James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

20. THE LONG RIDE HOME

The last week of school went by as if blown by a hard wind. Zane stayed over, spending a night both with James and Ralph in their dormitories, sleeping on cots provided by the house-elves, and staying the rest of the time in his old house dormitory. The Ravenclaws were happy to see him, and Horace Birch proudly proclaimed him a lifelong Ravenclaw "despite the fact you're a ruddy Yank and a coffee drinker, even though everybody knows all true Ravenclaws live on tea and Butterbeer."

To James' delight, a review of The Triumvirate appeared in the Daily Prophet, carefully glossing over the kidnapping of Lily as 'an unfortunate scare involving a temporarily lost child' since she had turned up later that evening apparently unhurt and perfectly cheerful. The review had called the play a 'surprisingly inventive and entertaining bit of academic theatre' despite the somewhat controversial Muggle production techniques implemented by the director, Muggle Studies professor Tina Grenadine Curry. This was blithely forgiven when the reporter had discovered that the Muggle generators, which were purportedly operating the stage lights, were running rather mysteriously without a drop of petrol in them, therefore rendering the nonmagical claims of the production completely moot.

"Here we go," Rose said, pointing at the newspaper at breakfast on the last day of school. "'James Sirius Potter, portraying the part of the beloved Treus, proved that neither youth nor inexperience can prevent a delightful performance in someone so well-trained and obviously inspired. Young Mr. Potter's surprising Thespian talent leads this reporter to muse that, in his case, the apple certainly did not fall far from the tree, even if it did perhaps fall in an entirely different vocational orchard.'"

"That's the fifth time you've read that," James said, grinning and red-faced.

"Not that you mind," Zane said, nudging his friend.

Ralph asked, "What's it mean about James falling down in a different orchard?"

"It means James is as talented as his father," Rose proclaimed, folding the paper, "Just in some quite different ways. No one could ever imagine Harry Potter performing in a play, could they?"

"I suppose not," James agreed, still grinning sheepishly. "But I think that's about enough acting for me."

Zane shook his head. "You say that now, but you just wait. Pretty soon, you'll start missing the spotlight. You know, my dad works in the Muggle film industry. He could probably hook you up with a part in a movie. There's even talk of remaking the movies based on that magical book series. You'd be perfect for it!"

"Not a chance," James insisted, but he was drowned out by the chorus of enthusiastic agreement. He decided not to fight it, and in the end, everyone agreed that, in fact, Albus would probably better fit the part, despite the fact that he couldn't act as well as James.

"I'd do it though," Albus said seriously. "I could even do my own spells! Would they allow that, you think?"

Zane shook his head as everyone laughed.

That night, James enlisted Zane's help in removing the lightning bolt scar from his voodoo doll. Carefully, Zane used his wand to magically scrub the marking from the tiny burlap forehead. Strangely, James could feel the progress of it. It tingled, and the tingle diminished as the scar vanished. Finally, Zane handed James the doll, nodding at a job well done.

"Clean as the wind-driven snow," he proclaimed.

James examined it. Sure enough, there was no sign that the scar marking had ever been there. He wrapped the doll in a cloth and put it in the bottom of his trunk. He wasn't sure what he would do with it now that he knew it could be used rather dangerously, but he suspected he would simply give it back to his mum. Now that she knew to keep an eye on it, he felt confident that there was no one who'd take better care of it.

At dinner on the last day of school, Gryffindor was awarded the House Cup, primarily because of late points added to their score by Merlin for James and Petra's performance in the play. James was very happy about the award, and as the Gryffindor table exploded into applause, congratulating James and Petra, he felt, perhaps for the first time, that he was living up to his father's legend as a Gryffindor. At the end of the Gryffindor table, floating uncertainly but with a nervous smile on his face, the ghost of Cedric Diggory waved at him. The Grey Lady wafted next to him, her pale face inscrutable but apparently content.

For the evening's entertainment, the Hufflepuffs put on a very amusing puppet show rendition of The Triumvirate, making affectionate fun of everyone involved. James laughed until tears ran from his eyes. When he looked to share the joke with Petra, however, her seat was empty. He didn't see her at all the rest of the night.

Finally, the next morning, it was time for the trip home. Zane had his small bag packed, whistling lightly as James lugged his trunk out to the steps.

"It'll be great to ride the train again," Zane said, smiling happily. "I miss that old cart lady. She wasn't there when I rode into Hogsmeade with your mum, you know that? Apparently, she only works the official Hogwarts Express runs. Better profit margin, I guess."

"Hmph," James said, plopping onto his trunk. "I didn't know that."

"I bet she'll be there more often, though, once they open up the new route. I saw the place where they're expanding the track through the mountains. It'll connect with some new wizarding village over on the other side of some gorge. I can't remember the name of the gorge or the village, but your mum said once they finish the track, it'll save travelers loads of commute time and Floo powder. I bet the cart lady'll have a lot more customers then."

"I'm sure she'd be glad you were so concerned for her welfare," James said, rolling his eyes.

"I can't help it," Zane agreed. "I'm just a caring kind of guy. Oh yeah, that reminds me, I think I figured out the secret of Tabitha's crazy broom."

James perked up. "Yeah? What was it?"

Zane reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small envelope. "Albus let me take a look at the bit of the broom he'd been using as a splint. I broke it open and Gennifer and Horace helped me do some tests on it. Look." He handed the envelope to James.

James thumbed it open and peered inside. It contained a tiny shred of black fabric.

"I wouldn't touch it," Zane said. "I did accidentally, and it still feels pretty oogie."

"'Oogie'?" James said, handing the envelope back to Zane.

"Sorry. Technical term I picked up from Raphael back home. Hinky. Creepified. Completely off the spook-o-meter."

"I get the picture," James sighed. "But what is it?"

Zane plopped down next to James on his trunk. "Remember last year when you explained corked brooms to me?"

James nodded. "Sure. When a Quidditch player threads something magical into their broomstick, basically turning it into a big giant wand."

"Yeah, well, we weren't so far-off about Corsica's," Zane replied. "We thought it was corked because it was Merlin's staff, but obviously, that was a red herring. It was corked because it contained a big, long strip off the robe of a Dementor."

"A Dementor?" James exclaimed, turning to look at Zane. "How's that even possible?"

Zane shrugged easily. "Beats me, but there's no question about it. Maybe Corsica's people are friendly enough with those things that they were able to get a hand-me-down. After all, you said the Dementors were loyal to Voldy and his pals."

"They weren't so much loyal to him as they were evil like him, but still… you could be right."

"It checks out," Zane nodded. "If what Merlin told you is true, Dementors are the same stock as the Borleys. They come from outside of time, and can manipulate it a little. That's pretty much what Tabitha's broom seemed to do, wasn't it? It knew just enough of the future to know where it needed to be. Fortunately for you and Albus, it took on the purpose of its owner."

"Wow," James breathed, looking at the envelope in Zane's hand. "I know that thing saved Albus' and my life, but still, I have to say I'm glad it got destroyed. Corked with a Dementor's robe! That's super creepy."

"Oogie, even," Zane agreed, pocketing the envelope. "Albus said I could keep this. I'm going to give it to Chancellor Franklyn when I get home so he can study it. I bet I get brownie points from here to doomsday for it!"

James shook his head, smiling at his friend's irrepressible temerity.

Shortly thereafter, Ralph, Rose, and Albus dragged their trunks out to the step as well, awaiting Hagrid's carriage to the station. James smiled in the sunlight. It was going to be a fun trip home.

"You still haven't really told us what happened on the other side of the chasm," Ralph said as the train picked up speed, leaving Hogsmeade station. "I mean, what was the real deal with Petra anyway? Was she under the Imperius Curse or something?"

James shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. She was being deceived. She had no idea that she was the Bloodline of Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy arranged for the Invisibility Cloak, my voodoo doll, and the portrait of Voldemort to be planted into the box of her father's things before it ever left Azkaban. She was blinded to the portrait and doll, tricked by the little part of Voldemort in her blood. Later, when she heard the voice of the portrait in the cave, she thought it was the voice of her dead father. It sounds mad, but I think she was feeling a little mad anyway after finding out all that stuff about her mum and dad."

"So none of the things we saw in the Pensieve were about Tabitha after all, right?" Ralph said. "All those memories were about Petra. Scorpius let us believe Tabitha was the Bloodline because that's what his grandfather told him to do, just to keep us distracted from the real thing; is that it?"

"I don't care what you all say," Albus said determinedly, "that little squid is ten kinds of trouble. He just better stay out of my way."

Rose closed the book on her lap and looked up. "I admit he started out pretty awful, what with stealing the Cloak, map, and doll, and then lying to us about the Bloodline, but all of that was on his grandfather's orders. You can't really blame him for wanting to live up to the legacy of his family; he didn't know any better. Besides, even by the time he was showing us the memories in the Pensieve, he was beginning to have doubts about his grandfather's plan. That's why he didn't actually say Tabitha's name. He was halfway hoping we'd figure out it was Petra after all."

"And he did do the right thing in the end," James added. "He never knew that hurting Lily was part of the plan. When Lily was kidnapped, he totally gave up his grandfather and Tabitha. We'd never have learned the truth about Petra if Scorpius hadn't been there with us in the bathroom."

"I think both of you have crushes on him," Albus said dourly. "I'm not falling for that 'I'm just a poor misguided bad boy' bit. Someday, he and I are going to finish what we started on the train ride here."

"I'd be careful, Albus," Zane commented, raising his eyebrows. "I saw Scorpius at the last Defence Club meeting and he's gotten pretty slick with that Artis Decerto stuff. He was waxin' on and waxin' off like a boy ninja."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Ralph stood up and peered out the compartment door. "Hey, that reminds me: which direction are Louis and Victoire in?" he asked, peering up and down the train corridor. "Louis has a book on Middle Eastern defensive magic he said I could borrow over the summer."

"Victoire stayed behind," Rose answered. "She's staying with George and Ted in Hogsmeade until George and Angelina's wedding. And I usually try my best not to know where Louis is."

Ralph stretched and said, "I'm going to go walk a bit and try to find him. Who's coming?"

"I'm in," James answered, standing. "I'm going to fall asleep if I stay here. We shouldn't have stayed up so late playing Winkles and Augers last night."

"I'm going to ask the cart lady about her working hours," Zane interjected, opening the compartment door.

"Louis has a book on magical martial arts?" Rose asked Ralph as the five of them filed out into the corridor.

"He's really gotten into it," Ralph nodded. "Posters all over his dormitory of the Harriers and famous wizard martial artists and stuff. He even asked his mum to order him one of those hoods with the eye slits in it so he can look all mysterious."

"Our Louis?" Albus exclaimed, stifling a grin. "I should have known there was a repressed fighter buried under all that stuffed shirt."

"Debellows said he's got some natural talent," Ralph said, shrugging. "Of course, he said the same thing about you, James."

"And I got top marks on my Wizlit essay," Rose said pointedly, steering the conversation away from Professor Debellows, for whom she still had little respect. "Professor Revalvier said my insight on the golden age of wizarding literature was—"

James suddenly stopped in the aisle, forcing everyone to pile up behind him.

"Ow! Ralph, get off my toe, you bloody dump truck!" Albus cried. "What gives?"

"Do you see it?" James whispered urgently, pointing. Everyone stopped and craned their heads, looking in the direction James was pointing.

"What are we looking for?" Zane asked after a moment.

Rose said, "I don't see anythi—"

"There!" Albus interrupted, pointing over Zane's shoulder.

Something moved inside the network of flickering shadows near the end of the corridor.

"It's like a living shadow," Ralph said.

"It's the last Borley!" Albus declared, pushing past James. "And he's mine!"

"No magic!" James commanded. "Remember? That's how it grew last time!"

The Borley capered in moving shadows as the train pushed through the forest. It teased and cartwheeled, as if begging to be hexed. Suddenly, the door at the end of the corridor slid open, letting in the noise of the rushing wind and clacking wheels. All five students cried out in warning, stumbling over each other, but the Borley took advantage of the opening and leapt through the door just as it was sliding shut again.

"How very curious," the newcomer said in a deep voice. James looked up and rolled his eyes. It was Merlin, wearing his travelling cloak, his staff at his side.

"Merli—er, Headmaster!" Rose exclaimed, pushing forward. "It just went that way!"

"The Borley!" James added hastily. "The last one! It must have been on the train this whole time!"

Merlin's face darkened slightly. "We mustn't take any chances this time, my friends. I will follow it and corral it. Mr. Potter, you know what the Darkbag looks like, do you not? It is in my compartment, two cars behind you, number six. It will allow you inside. The trunk beneath the seat will open with this key. Meet us as soon as you can." The big man produced a golden key on a long loop of chain and held it out to James. James took it, feeling rather important.

"Quickly, Mr. Potter," Merlin prodded. "We haven't a moment to spare."

James turned on his heel and ran back the way they'd come, fighting the disorienting sensation of running full out in a moving, swaying train. He passed through two connectors and came to the compartment marked number six. The windows were smoked, but the door was unlocked. James entered quickly and saw the Headmaster's trunk peeking out from beneath the left side bench. He dropped to his knees and heaved it into the light. The small golden key fit snugly in the lock and turned with a minute click. When James threw the trunk open, he was surprised to see that the Darkbag was the only thing inside it, folded neatly on the wooden floor of the trunk. Of course, he realized, this was one of those magical trunks which opened onto different contents depending on what key you unlocked it with. Considering the great importance and potential danger of the Darkbag, which imprisoned the rest of the starving Borleys inside its seamless dark, James felt particularly honored to have been asked to retrieve it. He touched it a little fearfully, remembering Merlin's warnings about it, but it felt perfectly normal. It was simply a large, heavy, black cloth bag, cinched shut with a golden cord and bearing a long shoulder strap on the top. Having assured himself that the Darkbag was relatively safe to hold, James slung it around his neck and over his shoulder, wearing it like a backpack. He slammed the trunk, hung the key around his neck on its fine chain, and ran back toward the front of the train.

He was rather out of breath by the time he found everyone again. They were gathered at the head of the first car, staring hard at the door. Merlin looked up as James entered. His face was grim, but James thought he could sense some enjoyment in the big man's expression; the Headmaster was pleasuring in the hunt.

"We chased it here," Zane said, grinning. "It slipped right through the crack in the door, but the next car is the coal car. End of the line!"

"Miss Weasley," Merlin said, turning to her, "you will open the door on my mark. Mr. Deedle, your wand has rather unique properties, as you know. If the Borley manages to get past me, then you, and only you, may attempt to Stun it. Your spell will not halt it but will distract and attract it, giving me the time I need. I will place the Borley in a trance. Then, Mr. Potter, I will require the Darkbag."

Ralph gulped audibly, producing his huge wand.

"Got it," Rose said, a little breathlessly. James nodded understanding.

Albus stood back. "Last time, it was standing on the metal bit that holds the cars together," he explained. "So aim low."

"Thank you," Merlin nodded, smiling slightly.

Rose gripped the door handle and everyone took a deep breath. Merlin nodded at her and she pulled, jerking the door all the way open and letting in a push of warm, noisy air. James squinted in the barreling wind and smoke, and then gasped, his stomach plummeting. Merlin slowly took a step back, spreading his arms to keep everyone behind him.

"I may not know what I'm talking about here," Zane said weakly, his eyes bulging, "but I'm pretty sure those aren't Borleys."

In fact, the Borley was exactly where they'd expected it to be. It danced on the huge iron knuckle that connected the train to the coal car, teasing them. Over it, however, darkening the air all around the coal car, swarming like a malignant living cloud, were dozens—perhaps hundreds—of Dementors.

"It's the entire hive!" James called over the sound of the clacking wheels and rushing wind. "All the way from London! Why are they here?"

Merlin didn't take his eyes from the horrible swarm. "I think," he said slowly, "the answer to that question is all too clear."

Rose looked from Merlin to the open, howling doorway. "The Gatekeeper is up there," she said, nodding toward the engine, which was just visible over the length of the coal car and the swarming Dementors.

Suddenly, the train's whistle blew, shrieking a long, deafening note. Rose clapped her hands to her ears and winced. Simultaneously, the engine seemed to lurch forward, picking up speed. James stumbled as the train rounded a turn, rushing through it at dangerously high speed.

"Look!" Zane called, gripping the open doorway and pointing. James peered aside, looking through the gap between the cars. Trees whipped past in a blur, and then something else flickered past: wooden signs and piles of gravel and railroad ties.

"It's the new extension!" Zane yelled, his face very pale.

"The new what?" Rose cried, shaking her head.

"Didn't you read the sign?" he called, exasperated. "It's the new track extension over the Sparrowhawk Gorge! We're off the main track! We've been switched onto the new extension!"

"Don't tell me," Ralph yelled, slumping. "The extension's not finished yet, is it?"

"No! The bridge over the gorge is hardly half-done yet! It's not supposed to be completed until next year!"

Albus nodded seriously. "This is bad. Very bad."

Merlin stepped forward, his face determined and his staff held before him. The wind whipped his robes and streamed through his hair and beard. Instantly, the cloud of Dementors condensed, collapsing onto the doorway and blocking it. The students stumbled backwards, terrified and falling over each other. The Dementors hissed and roared, and James felt his blood chill at the sound of it. He'd never known Dementors could speak.

The boyyy…, they hissed in unison, and their voices were horrid, buzzing like hornet wings. James Sirius Potter… the boyyy mussst commme…

Merlin had not stepped back in the face of the angry swarm. Now, however, he turned slightly, looking back at James over his shoulder. His face was cold, his eyes like diamond chips.

"It would appear you are being summoned," he said, his voice carrying easily over the noise and wind.

"No!" James cried. "I don't want anything to do with that thing!"

"The Gatekeeper believes differently," Merlin replied. "And it is going to kill everyone on this train if you do not meet its summons."

James shook his head adamantly. "I can't face that thing alone!" he exclaimed, terrified.

"You will not be alone," Merlin answered, smiling humorlessly. "I will be accompanying you."

James looked into the sorcerer's face. What he saw there was complete confidence and determination. The Dementors may try to stop Merlin, but they would not succeed. James nodded slowly and stood up.

As he stepped tentatively toward the open doorway, the cloud of Dementors backed away, allowing him room. They swarmed feverishly, and the sight of them made James shiver.

"Don't!" Rose called, grabbing James' sleeve. "There's got to be another way! You don't have to do it, James!"

James shook his head. "I think I do, Rose. It'll be all right."

"No!" she cried. "You're daft! You can't defeat something like that!"

James shrugged. "I have to try at least."

Zane put his hand on Rose's shoulder and Albus reached for her hand.

"Don't do anything stupid, big brother!" Albus called.

"Here!" Ralph suddenly yelled, pushing forward. He held his wand out to James, handle-first.

James shook his head. "No, Ralph, that's yours! I couldn't!"

"Shut up, James!" Ralph said, and James was shocked to see the ferocity in the boy's eyes. "Merlin's right! My wand has unique powers! You might need the boost! You're not going to keep it anyway. I'm lending it to you. Understand?"

James nodded solemnly and accepted Ralph's huge wand. "I'll give it back to you when I return," he agreed.

Nowww…, the Dementors hissed in their awful monotone. James Sirius Potter…

"Keep your cowls on," James muttered nervously, pushing into the wind and blasting cinders. The rear of the coal car bore an iron ladder. James began to climb it, fighting both the howling air and streaming smoke from the engine. Beneath him, the track blurred past, and the clack of the wheels was loud enough to hurt his ears. Before Merlin could move to follow him, however, James decided to try the bravest thing he could think of. He took out Ralph's wand and pointed it at the great iron knuckle that connected the coal car to the rest of the train.

"Convulsis!" he called, attempting the destroying spell he had last seen Rowena Ravenclaw use on the painting in Salazar Slytherin's quarters. The spell struck the knuckle and exploded brightly. When the sparks cleared, however, James could see that it had had no effect on the knuckle.

"A worthy attempt," Merlin called, glancing up at James. "But the Gatekeeper has foreseen such measures."

James nodded, disheartened, and continued to climb the ladder. The Dementors swirled around him but kept their distance. James scrambled over the lip of the coal car and dropped onto the irregular pile of coal inside.

Behind him, he heard Merlin's voice call out firmly, "Chrea Patronym!"

There was a burst of silvery light and the swarm of Dementors broke apart, repelled by the force of the glare. James glanced back and saw Merlin clambering onto the pile of coal behind him, his staff glowing greenly in his hand. In front of Merlin, standing between him and James, was a large, ghostly jackal. The silvery light pulsed from it, and it bore its shining teeth in a silent snarl, forcing the Dementors back. James felt a little better seeing Merlin's ferocious Patronus, and he wasn't surprised at the form it had taken. He turned back and slowly began to force his way along the length of the coal car, struggling over the rough chunks of black coal. Trees whipped past, and James could tell that this length of track was unfamiliar. He had no idea how long they had until the train met the unfinished bridge. Panic tried to grip him, but James fought it back, concentrating on the task at hand.

Finally, he met the other end of the coal car and clambered through an open iron door. A shovel rattled on the small platform behind the engine, but there was no one in sight. Merlin climbed through the iron door behind James, but his Patronus jumped over the front of the coal car, landing on the platform with its hackles raised. The noise of the engine made it almost too loud to speak. Merlin nodded toward the closed door in the rear of the engine. It was painted bright red, just like the rest of the engine. Across it, in gold letters, were the words 'Hogwarts Express Engineers Only'.

James reached for the door handle and heaved it open. It was pitch dark inside the engine compartment. James took a deep breath, steeled himself on the swaying, speeding platform, and stepped into the waiting darkness.

The noise and wind vanished instantly. There was no sense of speed or motion at all. Nor did the space inside the engine feel hot or confined, as James had expected. It felt huge, silent, and eerily cool.

"James," a voice said comfortably, "how good of you to come."

James glanced around, but he couldn't see anyone. There was no sign of Merlin, or anything else for that matter. The space seemed completely dark and featureless but for a pool of dim light that James stood in. "Where am I?" he asked, gathering his wits. "Where's Merlin?"

"He's near," the voice answered cryptically. "Interesting fellow, Merlinus, don't you think? He was the first human I ever met, you know. His fear tastes particularly piquant." The voice sighed in a selfsatisfied manner. "As far as where you are, that's a rather more difficult question to answer. I didn't want you to be overly concerned about your friends, so I took us… away. Outside of time. Outside of… well, everything, really."

"Where are you?" James demanded, glancing around.

"Oh, I keep forgetting," the voice said, laughing lightly. "You humans don't much like the whole 'godlike voice out of nowhere' sensation, do you? I'm right here."

On the word here, the voice localized. James turned toward the sound and saw a figure standing before him. It was exactly the same figure he'd seen in Merlin's Magic Mirror, right down to the tattered robe with no feet and the dark, featureless hood. James scrambled back from it, gasping.

"I apologize again," the figure said, reaching up. "Perhaps this is a bit better."

The figure of the Gatekeeper touched its hood and then swept it back. James was afraid to look but couldn't help himself. He winced at the revealed shape, and then frowned a little.

"You're the Gatekeeper?" he asked, stepping forward again. "You look a little like… like my dad. But not exactly."

"This isn't how I truly look, of course," the figure said offhandedly. "I'm still learning about humans, I admit, but I've come to understand the sorts of shapes you find acceptable." The Gatekeeper smiled disarmingly. "You expected something awful, I presume? A thousand eyes and a long, forked tail? That sort of thing?"

James nodded, and then shook his head. "I don't know what I expected. It doesn't matter, really. What do you want?"

"Right down to business," the Gatekeeper said, nodding curtly, still smiling. "That's what I respect about you, James Sirius Potter. No sentimentals. I'll tell you what I want. I want to help you."

James shook his head. "I'm not buying that. You're a liar. You want me to be your host so you can stay here on the earth and destroy everything. I've learned all about you. You just want to use me."

"Alas," the Gatekeeper said, frowning a little, "put like that, it sounds rather awful, doesn't it? On the surface of it, I mean."

"Well…," James said, a little uncertainly, "yeah, it does."

The Gatekeeper nodded, pressing its lips together. "I guess that settles it, then. You say no to me, I get no human host. Shortly, I'll lose my footing on this earthly plane and be forced back to the Void. You win." The figure shrugged, as if mildly disappointed.

"Yeah…," James agreed tentatively, "I guess that's pretty much it."

"In that case, do you mind if we just chat for a moment, James? There's no harm in that, is there?"

"Er, I guess not."

"You fancy Miss Morganstern, don't you?" the Gatekeeper said, arching an eyebrow at James and winking. "I don't blame you. Really, I don't. Delightful girl. She and I were supposed to be… very close. I have to admit, though, that I had my doubts about her. Your dead Voldemort has his rather devoted followers, and they insisted she was the one for me, but I suspected differently. And, of course, I was right. I'm always right, James. That's not pride talking, mind you. Uncertainty is the hallmark of time-bound creatures. I see history as an open book, from start to finish. I know how things are going to happen because, metaphorically speaking, I've already skipped to the last page." The Gatekeeper sighed indulgently. "Let me ask you something, James: do you know who I really am?" it asked, tilting its head.

"You're the Gatekeeper," James answered carefully. "You're evil."

"Yes, yes," the figure said, waving a hand impatiently. "But besides all of that. I have loads of names other than that one, you know. There is one that I am particularly fond of. I think it'll amuse you."

James shook his head, feeling increasingly cautious. "I don't know what you mean."

"Then let me illuminate you, James," the Gatekeeper said, suddenly approaching James and dropping to one knee. It looked closely at him, its eyes sparkling mischievously. "James, my boy, do you remember the story? The one your friend Ralph regaled you with in Wizard Literature class? You do, don't you?"

James nodded, perplexed. "Sure, but I don't see…"

"You don't see because you don't look!" the Gatekeeper interrupted. It lowered its voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "I, James, am the King of the Cats!"

James backed away as fear tingled up his back.

"Think about it," the Gatekeeper insisted, standing again and following him. "I sit at the base of the steps, Lord Guardian of the doorway between the living and the dead! I determine who passes through the Void, who proceeds into the Everlasting! And, I might add, I am also the Lord of… who comes back!"

The Gatekeeper deftly snapped its fingers. Another pool of light appeared and James couldn't help glancing at it. A figure was climbing to its feet in the pool of light, looking around in surprise and wonder. James gasped and his heart leapt.

"Grandfather…," he said, taking a step forward.

"James!" Arthur Weasley said, laughing a little. "What are you doing at the Ministry? And what in the world was I doing on the floor? I must have tripped, clumsy me."

"Grandfather!" James exclaimed, moving to run to him, but the Gatekeeper placed a hand on James' shoulder, stopping him.

"You cannot touch him, James," the Gatekeeper said sorrowfully. "Not yet. Perhaps in time."

"But how…," James cried.

Arthur Weasley tilted his head and smiled crookedly at James. "Is this part of your grandmother's secret design?" he asked. "It is, isn't it? I know she's been planning some sort of surprise party. She's never been able to fool me, although I let her believe she can, the dear. Where's everyone else?"

"He cannot see me," the Gatekeeper said, looking back at Arthur. "Those that pass through never do."

"Are… are you real?" James stammered, giddy excitement welling inside him. "Is it really you, Grandfather?"

"What kind of question is that, James?" Arthur said, looking around. "Where are we, anyway? This isn't the Ministry after all. I have to admit, I'm rather dumbfounded. Did I get off at the wrong grate on the Floo Network?"

"No, Grandfather!" James cried. "You're… you had a—"

"Shh," the Gatekeeper said. "Don't tell him."

"Why are you doing this?" James suddenly demanded, looking up at the robed entity before him. "That can't really be my grandfather! He's dead!"

"Death is just a doorway," the Gatekeeper replied, shrugging. "You never knew that it was a two-way door. You love your grandfather, do you not?"

"What would you know about that?" James demanded, fighting tears of frustration and anger.

"I admit the concept is foreign to me," the entity answered, "but I have learned enough of humans to know it is of great power to you. You'd have your grandfather back if you could, wouldn't you?"

James bit his lip, his emotions raging. In the second pool of light, Arthur was patting his pockets distractedly, as if looking for something. "Wrong address," he muttered, laughing a little nervously. "Where'd I put that packet of emergency Floo powder? Molly always insists I carry it. She'll crow for days about the fact that I finally needed it."

"Yes!" James blurted, tears welling in his eyes. "I love my grandfather. But he's gone! You can't trick me! I won't do what you ask even if it means getting him back!"

"Selfless," the Gatekeeper said seriously, nodding. "A very respectable trait. I admire it, I really do." It raised its hand and snapped its fingers again.

A third pool of light appeared. James turned to look, blinking through a blur of tears. A figure seemed to stumble backwards into the light. He was tall and thin, wearing dark robes; his long black hair was ratty and matted with sweat. He caught his balance and spun on the spot, his wand out. Wild eyes spotted James and the man stopped, breathing heavily, obviously confused.

"Harry?" he called, frowning in consternation. "You're not Harry. Are you?"

James couldn't believe his eyes. "Sirius?" he gasped. "You're Sirius Black!"

"Ten points for you," Sirius replied. "Where am I? Where's Remus and Harry and the rest? Where's bloody Bellatrix, for that matter? I'm not through with that witch."

"Sirius!" James called, hitching a sob, completely at a loss. "It's… it's over! You were k—"

"The dead don't wish to know such things," the Gatekeeper interrupted, shushing James. "But surely you can see who this is. Sirius Black. More importantly, your father's long lost godfather."

James nodded, barely hearing.

The Gatekeeper went on. "Deny yourself all you wish, James. Return your grandfather to the realm of the dead. But will you be able to live with yourself knowing that you turned down the opportunity to give your father the one man whose love he has ached for every day of his life? Will you ever be able to look your father in the eye again, knowing you have denied him his greatest wish: to have his godfather returned to him?"

James' mind was reeling. "But they're not real!"

"What does that even mean, James?" the Gatekeeper demanded. "Look at them! They know not their own fates! For them, no time has passed whatsoever. They believe they are real! Who are you to tell them otherwise?"

"I don't know!" James cried, clutching his head.

"It is so simple, James," the Gatekeeper soothed, advancing on him. "I am the King of the Cats. You may join me and see all those you've lost returned to you. Your grandfather, your father's godfather, even your long dead grandparents. There is no drawback, James, only one small price. A price you won't even mind paying, I assure you. A price you will be glad to pay!"

"What is it?" James asked helplessly, looking back and forth between Sirius Black and Arthur Weasley.

"A small thing, a trifle," the Gatekeeper said, reaching out to James and placing its hands on his shoulders. "A service to the world, really."

"I'm not going to kill anyone," James said, shaking his head, tears streaming down his face.

"Look," the Gatekeeper whispered gently, turning James around. "Look before you answer."

Behind James was another pool of light. One last figure stood inside it, seeming rather surprised to be there. Long white hair hung on either side of a haggard face, and the eyes were filled with hate. James could instantly see the family resemblance. It was Lucius Malfoy.

"What is the meaning of this…," Lucius breathed. He reached for his wand, but couldn't seem to find it in his robes. "Where is my wand?" he said, looking past James to the Gatekeeper. "I demand to know where you have taken me, you foul creature!"

"This is the man," the Gatekeeper whispered over James' shoulder. "On his hands is the blood of dozens. It was his plan that both you and your sister die in the Chamber of Secrets. He is responsible for the death of Petra Morganstern's parents, and it is by his will that she has been cursed with the demented soul of Lord Voldemort. Even now, this merciless wretch plots murder and death. His heart is a black box of hate. Kill him, James. Rid the world of this madman. Surely he deserves it. Kill him. Do it now." As it spoke, the Gatekeeper backed away, as if giving James room.

James had meant to refuse. It was on his tongue to say no, but suddenly, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Gatekeeper was right. Lucius Malfoy did deserve to die. He was irredeemable. James felt the wand in his hand even before he realized he was reaching for it. It was Ralph's. It felt hot and huge in his palm. It felt deadly.

"What is this?" Lucius purred, narrowing his eyes. "You send a boy to finish me? I know this one. He is as weak as his father is stupid. He will not do it. He hasn't the strength."

"He taunts you," the Gatekeeper said silkily, eagerly, its voice coming again from the air all around. "Show him how wrong he is. Kill him."

James' hand trembled as he leveled Ralph's wand. It seemed to hum in his fist. It wanted to kill Lucius as much as he did. And then, when the deed was done and Lucius lay dead at James' feet, he'd have his grandfather back. And Sirius Black could be Dad's godfather again, just as he always should have been. James glanced back, and saw both Sirius and Arthur watching him. They were both frowning slightly, as if they couldn't quite see what was happening.

"James," Arthur said, his voice worried. "Be careful, son."

"'James'?" Sirius said to himself, glancing at Arthur. He looked back at James, realization dawning on his face. "We're dead," he said simply. "And somehow, some way, you're Harry's son, aren't you? Who is that beyond you… Lucius Malfoy! Beware, James Potter!"

James turned back, looking up into the smug face of his nemesis.

"Do it," the Gatekeeper hissed. "Kill him now!"

Lucius growled, "You cannot! You're weak!"

"I'm not!" James sobbed. He tightened his grip on the wand and pointed it directly at the taller man's heart. And then, with blissful suddenness, assurance washed over him. He wasn't weak. He could do exactly what he had to do. In his mind, he heard both Helga Hufflepuff and Merlin's voices: the right thing to do is always simple, but it is never easy.

"I am a warrior," James whispered to himself, gritting his teeth. "And the sign of a true warrior… is knowing when not to fight."

With that, James lowered the wand. He dropped it, and then turned his back on Lucius Malfoy. Slowly, he began to walk away.

"James Sirius Potter!" the Gatekeeper shouted. "You cannot turn aside! Kill him! You owe it to the world! You owe it to yourself and your father! You cannot deny the power I am offering you!"

James looked at his grandfather sadly, his heart breaking. Arthur smiled proudly and nodded at him.

"Strong, that boy is," Sirius said, his eyes black and sparkling. "Just like his father before him."

Slowly, the pools of light faded. Arthur and Sirius descended into darkness.

James kept walking. He was nearly at the edge of his own circle of light when he heard Lucius Malfoy's voice behind him.

"If you will not kill to become the host of the Gatekeeper," he said, his voice oozing hatred, "then I will!"

James knew that Lucius had picked up Ralph's wand. He felt it pointing at him. He stopped in his tracks, not turning around.

"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius hissed, spittle flying from his lips with the force of his rage. The bolt of green light sizzled through the air and struck James squarely in the back. James felt the force of it, and it pushed him forward slightly. Still, he did not turn. He stood precisely on the edge of light and shadow.

Lucius stared at the boy, his eyes narrowed and a grimace of hatred carved on his face. The boy should fall now; he was dead. Lucius waited, still holding the rough, green-tipped wand, still pointing it at the boy's back.

There was a faint ripping sound. A long, ragged tear suddenly separated along the fabric of the Darkbag on James' back, spreading from the point where the Killing Curse had struck it. James felt movement in the Darkbag. Something was awakening inside it. Many somethings, in fact, and they were hungry.

"What kind of trick is this?" Lucius drawled nervously, taking a step backwards. He eyed the rip in the Darkbag as a noise began to emanate from it. James steeled himself, curling his hands into fists. The noise increased, becoming a loud, busy thrum. And then, violently, the Darkbag erupted. Borleys poured from the hole where Lucius' Killing Curse had ruptured it. They'd tasted the raw magic of the curse, and they wanted more. They streamed through the air toward Lucius like a cloud of bats.

Lucius' eyes bulged at the sight of the advancing Borleys. Instinctively, he waved the wand at them, firing spells randomly. Jets of light blared from the wand, and the Borleys went into a feeding frenzy, ravenous and strengthened by the magic. They fell on Lucius in a cloud.

James finally turned, letting the shredded Darkbag slip from his shoulders. When he looked back, Lucius was completely engulfed in the Borleys. They swarmed over him, devouring him alive. He screamed as they feasted on him, sucking the magic from him, vampirelike. He seemed to be shrinking. He collapsed to his knees, unseen through the boiling, shadowy mass. It was horrible, and yet James couldn't bring himself to look away. Finally, Lucius' body seemed to completely come apart. He dissolved into a sort of crumbling ash and crumpled to the floor, his last scream rasping, echoing into nothing. Satisfied, the Borleys exploded away, screeching and vanishing wildly into the darkness. Within seconds, they were gone, lost in the Void.

James stepped forward. What was left of Lucius Malfoy poured out of his sleeves and the neck of his robe like ashen powder. James knelt and, very carefully, plucked two things from the crumbling dust of Lucius' hand. As he stood, he pocketed one of them: Ralph's wand. The other, he held in his hand, feeling the small, dark power of it.

"Put that down," the Gatekeeper ordered, and its voice had changed, become deeper, less human. "You know not what you have done."

James shook his head. "I know exactly what I've done," he said.

"You cannot defy me!" the Gatekeeper roared, and it revealed itself once more. It no longer looked human, however, but like an enormous cloud of swirling smoke and ash. Eyes swarmed through the cloud, all of them furious, glowing red. "No one can defy the Gatekeeper! Release the stone! You cannot contain its power!"

"That's true," James said, no longer afraid of the Gatekeeper, "but I know someone who can."

He turned, somehow knowing that Merlin would be standing nearby. Perhaps James had even somehow caused him to be there. He walked over to the big wizard and held out his hand. In it, the ring sparkled brightly. Darts of light flashed off the black facets of the Beacon Stone.

Merlin smiled a slow, humorless smile. Gently, he took the ring and placed it on his finger, seating it alongside its twin.

"And now," Merlin said, raising his hand, "as your earthly Ambassador and bearer of the complete Beacon Stone, I command you! This is not your world, nor shall you occupy it! Begone, Beast of the Abyss, Gatekeeper of the Void! I banish you to the nothingness that shall forever be your home! Depart this moment, and never return!"

The cloud of ash and smoke roared. It made to fall upon Merlin, attempting to consume him, but a sudden, enormous crack of vivid light appeared in the darkness, slashing it open. The roar of the Gatekeeper turned into a shriek as it was pulled upward, toward the crack. It fought against the force, spinning and writhing, and for a moment, James thought it looked like a huge, inverted cyclone. And then, with a blinding flash and a clap of thunder, it was gone, banished back to the Void from which it had come.

James blinked in the silence. He took a deep breath and turned back to Merlin, exhausted.

"Is it gone?" he asked. "Gone for good?"

Merlin nodded slowly. "The door between the worlds is shut."

It was over. James turned to look back, curious to see if there was any remaining sign of that blinding crack into which the Gatekeeper had vanished. There was nothing but blackness and silence. And then—

There was a flash and James stumbled; light and noise exploded around him. He squinted, gasping for breath in the sudden noise and rush of air; he was back on the rear of the Hogwarts Express engine again, as if he'd never left it. Trees blurred past, just as before, but when James looked out over the coal car behind him, the air was bright and clear.

"The Dementors are gone!" he called to Merlin.

"Sent back to the Void along with their master," Merlin agreed, nodding.

James grinned in relief, and then suddenly remembered the train's perilous destination. "We have to stop the train!" he yelled, his eyes widening. "It's going to go off the unfinished bridge! Everyone on board will be killed!"

Merlin nodded again, his face turning grim. Once again, James opened the door of the engine compartment. Instead of darkness, however, this time he found a cramped interior space, stiflingly hot. At the front of the compartment was a bank of incomprehensible dials and gauges. Above this, two broad windows looked out over the oncoming track.

"Which one is the brake?" James called, scanning the dials and levers helplessly.

"That large lever on the floor," Merlin replied, pushing up his sleeves. "Grip the handle and pull as hard as you can, James. No matter what happens, don't let go."

James wrapped his hands around the large lever, which was nearly as tall as he was. He coiled to pull it but then made the mistake of looking out the front windows. The trees had cleared ahead, revealing a broad, mountainous panorama. The track stretched out before them, spanning a dizzyingly deep, rocky gorge, but only partially. Less than halfway across, the bridge stopped, unfinished. James' knees went weak.

"Pull it, James!" Merlin ordered, raising his arms, his face hard as granite. "Don't let go under any circumstance!"

James gasped a breath and yanked the lever as hard as he could with both hands. Gears below the engine's floor screeched and clanked as the braking mechanism engaged. Steam released explosively from the boilers on either side of the engine, sending up great white clouds. The train lurched and began to slow, but James knew there was no way it would stop in time.

Next to him, Merlin held up his arms. He was muttering quickly under his breath, his eyes closed. James looked up at him from where he stood, tugging the brake lever. The great sorcerer was trembling very slightly, nearly vibrating. Sunlight suddenly poured in through the engine's windows, and James knew they had cleared the trees at the cliff's edge. The train had begun its journey over the gorge, swiftly approaching the end of the bridge. Behind James and Merlin, nearly all of the students of Hogwarts and their teachers were hurtling along, breathless, possibly even clueless of their fate. The train continued to slow, its wheels grinding, screeching, sending up sparks, but it was no use. James craned to look through the windows and saw the end of the track approaching alarmingly fast. A wooden 'X' had been erected across it to keep workers from accidentally walking off the end. It looked pathetically fragile as the huge crimson engine bore down on it. And then, fleetingly, James saw motion at the end of the track. Something green was moving just beyond, so fast that he could barely see it. Even as James watched, however, the end of the track disappeared beneath the sightline of the engine's windows. He gritted his teeth, pulling the brake lever with all his might, and waited for the long, sickening drop.

The engine lurched noisily as if it had bumped over a curb, and James nearly lost his grip on the brake lever. Next to him, Merlin swayed but remained upright, hands still raised, still muttering under his breath. Amazingly, the train did not fall. It continued to move forward, pushed by the weight of the cars behind it, slowing almost imperceptibly. Like Merlin, the engine suddenly seemed to be vibrating. As it gradually lost its momentum, the vibration increased, becoming a noisy, jarring shudder that threatened to shake the engine apart at its bolts. One of the windows exploded in a starburst of glass, peppering the inside of the compartment with glittering shards. James winced as bits of glass and warm autumn air blew past him. A moment later, he craned to look through the broken window, his eyes wide and disbelieving as the gorge spread beneath the advancing train. The engine slowed, rattling and grinding until finally, after what seemed an eternity, it lurched to a halt. The sudden cessation of inertia threw James off balance and he stumbled to one knee, still gripping the brake lever.

Silence descended on the engine, shocking after the noise and chaos. It rang in James' ears. Shuddering, he took a deep breath and struggled to stand, shaking bits of glass from his hair.

"That was—" he began, and then jumped up, throwing his shoulder under Merlin's arm as the big wizard began to collapse. "Ugh! You're—unf!—heavy! What's wrong?"

Merlin struggled to hold himself up. He groaned and clamped a hand to his head as if to keep it on his shoulders. Slowly, he managed to support himself, and leaned against the wall of the engine compartment. James glanced up at him, frowning curiously, and then peered closer.

"What's happened to you?" he asked breathlessly. "You look… old!"

Merlin's face, not exactly young to begin with, was lined with wrinkles. There were heavy, dark circles under his eyes. Even his beard and hair seemed to have grown and become threaded with iron grey. He looked up wearily, saw James' concerned look, and smiled ruefully.

"Twenty years in thirty seconds," he said, his voice dry and cracked. "Losing two decades that quickly does tend to take it out of someone."

James boggled at him. "Where'd you lose it?"

"Right beneath this train," Merlin said, pushing himself up and turning. "Come. I cannot guarantee it'll hold much longer. We need to get everyone off this train, and quickly."

James followed the great sorcerer, and as he did, he felt the strangest sensation; it was as if the engine was swaying slightly, like a tree limb in a stiff breeze. As they clambered over the coal car and into the first passenger compartment, returning to the joyful congratulations of Rose, Ralph, Zane, and Albus, James couldn't help glancing down. The wheels of the train seemed to be choked with fresh green leaves and vines. Butterflies flitted amongst them, their wings flashing in the afternoon sun.

Half an hour later, James stood with the rest of the train's passengers a quarter of a kilometer away, spread along the edge of the gorge. They were awaiting a second train, which had been dispatched to carry them the rest of the way home.

Zane kicked a stone over the ledge and watched it bounce down the crags into the trees below. "What was it like up there in the engine?" he asked James.

"Terrifying," James said with feeling. "I thought we were dead, no question about it."

Rose asked, "Did you see him do it?"

"I saw him do something. I didn't know what he was up to."

"Twenty years' growth in thirty seconds," Albus said wonderingly. "I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't looking at it."

"The thing that amazes me most," Ralph commented, staring out over the gorge, "is that he got the tree to grow in the shape of the tracks!"

Once more, James looked out over the forested gorge between the mountains. From this angle, he could see it clearly. The unfinished train bridge ended less than halfway across. Growing from the end of the bridge, however, spreading another third of the way across, was what appeared to be a giant sequoia tree grown perfectly sideways. The tree was lush with foliage, billowing slightly in the freshening breeze. The Hogwarts Express sat atop it, steam still issuing from its boilers in a long white ribbon.

"He sent twenty years of his own life into making that tree grow," Rose said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Talk about communing with nature."

Zane nodded. "Yeah. He's still down in the hollow right now, 'communing' with the tree sprite of that sequoia. I'm just glad Merlin's the one that gets to explain to that tree how it grew so fast," he said, grinning. "And why it's got a steam train sitting on its trunk."

James, Rose, and Albus sat in the tall grass of the yard, blinking disconsolately in the morning sunlight. Nearby, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione stood talking quietly. James looked up, peering along the length of the dirt drive.

"See anyone?" Albus asked, kicking his heel in the grass.

James shook his head. "They're late."

"Why should they hurry?" Albus griped. "They already paid for it. All they have to do is sign the papers and get the key. Not that they'll ever use it."

"I wish this was all over," Rose said, sighing sadly. "I know it was my idea to come and say goodbye to the Burrow, but now that I'm here, I can barely look at the old place. Just knowing the new owners are going to tear it down…"

"Grandma and Lily are looking into flats in the city," James commented. "That could be nice. It'll be easy for her to take care of, and we could go see her whenever we want."

Albus muttered, "It won't be the same. Not without the Burrow."

James sighed. George and Angelina's wedding had been the day before, and, not surprisingly, it had been a very spirited affair. Everyone had been there, including Hagrid, Neville, and even Professor McGonagall. The former Headmistress had even danced a little, which had left the students slack-jawed with amazement. By contrast, sitting in the yard of the Burrow for the last time, waiting for the new owners to come and take it over, felt particularly disheartening. "A beginning almost always means an ending," James' dad had said as they got ready that morning, but James hadn't found that particularly comforting. Not for the first time, James found himself thinking of the final dream he'd had when he'd still had the phantom scar; the dream in which a somewhat grown-up Albus had given his wand to the young woman—Petra?—In the graveyard, who had proceeded to launch the Dark Mark and then turn the wand back on him. Obviously, that had never happened, and yet James simply couldn't shake the feeling that it was a sort of prophecy or prediction. Tabitha had told James that Albus was a boy with great potential, and that, James felt sure, had not been a bluff. Tabitha believed it. What did it all mean? James gazed at his brother in the sunlight—his brother, who bore the names of both a great Gryffindor and a great Slytherin, who looked so very much like his father, the Boy Who Lived.

"Here they come," Rose said morosely.

James followed Rose's gaze and saw a cloud of dust approaching from the end of the drive.

The three stood and brushed themselves off as the vehicle neared. They walked slowly over to stand by their parents. Harry squinted and adjusted his glasses.

"They have a different car than the one they drove to the bank," he commented.

Ginny said, "You would notice that, Mr. Auror."

"Must be nice," Ron mumbled. "Buying a house and a new car all in the same week."

"Shh," Hermione said, but without much feeling.

Harry was frowning slightly. "That's not exactly a new car. In fact…" Suddenly, his face broke into a wondering grin. "I'll be a hinkypunk's uncle…"

"What?" Albus asked, standing on tiptoes and shielding his eyes from the sun.

James looked as well. As the vehicle rolled closer, he could see that it was certainly not a new car. It was, in fact, very old but carefully restored. It bounced and jogged on the uneven path, winking sunlight off its chrome bumper and huge windscreen.

"It's the Anglia!" Rose cried, jumping up and down, clapping her hands. "Granddad's Anglia! But how?"

Harry was shaking his head, smiling. Ron frowned, puzzled, as the car ground to a squeaky halt directly in front of them. The driver's door swung open and a large figure climbed out. James didn't recognize the man at first since he still wasn't accustomed to that suddenly aged face.

"Merlinus!" Hermione said, stepping forward to meet him. "What are you doing here? How did you get Arthur's automobile?"

"I am happy to say," Merlin replied, "that it came with the house. This is the correct address, is it not? I assume I'd not find the lot of you standing in front of anyone else's soon-to-be-reacquired home."

Ron laughed. "This is the place, I guess, but what do you mean? Where are the Templetons?"

"Happily negotiating the sale of a condominium in Kensington Knob, I believe," Merlin answered, carefully closing the door of the Anglia. "After the rather unseemly amount I paid them for this charming domicile, I suspect they were able to increase their home-buying budget rather a lot."

"You bought the Burrow?" James exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face.

"But why, Merlin?" Harry asked, shaking his head in wonderment.

Merlin looked surprised. "I would think the answer to that is quite obvious. I am still rather new to this age and in need of a home for myself. The offices at the school are quaint, but a wizard of my temperament desires room to spread out. I find this cottage to be perfectly suited to my needs, if perhaps a bit too large. That is why I was hoping I might persuade the previous owner to stay on, to keep me company and manage the place during the school terms."

"You want Grandma Weasley to come live here again?" Rose cried happily. "Hooray! That's wonderful!"

Ron asked, "Are you serious? You'd really want Mum to keep living here?"

Merlin nodded dismissively. "Perhaps she'd indulge me with a cup of tea now and then. I, on the other hand, can help her to magically support the place. Seems a fair trade, does it not?"

Hermione grinned happily. "You'd have to lock Molly in the attic to keep her from making tea for you. Really, Merlinus, this is more than we could have hoped for. But where did you get the money?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes conspiratorially. "Did you know that Gringotts bank is over twelve hundred years old? It's truly remarkable what a small investment can turn into over a thousand years. Let's just say that I will not be lacking for income for quite some time."

"You made a deposit before you zapped through time?" Ron exclaimed, his eyes going wide. "That's genius!"

"What fun is it being a sorcerer if you cannot manipulate temporal loopholes to your advantage?" Merlin agreed, matching Ron's grin.

"Let's go get Grandma and Lily!" Albus said excitedly. "Before she does anything stupid like renting some flat in the city! We can move her back in today, right? Right?"

"I don't see why not," Harry laughed. "If it's all right with Merlin."

"I'd not have it any other way," the big man replied. "In fact, we can take your grandfather's delightful vehicle. I believe we'll all fit inside if we don't mind getting rather close."

"The Anglia?" James asked as everyone began to clamber into the old car. "It'll take us forever to get into the city in that."

"I think you'll be surprised," Merlin answered, climbing into the driver's seat and smiling cryptically. "Hold on to something, everyone. This might be a little bumpy."

Carefully, Merlin pushed a large button on the car's dashboard. With a jerk and rattle, the huge canvas wings erupted from the car's sides, protruding from behind James' head where he sat in the backseat. Noisily, the wings began to flap up and down, assuming a steady rhythm.

"The wings work!" Albus laughed. "You got the wings working! Excellent!"

Slowly, accompanied by a rising cloud of windy dust, the car lifted off the drive. Ron whooped from the passenger's side window as Merlin steered the car in the air, aiming it toward the western horizon. To the sound of delighted laughter and Hermione's shriek of happy terror, Merlin stepped on the accelerator, pushing it to the floor. The wings buzzed, and the car nosed down, darting like a bumblebee over the yard of the Burrow and casting its shadow over the garage as it went.

For miles around, Muggle children looked up, wondering about the mysterious sound of laughter that passed quickly, fleetingly overhead.

The End