James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

7. AMSERA CERTH

After dinner, James was accompanied by Ralph and Rose to the Gryffindor common room. On the way, he told them about his conversation with Tabitha and her unsettling proclamation of Albus' potential, but neither of them seemed particularly impressed.

"That's the way she always talks," Ralph said dismissively. "Even some of the Slytherins tend to view her as a bit of a drama queen."

"You mean anyone other than you and Trenton?" James asked, arching an eyebrow.

"They do seem to sincerely like Albus," Rose commented, stepping through the portrait hole. "Maybe it's all true. Maybe Albus is the boy of destiny. Apparently, that kind of thing runs in the family, just like dark hair and Quidditch skills."

"It's not funny," James said, but he couldn't help smiling a little.

"You should just come with me down to the Slytherin common room one of these nights," Ralph suggested. "See for yourself how Albus gets along with everybody. Honestly, he does seem to fit in pretty well. It'll put your mind at ease."

The three made their way across the crowded common room, joining Noah, Damien, and Sabrina on a pair of couches in a dark corner.

"We were just talking about you, James," Noah proclaimed, patting the couch cushion next to him. James flung himself onto the couch, happy to be among his friends.

"We've got an idea," Sabrina said wisely, tapping the side of her nose.

"Does it have anything to do with the Heracles window again?" Ralph asked, grinning. "That was a big hit even with the Slytherins. Filch still hasn't gotten it entirely back to rights. Heracles' face keeps reverting to Malfoy's overnight."

"It's all in the wrist," Damien said proudly, flexing his hand.

"No, this is even better," Noah replied, leaning forward on the couch and lowering his voice. "It's this Debellows disaster that's got everybody in a lather. Seems that people don't so much mind a little physical training; I mean the guy does have a point that battling the Dark Arts does sometimes require a little actual fighting. But this whole no-spells thing for the younger years is just over the top. And so it got us thinking…"

"This has happened before!" Sabrina said, smacking James on the shoulder.

James glanced around at the Gremlins. "I'm missing something," he admitted.

"Back in your dad's day," Damien replied, rolling his eyes. "The reign of Umbridge the Terrible. Don't tell me we know more about your dad's school exploits than you do."

"It wouldn't surprise me," James said, smiling crookedly. "It seems I haven't read any of the right books."

Rose made an annoyed noise. "Umbridge was the D.A.D.A. teacher," she explained. "She refused to teach them any usable defensive techniques because she was a Ministry tool, back when the Ministry was trying to squash any and all rumors about the return of 'He Who Must Not be Named'." She pronounced the euphemism with obvious sarcasm.

"I remember," James finally said, nodding. "But that's not what Debellows is about."

Sabrina cut James off. "It amounts to the same thing. So your plan is to solve it the same way."

"Oh no," James said, shaking his head. "No way. I'm not starting up another Dumbledore's Army. I just got done telling Cameron Creevey the other night that I'm not my father. I don't want people thinking I'm trying to relive all of his old adventures."

"Not to fear," Noah said, throwing his arm around James' shoulders. "No one will be thinking that. For one thing, we can't use that name."

"Agreed," Damien replied. "Too old-school. Maybe 'Merlin's Army'?"

Sabrina shook her head. "Too copycat. How about just the 'Real D.A.D.A.'?"

"Too long and too commercial," Damien replied.

"Look," Noah interrupted, "the name doesn't matter. The point is, you lot need to know this stuff. If you don't get it until you're as old and excellent as we are, it'll be too little, too late. You need to take matters into your own hands."

"But I can't teach any of it!" James exclaimed. "I barely know any of it myself!"

"Then I guess you need to find someone to teach it to you," Noah answered, shrugging.

"So why don't you three do it?" James shot back.

"Can't happen," Damien said matter-of-factly. "As great and inspiring as we may seem, we aren't teachers. You ever hear of muscle memory? It means that my hand knows how to cast an Expelliarmus spell, but my brain doesn't keep track of it anymore. It'd be like trying to explain how to walk. It's just second nature by now. No, you need a natural teacher; someone like your dad, back with the original Dumbledore's Army."

James turned to Ralph and Rose. "Shouldn't you two be speaking up, telling me what a ridiculous and irresponsible idea this is?"

"Actually," Rose said thoughtfully, "I think it makes a good bit of sense. I mean, it's true that we really aren't learning anything useful in Debellows' class. Especially the girls."

"And honestly," Ralph added, "I need all the help I can get with defensive magic. That's one area I've never really gotten a handle on."

"I'll say," James grudgingly agreed. "But still, this could get us into a load of trouble!"

"I don't see why," Rose reasoned. "There are lots of extracurricular classes and clubs. It's not like in our parents' day when Umbridge forbade anyone from practicing defensive spells. It could be a completely sanctioned school club. All we'd have to do is get the Headmaster's permission. You could ask, James. Merlin owes you one, after all."

James glanced at Rose. She shrugged.

"This leaves just one problem," Ralph commented. "Who will we get to teach?"

"You'd need somebody with a good, basic grasp of the defensive arts," Sabrina said. "Someone who's a natural leader and teacher, with some experience in actual battle."

An idea occurred to James. His eyes widened, and then he slumped slowly in his seat.

"What?" Rose asked, frowning.

"I think I just thought of the perfect teacher," James replied dolefully.

Ralph said, "So why is that a problem?"

"Because," James grinned crookedly, "I don't think he'll ever agree to do it."

Rose narrowed her eyes. After a moment, she smiled knowingly.

"Who?" Noah asked.

"Can't tell," James answered. "But if we can talk him into it, I'll let you know."

The Gremlins seemed a bit annoyed at James' secrecy but were generally content that their idea had been adopted. After a while, the group broke up, leaving only James, Ralph, and Rose in the dark corner.

"Do you think Cedric would ever do it?" Rose asked earnestly, keeping her voice low.

"Oh!" Ralph exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "I knew I should've known who you two were talking about."

"All we can do is ask him," James answered. "People say he had natural leadership skills. He was good enough to get into the Triwizard Tournament, and he made it through all the challenges, so he has plenty of experience."

"And from his perspective, it's all still fresh," Rose agreed.

Ralph asked, "But where can we find him? Last year, he just seemed to show up when he wanted to. We still don't really know where he hangs out."

James looked hard at Ralph, thinking. "Actually, I might have an idea about that."

"We should ask the Headmaster first," Rose said. "That way, we don't bother Cedric with it unless it's for sure. Let's all go together; tomorrow, after lunch. That'll give us a chance to figure out the best way to present the idea."

James nodded. "Sounds all right, I suppose."

"You don't think it's a good idea?" Rose asked, putting her head on one side.

"No, I guess it's a good idea," James admitted. "I just hate the idea of looking like I'm trying too hard. You know, doing everything like my dad did. Like I told Cameron, I'm not the one with the lightning bolt scar on my forehead."

Rose studied James. "Then why do you keep rubbing it?"

James dropped his hand, suddenly realizing that he was indeed touching his forehead. "What do you mean?"

"You've been rubbing at your forehead for the last few days," Rose replied. "You look like an advertisement for Haberdasher's Anti-Headache Headwear."

"It's true," Ralph added, nodding. "Maybe you should wear your glasses more if not wearing them is making your head hurt."

James was somewhat annoyed. "It's not my bloody glasses. I don't know what it is. I've just got an itch, that's all."

"You've got a constant itch on your forehead?" Ralph blinked.

"It's not 'constant'," James said. He glanced at Ralph and Rose. "Is it?"

Rose looked a bit concerned. "Maybe you should go see Madam Curio down in the hospital wing, James."

"That's the last thing I need," James said, chuckling. "It's nothing, really. I'd barely even noticed it. It does seem a little weird though."

"You've just been thinking about it all too much," Rose said reasonably. "No one is expecting you to be your father. Don't obsess over it."

James agreed, and he hoped Rose was right. As he said goodnight and climbed the stairs, he wondered about the phantom itch on his forehead. He really hadn't given it any thought until now, but it was a just a little bit strange, wasn't it, having a persistent itch in the place of his father's famous scar? No way would he be asking Madam Curio about it. It was bad enough, what with Cameron Creevey expecting him to shoot fireworks out of his bum on one hand, and Scorpius Malfoy accusing him of delusions of grandeur on the other. The last thing he needed was for a rumor to get started that James Potter was scratching at a phantom lightning bolt scar. Especially on top of the fact that he very well might be starting a club reminiscent of his dad's Dumbledore's Army.

As James was getting ready for bed, it occurred to him that, had he not had the conversation with Tabitha Corsica and gone away feeling worried and peeved, he might not have agreed so easily to the creation of the new D.A.D.A. club after all. Her words had left him feeling small and ridiculous, but the idea of starting a new Defence Club gave him a feeling of importance again. Was that reason enough to go through with it? He hoped it was a good idea, but really, he wasn't overly concerned about it. There were still two hurdles that needed to be overcome for the club to happen. The first was to get Merlin's approval, the second was to find Cedric and ask him to teach it. If either refused, then the club would never be. That seemed like good enough odds to James. Thinking that, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

A grey, humid afternoon greeted James, Rose, and Ralph as they finished their Saturday lunch and headed out to wander the school grounds. It was one of those strange days at the beginning of autumn when it is too muggy to wear a jacket but too wet and breezy to go without. Rose huddled in a heavy jumper as James and Ralph threw rocks into the lake, admiring the splashes.

"I think we should just ask him straight up," Ralph said, heaving a stone sidearm. "Like you said last night, Rose, there's no reason for him to say no."

"That's what I thought then," Rose replied. "But that was last night."

James glanced back at her. "A lot's changed since then, has it?"

"I stayed up late last night, reading," Rose said. "I wanted to get a head start on some of the books our Wizlit textbook suggested, like I told you in the library."

"You sure don't waste time," Ralph commented.

"I happen to like reading. Besides, not surprisingly, our Headmaster shows up occasionally in some of those books and I thought it'd be worth checking into his history a bit more before we talked to him."

Ralph lowered his throwing arm and looked up at the sky, squinting. "It's so weird. I was there when it happened, but I keep forgetting our Headmaster is the famous Merlin from all the old legends and myths. It's a little hard to wrap your mind around, isn't it?"

"I told you a lot of people find it a bit unsettling that Merlinus Ambrosius is Headmaster of Hogwarts," Rose said meaningfully. "And I found out why, a little bit. There's loads of stories about him in the old books of the kings. It's almost impossible to figure out what's made-up and what might be real, but even if only a tiny bit of it is true, it's pretty worrying."

"Like what?" James asked, prying a large rock out of the bank of the lake.

"Like kings used to hire him to curse armies. Not bad armies, necessarily; just any army that any king with enough treasure happened to dislike. More than once, when Merlin got to the army he was paid to curse, they would send out people to pay him more to go back and curse the king that'd originally hired him. And he did!"

"Sounds pretty practical, if you ask me," Ralph said, heaving a stone with both hands. It splashed nearby, wetting both James' and Ralph's shoes.

"This isn't funny, Ralph," Rose admonished. "He was a magical mercenary. A man like that wouldn't have any loyalty at all! Some of those armies he cursed… they got completely slaughtered, sometimes even before they got to the battle! There'd be floods, cyclones, even earthquakes where the ground would open up right beneath the army camp, swallowing them all whole."

"That can't be true," James commented. "I mean, Merlin's powerful, but nobody can do that."

"You're forgetting where Merlin gets his magic from," Rose replied as if she'd been prepared for such an argument. "According to the legends, Merlin can tap into the power of nature. We saw him doing that the night he took us to get his stuff. Nature is huge, and it was even huger back then, with less civilization. Who knows what a wizard like that would be able to do?"

Ralph brushed his hands off on his jeans. "I don't think 'huger' is a word."

"Don't you start correcting me," Rose said, looking back and forth between James and Ralph. "Why are neither of you taking this seriously?"

"Because like I said, we were there, Rose," Ralph replied. "We saw the man Reapparate from the Dark Ages. We worked with him in the days after. He helped us get rid of that Muggle reporter, who was going to blow the lid off the whole magical world. He was completely brilliant about it. He may have been a loose cannon in the past, but he's different now, isn't he? He's trying to be good, and he seems to be doing pretty well with it."

"Well," Rose said, "it isn't just that he was a loose cannon."

James plopped down on the grass next to her. "What? Did he put ketchup on his eggs? Did he draw mustaches on portraits?"

Rose looked at him, and then looked away. "According to some of the legends, he was supposed to be the bearer of an awful curse. His returning was to be an omen of the end of the world."

James felt a twinge of worry at that, but kept his voice even. "This is the part where it's hard to separate the fact from the loony made-up stuff, right?"

"Laugh if you want," Rose said, "but the prophecy shows up in a lot of places. Some call him the Harbinger of Doom. Other places just call him the Ambassador; of what, it never says. It gets pretty creepy," she admitted, shuddering. "Especially when you are reading it in the middle of the night."

"So far, he's just been the Ambassador of an extra ten points for Gryffindor and Slytherin because we helped him go get some magic box," Ralph said, shrugging. "Come on, it's almost two. He'll be expecting us."

"You coming, James?" Rose asked, climbing to her feet.

James glanced up. "What? Oh. Yeah, sure."

The three plodded through the foggy afternoon, heading for the courtyard. In the distance, thunder rumbled like a veiled threat and the wind began to switch. James was thinking rather nervously of the skeleton in the cave, Farrigan, the long lost associate of Merlin, and of Cousin Lucy's letter about the Gatekeeper. In the light of those things, Rose's tale of the legendary curse of Merlin sounded uncomfortably familar. James couldn't remember it exactly, but the skeleton had said something about a gate, and about things coming through, all because of Merlin's return. The Borleys had come through, at the very least. Merlin acknowledged that. But he claimed to have captured all of them except for the last one, the one that had followed James from that night at the Grotto Keep. Merlin said he'd trapped them all in his mysterious Darkbag. But the skeleton had warned of something else, something worse. Like the legends, it had also called Merlin the Ambassador, but Farrigan had identified the thing Merlin was supposedly representing: the Guardian, the Sentinel of Worlds, the Gatekeeper. Lucy's letter had corroborated those legends, and now Rose's studies were confirming them as well. James shuddered as he followed Rose and Ralph into the castle.

They threaded their way through the weekend-empty corridors, passing darkened classrooms and halls. Finally, they reached the gargoyle which guarded the entrance to the spiral steps.

"You remember the password, Rose?" Ralph asked. "I couldn't even pronounce it, and you know how they are about writing things like that down."

Rose screwed up her face, thinking. Finally, she carefully pronounced, "In ois oisou."

The gargoyle moved with the sound of millstones grinding. It stepped aside, revealing the doorway.

"What's it mean?" James asked as he hopped onto the rising staircase.

Rose shook her head. "It's more of that ancient Welsh, I'd guess. Who knows what it means?"

They arrived in the hall outside the Headmaster's office and James reached to bang the door knocker.

"Wait," Rose said, grabbing James' arm. "Remember this morning? He told us to wait outside. He said he had another appointment before us."

James remembered. He carefully lowered the knocker and the three settled onto a long bench situated across from the Headmaster's door.

On the wall next to the door, amongst an arrangement of old paintings and portraits, was a face James recognized.

"Look," James nudged Ralph, pointing. "I remember him. Old Stonewall used him in Technomancy last year to teach us about magical portraits."

The portrait of Cornelius Yarrow, former Hogwarts bursar, peered at James over his spectacles. "I remember you too, young man. You had a rather unseemly number of questions regarding the subject. I hope you were satisfied."

"I was," James answered. "I especially liked the part about how only the original artist can destroy a magical portrait. It was really wicked when Stonewall melted his painting of that horrid clown."

"Your Professor Jackson did leave out one small detail," Yarrow sniffed, chafing at the memory. "There is one other person who can destroy a portrait, although it has never been known to happen."

"Seems like a pretty important detail to leave out," James frowned doubtfully. "Frankly, with all due respect, I'd trust him rather more on the subject than—"

Two things happened simultaneously, interrupting James. The door to the Headmaster's office unlatched and swung open and a stab of pain shot through James' forehead. He clapped a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hissing in surprise.

"James?" Rose asked, concerned.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished. James kept his hand to his forehead but risked opening his eyes. The first thing he saw was the view through the Headmaster's open doorway. Merlin was standing behind his desk, his face grave and his eyes piercing. He was staring very hard at James through the doorway, but the look on his face did not seem worried or alarmed. If anything, he looked intently watchful, perhaps even wary.

"Are you all right, James?" another voice asked. James lowered his hand and looked around. Petra Morganstern was standing in the hall, having just exited the Headmaster's office. She looked flushed, and her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying.

"I'm fine," James answered. "I… I should be wearing my glasses." He glanced at Rose and Ralph, warning them not to say anything.

"Oh," Petra said, looking away. "Well, I'll see you later. I've got… things to do."

James watched her walk away, wondering once again why Petra seemed so melancholy all of a sudden. And what in the world had Merlin said to her to upset her even more? James stood, looking back into the Headmaster's office again. Merlin was no longer staring at him with that hard, watchful look. He was turned to the side, studying a complicated brass device in his hands.

"Come in, my friends," Merlin called without looking.

As the three students entered the office, James couldn't help looking around in awe. Save for the old headmasters' portraits and the desk, the room was virtually unrecognizable as the same space McGonagall had occupied last term. A massive stuffed crocodile hung from the ceiling, looking like an exhibit in a museum. Bookshelves crowded the floor, crammed with enormous volumes in thick, leather covers. Alongside these were arcane tools and fixtures, none smaller than a cabinet, and all mind-bogglingly complex. Attached to the wall behind Merlin's desk was a glass case housing a thick black sack, hung on silver hooks. James recognized it as the mysterious Darkbag. The centerpiece of the room, however, was a very large, long mirror with a rectangular golden frame. The silvered glass of the mirror only half-reflected the room. Beyond the reflection, a swirling, leaden mist rolled and shifted. It was both beautiful and vaguely sickening. The mirror rested on a long brass easel in the center of the room, facing the Headmaster's desk.

"As promised," the Headmaster said, "the contents of my cache. Not all of it, of course, but enough to make my job rather easier."

There was only one chair facing the Headmaster's desk. James, Ralph, and Rose gathered around it, though none chose to sit on it. They continued to look around the room in awe.

"You've noticed my Mirror, Mr. Potter," Merlin said conversationally, still not looking up from the strange device he was holding. "Very curious, yes? I see that you wish to ask me about it. Please feel free."

"What does it do?" James replied bluntly.

"The real question, Mr. Potter, is what doesn't it do?" Merlin said, finally setting the strange brass device on his desk and looking up. "It is the legendary Amsera Certh, the quintessential Magic Mirror of time immemorial. With the help of its Focusing Book, it can show you the past and the future. It can show you places you have been and replay ancient memories. It can even tell you, if you so wish, who is the fairest in the land. I fail to see the practical purpose of such information, but the Mirror's designer was a bit of an eccentric."

Merlin stood and moved slowly around his desk, approaching the Mirror. "Only two such mirrors were ever made. The sister of this one belonged to an associate of mine who, like all of my associates, is long since dead. That mirror, alas, is also lost to the mists of time."

Rose stared at the swirling, silvery mist in the Mirror. "Why were there only two ever made?"

Merlin reached the Mirror and pulled a braided cord. A thick black curtain dropped over the face of the Mirror. "Such pieces are very difficult to create, Miss Weasley. More importantly, the world can only contain so many very powerful magical devices. They weigh heavily on the balance of the cosmos. Too many at any given time can cause… wrinkles. Before my return, I lived at the tail of a much darker time when such wrinkles were commonplace. Fortunately, the age we now occupy is much better adjusted. Still, a few relics of the age of extraordinary magical devices remain." Merlin looked about with some pride. "Most of them are here in this very room."

Ralph swallowed and said, "Is it all, you know, safe?"

"Of course not, Mr. Deedle," Merlin replied easily, returning to his desk. "Any more than a wand is safe. But it is contained, and that is the important thing."

"Did you show Petra something in that mirror?" James asked suddenly, looking at the Headmaster's face.

Merlin didn't flinch. "I would say that is none of your concern, Mr. Potter, but I have lived in this age long enough to know that that would only heighten your curiosity. Yes, I did."

"Is that why she was so upset when she left? What'd you show her?"

"I showed her what she came asking to see," Merlin replied evenly, seating himself. "Nothing more and nothing less. If you wish to know further, you may consult Miss Morganstern directly, although she might find such an interrogation less than welcome. Now, what can I do for the three of you?" As he spoke, he reached across his desk and carefully closed a large book near the edge; the Mirror's 'Focusing Book', James assumed.

Rose maneuvered herself slightly in front of James. "We, uh, just came to ask about starting a club, Headmaster."

"What manner of club?" Merlin asked briskly.

"Well, a, er, practice… club," Rose stammered. "I mean, a club for practicing. Spells. Defensive techniques and things like that."

Ralph interrupted. "It's not that we don't like Professor Debellows or anything, either. He's really great. We just want to… practice."

"I understand that the good professor doesn't prefer to be called a professor," Merlin said, allowing a tiny smile.

"Er, that's true," Ralph agreed, his face reddening. "Kendrick, then."

"What sort of spells do you intend to practice? And who do you expect to be involved?"

"Anyone who wants to be involved," James answered. "And we'll just be practicing basic defensive techniques. Stuff we learned in our classes last year. We'll only be practicing on dummies and targets, never each other. Any teachers who want to supervise can come, of course. Although I expect that it'd be a little… er, boring."

James stopped, feeling that that last bit might have been too much. He was counting on the fact that no teacher would wish to volunteer for any extra time in class just to watch a bunch of students fling Expelliarmus spells at wooden dummies, but Merlin was quick enough to see through such a ruse. Knowing him, he might just assign a rotation of teacher chaperones, and Debellows would probably be first on the list.

Merlin opened his mouth to respond when, suddenly, the brass device on his desk shifted. Everyone in the room looked down at it. It was something like a hollow globe made of interconnected brass hoops, marking the globe's latitudes and longitudes. Inside, a complicated network of gears and ratchets operated a silver pointer. The pointer had begun to spin, making the globe roll slightly on the desk. After a moment, the pointer ceased spinning, ratcheted upwards a few notches, and went silent. Merlin stared at it.

"What is—" Ralph began, but Merlin interrupted him.

"You may proceed with your club, my young friends. Please send me a notification of when and where you plan to meet as well as a list of students who choose to be involved. After all, what kind of Headmaster would I be if I didn't keep abreast of such things?" Merlin had produced an official parchment with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the top. He scribbled a few notes on it and signed his name at the bottom with a flourish. "This should suffice in terms of official sanction. I wish you the best of success."

Ralph glanced at James, wide-eyed and smiling in relief.

"But Headmaster—" Rose began.

"If you will excuse me," Merlin said, rising, "it happens that I have some unexpected business to attend to. I'd hate to detain you, as I expect that you have preparations to make. Please do see yourselves to the staircase, and close the door on your way out, thank you."

"Thank you, sir," Ralph said, herding James and Rose toward the door. "You won't regret it!"

"Ralph!" Rose hissed.

The three nearly stumbled over each other as they crowded through the doorway.

"'You won't regret it'?" Rose whispered at Ralph, rounding on him in the hallway. "What kind of thing is that to say? You want him to be suspicious?"

Ralph grimaced. "I was nervous! So sue me! Come on, let's just get out of here before he changes his mind."

James was just pulling the door shut when he stopped suddenly, his eyes going wide. "The permission parchment!" he exclaimed, looking from Ralph to Rose. "Did either of you pick it up?"

"I didn't get it," Ralph said. "I thought Rose got it. She was closest."

"You shoved us out of there before I could get to it, you giant prat!"

"I'll get it," James said, turning back. The door hadn't yet latched shut. He pushed it slightly open, peering in.

"Headmaster?" he called. "We forgot the parchment you signed for us. Can I just…"

James frowned and pushed the door further open. The Headmaster's desk was vacant. The room appeared to be completely empty and was almost unnaturally still. Perhaps Merlin had gone somewhere by Floo Network. The brass device on his desk must have been an alarm or a reminder, telling him of a meeting he had to rush off to. James walked across the office and grabbed the parchment from the Headmaster's desk. As he turned back toward the door, a strange feeling came over him. With a sudden chill, he remembered the dart of pain that had shot through his forehead when he'd been waiting in the hall, right before he'd seen Merlin staring at him through the door. His heart quickening, James looked around and saw why the office seemed so unnaturally still. Across the rear wall of the office, from floor to ceiling, were the dozens of portraits of the former headmasters. Among them, of course, were the portraits of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, although as usual, Dumbledore's portrait was empty. Every portrait was perfectly still and silent.

Ralph and Rose had edged into the room, following James. Rose was staring at the portraits, her eyes wide and nervous.

"Now that's just eerie," she said in a low voice.

"This is the only place on earth where a wall full of unmoving paintings is a bad omen," Ralph said. "But I am in total agreement with you, Rose. What's going on here? Where's Merlin?"

James crossed the room and stood in front of the portrait of Severus Snape. He had spoken to this portrait several times last term, and had been insulted by it on more than one occasion. Gingerly, he reached out and touched the portrait's face. He could feel the texture of the dried paint, feel the stroke that formed the man's hook nose. The face didn't so much as blink.

Rose gasped. "Look," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

James turned. The black curtain had once again been lifted from the Amsera Certh, but the surface of the Magic Mirror no longer showed merely swirling, leaden smoke. It showed a scene. The view was hazy and murky, as if seen through a very dirty, very imperfect window. James and Ralph joined Rose by the Mirror and peered past their reflections, trying to make sense of the cloudy scene.

The view looked through a stand of gnarled trees into a thick forest. It was very foggy, and the trees were dense enough to block most of the stormy daylight. There was a small clearing beyond the nearer trees, and in the center of the clearing was a sort of monument, caked with moss and vines. It was tall, thin, and leaning. As the scene moved in and out of murkiness, James could see that the monument was a statue of a man. The stone figure was rather handsome, dressed in a very old-fashioned suit. On the base of the statue were lines of engraving, but James couldn't make them out.

Rose suddenly covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. "I know what that place is!" she whispered. "But why would the Mirror be showing this?"

James had a terrible feeling he also knew the place. He'd heard about it but never seen it. Very few people ever had. On the base of the statue, just below the unreadable words, three large letters were engraved: T. M. R.

"T. M. R.," Ralph said wonderingly, then gasped. "Tom Marvolo Riddle! Is it really Voldemort's grave? Who'd bury a monster like him?"

"Nobody knows," Rose said quickly, still studying the ghostly scene. "There was an anonymous donation for the burial costs and the monument, specifying that he was to be buried as Tom Riddle and not Voldemort. No wizarding cemeteries would accept the remains, though. They finally buried him in a secret location in an unplottable forest. Hardly anyone even knows where it is."

In the Mirror, a figure moved. The three students gasped in unison. The figure hadn't walked into the scene, nor had it appeared. It was as if it had been there all along, but no one had noticed it. Only when it moved slightly was its presence made known. It wore a long, black, hooded robe which obscured its face, but there was something very unsettling about the fabric of the robe. It looked more like a robe-shaped hole in space, filled with swirling, churning dark smoke. The ragged bottom of the robe did not quite reach ground, and yet no feet came out of it. James shuddered at the sight of the awful figure, thinking of the tabloid clipping Lucy had sent him. It had referred to the 'creature of smoke and ash'. Could this be that entity? Could this be the Gatekeeper? The figure raised an arm, revealing one thin, white hand. The hand seemed to beckon. A moment later, the statue of the youthful Voldemort shuddered. The proud expression went out of its face and the arms dangled like a puppet with its strings cut. And then, distantly, a voice spoke. It came out of the Mirror very faintly, barely heard over the sound of the wind and the creaking trees.

"Are you he whose echo has called to me?" the voice of the hooded entity asked. "He whose motives, more than anyone else's in this sphere, once aligned with mine? Reveal yourself."

The statue spoke, and its voice was very high and misty, nearly lost. "I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, dead of this world these many years, reclaimed to dust, passed on to the realm of torment."

"And yet," the robed entity said, "your imprint is strong enough to draw me. Your mortal remains are of no use to me; therefore, it must be your intention to tell me who bested you, that I may seek him for my purposes."

"He who bested me is no friend to you," the statue stated blandly, its voice nearly lost in the rising wind of that far-off place. "He was a boy then, but even then, he was stronger than could be deceived by your kind. He shall not assist you. But there are others…"

The vision in the glass was growing fainter. James reached out to touch the Mirror, to lean on it, but Rose stopped him.

"Even now, they await you," the dead voice of Tom Riddle said. "It is as you say: I am merely an echo, a memory, a fading ripple of a life gone. But they can bring you to another… one in whose heart beats my own essence. They are prepared for you… they await you here, this very night…"

At that, another figure pushed through the branches, moving out of the shadows of the trees. James couldn't make out the figure's face, but he could tell it was a man. Like the first figure, he was dressed in a hooded robe, but because of the man's position, James could see his face. He was pale and wary, but his eyes were resolute. The trees had begun to pitch and groan as the wind increased. The sounds of the place began to drown out the distant voices. James could barely make out the words of the pale man.

"We are prepared for you, o Master of the Void," he said, holding out his hand. "We have been awaiting you, as has been the whole world. Your time is near."

Suddenly, a third figure moved out of the woods, opposite the pale man. This figure was also dressed in black but was taller than the pale man. He didn't clamber out of the woods, as had the pale man, but moved with a sort of malevolent grace, stepping out into the clearing to face the shrouded form of the Gatekeeper. James was dismayed. Something about the proud, effortless gait of the taller figure made him think of Merlin. The pale man did not seem surprised to see the third figure, although his wariness increased. He smiled thinly. The tall man and the Gatekeeper exchanged words, but a crack of thunder drowned them out. The wind grew to a steady howl, bearing the promise of a storm. Fat drops of rain began to fall, and the image started to blur. Suddenly, the pale man glanced around and then pointed, up and out, and James gasped. He'd pointed directly at James, as if seeing him through the Mirror glass. The man's pale face stared right into his eyes. The taller man turned as well, but if it was Merlin, James couldn't tell because of the shadow of his hood. Worst of all, the face of the statue had also turned. The stone representation of Tom Marvolo Riddle looked out of the Mirror at James, grinning an empty, carved grin, showing all its teeth.

James stumbled backwards, away from the Mirror, and bumped into the desk. He barely heard Ralph and Rose calling him, grabbing him, trying to pull him toward the door.

"Come on!" Rose called frantically. "We have to get out of here! They saw us! And it looks like they're coming! They're coming!"

James' eyes widened. Suddenly he turned, looking down at the desk behind him. The Focusing Book was open. There was only one notation on the page, written in Merlin's own hand: 'GRAVE OF THE SOUGHT HOST'. Without thinking, James used both hands to slam the book shut. Instantly, thunder boomed right outside the office window. Lightning flickered and a gust of cold wind roared into the room, lifting the curtains.

"Potter!" a voice rang out stridently. James spun on his heels. The portraits were all alive again. Most of them were looking around and blinking. Parchments swirled into the air as wind shifted wildly through the room, whickering through the curtains. The portrait of Snape glared at James, its eyes wide and very black. "What do you think you're doing? This is old magic! Magic like you have never imagined! You must leave this place. Now! Quickly!"

Ralph grabbed James and pulled, dragging him toward the door, which swung wide open of its own accord.

"Come on!" Rose called, running through the doorway and looking back. The door began to close again, cutting her off. James lunged, following Ralph. Snape's face was tense, dreadful, as James ran past, slipping through the doorway a moment before the heavy door slammed shut with a reverberating crash.

James and Ralph barreled into Rose, and all three collapsed onto the bench in the hall, hearts pounding and breathless. As one, they scrambled back up and ran toward the spiral staircase, clambered down to the corridor below. They kept running until they reached a wide balcony where they finally pounded to a clumsy halt, breathing hard and staring wild-eyed at each other.

"I hope," Ralph wheezed, bending over with his hands on his knees, "that one of us… at least remembered… the parchment this time."

After a night of squalls and thunderstorms, Sunday morning dawned like a blooming flower, kindling rose-colored sparkles in the drenched grass and trees. After breakfast, James, Ralph, and Rose picked their way across the wet lawns to Hagrid's hut, where they banged on the door. When the half-giant didn't answer, the three students followed the stone path around to the back. There, they found Hagrid and his bullmastiff, Trife, moving about in the curling vines and broad leaves of the pumpkin patch. Hagrid was humming cheerfully, wet up to his knees as he rolled and weeded his pumpkins.

"Good mornin', yeh lot! Fancy seein' the three of yeh out an' about this early on a weekend!"

"Good morning, Hagrid," Rose said, sweeping beads of water off the top of one of the huge pumpkins. Satisfied it was mostly dry, she sat on it. "We came out to talk to you about something."

"Blimey," Hagrid replied, "with yeh here, young Rose, it really is just like old times. Come now, let's go on inside. I was just tellin' Trife here that we ought to brew a mornin' tea, I was. We can talk all we want by the stove."

They made their way inside and Hagrid hung an enormous copper teapot on a hook over the fire. James, Rose, and Ralph clambered onto the oversized chairs around the table.

"Hagrid," Ralph began, glancing at Rose, "we saw something when we were up in the Headmaster's office yesterday. Rose thinks maybe we should tell someone about it because it could mean trouble."

James kicked the table leg idly and glared out the window. "Not everybody agrees with Rose, mind you."

"How can you say what we saw wasn't cause for alarm, James?" Rose demanded. "Even Ralph agrees that—"

"I'm not saying that it isn't cause for alarm," James interrupted, glaring back at Rose. "I just don't think it means the Headmaster is in on it like you keep wanting to believe."

"I don't want to believe it, but there's such a thing as evidence. There's seeing a man in the Mirror who looks and moves suspiciously like the Headmaster. You said so yourself! And he was consorting with… with known enemies and outright scary people. And at least one of them I don't think was even human! Not to mention the statue of You-Know-Who!"

"Whoa, now, wait just a minute, yeh three," Hagrid said, scowling and settling himself into his old easy chair. "I don't know what yeh saw, but let's not be dragging that old beastie out in the open. Yeh just tell me what happened, why don'yeh."

Rose began to explain what had happened the day before, beginning with their interview with the Headmaster. As the story progressed, James and Ralph joined in, adding their own insights and corrections, so that by the time they were explaining how the portraits came back to life and the painting of Snape warned them to flee, all three of them were talking at once. Finally, they finished the account and fell silent, turning to view Hagrid's response.

The half-giant sat in his huge old chair by the fire, a distant, tense look on his face. He was looking in the direction of the three students but not directly at any of them. James had been confident that Hagrid would simply dismiss the tale as wild exaggeration. He'd tell them that what they'd seen in the Mirror had just been small-time shenanigans, engaged by men who refused to accept the fact that they'd long since lost the war. James knew from his father that while Hagrid may not always love the leaders of Hogwarts, he was loyal to the core. He'd defend Merlin, and assure them that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. That was partly why James had suggested they come out to the hut to talk to the big man. Now, as Hagrid sat in silence with that strange, tense look on his face, James wondered if it had been such a good idea after all.

Suddenly, the teapot began to shriek, causing everyone in the room to jump. Hagrid shook himself, and then reached to pull it from the hook. He carried it to the table and clanked it onto a trivet.

"Er," James said, prodding, "what do you think, Hagrid?"

Hagrid glanced at him, wiping his hands on a huge towel. "Well, it's a bit difficult, innit? Who's to say? Could've been anythin', I s'pose. The Headmaster, he's got some terrible powerful devices an' all. Ol' Professor Snape's portrait was pro'lly right tellin' yeh to stay well away."

"But Rose is saying she thinks it was Merlin that showed up by Voldemort's grave," James clarified, gesturing at his cousin. "Tell her she's daft if she thinks that! I mean, he's the Headmaster, Hagrid!"

China clattered as Hagrid gathered saucers and cups, returning to the table with his arms full. "Right yeh are, James. He is the Headmaster, an' all I can say's if he did show up in that Mirror, talkin' to whoever it was yeh saw, then he musta had plenty good reason to."

"But it couldn't have been him!" James insisted, looking to Ralph for support. "I mean, the thing in the swirling robe was obviously ten kinds of evil, and that bloke that showed up first had to have been an old Death Eater. I mean, it was Voldemort's ruddy grave site!"

"I'd appreciate it if yeh didn't say that name at my table, James," Hagrid said gently, setting a cup and saucer in front of him. His hands trembled slightly. "I know the battle's long over, but old habits die hard, yeh unnerstand."

Rose stirred in her seat. "Hagrid, do you think it could've been Merlin we saw?"

Hagrid poured steaming water into the cups before he answered. Finally, he settled himself onto one of the chairs, producing a strained creak. He looked hard at Rose, and then stirred his tea with surprising delicacy.

"They say that the Headmaster's a good man with a garden," Hagrid said, as if changing the subject. "I don't do a whole lot of readin' myself o' course, but everyone knows that Merlin the Great was a keen one for nature and plants and such. I been hearin' stories about how he spoke to the birds an' the trees since I was a wee lad. So when he came on as Headmaster early this summer, I thought I'd go up an' make my acquaintance. I invited him to come down to the hut so I could show 'im my own little garden. Next day, sure enough, he takes me up on the offer. He traipses all over the garden, not sayin' the slightest thing. He just walks up and down, in and out, tapping that big staff o' his on my pumpkins and squashes and cabbages. Finally, he looks up, out toward the Forest. I looks too, 'cause there's something rising up out of the trees."

Hagrid still had the teaspoon in his huge hand. Gently, he set it next to his saucer. He looked at James, Ralph, and Rose one by one. "It was a Djinn. Like a raven, but bigger; black as night with glowing red eyes I could see from where I stood. I'd never actually seen one before, but I knew of 'em. Dark and mysterious creatures, they are; portents, according to legend. Very reclusive. I'd always been told they only come out at night, and if yeh see one on your path, it's a sure sign to turn right back 'round and run home, for the Djinn is s'posed to be a warning of horrible danger for those yeh love. Well, when I saw that black creature rise up out of the trees, I was about to call out to the Headmaster. But I knew he'd already seen it, an' he didn't seem any too worried about it. So I just watched. That black bird flew right over, wheeling once above the garden an' coming to land right on top of one of my pumpkins, right there next to the Headmaster. An' Merlin, he just watches it the whole time. The strangest thing was the way the two of 'em looked at each other. They didn't make any sounds, but it seemed to me plain as day that they was talking to each other somehow. After 'bout a minute, that Djinn looks over at me in that funny way that birds do, with their heads turned aside so one eye is pointing right at yeh. That bright red eye stared me right down, an' it was all I could do not to heave a rock at it like I was a scared kid."

Hagrid looked imploringly at the three students at his table. "I loves magical creatures," he declared. "Dragons to Skrewts. Yeh lot know that s'well as anyone! I teach Care of Magical Creatures, fer goodness sakes. But that's the way that 'orrible bird made me feel. That glowing red eye just looked at me, an' all I wanted was to put it out, make it so that it'd never look at anyone else ever again. It sent chills down me. Still does."

Hagrid stopped and finally took a sip of his tea. He cleared his throat and went on. "Finally, the thing took to flight again, flapping its great, greasy black wings. It flew back to the Forest and disappeared. The Headmaster watched it go, an' then he walked back over to me, still tapping his staff on the ground. He gets next to me an' turns back to the pumpkin patch, looking out over at the west corner. 'You've been having a dead spell in that corner,' he says to me. Well, it's true an' no denyin'. That west corner hasn't raised more'n thorns and thistle for five, six years. 'So I have,' I says to 'im. He looks me in the eye an' says, 'There's a fox who died with all her young, buried in her den under that corner of your garden, Mr. Hagrid. The dead spell arises from their bones, crying for a morning that'll never come. Dig them up, rebury them in the Forest, and sprinkle the earth with Sorrowshot powder. Professor Heretofore can provide some, with my compliments. That will end your trouble.'"

Rose's mouth was turned down in a grimace of dismay. "Did you do it, Hagrid?"

Hagrid glanced up at her, raising his eyebrows. "Well, o' course I did! Found them bones and no mistake! Did just as the Headmaster said, right down to the Sorrowshot powder. An' you can see plain as day that it did the trick. That corner has my biggest Fiendscorn squash in it. A fine green Tigerstripe variety. You've seen it, o' course. But the point is…"

Hagrid stopped again and fiddled nervously with his teacup and saucer. He took another quick sip, as if to silence himself.

"What, Hagrid?" Ralph asked, exasperated. "What's the point?"

Hagrid looked at him, as if struggling with whether to speak. Finally, he leaned slightly over the table and said in a low voice, "The point is it seems pretty plain to me that the Djinn told the Headmaster about that dead fox an' 'er young! The point is, not only are all the old stories true about Merlin the Great talkin' to the trees and the birds, he even talks to the mystical creature-birds of the night! If that great black bird had shown its red eyes in my presence any other time, I'd have turned on my heel an' run! But Merlin, he watches the thing fly over almost as if he called it, almost as if he knows it by its ruddy first name!"

James listened with his mouth pressed into a thin line. Finally, he straightened in his chair and said as plainly as he dared, "That doesn't mean he's evil."

Hagrid blinked at him. "Well, o' course not! Who said he was evil?"

James was perplexed. "But you just said—"

"Now hold on, James, an' the rest of yeh. I want to be clear," Hagrid said seriously. "All I'm saying is that the Headmaster comes from a much different time, a time that would probably scare the hair off most of us. He lived in that time and worked in it. It's what he knows. Things that we would call evil an' bad in this day and age, well… let's just say things weren't so black and white in the time he comes from. That isn't to say that the Headmaster himself is bad. I've got every reason to trust him, and trust him I do! He's just a wee bit… well, wild. If you take my meaning. That's all."

"But Hagrid," Rose exclaimed, "in the Mirror! We saw him with that… that awful thing in the swirling black cloak!"

"If that was the Headmaster," Hagrid replied stubbornly, "then he had a very good reason to be there. Yeh said yourself, Rose, that none of yeh could hear what the man said. Maybe he was confronting them. Maybe he was… well, I dunno, but the point is yeh dunno neither."

"That's what I've been saying all along," James said petulantly, glaring across the table at Rose.

"Fact is," Hagrid went on, "none of yeh know the slightest bit about what yeh was seeing from start to end. Yeh said Merlin told yeh that the Mirror showed the past and the future as well as far-off places, didn'ya? Maybe what yeh were seeing wasn't even from the here'n now. Did yeh think o' that?"

"Actually," Ralph said thoughtfully, "no, we hadn't."

"But the gravesite!" Rose insisted. "That wasn't from a long time ago! Volde—er, He Who Must Not Be Named hasn't been dead all that long! But his grave was all covered with moss and vines, so it couldn't have been from the past…"

"Let it go, Rose," Ralph shrugged. "You might be right, but what would we do about it anyway? All we can do is hope Merlin's as good as his word, like Hagrid says. If he is, we don't have anything to worry about. If he's not… well, what are we going to do against a bloke that can make the earth open up and swallow whole armies?"

Rose fumed but didn't respond.

A short while later, the trio finished their teas and bid Hagrid goodbye. As they left, James peered over into the west corner of the garden. Sure enough, a very large orange- and purple-striped squash rested there on its bed of leaves, still glistening with last night's rain.

"I don't care what anyone says," Rose said gravely as they skirted the Whomping Willow, "I don't trust him. He's not what he says he is."

"As much as I don't agree with Rose," Ralph answered, "this whole thing does make our new Defence Club seem all the more important."

"How so?" James asked.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? If what we saw in the Mirror was true and was from the present day, then it means some really bad stuff might be coming. We might actually have an enemy to fight. I, for one, want to be ready for that."

"Ralph," Rose said in a different voice, "if I didn't find you generally thick as a brick, I'd be impressed by that."

Ralph blushed a little. "Thanks, I guess."

As they rounded a stand of bushes on the far side of the Whomping Willow, they ran into Noah, Damien, and Gennifer Tellus, the Ravenclaw Gremlin. The three were crouched just out of range of the branches, studying the gnarled tree trunk. The branches of the Willow shifted and twitched, sensing their presence but not quite able to reach them.

"Hey," Ralph called as they approached the hunkered Gremlins, "we got permission to start the new Defence Club—"

"Shh!" Noah hissed, raising a hand. "Hold on a minute."

James, Rose, and Ralph crept up behind the three Gremlins, who were rasping at each other tensely.

"A little lower," Damien hissed. "It's the big one that looks like an Adam's apple on a really skinny bloke."

Noah shook his head. "We tried that one time before last! I keep telling you it's on the other side, facing away from the castle. I remember from last year, with Ted."

Gennifer held a long stick. Biting her tongue in concentration, she held it out, reaching toward the tree trunk with the stick's tip. The tree leaned slightly and, almost lazily, whiplashed a branch at the stick. Gennifer exclaimed painfully as the stick was wrenched from her hand. It spun off into the thickets and the Willow relaxed again, almost smugly.

"I told you to hold it lower!" Noah exclaimed, stepping away from the tree and straightening.

"Look, you want to give it a go?" Gennifer replied, looking back over her shoulder. "Be my guest. But you'll need to go find yourself yet another stick."

"I can't help if you have longer arms than me," Noah proclaimed. "It's not my fault you've got the reach of a weregorilla."

"I've got another stick," Damien said patiently. "Here, give it another go, Gen. We'll hit it eventually."

James watched as Gennifer reached carefully toward the tree trunk again. The Willow swung its branches, feeling for the stick but not quite reaching it this time. James asked Noah, "What's this all about?"

"Secret passage, possibly," Noah answered, wiping moisture and grass clippings from his hands. "We've been coming out and testing it every year since I first came. It was Ted's idea. Hit the right knot on the trunk and the tree goes tame enough to get inside."

Rose's eyes brightened. "It leads to a secret passageway? But I thought all the old secret passages had been sealed off?"

"Well, there's sealed off and there's sealed off," Noah replied. "Thing is, Hogwarts being as magical as it is, the passages have ways of opening back up on their own after a while. Either that or new ones get discovered nearby. Petra discovered the Lokimagus passage just down the hall from the statue of the OneEyed Witch, and that statue was supposed to lead to a secret passage back in your parents' day."

"I remember Mum talking about that one," Rose agreed. "She said it went down to Hogsmeade. I was hoping that one still worked. I wanted to see Hogsmeade myself this year even though first-years aren't allowed to go on Hogsmeade weekends."

"Ahh, Hogsmeade," Noah sighed. "Making miscreants out of model students for as long as I can remember. Ted works down there now, at Weasleys'. We plan on getting him to buy us Butterbeers at the Triple Sticks when we go. All of us except Petra, of course."

"What's going on with Petra?" James asked suddenly.

Noah glanced at James. "Oh, nothing major. She just doesn't want to go because she and Ted used to be a bit of an item. Apparently, it all came to an end when Ted started seeing Victoire. They kept it secret most of the summer, but now the whole world knows about it. Somebody blabbed about it back at King's Cross."

"I didn't blab!" James exclaimed before he could stop himself. "Ted told me to tell! He wanted to get the word out but didn't want to make a big thing of it!"

"That was you?" Gennifer said, peering back at James over her shoulder.

James rolled his eyes. "So that's what Petra's all upset about?"

"She hasn't said so," Noah said, sighing. "Who can tell? She and Ted were never all that serious, if you ask me. I admit I expected her to end it first, though. Ted's just a bit too wild for a girl like Petra. She needs a different kind of man."

"A man whose initials are N. M., you think?" Damien called, grinning.

James felt his face heat. It bothered him that he might have inadvertently caused Petra's melancholy by revealing Ted and Victoire's relationship, even if Ted had asked him to do it. For some reason, it also bothered him that Noah might be interested in taking Ted's place. Nonchalantly, James asked Noah, "What kind of man does a girl like Petra want?"

Noah shrugged. "Well, Petra's smart. Smarter than most people know. She's going places. She needs a bloke who can hunker down and take life seriously with her. Ted, he's great and we all love him, but he's not the take-life-seriously type."

Rose interjected, "I heard Petra might get the part of Astra in the play. She'd be great for the role with her long dark hair and blue eyes."

Noah nodded. "If she can get her head around it. It's down to her and Josephina Bartlett, and Josephina really wants that part."

"It's just the thing Petra needs to get her mind off of Ted Lupin," Rose said emphatically. "She's prettier than Josephina any day of the week. I'll help her prepare for the role if I can. She has one more audition, doesn't she?"

"Later this week," Noah agreed. "I hope she gets it. I'm still hoping to land the part of Donovan."

"And Donovan and Astra get to dance," Damien sang mistily.

"That's nothing," Noah replied. "Astra and Treus kiss at the end of the play, and the script calls it 'the kiss of true and everlasting love'."

"They won't really kiss," Rose said, shaking her head. "In plays, they just press their cheeks together with their heads turned. The audience just thinks they're kissing."

"Close enough for me," Noah muttered. "How we doing with that secret knot, Tellus?"

"Don't hassle the maestro while she's working…," Damien said, still hunkered down next to Gennifer. The Willow was growing restless. Its trunk creaked ominously as it leaned, trying to lower its branches to walloping distance. Gennifer's stick weaved nervously near the leaning trunk.

Ralph was looking apprehensively at the big, swaying tree. "So you've already been down in the secret passage beneath the Whomping Willow? Where does it go?"

"As of last year, nowhere," Noah admitted. "It was all blocked off by a cave-in after a little way. That's why it never occurred to us to mark the secret knot. Still, it always seems like it'd have been a good idea when we come back the next year."

"We can't mark the knot," Gennifer said through gritted teeth. "Otherwise, everyone would be able to use it. We have to just… remember it… there!"

Gennifer jabbed the stick at the trunk, hitting a large knot near one of the tree's twisted roots. The tree suddenly straightened and went still.

"Come on!" Noah cried, bolting toward the tree. "We don't have long!"

James threw a look at Rose, then Ralph. Simultaneously, all three turned and ran toward the tree, following the three Gremlins. Gennifer was the first to reach the trunk. She ducked and threw herself forward, disappearing into a deep crack between two enormous roots. Damien and Noah followed. James hoped there was room inside for six since he was the last in. As Ralph scrambled into the narrow space, James glanced up. He'd never been this close to the Whomping Willow before and it looked huge and deadly as it loomed over him. As he watched, its branches began to move again. The trunk groaned ominously as it reanimated, angry and looking for something to whomp. James ducked and threw himself into the crack between the roots just as a branch swung past him, buffeting him with its passage.

"Wow," Gennifer said, clambering up, "six people with one knot push! I'd say that's a new record. Everybody all right?"

"I'll be fine when James gets off my back," Rose complained, grunting.

"Sorry, Rose. I didn't have time to look where I was landing."

Noah lit his wand and held it up. The space was low, ceilinged with the massive roots of the Whomping Willow. A stone-walled passage led down into darkness. The Gremlins began to descend it, followed closely by James, Rose, and Ralph. After about thirty paces, the group came to a halt. In the lead, Noah held his wand higher, whistling through his teeth.

"Eureka," Damien said excitedly.

"What?" Rose exclaimed, standing on her toes to see over James' shoulder. "I can't see! What is it?"

"Hogwarts finds a way," Gennifer replied. "It looks like there was a flood down here last spring. Washed a bunch of the dirt and gravel away. Look, there's room to squeeze through if you don't mind getting dirty."

"Excellent!" Noah proclaimed, his voice echoing from further ahead. There was a distant splash. "The passage beyond is completely intact! There's a little water to slosh through, and some seriously busy spiders, but the wandlight scares them away. I'd guess this goes straight on through from here."

"Are we going now?" Ralph asked. "I didn't really come prepared for any, er, journeys."

"Don't get anxious, Ralphinator," Noah answered, scrambling back around the former cave-in. "We'll go the rest of the way later. It's just good to know the passageway's back open again."

"And we're the first to find it," Gennifer added.

"So don't you lot tell anyone," Damien finished, stabbing a finger in the air and looking severely at James, Rose, and Ralph. "Especially you, Mr. Slytherin."

"Easy, Damascus," Noah said. "Ralph's loyal to the Gremlin cause. Come on, let's get back out of here."

"So where does the passage go to?" Rose asked as they retraced their steps.

"Our best guess is that it goes to Hogsmeade," Gennifer answered. "So you might get your wish about sneaking in a visit this year."

"The passage goes to Hogsmeade?" Ralph replied, a bit irked about Damien's lack of confidence. "Where does it come up? Couldn't somebody just trace it back to Hogwarts?"

"Worried that your dad missed another weak spot in the school's 'security perimeter'?" Damien asked, smiling crookedly. "Don't worry. Old Daddy Dolohov's defensive perimeter is safe. Nobody will be coming back from the other side. Except us, hopefully."

"The passage doesn't go to Hogsmeade directly, Ralph," Noah said.

They reached the bunker beneath the Whomping Willow. Carefully, Gennifer reached out and found the secret knot. The tree went still and she scrambled out.

"So where does it go to, then?" James asked as the group climbed quickly out of the secret opening.

"Our best guess is it goes to a delightful place called the 'Shrieking Shack'," Damien said, stopping outside the perimeter of the tree. "Nobody ever goes there."

"I can see why," Ralph nodded. "Does it, you know, shriek?"

"No, it's just a name, Ralph," Gennifer said, clapping the big boy on the shoulder. "It hasn't shrieked in decades. Although apparently it used to make quite a fuss, didn't it? Supposedly, the whole place shook."

Ralph looked back at James and Rose. "Are they making fun of me?"

"Yeah, Ralph," James nodded. "But it's all out of love. Don't sweat it."

Ralph accepted that and the three began to follow the Gremlins back across the wet grass. As they reached the castle, he asked, "So the Shrieking Shack didn't really used to shriek?"

James shook his head. "I didn't say that, Ralph… I just said they were making a little fun of you. It's best if you don't ask any more about it."

Rose concurred. "Really, Ralph. Trust us."

Ralph opened his mouth, considered it, and then closed it again. He sighed and the three students climbed the steps into the castle, following the smells of lunch.