James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

16. UNEXPECTED CONFRONTATIONS

Just as Cameron had feared, Professor McGonagall was awaiting the returning students. She sat in a portable chair with a cup of tea and her tartan shawl, a long parchment across her lap. Petra climbed the portico steps first. McGonagall looked up as Petra came into the light.

"You're rather late, Miss Morganstern. Yours is the last name on my list. Perhaps you'd—" the professor's voice cut off as she saw the others climbing slowly up the steps. Her eyes widened, immediately taking in James' bloody shirt and Ralph's mangled wrist. She leapt up, spilling her tea.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Deedle, what in the world is the meaning…," she began, and then stopped herself. "Miss Morganstern, please collect Madam Curio from the Great Hall and ask her to meet us immediately in the hospital wing."

"It was a—" Ralph began, holding his wrist in front of him.

"Some sort of wild animal," Petra interrupted. "It came out of the woods while we were on our way back. It's all my fault, Professor. It probably smelled the half corned beef sandwich I was carrying home from Madam Puddifoot's. I should've known better."

"We'll determine who should've known what later, Miss Morganstern," McGonagall huffed, herding the troop toward the hospital wing. "For now, please hurry! Madam Curio!"

Madam Curio met them shortly after their arrival. She clucked her tongue as she gave James' chest a cursory look, and then turned to Ralph.

"Miss Morganstern, you did a very satisfactory job halting the bleeding on these boys," she proclaimed in a businesslike manner. "Would you be so kind as to assist me? By the time my nurses arrive, we'll probably be finished. Hand me that bottle of Arthroset and that box of Dermamend bandages, please. And perhaps you'd be so kind as to clean Mr. Potter's wounds?"

Petra scrubbed her hands and filled a basin. James hissed through his teeth as she began to gently sponge off his scratches.

"You mustn't tell anyone about Ted," Petra whispered as she worked. "The world isn't a very forgiving place for werewolves, even half-werewolves like Ted."

"I know," James answered quietly. "He told me about it last year. But he wasn't transforming then. He was just getting really restless and hungry around full moons."

Petra nodded. "He still doesn't transform very much. He's only got half the blood of a werewolf. If he'd been a full werewolf, I'd never have been able to talk him out of attacking Ralph. He only looks fully lycanthrope because he's also a Metamorphmagus, like his mother."

"You mean he purposely transforms himself to look like a wolf?"

Petra shook her head, but more out of confusion than denial. "It's very complicated. I don't think he really means to. Usually, he can control it, but when a full moon comes, part of Ted really wants to change into a wolf even though his father's blood isn't enough to force the physical change. Since he's his mother's son though, he can transform himself. And the more upset he is, the harder it is for him to keep it under control."

James sighed, and it hurt his chest. He was about to ask why Ted had only attacked Ralph, but he knew the answer already. Ted had made it very clear when James had talked to him earlier in the day. Ralph was a Dolohov, even if he hadn't formally taken the name, and it was a Dolohov who'd taken Ted's parents away from him. Quietly, James asked, "Do you think it was Ted that destroyed the tunnel entrance in the Shrieking Shack?"

Petra shrugged slightly. "It might have been. He… he had reasons to be upset today. I'm afraid I reminded him of his loss, although it wasn't what I meant to do. I just needed to talk to him."

James studied Petra's face, but he could tell that she wasn't going to say any more. Truthfully, James didn't want to talk about it any further. His forehead still throbbed worryingly, and what he wanted to do most of all was simply rest.

Madam Curio insisted that James and Ralph spend the night in the hospital wing, sleeping on the wonderfully charmed beds. Neither boy minded, since it meant breakfast in bed the next morning. It also postponed the inevitable meeting with the Headmaster, whereupon they would have to explain their unsanctioned misadventure. James' chest had been bandaged rather densely, but he could tell that the werewolf's slashes were already healing swiftly. They itched as the skin knitted together. Living in the wizarding world was a remarkable thing, he thought. Nevertheless, despite all their magic and potions, he reminded himself that Grandfather Weasley had still died of a stupid heart attack. James would have gladly dealt with weeks of slow, painful healing if the alchemists who'd invented Dermamend Skin-Knitting Bandages had spent their time instead working on a magical cure for heart attacks.

"What are we going to tell Merlin?" Ralph whispered to James the next morning as they ate their breakfasts in bed.

James shook his head nervously. "The truth, I suppose. Except for the part about Ted. Like Petra said, as far as anyone else is concerned, we were attacked by some wild animal. That's all."

Ralph shuddered. "I thought he was going to rip me to bits."

"It sure looked like he wanted to," James admitted. "Ralph, Ted wasn't in his right mind. He was all wolfed out, half because of his dad's werewolf blood and half because of his mum's Metamorphmagus blood. I mean, like Petra said, he was still Ted inside, but without any of Ted's self-restraint. He wasn't really trying to kill you. He was trying to avenge his parents. You're just the closest thing he has to somebody to blame."

"I know," Ralph answered sadly. "Really, I don't blame him. But still, does this mean I'm going to turn werewolf too?"

"No," James replied. "Ted isn't werewolf enough to fully transform without using his Metamorphmagus abilities. He definitely isn't werewolf enough to spawn any more werewolves. You got off lucky."

Ralph nodded thoughtfully. "Still, I think it'll be pretty awkward next time I see him. How do you get along with someone after they nearly ripped your arm off with their teeth?"

"Deal with that when the time comes, Ralph. We've got enough to manage at the moment."

Late that morning, Madam Curio pronounced James and Ralph fit to go back to their dorms, although they'd have to return the next day to have their bandages removed. No sooner had they left the hospital wing than they met Rose.

"We've been summoned to the Headmaster's office," she said, her face very pale. "Right now. Come on."

Silently, the three made their way through the castle, finally approaching the gargoyle that guarded the spiral staircase.

"Password," the gargoyle said, as if bored.

"Er, they just changed it," Rose said to James and Ralph. "Professor Heretofore told me the new one when she told me we were summoned. Let me think. Oh yes… Caerth Hwynwerth."

"Blimey," Ralph said as the three climbed onto the rising staircase. "I'd never remember that."

Rose nodded gravely. "I guess that's the point."

"Maybe it won't even be Merlin," James whispered hopefully. "He's been travelling all the time lately. Professor McGonagall's been filling in for him."

Rose just looked at James, a little hopelessly. She rapped on the huge wooden door leading into the Headmaster's office.

"Enter," a deep, rumbling voice answered. James and Ralph both gulped simultaneously. The door swung ponderously open, creaking slightly. James tensed, waiting for his phantom scar to burn, but it didn't, or at least not much. He resisted the urge to touch it. Merlin was seated at his massive desk. In front of him, sitting in the only chair, James was surprised to see Damien Damascus. Damien looked chastened and meek, but James couldn't be sure whether the look was sincere or an act.

"Mr. Damascus and I have been discussing yesterday's unscheduled departure," Merlin said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. "He has been so kind as to come to me of his own accord, claiming some degree of responsibility for your actions. Is it possible that you three will corroborate his tale?"

"Er…," James began, looking from Merlin to Damien. "Er… yes?"

Merlin nodded slowly. "Do go on, then. Tell me your version of the story, Mr. Potter."

Merlin's eyes bored into James, and yet James couldn't recognize any specific malice in that gaze. James cleared his throat, glancing at Ralph and Rose for support. Rose nodded at him, eyes wide. James said, "Well, we just wanted to see Hogsmeade, sir. We knew we weren't of age to go on Hogsmeade weekends, but we didn't think… I mean…"

"You didn't think that the rules applied to you," Merlin nodded. "That is the crux of your story, is it not, Mr. Potter?"

James swallowed past a large lump in his throat. His face heated. "I… I guess so, sir."

"Tell me," Merlin said, sitting forward again in his chair, "how did you manage to find your way to the village unseen?"

James glanced at Damien again. Damien's face remained a mask of chaste repentance. Suddenly, James remembered what Damien's role in the Gremlins was; they had discussed it at the very beginning of term. Damien was the official Gremlins scapegoat. Up until now, James had not quite known what that meant. "Er… Damien showed us a way?" James said, still looking at Damien and frowning nervously. "He found the secret passage… er, right?"

Merlin sighed. "Yes, that is the way Mr. Damascus tells it."

Damien nodded miserably. "I teased them, sir. I told them they didn't have the guts to sneak into the village next Hogsmeade weekend. I simply wasn't thinking. I should've known they'd get caught. I should've known they'd get attacked by a wild, ferocious beast on the way back, all because of an innocent half corned beef sandwich! I am just sick with guilt!" Damien crumpled, burying his face in his hands and sobbing with woe.

Merlin simply stared at Damien, his piercing eyes mild, his brow raised slightly. After a long moment, he returned his gaze to James.

"Regardless of Mr. Damascus' purported challenges, the three of you should have known better. I am not inclined to go lightly on you. This sort of careless behavior cannot be tolerated in an institution that prides itself on order."

Merlin looked down at his desk again, ticking his quill over some notes. James glanced at Ralph and Rose. They would certainly get points deducted from their houses, and while that was bad enough, it wasn't the end of the world. Damien looked at James sideways, still managing to look stricken with guilt.

Without looking up, Merlin said, "Your punishment shall be the dissolution of your so-called Defence Club, effective immediately."

James boggled at Merlin, his mouth dropping open. Rose spoke first.

"You can't do that, sir!" she exclaimed. "That would be punishing all the members of the club as much as us!"

"As I recall, you convinced a first-year member of that club to accompany you in yesterday's debauchery," Merlin said, glancing up sharply.

"Cameron?" Ralph said. "He followed us! We tried to get rid of him!"

"In either case, this does not incline me to trust your leadership abilities for such a club."

James frowned angrily. "But it isn't fair to the rest of the club!"

"'Fair' is a strange concept which this age seems to prize above all else," Merlin said, sighing. "In the age that I come from, a 'fair' was a place where farm animals and servants were bought and sold. You may choose to remember what the word means to me before bringing it up again."

"But sir—" Rose began. Merlin silenced her with a raised hand.

"That is my final word," he said flatly. "You may go. That includes you, Mr. Damascus."

Rose turned away, and Ralph followed. Damien got up. He looked as if he wanted to say something to the Headmaster but then thought better of it. As he turned to leave, he gave James a warning look. Merlin watched James, his face inscrutable. Finally, James also turned around and walked toward the door.

"James," a mild voice said from the rows of old headmasters' paintings. James glanced up. The portrait of Severus Snape was empty, but the portrait of Albus Dumbledore had raised its head. Dumbledore looked at James through his half-moon spectacles, smiling a small, curious smile. "Wait just a moment, if you would. I believe the Headmaster wishes to speak to you alone."

The office door thunked as it closed, making James jump. He turned around and Merlin was right behind him, towering over him.

"I've been meaning to have a little chat with you, my boy," the big man said, his voice low and dreadful. "Your friends may believe they know what is happening, but I suspect you agree that the main question exists between you… and me."

James didn't know what to say. He stared up at Merlin's impassive face, his heart suddenly hammering. Merlin went on.

"As you no doubt suspect, very little happens within these halls that I do not know about. You've been through the Amsera Certh, and I can only imagine that you've learned much about me and what has happened in this castle. Thus, you have me at a disadvantage, for while I have been to and fro throughout this new age, learning much and loving little, the one thing I cannot be sure of is your convictions and intent. You worry me, my boy, and that is no doubt. Not because I fear you, but because I fear what you might choose to believe. There is only one thing that keeps me from stopping you in your tracks this very instant. Would you like to know what it is?"

The question was rhetorical. James didn't bother to answer.

"It is this," Merlin rumbled, raising his hand and pointing directly at James' forehead. "Yes," he nodded, "I can see it. I know not from whence it comes, nor by what art it has been conjured. Perhaps it means you are my ally, strange as it may seem. But perhaps again, it marks you as my foe. It is that question and that question alone that stands between us, James Potter. That question, resting like a lever on the fulcrum of one very small stone. And do you know what that stone is?"

James didn't. He started to shake his head, but then he remembered something. Perhaps it came to him directly from the Headmaster's eyes, since it was a memory of another time he and Merlin had stood like this, talking in private. It had been in the cave of Merlin's cache, after the test of the golden cord.

"Trust," James said, his voice very dry. It sounded right. Merlin nodded slowly, meaningfully.

"I will be watching, James Potter. As you know, I have eyes everywhere…" He looked aside, indicating the empty portrait of Severus Snape. "Trust only lasts until the final evidence is revealed. I will be watching… for that evidence."

There was a soft click and the Headmaster's door creaked open. James glanced at it. He was dismissed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to go yet. He looked up at the Headmaster, steeling himself. "Is it true that you can't harm anyone inside these walls?"

Merlin smiled very thinly at James. He turned back toward his desk, gesturing toward the Amsera Certh, which sat in its frame, covered in the thick black cloth. "Ask Lord Hadyn," he said, crossing the room. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "Or Lady Judith."

The black cloth suddenly flew off the Mirror, revealing the swirling mercury smoke. The smoke began to clear as the pages in the Focusing Book suddenly riffled of their own accord, flipping past as if in a hard wind.

"Run, James," the portrait of Dumbledore whispered harshly. "You do not wish to see this. Run!"

James turned as quickly as he could and bolted out the door. It slammed after him, shaking the hall. He stopped at the top of the spiral steps, panting and frightened. He was completely confused by the things Merlin had said. The Headmaster seemed to think James might be his enemy, and yet he wasn't sure. It was certainly a terrible thing to know that the only reason Merlin hadn't attacked him yet was because of the protection of the castle and the mysterious phantom scar on his forehead. Somehow, Merlin could see it, and he didn't know where it was coming from. But if Merlin wasn't causing it somehow, then who was? And what was it trying to tell him about the Headmaster?

"James?" Rose's voice called up from the bottom of the spiral stairs. "What are you doing? What's taking you so long?"

James glanced back at the Headmaster's closed door. He didn't know what it all meant, but he had a dreadful feeling that it was all going to become clear very soon. That fact alone scared him more than anything.

Thinking that, he ran down the spiral steps to join his friends.

That night, James sat at a table in the corner of the common room and took out a sheet of parchment. He dipped his quill, thought for a moment, and then began writing.

Dear Dad,

How's everything going at home? I hope Grandma is having fun staying in my room.

Make sure she doesn't look under the bed because that's where me and Al hid all those Dogerpillars

we found, and I don't think we ever got them all cleared out. Also, tell her not to look on the top

shelf of the closet. In fact, if she stayed out of the closet altogether, everybody will probably be a lot

happier.

I heard the news about the Dementor attacks going on all over London, and I heard that the Ministry is starting a new Auror department to go put a stop to it. Look, it's too much to explain in a letter, but that job is going to be a lot more dangerous than it seems. Something really evil called the Gatekeeper came back with Merlin, and we think it's using the Dementors to feed on people's fear. If you want to know more about it, ask Cousin Lucy. She looked it up at the wizarding library for us, so she knows loads about it. You just need to watch out for it because it's really, really powerful—way more powerful than any regular old Dementor—and it's looking for a human host to give it all the power it needs to stay here for good and ruin everything.

That reminds me—Dad, do you remember a ring that Dumbledore gave you? It might not have been a ring, but a stone. I think I've heard you talk about it, from back when you had to go into the woods to fight V. Somebody here says he read about it in those books that came out about your life, and he says it was called the Resurrection Stone. Anyway, I need to ask—what happened to that stone? Rose and Ralph and me think that it might be really important for getting rid of the Gatekeeper. I promise not to tell anyone. Except Rose and Ralph. And maybe Zane if we think he can help. And maybe Cameron Creevey since he's the one that remembered about it in those books. But nobody else. OK?

Thanks, Dad,

Love, James.

P.S. Have you and Mum found the M. Map and the I. Cloak and my voodoo doll yet?

James sealed the letter into an envelope and began to stuff it into his satchel. He stopped, suddenly wondering if he had time to send the letter tonight instead of tomorrow. He checked the clock and saw that it was only nine. He had time to get to the Owlery, and he knew he'd sleep better knowing that the letter was already on Nobby's leg, winging along to his parents' house. Rose had already gone up to bed, and Ralph was down in the Slytherin rooms, so James decided to go by himself. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and climbed through the portrait hole.

By the time James ascended the narrow steps into the Owlery, the moon had risen to a huge, full orb. Its frosty face illuminated the interior of the Owlery with silvery light, bright enough to see by. James found Nobby and paused to stroke him.

"They feed you all right up here?" James asked.

Nobby clicked his beak and ruffled his feathers luxuriously. James noticed that the corners of the Owlery floor were cluttered with the bones of rodents.

"I guess you get along just fine up here, don't you?" James said, smiling. The great bird seemed to agree. He ducked his head under James' stroking hand, preening. After a minute, James took the letter out of his pocket. He attached it carefully to Nobby's leg with a bit of string.

"This is really important, Nobby," James explained. "Get it to Dad as soon as possible, all right? And wait to see if he writes anything in return. If he does, bring it with you when you come back."

Nobby clicked his beak again and shuffled on the perch, obviously anxious to depart. As soon as James released his leg, Nobby spread his wings. He balanced for a moment, and then thrust upwards, flapping toward the Owlery's huge windows. He circled, disturbing some of the other owls on their perches, and then, with a flick of his rudderlike tail, he was gone.

James felt much better. He retraced his steps out of the Owlery and down the narrow stairway. When he got to the corridor below, he stopped. The halls had been almost entirely empty during his walk to the Owlery, but now someone was standing in the dark corridor, looking out one of the tall windows. James thought this was particularly odd since the Owlery was nowhere near any of the common rooms. The figure was in silhouette against the low full moon outside the window. James could only tell that the figure was a girl with long hair. He had a strange, fleeting hope that it was Petra, but he didn't think so. James made his way along the hall and the girl didn't move as he approached. He had almost passed her when she spoke without turning around.

"A little late to be sending post," she mused. "Must be rather important, James."

James' blood cooled. It was Tabitha Corsica. "What's it to you?" he asked, not breaking his stride. He meant to leave her with that, but her next words brought him to a halt.

"The Gatekeeper won't be stopped, you know," she said idly, half turning to look at James over her shoulder. "No matter who you tell about it. It's too late for that."

James was stunned. His mind was racing so that he didn't know what to say. How could Tabitha know about the Gatekeeper? Neither James, Rose, nor Ralph had told anyone about it. But even as he wondered, he realized that the answer was all too obvious. Tabitha knew about the Gatekeeper because she was part of the plot to control it, to unleash in on the earth. There was simply no other explanation.

Tabitha turned back toward the moon. She leaned comfortably on the stone windowsill. "You believe you grasp what is happening, don't you? You've convinced yourself that you understand the full implications of the Curse of the Gatekeeper." She laughed lightly. "That's what I love about you Potters. You all see the world in the plainest terms. You somehow manage to miss the essential details and the big picture. Never has it been more obvious than now."

James started to speak, but his voice was hoarse and frightened. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you here to stop me?"

"Stop you?" Tabitha replied, still not turning around. "Stop you from what? Didn't you hear me? It's too late to stop anything. The descent of the Gatekeeper is accomplished. Its day is at hand. There is only one more task to complete, and that task is very nearly done. I'm only here now to gloat, James. I wanted to see your face when you found out that your world was about to end." Finally, Tabitha turned fully around. James took an involuntary step backwards. He'd never seen Tabitha this way. Her hair was lank and her face looked very pale, even gaunt. Her eyes were tinged with red, avid and hungry.

"Yes," she breathed, leaning slightly forward. "That's the expression I was hoping for. You see it now, don't you? The Curse of the Gatekeeper is finally at hand, but it isn't a curse for everyone. It will end your world, and the blighted world of the Muggles, but it will not be a curse to those who've remained pure of heart. It will be a blessing to us. Salazar Slytherin knew it in his time, when he orchestrated this day. The descent of the Gatekeeper hearkens the age of pureblood perfection! No longer will we be shackled by the laws of weak governments, no more will we live in the shadows of the Muggle drones, hiding like beetles under a rock. For us, the Gatekeeper is a harbinger of supremacy!"

James took another step backwards, wilting in the ferocity of that mad gaze. "You… you can't really believe that," he stammered. "No one controls the Gatekeeper. It'll bring doom to everyone and everything. Even its human host will be killed by it in the end."

Tabitha smiled slowly. "How curious that you believe no one can control the Gatekeeper. And yet I know why you have clung to that belief. You persist in trusting Merlinus Ambrosius, whose very presence in this age is your doing. You convince yourself that, in the end, he will not side with us. This offers you a shred of hope, doesn't it?"

James nodded. He hadn't known it until this moment, but Tabitha was right. In the deepest part of James' heart, he did trust Merlin. He didn't know exactly why, but he did. Despite his doubts and fears and despite all the evidence to the contrary, James simply didn't believe that Merlin would use the Beacon Stone for evil. He believed that Merlin would use it instead to battle the Gatekeeper, even if it was a losing battle.

Tabitha's smile grew indulgent. "Cherish that hope as long as you can, James," she said, almost whispering. "And when the Gatekeeper is ours, when Merlin hands the stone over and joins us, I hope I can be there to see the light of that hope die in your eyes. I really do."

James finally began to feel some anger. He drew himself to his full height and took a step forward. "You're lying," he said firmly. "You're just trying to scare me. You know that your plans can still be stopped. It isn't too late, no matter what you say. You can tell whoever put you up to this that you've given me your message, for all the good it did. But I'm not going to back down. We'll find the other half of the Beacon Stone."

Tabitha's smile vanished as James said this. She looked at him with something like open bewilderment. And then, slowly, the smile resurfaced, dawning on her face like a sunrise. "The other half of the Beacon Stone?" she said in an amused voice. "You don't yet realize it, do you? No wonder you've been so full of vim and vigor! My dear James, we already have the 'other half' of the Beacon Stone! It's been in our possession for years! We used our arts to seek it out. It wasn't particularly difficult, you know. Your father simply dropped it in the Forbidden Forest. He left it for anyone to find if they had an inkling of where to look. I was there on the very night that it was pulled from the earth!" Tabitha laughed again, lightly, and yet James heard a tinkling madness in it. She stopped, inhaled, and shook her head. "How dreadfully unfortunate for you, James. But, oh! That's what that letter to your father was about, wasn't it? You were asking him where the stone had gone! Oh, I really am so sorry that you've wasted your time. But now you do see how precarious your situation is, don't you? It really is only a matter of Merlinus' rather famously fickle loyalties. How deliciously exciting this must be for you!"

James' anger hadn't abated in the face of this revelation. If anything, it had intensified. "I don't believe you, Corsica. You'll say anything just to keep me from working against you. It won't work! Even if your people do have half of the Beacon Stone, Merlin won't join you. I won't let him! So tell your cronies that I got your message, and that I told the lot of you to stuff it where the Nargles don't bite."

With that, James turned on his heel and began to stalk away. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back. "And I'll tell you one more thing, and this is just for you, Corsica: I know you think you've got my brother wrapped around your little finger, but if you get him involved in this in any way, I will personally come for you. Don't think I don't mean that."

"Albus?" Tabitha said, the smile now gone from her face. "I think he's big enough to make his own decisions, don't you?"

James narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. "You bet he is."

As James turned again and stalked off, Tabitha called after him, her voice echoing in the corridor, "Cherish that hope, James… Cherish it for as long as you can…"

James was shaking by the time he climbed back through the portrait hole. The encounter with Tabitha had completely unnerved him despite his brave words. It was all too overwhelming. Was it true that James' dad had simply dropped the Resurrection Stone in the Forest before his confrontation with Voldemort? If Tabitha and her secret cohorts did indeed have half of the Beacon Stone already, what hope was there? James now realized that, in spite of everything, he did trust Merlin not to side with evil. But was it that Merlin was trustworthy, or that James simply couldn't face the possibility that the famous sorcerer might betray them? With a shudder, he remembered that Judith, the Lady of the Lake, had also trusted Merlin, right up until the point that he'd killed her. Strangely, in the face of all of this, all James wanted to do was go to bed and sleep.

He climbed to his dormitory, stripped off his clothes, and fell into bed. The moon shone in through the small window across the room, needling at his eyes. James rolled over, pulling his pillow over his face. It wasn't until he was almost asleep, just as all of his racing thoughts were finally quieting, that one final, strangely worrying question popped into his head. James sat up, staring out the window at that bright, silvery moon while the question repeated itself in his mind: how had Tabitha Corsica known that he was at the Owlery?

James stared hard at the moon, but it offered no answers. He flopped back onto his pillow. Finally, eventually, he fell asleep.