit for him. He's always been a bit of a wild horse, you know."

"Yeah, I know," James agreed. "I just didn't expect it to really happen. It feels really weird having a Potter in Slytherin."

"Are you jealous?"

"What?" James exclaimed, looking sideways at Rose as they reached the landing. "Why in the world would I be jealous?"

Rose shrugged noncommittally. "I hear the Gremlins have a little something planned for tonight."

"How do you know about that already?"

"Well," Rose replied self-deprecatingly, "it was partly my idea. They liked it so much they asked me to come along. In all fairness though, it wouldn't have been possible without you."

James remembered last year's first night when the Gremlins had bewitched him to look like a green alien and convinced him to clamber out of a makeshift flying saucer, much to the amazement of a local Muggle farmer. "They aren't still raising the Wocket are they?"

"No, apparently they retired the Wocket when Ted graduated. Muggle-baiting is pretty tasteless, really, and besides, it's not much good now that the Headmaster has seen it and knows where it was hidden."

"You sure know an awful lot about this, Rose."

"Apparently, being a Weasley carries a lot of weight in certain circles," she replied happily.

As they entered the common room, James couldn't help smiling. The familiar babble of laughter and conversation filled the room like a cauldron. The bust of Godric Gryffindor swooped dangerously overhead as a group of fifth- and sixth-years played Winkles and Augers with it. Cameron Creevey had already arrived and was sitting with a few other new Gryffindors on a sofa near the crackling fireplace. Cameron noticed James and his eyes widened a little. He nudged the girl next to him.

"Hey, James," Heth Thomas, one of Gryffindor's Beaters, called from across the room. "You going to try out for the Quidditch team again this year? We're taking odds on how big a hole you'll make in the pitch."

"I'd be careful getting in on that action," James replied, grinning. "I've been practicing this summer."

"Right," Graham interjected, "whenever you weren't grounded from your broom by your dad, I hear."

This was greeted with hoots of good-natured laughter. James made a sarcastic mime of laughing along. The truth of it was that he enjoyed the ribbing. He was looking forward to the try-outs. The more they expected him to repeat last year's performance, the better he'd look.

Noah, Petra, Damien, and Sabrina were crowded around a table in the corner of the rowdy common room. Damien and Sabrina were busily hunched over a large sheet of parchment, quills in their hands. They appeared to be arguing in hushed tones, pointing at bits of the parchment. Noah and Petra looked up and waved James and Rose over.

"We've not got much time," Noah said. "But fortunately, that's Damien and Sabrina's problem. Besides, what can go wrong? We've got a Weasley back at Hogwarts again. All is well with the world."

"How do you spell 'forsooth'?" Sabrina asked without looking up.

"It won't matter," Damien said tersely, "if we don't know, nobody will."

"What's the plan?" James asked, plopping into a chair nearby.

Noah looked at Rose, then back at James. "We think it'd be best if you didn't know. For now."

"You'll thank us later, James," Rose agreed.

"What?" James said, frowning. "Why in the world shouldn't I know?"

"Trust us, James," Petra said. "It'll be much better for you if you can honestly claim ignorance."

"That's what Ted said last year at the debate, too," James grumbled. He opened his mouth to protest further, but a sudden change in the atmosphere distracted him. Someone else was entering the common room. James glanced around to see who it was.

Scorpius Malfoy clambered awkwardly through the portrait hole, getting his robes caught on the uneven bricks. He straightened and yanked at his robes, irritated. Finally, he turned and took in the room, his pale face grim.

"Quaint," he drawled. "How perfectly whimsical. I expect we'll be roasting marshmallows over the fireplace and singing happy sing-alongs round about midnight, yes? Perhaps someone could point me in the direction of the dormitories."

"Oi," Graham answered, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "It's up those stairs, Malfoy. We'll save you a marshmallow."

James watched Scorpius hoist his satchel and stalk across the floor, threading between the suddenly silent students that filled the room. Hugo Paulson, a huge seventh year, was lounging in a high-back chair with his legs sprawled in front of him, blocking Scorpius' path. Scorpius stopped, waiting for Hugo to move. Hugo pretended to notice Malfoy for the first time. He grinned and moved his legs. Scorpius rolled his eyes and continued on.

James knew he should warn Scorpius, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The rest of the Gryffindors watched with bright, avid eyes as the pale boy scowled once back over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the dimness of the staircase.

He made it to the fourth step before the alarm sounded. The stair steps flattened, transforming into a rough stone slide. Scorpius struggled for purchase on the smooth surface, but it was no use. He slid back down into the common room and crashed to the floor. There was a roar of laughter. Hugo jumped up, braying uproariously, and grabbed Scorpius' arm, hoisting him to his feet.

"The age-old girls' dorm swap. We should really get some signs, shouldn't we? It's all in good fun, Malfoy," Hugo announced, clapping the boy on the back. "We got to initiate you somehow, don't we?"

Scorpius retrieved his satchel and shot a look of cold fury at Graham. Without a word, he stalked back across the room to the opposite staircase.

"That was mean," Rose said mildly after Scorpius had gone.

"He took it better than I expected, really," Noah commented. "Knowing his kind, I'd have thought he'd Avada Kedavra somebody just for spite."

"He's probably up there putting the Cruciatus Curse on some spiders even now," Graham replied.

"Stop it, all of you," Petra said. "You're as bad as they are. There's a very good reason that the Sorting Hat sent him here. Give him a chance to prove it."

"It was just a joke, Petra," Graham muttered. "Hugo did worse to me at least once a week last year."

Gradually, the babble of voices returned to the room. Damien and Sabrina went back to their strange, hushed work. Rose leaned over to James.

"Do you think Petra's right?" she asked quietly. "Do you think he really does belong in Gryffindor?"

James thought back to last year when Ralph had gotten sorted into Slytherin. James had been certain that it had been a mistake. Now, knowing more about Ralph, he saw that the Hat might have known best after all.

He answered Rose, "Hagrid says the Hat knows what it's doing. I mean, you can't fool the Sorting Hat, can you?"

Rose didn't seem convinced. "Somebody fooled the Goblet of Fire, back in our parents' day. Anything's possible."

"But why would he want to come to Gryffindor?"

Rose shrugged. "I just hope he really is the real thing. Because if he's not, things are going to get very ugly. Especially after tonight."

"What's that mean?" James asked suspiciously.

Rose ignored him. "Why don't you run up and check on him?"

"Blimey, Rose! First, Cousin Lucy guilts me about how I'm supposed to look after Albus, now you want me to go nursemaid Scorpius-bleeding-Malfoy?"

"Just do it, James. By the time you come back, I bet Damien and Sabrina will be done and it'll be time to go."

"Sheesh," James said, climbing to his feet. "I'd never have pegged you for fancying the bad boy type."

"I don't fancy him," she frowned. "Just make sure he's going to be busy up there for a while, why don't you?"

James grumbled to himself as he crossed to the boys' dormitory stairs.

"It's just James. Don't stun me or anything," he called up as he climbed the steps. To his surprise, he found Scorpius in the second years' dormitory rather than the first years'. "Hey! That's my bed!"

James stopped at the top of the staircase, pointing. Scorpius had shoved James' trunk aside haphazardly and put his own trunk at the foot of the bed. He glanced up dismissively as he unpacked his things.

"Is it really?" Scorpius replied indolently. "Does it have your name on it?"

"As a matter of fact, it bloody well does," James exclaimed. "I carved it right there on the headboard plain as the nose on your pasty white face!"

"Where?" Scorpius said, squinting at the headboard. He produced his wand from his robes and aimed it lazily with his wrist. A flash of purple light burst across the head of the bed. When it was gone, James' name had vanished, buried under an ugly black burn mark. "I don't see it. Maybe you're a bit confused."

Scorpius turned, looking about the room. He pointed his wand again, producing another flash of purple light.

"There," he said, turning back to his trunk. "Now that bed has your name on it. Happy?"

James stalked over to a bed on the opposite side of the room. Glowing purple letters were scrawled across the headboard. In gothic script, they spelled 'WHINY POTTER GIT'.

"Look, you can't just…," James began, and then stopped, leaning in toward the letters. "And how'd you even do that? That was a nonverbal spell!"

"Is this better?" Scorpius asked, pointing his wand once more. "Mobiliarcha."

James' trunk shot across the floor, barely missing his legs. It struck the bed and burst open, belching half of James' things. Scorpius grinned crookedly as he levitated his books out of his own trunk. He floated them neatly into position on the windowsill.

James spluttered, "Look, Malfoy, this isn't even your dorm! You're a first year! You can't just move in wherever you want!"

"Seems that the first years' dorm is unusually full this year," Malfoy replied without looking at James. "My fellow first year Gryffindors informed me that I'd have to find lodging elsewhere. Frankly, I don't care where I stay in this benighted tower, but if my being here annoys you, then I believe I'll stay. If you don't like it, speak to the headmaster. He's a mate of yours, after all, isn't he?"

"They were just winding you up, you prat," James exclaimed hopelessly.

"Is it time for the sing-along yet?" Scorpius asked, finally glancing at James and pocketing his wand. "Or did you just come up to see how a wizard unpacks?"

James turned on his heels and tramped angrily down the stairs.

"If whatever you have in mind has anything to do with Malfoy," he said as he plopped back into the chair near the table, "it's probably too nice."

"That's the spirit," Damien replied without looking up from his parchment. James peered at it. He could see that Damien and Sabrina were drawing something, but it was covered in arrows, geometric scribbles, and scrawled notes.

"We can thank old Professor Stonewall for this one," Noah grinned. "Who says Technomancy has no practical purpose? Come on, it's time."

"If we still had your dad's Cloak, we wouldn't need a lookout," Damien explained reasonably. "But since we don't, that's your job."

Sabrina was virtually bouncing with excitement. The quill in her thick hair wobbled. "I'm going down to the landing," she announced quietly. "Catch up as soon as you can. You have to do the scriptey part."

Damien nodded. Noah, Rose, Petra, and Sabrina darted down the stairs at the end of the corridor.

James sighed. "Fine, I'm the lookout. What do I do if somebody comes?"

"All right, this is your story: you were going to the bathroom and you got lost," Damien replied. "Pretend that you're doubled over with the runs or something. Groan a lot, really loud. We'll hear you and know someone is coming."

James was appalled. "That is so wrong on so many levels! For one thing, I'm a second-year! How is it I got lost on the way to the bathroom?"

"Use your imagination," Damien said blandly. "Maybe you have to go so bad that you're delirious or something. Just be sure to groan really loud so we can hear you."

James opened his mouth to protest but Damien was already trotting down the stairs as lightly as he could. Resigning himself to his duty, James leaned against the wall and watched. He still didn't know what the Gremlins were up to, but he knew it had something to do with the new Heracles window. That was what Rose had meant when she'd said they couldn't have done it without him. He had broken that window last year, knocking a Muggle intruder through it during a midnight chase. Filch had fumed that there'd be no way to replace the window, and he'd been right. Fortunately, magic being what it is, it wasn't necessary to manufacture a perfect duplicate. The school had simply procured a special kind of stained glass window with magically imprintable glass. Petra explained that the window could be charmed so that the glass represented any desired pattern. Filch, being rather a traditionalist, had seen to it that the window represented the old Heracles window right down to the crack in Heracles' right little finger.

James determined to get a peek at what the Gremlins were doing to the window. Carefully, he straightened and tiptoed to the edge of the staircase. He could hear Sabrina and Damien whispering animatedly, but he couldn't see anything. James turned to go back to his hiding place and ran face-first into Merlin's beard.

"Bleah!" James spat, recoiling. "What are you trying to do, sneaking up on a bloke like that?"

Merlin's face was as impassive as ever. "I take it you are on sentinel duty, Mr. Potter?"

James deflated. "I was until I got a face full of beard. What is that stuff you put in it? Smells like the stuff Mum cleans pots with."

"Fear not, Mr. Potter. I shall assure anyone who asks that you were positively prostrate with bowel difficulties. I came to ask a small favor of you. You do not have to do it, but if you do, I will consider it compensation for the points that were deducted from your house."

James scrubbed at his face, shuddering, trying to get Merlin's beard oil off. "Yeah, sure, what do you have in mind?"

"I need you to convince Mr. Deedle and a third person of your choosing to help me retrieve some items for my office. They are essential to my work, but I require some assistance in acquiring them. You might say they have been in storage for quite some time."

"Like a thousand years or so?" James replied, feeling piqued. "I didn't know they had rental lockers for that long. How do you know your stuff's still there?"

"That is my concern, Mr. Potter, not yours. May I assume your help?"

"Doesn't sound like you need us," James muttered. "Why don't you get some of the other teachers to help you?"

"Because I am a cautious man," Merlin answered, smiling slightly. "I'd prefer to keep my inventory somewhat private, as there are those who might question the origins of some of my tools. This is why I have specifically chosen you and Mr. Deedle. You two have already proven, perhaps to a fault, that you know how to manage secrets."

"So I get Gryffindor's ten points back if we help you get your stuff? Sounds fair enough. I'm guessing that the deal only counts if we don't tell anyone though, right?" James said, looking up at the big man.

Merlin nodded. "Thus, you should choose your third helper carefully. We leave tomorrow afternoon. Meet me at the entrance to the old rotunda, and be prepared to walk."

Merlin turned to leave, his great robe swaying about him.

"Uh, Headmaster?" James called, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the Gremlins in the landing below. Merlin stopped and half turned back to James, one eyebrow raised. James asked, "Any sign of the Borley?"

Merlin shook his head. "But fear not, Mr. Potter. I have every reason to believe yours is the last one. It will show itself in due course. Perhaps next time, you will be better equipped to handle it."

A moment later, the big man had gone, somehow melting into the shadows of the corridor, his footfalls making no noise whatsoever. There was definitely something creepy about the ancient wizard. He seemed to carry a sense of wildness and night air with him, even inside the halls of the school. Obviously, Merlin had secret ways of knowing what was going on in the halls. After all, he'd known exactly where to find James and what he was up to. It occurred to James that it'd probably be a challenge to sneak past Merlin even with the Invisibility Cloak on.

Shortly, the Gremlins tiptoed up the staircase again. Rose was the last up, and she was covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.

As they threaded their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Petra asked, "Did you see anyone, James?"

James glanced at her, considering. After a moment, he shook his head. "No one worth mentioning."

It was the closest thing to the truth he could think of.

The next morning, as James was tramping down the stairway to breakfast, he was stopped by a noisy crowd gathered around the landing. Filch stood in the middle of it, staring up at the Heracles window. His cheeks were livid red and his eyebrows worked angrily. James could see the window clearly from his vantage point halfway up the staircase. The image of Heracles was gone. In its place was a fairly good representation of Salazar Slytherin. Strangely, he seemed to be grinning giddily and skipping down a winding path. He was arm in arm with a boy with unruly dark hair: Albus. A banner floated over their heads containing the words 'A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN?'. Worse, behind them, lying stricken on the path, was a pale boy with sharp features and white-blonde hair. The caricature of Scorpius had a word balloon coming out of its mouth. It read, 'FORSOOTH SALAZAR! BEHOLD MINE BREAKING HEART!'

"It's a line from a classic wizard love sonnet," Damien said smugly as he crowded in next to James. "One in ten people will probably get it, but it appeals to me somehow."

"You are such a geek, Damien," Sabrina said affectionately.

The sun presided over an unusually warm afternoon as James met Ralph near the great arch of the old rotunda. Beams of golden light made stripes across the marble floor and partway up the remains of the statues of the original founders. Nothing but their feet and parts of their legs remained after all these years. The broken bits were worn smooth from centuries of curious hands.

"She's coming," James said as he trotted to a stop next to his friend. "She just takes forever to get ready. What is it about girls and getting ready?"

Ralph shrugged. "Fiera Hutchins says that girls take longer to get ready because they actually get ready. She says boys just matt their hair down with spit, slap on some cologne, and call it done."

"So what's wrong with that?" James muttered.

Rose approached them from behind. She was looking cool and, James had to admit, much more prepared than he was. "I told you I was right behind you," she admonished.

"What's in the basket?" Ralph asked, nodding at the small satchel slung over her shoulder.

"Let's see," Rose said, cocking her hip. "My wand, some water, a few biscuits, a Bug-repellent Charm, a field knife, a pair of Omnioculars, an extra pair of socks, and some sunglasses." She looked back and forth between Ralph and James. "What? You said we were supposed to come prepared to walk!"

James shook his head. "How can you be so like your mum and your dad at the same time?"

"Just fortunate, I guess," Rose sniffed.

"We're supposed to be prepared to walk?" Ralph asked, furrowing his brow. "Is that anything like hiking?"

James set out across the rotunda floor. "Come on, Merlin said he'd meet us at the entrance, and when he gives directions, he means them."

"I don't even own hiking shoes," Ralph lamented, following.

The three stepped out into the warmth of the afternoon. At one time, centuries ago, the rotunda entrance had been the main entry to Hogwarts castle. Now it was virtually unused. The portico's huge doors were almost always left open, looking out over a long field of weeds and heather, ending at the edge of the Forest.

"Those are creepy," Rose said, looking back into the gloom of the rotunda at the remains of the statues. "They must have been enormous before they were broken. Whatever happened to them?"

"The statues of the founders?" James replied. "They were destroyed. A long time ago. In a battle or something."

"You don't know, do you?" Rose challenged, raising her eyebrows.

James didn't, but he wasn't about to admit it. He made a show of watching for Merlin.

Ralph frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder what ever happened to the pieces. You think they're still here, stored away in a cellar or something?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Rose agreed. "There's room enough here for them to keep everything. They say the original founders themselves are buried here somewhere, although nobody knows where. All except Salazar Slytherin."

Ralph blinked at her. "Why isn't he buried here?"

"I thought you said you read Hogwarts: A History?"

Ralph turned to James. "Is she always like this? If so, remind me not to ask her any more questions."

"He's not buried here," James answered, "because he had a big row with the other founders and got kicked out of the school."

Ralph grimaced. "I probably don't want to know what that was about, do I?"

"I'm sure you can guess," James replied. "It's a good thing times have changed, eh?"

"Times never change," a deep voice said. James glanced up and saw Merlin climbing the steps from the field below. "But people do. Greetings, my friends. Are we ready to disembark?"

"If that means are we ready to hike," Ralph said tentatively, "I'm not sure I'm prepared to answer that."

Merlin turned on the steps and began to descend again into the grassy weeds at the bottom. James looked at Rose and Ralph, then shrugged and ran down the steps to follow.

"So how are we getting there, Headmaster?" Rose called. "Portkey? Broom? Side-Along Apparition?"

"I thought Mr. Potter had already informed you," Merlin replied without looking back. "We are going to walk."

"The whole way?" Ralph said, tripping over a patch of heather.

Merlin seemed to be enjoying himself. "It'll become easier as we go, Mr. Deedle. In my day—and I admit that that day was quite a long time ago indeed—people walked virtually everywhere. It is good for wizards and witches to move within nature. It reminds us of who we are."

"I know who I am," Ralph grumbled. "I'm a bloke with cruddy shoes and a preference for food that comes in wrappers."

They reached the edge of the Forest and Merlin stepped into it without breaking his stride. There was no path, but Merlin seemed to know where to step. He barely made a footprint or bent a stalk of grass. James paused for a moment at the edge of the woods. Merlin wasn't slowing, and James knew that if he didn't keep up, he would quickly lose the big wizard in the density of the trees. He plunged in after him, trying as well as he could to match Merlin's giant stride.

"Hold up a minute," Rose called, plucking burs from her jeans as she walked. "Not all of us can commune with the oneness of nature and all that."

As they progressed, however, James noticed a strange thing. In some small way, he did seem to be connecting with the woods around him. It was as if the Forest blended with Merlin as he moved, opening for him and closing up again once he was past. If James, Ralph, and Rose kept close enough, they travelled in the wake of that opening. Briars bent away from them, streams sprouted smooth, dry stepping stones, and even the grass and brush laid down flat, softening the ground for their feet. No branches snagged them despite the fact that the woods were exceedingly dense. Even the reddening sunlight seemed to wend its way through the thick treetops, laying down a trail of light for them.

"Hey, James," Ralph said quietly, "how far do you think we've gone?"

"We've only been at it for half an hour or so," James replied, glancing up at the sun. "We can't have gone much further than Hogsmeade, depending on what direction we're heading in. It's hard to tell, isn't it?"

Ralph nodded. "Yeah, it is. I swear it feels like we've been walking only a few minutes and about a week at the same time."

"Your mind is playing tricks on you," Rose said. "It happens on long trips. The monotony gets to you. We're probably hardly out of sight of the castle. If only the trees would thin out a bit."

As Rose spoke, Merlin stepped into a blaze of orange light. James squinted as he followed, then gasped, catching himself and throwing out his hands to stop Ralph and Rose. They bumped him from behind.

"Hey," Rose replied, dropping her satchel, "why are we stopping—"

Her voice trailed away as she looked up. A blindingly beautiful sunset filled the view before them, blazing with oranges and pinks and deep lavenders, but that was only half of it. Fifteen feet in front of James' feet, the stony ground fell away, plunging dizzyingly to a rocky beach pounded with surf. Mist roared up on the wind, wetting their faces and beading on their eyelashes.

"Is that the ocean?" Rose asked breathlessly. "That's impossible!"

A voice called indistinctly. James tore his eyes from the sight below him and saw Merlin some distance away. He was standing on a narrow path that threaded along the crags of the cliff. He waved for them to follow. After a few awed moments, they did.

The roar of the ocean and the whipping wind filled their ears as they skirted the cliff, catching up with Merlin. While they were still some distance behind him, Rose slipped in next to James.

Keeping her voice low, she said, "James, why did you ask me to come along on this trip?"

"That's easy," James replied, treading as quickly as he could on the uneven path along the cliff. "I had to pick someone who could keep a secret. Besides, I knew you had some doubts about Merlin. I wanted you to see him up close and personal."

"I have to tell you that so far I'm not feeling much better about him," Rose confided. "Somehow, he just walked us about a hundred kilometers in a half hour. But still, I'm just wondering, James: why didn't you ask Albus to come?"

James glanced over his shoulder at Rose. "I don't know. You were the first person I thought of."

"I just think it's curious, that's all."

Ralph had caught up to them. "Why'd you ask me to come?" he asked, panting a little.

"Merlin asked for you specifically, Ralph. He said he knew you and me were good at keeping secrets."

Rose frowned. "I want to know who he's keeping secrets from."

"Shh," James hissed as they neared Merlin.

He had stopped at the crown of a steep, rocky promontory. As the three climbed to meet him, they realized they were at the point of a narrow peninsula. Only when they joined Merlin at the top did they see that the peninsula extended ahead of them, making a natural bridge out over the crashing surf far below. The peninsula was barely as wide as the path, with a sheer drop on either side. At the far end, the stony bridge connected to an enormous craggy monolith, nearly the same size and shape as a Hogwarts turret. The top seemed roughly flat and was covered with blowing grass.

"We're not going out on that," Ralph stated flatly. "I mean, we're not, right? That would be totally mad."

Even as he finished speaking, Merlin stepped out onto the rocky spine. "Follow closely, my friends. It is less dangerous than it looks, but it is not harmless. I will catch you if you fall, but let us work to avoid that necessity."

Fortunately, James wasn't particularly afraid of heights. Keeping his eyes on the large man striding easily along the narrow path, James stepped forward to follow.

"Oh bugger," Ralph muttered from behind, his voice almost lost in the whipping, salty wind.

It was actually quite exhilarating, in a giddy, terrifying sort of way. The wind shifted restlessly, tugging at James' sleeves and pant legs. He knew he shouldn't look down, and yet he couldn't help studying the path, watching for the firmest footing. Occasionally, James saw hints of stonework and large bricks embedded in the path as if it had been shored up in the distant past, perhaps repeatedly. Dry weeds grew sparsely in the rocks, hissing in the incessant, shifting wind. On either side, the surf pounded and boomed against the rocks far below.

"This is insane," Ralph called in a high, wavering voice. "What do we do if we fall off the side? Call out, 'Oh Headmaster, I'm plummeting on the right side, a little help when you get a mo'?'"

James thought about how Merlin had found him in the halls the previous night, and how he'd known exactly what they were up to. "I think he has ways of knowing what's going on. Don't worry about it, Ralph."

Rose, directly behind James, said, "That's fabulously reassuring."

Finally, the path began to widen. The cliffs were obscured as they walked through a sort of gate made by a tumble of worn boulders and scree. James finally allowed himself to look around as he stepped into the clearing atop the monstrous monolith. It was indeed covered in long grass and brush, but it wasn't entirely flat. Instead, it was vaguely funnel-shaped, dipping to a hidden depression in the middle. Merlin was standing in a narrow path that threaded down into the center.

"Exhilarating," he called heartily. He looked grimly happy, his cloak whipping freely about his legs and his beard streaming in the wind.

"Actually," James answered, "yeah, it was!"

Rose and Ralph caught up and gathered near the wizard.

"Are we there yet?" Ralph asked, raking his hair out of his eyes with his fingers.

Merlin turned and looked into the middle of the plateau, which dipped out of sight. "We are. Watch your step from this point. It gets a bit tricky."

"Oh, good," Ralph muttered helplessly.

"Buck up, Ralph," Rose said, tying her hair back with a short length of ribbon. "This is the best adventure you'll never be able to tell anyone about."

"I don't know why everyone seems to think I like adventures. I never even read adventure stories."

"Stay close," Merlin said again as he began to descend the path.

As the four worked their way down the funnel-shaped plateau, the dry grass began to give way. James stopped for a moment as the true nature of the monolith became apparent. The center grew steeper and steeper, dropping deep into a natural pit fifty feet across. The path transitioned to huge stone steps, and then to a narrow stairway carved around the inside of the pit. The stairs were obviously ancient, rounded and slick with moss. The heart of the pit was filled with ocean water, roiling and heaving in and out of a hundred fissures worn through the stone. The boom of the waves was nearly deafening.

Finally, just above the level of the surf, the stairway met a large cave. Merlin led the three into the dimness. He stopped and tapped his staff on the rocky floor, lighting it. Purplish light filled the space, making hard shadows in every crag and crack.

"Nice hiding place," James said, whistling.

"It sure is," Rose agreed, "considering it's underwater half the day. We're in the middle of low tide right now."

"Is that where you have your stuff hidden?" Ralph asked, pointing toward a large door-shaped hole in the rear of the cave wall. "There's writing over the door, but I can't read it."

Rose peered at it, stepping closer. "It's Welsh, isn't it?"

"It's an old form of what you'd call Welsh, I suppose," Merlin said, approaching the door. "Roughly translated, it reads, 'This is the cache of Merlinus Ambrosius; do not enter on pain of death.'"

Ralph squinted at the barely legible letters. "So much for secret riddles and magical passwords."

"I do not believe in toying with the lives of treasure seekers," Merlin replied. "The mention of my name was enough to repel most who came this far. Those that ventured further deserved fair warning."

"Isn't there some sort of key or something?" Rose asked.

"No, Miss Weasley. The trick is not to get in. In fact, quite the reverse. Which is why you and Mr. Deedle will wait out here."

Ralph brightened. "That's the first good news I've heard since we started this trip. But why?"

"Your wand is a fragment of my staff," Merlin smiled grimly. "Thus, it is the only other magical instrument on the earth that can reverse the doorway."

Ralph nodded, waving his hand. "Good enough for me. Just tell me what to do when the time comes. Happy pot-holing."

Rose asked, "What about me?"

Merlin produced something from the depths of his robes and handed it to her. It was a small mirror with an ornate golden frame. "Do you know how to make an Occido Beam?"

James saw Rose struggle not to roll her eyes. "I know how to reflect the sun with a mirror, yes."

Merlin nodded and looked at James. "Follow me, Mr. Potter, and stay close."

With that, he turned and stepped through the doorway. His staff lit the interior of the chamber with its purple glow. James glanced at Ralph and Rose, shrugged, and followed Merlin into the cavern.

Immediately, his footsteps crunched unpleasantly.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "Bones!"

The floor was covered thickly with tiny skeletons. The remains of birds, fish and rodents were piled several inches deep. Merlin didn't pay them any attention.

"An unfortunate cost," he said, moving deeper into the cavern. "The one-way stone is rather unforgiving. My rune-warnings are rather less effective now than they were a few centuries ago."

"You made warnings for the birds and rats?" James asked.

Merlin looked back at him. "Of course, Mr. Potter. The creatures do not enter to thieve, but merely for shelter and food. I embedded a Hex of Dread in the stone of this place. It told their small minds that there was no good thing to be found here, and to stay away. I underestimated the longevity of those hexes however. I am not happy to be responsible for the loss of these creatures. I will repay the earth for their sacrifice."

"What do you mean by 'one-way stone'?" James asked, but as he turned back toward the doorway, he saw for himself. The entry was gone, replaced by rough, seamless rock. By all appearances, James and Merlin were trapped inside a sealed cave. He shuddered and hugged himself, glancing around the dark, craggy space. Something caught his eye.

"Er," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "that's not the bones of a bird or a rat, is it?"

Merlin followed James' gaze and saw the human skeleton leaning against a dark alcove. The skeleton was draped with the remains of rough armor. A rusted sword lay near the skeleton's hand.

"I wouldn't get too close, Mr. Potter," Merlin warned mildly as James took a step nearer the skeleton, morbidly fascinated.

"Wow," James breathed, "there are still rings on the fingers. And hair on the skull. Gah, there's the remains of a mustache! Who do you think—"

The skeleton suddenly lunged forward, throwing up its arms and waving the remains of the decrepit sword. James leapt backwards, tumbling into Merlin.

"Avaunt!" the skeleton cried, waving its arms and swiveling its head. "Reveal yourself lest I run you through for sport!"

"It's all right, James," Merlin said wryly, helping James get his feet under him. "Just stay back from it." Then, to the skeleton, he said, "You cannot see us because you have no eyes, Farrigan."

"Merlinus!" the skeleton cried. "Where are you, you devil's son? How dare you trap me?"

"How dare you breach my boundary and attempt to steal my cache, my old friend?"

"Friend, pah!" the skeleton spat. Its jawbone squeaked as it spoke. "You were quit of the world. Dead! What good was it to you?"

"You hoped I was dead, but you knew otherwise. My cache was bequeathed to no one but me, either way. Austramaddux made you well aware of that."

"Austramaddux is a mongrel cur," the skeleton of Farrigan growled. "I'll put his head on my wall for this trickery. And what mean you that I have no eyes? It is merely dark. Light your staff if you are Merlinus, curse you."

Merlin looked at James, his eyes hard. "He will be released from his bond to this world when we leave. It was part of the curse of anyone who dared breach this place that they should remain until my return. Now that that time is come, the curse will end. Can you bear to wait with him? He is quite harmless as long as you keep your distance."

James looked at the skeleton. It lolled against the wall, working to pull its leg bones together and make them work. It muttered squeakily to itself. James swallowed.

"Yeah, I guess. How long will you be?"

"Mere minutes," Merlin replied, then he raised his voice. "Miss Weasley, can you hear me?"

Rose's voice came through the invisible entrance clearly. "I'm right here. I'm looking right at you through the door. What's going on in there?"

"Nothing consequential. Can you direct the Occido Beam now? The waning sunlight should be finding its way through a large crack to the left of the cave mouth."

James heard Rose's footsteps as she walked away. A moment later, a narrow beam of sunlight speared the dusty air of the cavern, penetrating the one-way stone of the doorway.

"Very good, Miss Weasley," Merlin said. "Up just a bit, please."

The beam of sunlight pierced the depths of the cave. It bobbed and roamed as Merlin directed Rose, carefully aligning the beam. Finally, it lit upon a shiny burnished symbol embedded in a far distant wall. It flared brightly and suddenly, amazingly, a long golden cord dropped out of the beam of sunlight.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," Merlin called, reaching to collect the end of the cord. "You have done exceptionally well. Whatever you or Mr. Deedle do from this point on, under no circumstances should you enter the cavern, regardless of what you hear."

James felt a chill as Merlin turned to him.

"Your duty is very simple, Mr. Potter, but absolutely essential. You must hold the end of this cord."

James took the cord in his hands as Merlin handed it to him. It was thin, finely woven from bright golden threads. "All I have to do is hold it?"

Merlin nodded, maintaining eye contact with James. "But be sure, James Potter, as long as you hold this cord, you hold my life in your hands. You cannot let go for any reason until I return. Do you understand?"

James frowned, puzzled. He nodded. Without another word, Merlin turned and walked into the dimmer recesses of the cave, holding his staff ahead of him. The cave was apparently rather deeper than James had initially believed. As the wizard strode slowly away, his staff illuminated a much larger cavern connected to the one James stood in. The floor was very dark, nearly black. Strangely, Merlin was walking on the golden cord, placing each foot carefully on its length. The cord stretched into the depths of the cavern, disappearing into darkness. With a start, James saw that the floor of the larger cavern was not simply dark, as he had initially thought. It wasn't there at all. Merlin was walking on the cord alone, suspended over an apparently bottomless abyss.

There was a dry chuffing sound and James glanced over at the skeleton. It appeared to be laughing.

"Off to get his treasures, is he?" it said. "Left you in the lurch, methinks. Favor me with your name, oh demon."

"I'm not a demon," James said. "My name is James."

"Ah, a great name, that is. Tell me, Master James, if you are not a servant demon, why do you hold the son of the devil's cord?"

James shook his head. He knew he shouldn't talk to the pathetic Farrigan. It chuffed laughter again, wearily, and dropped its sword. The rusted blade broke off the hilt and the skeleton drew a great sigh, crackling its ribs.

"I have divined my state now," Farrigan said. "Austramaddux was right about the trap. I have been here an age, have not I? I am long dead, bound to this earth only by the curse of that abomination. And for what? I came not to thieve, but to destroy. Can you understand that, oh James, who holds the cord of the very man? I came to end it once and for all. But I have failed, and now it is begun. It is a good thing I am dead after all, and shall not see of it, yes?" The skeleton chuckled.

James' curiosity got the better of him. "What is it? What is begun?"

"Say not that you be such a fool as to be blind to Merlinus' skullduggery," the skeleton replied, turning its head toward the sound of James' voice. "You, who even now assist him in his aims. Tell me not that you have not heard of the Curse, my young friend."

"I don't know what you're talking about," James answered. "Merlin's not who you think he is. I don't know what he was like in your time, but he's different now. He's good."

The skeleton threw itself forward, cackling and beating its bony thighs with its hands. Finger joints broke away and pattered amongst the animal bones. "If you believe that, then perhaps your world deserves what is to be dealt it."

"What is it?" James asked, feeling simultaneously fearful and annoyed.

The skeleton of Farrigan stopped cackling. It twisted its head toward James again, its blank eyes penetrating. "How can you not know that the Gate is rent open? Merlinus has torn the curtain. His return to the world of men is a rift, connecting the realms. Things have come through, and are even now loose among men."

"The Borleys," James said to himself, considering.

The skeleton nodded. "But that is not all. It is coming. The Gatekeeper. The Sentinel of Worlds! Merlinus is its Ambassador. Fool! Even now, you hold the cord in your hands! Release it! Perhaps the Gate may still be shut! Release the cord and rid the world of the Curse, for it is nearly complete! Believe not the lies! Release it and send him to his deserved doom!"

"No," James said, gripping the cord tightly, as if his fingers might betray him. He looked out along the length of the cord, but he could no longer see Merlinus. He could feel no weight on the cord. He knew he shouldn't pay any attention to the deranged skeleton. Obviously, Farrigan was an ancient enemy of Merlinus. Probably, he had broken into the cavern to steal the cache, as Merlin alleged, and become trapped by the one-way stone. The skeleton was lying. There was no Curse. And yet…

What if the skeleton was telling the truth? James had been responsible for bringing Merlin back into the world, duped by the horrible Madame Delacroix and her accomplices. He, James, had been consulted about whether or not Merlin should become the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. If there was any truth to what the skeleton said, it would be entirely on James' head. Perhaps it was destiny, then, that had placed the cord in his hands, the cord that could cut Merlin off again, undoing all that James had unwittingly done. Perhaps now was his only chance to set things right again.

"I sense your struggle, boy," the skeleton said quietly. "You know what your purpose is, do you not? Do it. How hard can it be? It is no effort at all. Simply let go. Your friends await you outside, ready to release you from this place. They need not know what became of the wizard. Tell them he simply fell and is no more. Only you will know what you have saved your world from. Do it now. Do it while you still can."

James looked again. He could see Merlin now. He was returning along the length of the cord, a small box in one hand, his staff held aloft in the other. The cord was perfectly motionless as the big man placed his footsteps on it. James could still feel not the slightest tension on the cord. He squeezed it in his hands, thinking hard. Could he do it? Should he? Would he ever have such a chance again?

"Do it, boy!" the skeleton of Farrigan whispered harshly, leaning forward. "Close your eyes, do not watch, and let go!"

The cord was slick with sweat in James' hand. He almost did it. His fingers twitched. And then he remembered something Merlin had said the year before, shortly after he'd come back into the world. You have rather a talent for looking beyond the flat of the mirror, James Potter, he'd told him. That had been a compliment, James assumed, and it meant that he was not easily fooled. Of course, Madame Delacroix had fooled him, but that had required the use of a very carefully hexed voodoo doll. Merlin had implied that words alone were not enough to dupe James.

Thinking that, James turned to the skeleton one last time. "How do I know you are telling me the truth?"

The skeleton seemed to sputter. "You know by the evidence of your own soul! You sense the rightness of my allegations! Now drop the cord! End it!"

James narrowed his eyes. "You know, I don't think I will. I don't know what things were like in your time, but in my world, we don't kill people just because somebody says they're troublesome."

"Then your world deserves its own doom," the skeleton replied, rattling back against the cavern wall. "I wash my hands of you. The Doombringer is come."

James decided it was best not to argue with the skeleton. Now that he'd made up his mind, he knew there was no point in it. He looked out along the cord and saw that Merlin was nearly back. His face was still grim, but there was a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Our task is complete, Mr. Potter," he said as he stepped onto the stone of the cave floor. "You may release the cord. We will require it no longer."

James let the cord drop to the floor. It slithered away and dropped silently into the dark abyss. Sighing, James glanced over at the skeleton, but it didn't move.

"I'd expect to hear no more from him," Merlin said quietly. "He has done what he remained to do."

"What's that mean?" James said, turning to the wizard. "Why did I have to hold that cord?"

"Trust, Mr. Potter," Merlin replied, smiling a little sorrowfully. "It is a scarce commodity among those whose hearts are bent on evil. This is why trust was the final test before my cache."

"You knew he would be here?" James nodded toward the skeleton.

"Him, or someone like him. His duty was to challenge your trust. After all, it isn't really trust at all if there isn't a struggle."

James looked up at Merlin's face. "I almost let go," he said quietly. "All I had to do was hold the cord, and I almost didn't do it."

Merlin nodded gravely. "Doing what is right is nearly always simple, Mr. Potter. But it is never easy."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say. James and Merlin walked back to the rough stone wall that bore the hidden door.

"Mr. Deedle," Merlin called, "by your leave, we shall come out now."

James heard Ralph's voice clearly through the apparently impenetrable stone as if he was only a few feet away. "Er, all right then. What do I do?"

"Point your wand at the doorway and say 'Braut Tir'."

There was a pause. James heard Ralph whisper, "What's that? I missed the accent!"

"Just do it, Ralph," Rose rasped impatiently, "they're standing right there. What's the worst that can happen?"

Ralph said the incantation. There was a slight pop and the doorway appeared. The light of the sunset flooded the cave. James squinted out at Ralph and Rose as Merlin extinguished his staff.

"What'd I do?" Ralph exclaimed, stumbling backwards a step. "I sealed them in! The entrance disappeared!" Even Rose's eyes had widened in fear.

"What's wrong with you two?" James asked, stepping through the doorway with Merlin right behind him.

Ralph's eyes widened even further. "Whoa," he said, awed. "You just, like, walked right through a stone wall. You're not, er, dead, are you?"

"They're fine, you prat," Rose grinned, smacking Ralph on the shoulder.

"One-way stone," James shrugged, glancing back at the now solid wall of the cave. The door was completely invisible. "Is it closed forever?"

Merlin nodded. "I require it no more. Let us return. The daylight will be gone soon and the tide rises even as we speak.

James looked and saw that the waves were slopping over the lip of the cavern mouth. Each wave pushed more water onto the rough floor. Merlin still carried the small box under his arm as he turned to lead them up the narrow, curving stairway.

"So that's it?" Ralph called up from the rear. "You have all your stuff in that little box?"

"Are you surprised, Mr. Deedle?" Merlin replied. "Would you prefer to heft a pile of trunks?"

Ralph chuckled humorlessly. "You'd be on your own if that was the case. I can barely manage to drag myself out of here."

The return trip across the peninsula bridge was rather easier than it had been on their first crossing. The cliffs of the shoreline were a welcome sight and the wind was less than it had been an hour ago. Merlin was the last to cross. When he joined James, Rose, and Ralph on the crown of the promontory overlooking the peninsula, he turned to look back. Almost casually, he thrust his staff out over the bridge.

"Discordium," he said quietly. There was no flash of light or obvious magical blast of power, and yet the middle of the bridge shuddered visibly. As if in slow motion, the spine of rock disintegrated and crumbled massively into the ocean below, sending up enormous, crashing geysers of water.

"Well, that's that then, isn't it?" Rose said, impressed.

Merlin smiled down at her. Finally, just as the sun touched its golden reflection on the ocean horizon, they turned to depart.

As they made their way back, following in Merlin's enchanted path, Rose drew close to James again.

"Ralph and I heard you talking in there," she said quietly. "But it didn't sound like you were talking to Merlin. Was there something in there we couldn't see from the doorway?"

James didn't answer right away. For some reason, he felt reticent to tell Rose and Ralph about the skeleton of Farrigan. He glanced at Rose. "That was me," he said, shrugging. "I was just… talking to myself. It was creepy in there while Merlin went for the box."

Rose tightened her lips and looked closely at James as she walked. He knew she knew he was lying. He looked away and trotted closer to Merlin.

"Headmaster," he said after a while, "what are the Borleys?"

Merlin was walking directly in front of James, his long stride cruising straight through the Forest like a knife. The last shreds of dusk on his robes gave him a vague, ghostly cast.

"As I explained to you on the train, Mr. Potter, the Borleys are shadow creatures."

"Yeah, I remember, but where do they come from?"

Merlin's normally deep voice dropped a bit lower. "Your companion in the cave was talkative, wasn't he?"

James followed Merlin closely. He wished he could see the wizard's face. They moved through the darkening woods swiftly, making very little noise. The wind shifted capriciously in the trees, rustling them, almost as if to cover Merlin's voice.

James went on, "He said that the Borleys came with you from between the worlds when you returned."

Merlin's voice was still low and rumbling. "There is a grain of truth in all fictions, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you know what barnacles are? Disgusting creatures that accumulate on the hulls of ships after a long sea journey. They weigh down the ship and must eventually be removed and destroyed. You may think of the Borleys as the magical equivalent."

"So they did come back with you?"

"This is so. I have been hard at work hunting them since my return. Most remained near me and were easy to capture. Two followed Mr. Deedle and Mr. Walker. Those I was able to track and capture before either boy became aware of them. Yours, Mr. Potter, was rather wilier. I believe it is the last of them."

James had been curious about something ever since that day on the train. "How do you catch them if you can't use magic on them?"

"Old elements, James Potter," Merlin replied, and his voice had that strange, hypnotic quality that James had last heard when the wizard was talking a confession out of Denniston Dolohov, Ralph's father, last spring. The Forest was becoming quite dark, and James wished again that he could see Merlin's face. He had the creepy sensation that Merlin was talking to him without using an audible voice. Merlin went on, "Old elements that few in this age even know of, much less understand. I have a very curious bag, a Darkbag, which has nothing in it. When I say that it contains nothing, Mr. Potter, I do not mean that it is merely empty. The bag is full, packed even, with the last remaining relic of pure darkness, left over from the dawn of time. It is into this bag that the Borleys go, for there is only one thing that a creature of shadow needs to exist in, and that is light."

"Does it kill them?" James asked quietly.

"Nothing can kill a Shade, Mr. Potter. They can only be contained. They remain locked in the Darkbag, starved for magic, desperate for escape, but utterly diminished with no light to define them. The Ministry of Magic has utilized a similar, albeit crude, method for containing Dementors ever since they were deemed untrustworthy as guards of Azkaban. They are sealed in the cellars of their old ward, Azkaban itself, captive in chambers rendered magically lightless. There, their powers are greatly diminished, though not decimated. They howl, Mr. Potter. I am told it is a dreadful sound, and I believe it."

James shivered. After a minute, he asked, "So what happens if the Darkbag gets torn open?"

For the first time, Merlin turned. James saw one eye of the wizard looking back at him over his shoulder. Still, he didn't break his stride. "The Borleys would escape as a swarm, of course, Mr. Potter. Starved for magic, they would attack the first source of magic they found and devour it."

"D-devour it?" James said. "But you said they were harmless. Like barnacles."

"I said that one Borley, in its entry state, was mostly harmless. Many Borleys, some in advanced states, and all desperate from their imprisonment, would be anything but harmless. In the event of the Darkbag's destruction, the barnacles would become piranhas. But this is impossible, Mr. Potter. I am the keeper of the Darkbag, and that means it is utterly safe."

James sighed. "Is that the famous Merlin bluster you told me about last year?"

Merlin finally stopped. He turned and squatted, his eyes level with James. He smiled and his eyes twinkled in the rising moonlight. "No, Mr. Potter," he said in his normal voice. "That is the famous Merlin oath you have not yet learned of. You may count on it."

"Finally," Ralph said as he and Rose caught up to them. "A break. Rose, you still have those biscuits? How about a sharesy?"

When they finally reached the castle, Merlin led them straight through the halls and up the spiral staircase to his office. Apart from the enormous desk and the dozens of portraits that lined the walls of the Headmaster's office, the room was unnaturally empty. James glanced around and saw the portraits of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, his brother's two namesakes. Both portrait frames were, for the moment, unoccupied.

"I wanted to thank you three for your assistance this afternoon," Merlin said, and he sounded almost hearty now that they had returned. "Thus, I thought you might like to see my cache opened."

Rose widened her eyes with interest. "You're going to show us what's in it?"

"Not precisely, Miss Weasley, although you will certainly see its contents in time. No, I mean that perhaps you might like to see it opened. It is, if I do say so myself, rather a good bit."

James smiled quizzically. "Well, sure. If you say so. Let's have a look."

Merlin seemed pleased. He carefully bent and set the small wooden box on the floor. There was a clasp on the front, holding the lid shut. Merlin lifted the latch and stood back.

Slowly, the lid began to rise. It seemed to lift like a drawer out of the box, sliding upwards much further than the depth of the box should have allowed. There was another drawer embedded in the front of the first drawer. James moved around the box and saw that there were, in fact, drawers on all four sides of the main drawer. The vertical drawer reached man's height and stopped with a shudder. With a soft click, the drawers on all four sides began to roll out. The sides of each new drawer bore yet more drawers. Slowly, they unrolled, each surface revealing more and more compartments. It was beautiful to watch, and yet it boggled the mind. James' eyes seemed to resist what they were seeing. They watered a bit as the box expanded, filling the center of the room. Finally, after about a minute, the drawers stopped. James, Rose, and Ralph walked around the mass of drawers, doors, and complicated locks and hinges.

"That was definitely a good bit," James said, awed.

"Much better than a pile of trunks," Rose agreed.

"Wonderful," Ralph sighed. "Mysteries and enigmas galore." He looked pleadingly at James. "Can we go eat now?"

James grinned. The three students headed toward the door leading out of the Headmaster's office. James was the last to go through, but just as he was leaving, Merlin called his name. James stopped and turned as Ralph and Rose started down the spiral staircase.

"I have returned your subtracted ten points, Mr. Potter, and added ten as well," Merlin said. "You did very well in the cavern. You will remember, of course, that secrecy is essential."

"Sure," James replied. "Not a word to anyone."

Merlin nodded, meeting James at the door. "Of course," he said, lowering his voice, "I do not know precisely what Lord Farrigan said to you while I retrieved the box, but I expect his words would also not bear repeating to anyone within these halls. That includes Mr. Deedle and Miss Weasley. As you know, the dead can be very… persuasive. I'd hate to see any conspiracies take root."

James looked up at the Headmaster. The big man was like a giant next to him. James nodded slowly. Merlin seemed satisfied.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said. "Do enjoy your dinner. You've earned it."

A moment later, James found himself standing next to the closed door of the Headmaster's office. He looked at it thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Come on, James!" Rose called up. "The gargoyle says it's cherry posset for dessert tonight! I never get sweets like that at home!"

James shook his head slightly. If Merlin didn't want James to tell Rose and Ralph what the skeleton had said, then there was surely a good reason. But Merlin had only said he shouldn't tell anyone within the halls of Hogwarts. If it came to it, there was technically no reason James couldn't tell his parents, and they could tell whomever they wished, couldn't they? Satisfied with that, James turned and climbed down the spiral staircase to join his friends.