G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

"Right!" Team Bigfoot responded with slightly less than their original fervor.

"Right," Wood agreed. "Now get something to drink and limber up. We're back in the air in three minutes."

It was nearly full dark by now with only a pink rim spreading along the western horizon. James took a moment to look around the grandstands, hoping to see some sign of his family. Sure enough, he spotted his mum in the grandstand directly behind the Bigfoot platform. She saw him looking and waved at him, her face pale and strained, as if she were desperately wishing the match were over rather than merely at halftime. Next to her was Lily, Aunt Audrey, Cousin Molly, and Viktor Krum, who sat ramrod straight, his face etched with restrained anger.

Join the club , James thought sourly. And then: where's everyone else?

He scanned the seats all around his mum. There was no sign of Albus. Neither in sight were Uncle Percy, Lucy, or Izzy. James was again visited by that sense of sinking dread. I can't think about that now , he reminded himself. Wi n the Clutch match first. Then deal with everything else .

Wood called the team over to the edge of the platform. Halftime was nearly over. James turned away from his family and Viktor Krum, returning to the matter at hand.

But where are they, he thought naggingly, worriedly. What in the world could be so important that Lucy, Izzy, and Albus wouldn't be here to watch the match ?

Shortly enough, though, the teams launched from their platforms and merged into the figure eight course. Professor Sanuye blew his whistle once more and the match launched again into motion, wild and ferocious.

In the midst of it, James forgot about his brother, friend, and cousin completely.

Lucy was watc hing the match, in fact, in a manner of speaking.

"What's the score?" Izzy asked, her voice small.

"I don't know," Lucy replied quietly. "The scoreboard's too little to make out from here."

The two girls sat in a small waiting area on the fourth floor of the Medical College. Nearby, a round desk was dominated by a ghostly miniature representation of the ongoing Clutchcudgel tournament match. The tiny spectral players swooped and zoomed silently through rings no larger than dinner plates. The witch working the desk was plump and pale, her red hair cut so short and curly that it looked like a helmet. She was watching the match whenever she wasn't glancing furtively at the Wizarding Court officials gathered near the hall.

"Which one is James?" Izzy asked for the third time. She leaned her head against Lucy's shoulder.

"One of the ones wearing blue and orange," Lucy answered patiently. "With dark hair. It's hard to keep track of him with things moving so fast."

Izzy nodded against Lucy's shoulder.

From the hallway nearby, voices approached. Lucy looked up, feeling a gulf of nervousness in her stomach. She'd volunteered at the Medical College for the past two months, mostly for extra credit, but also because she liked being around the recuperating patients, liked helping people who were so grateful for even the slightest thing. Tonight, however, she wasn't working. She wouldn't have been allowed to be here at all if her father hadn't been who he was. As a senior vice director in the Ministry of Magic, he was the closest thing to an official representative of Izzy's home government as was likely to be found. There wasn't much he could do other than observe, but he was committed to doing that, if nothing else, and Lucy loved him for it. She herself was only there to keep Izzy company until the moment came when the men would call the blonde girl back into the room beyond the hall's double doors. When Izzy came out of those doors again, she wouldn't know who Lucy was, or anyone else for that matter. At that point, Izzy would be as alone as anyone on earth could be. Until that happened, Lucy meant to stay by her side.

"What are they going to do to me?" Izzy asked without raising her head.

Lucy pressed her lips together tightly and then said, "They're going to make you forget."

Izzy nodded again. "There are some things it'll be nice to forget."

Lucy considered this as she stared at the large round desk and the tiny ghostly Clutch players that swirled over it.

"Will I forget my mother?" Izzy asked.

Lucy began to answer and then paused. "Actually," she answered quietly, "you may not. She wasn't a witch."

There was another pause. The voices in the hallway were still talking, quietly and intensely. Lucy heard her father among them. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but she could see their shadows on the hallway wall, gesturing animatedly.

"Will I forget the lake?" Izzy asked softly. She lifted her head and looked directly at Lucy, her eyes intent. "Will I forget the gazebo and the Wishing Tree?"

Lucy didn't know what that meant. "Probably," she ventured. "I expect so."

Izzy nodded. "Good. That's good. I don't want to remember that."

Lucy sighed deeply. The men in the hall had stopped walking as they talked, but now they approached again. Lucy sensed that they were finally coming for Izzy. For her own part, Izzy wasn't paying them any attention.

"When it's all over," she asked, leaning her head on Lucy's shoulder again, "will Petra and I be able to go home again? Back to our little rowhouse here at the school?"

Lucy held her breath, her eyes widening slowly. She supposed she could lie to Izzy. After all, in a few minutes, none of it would matter. Izzy wouldn't remember that she ever had a big stepsister, much less the details of this conversation. And yet, Lucy couldn't bring herself to tell Izzy anything other than the truth.

"No, Iz," she said very softly. "I'm sorry. No."

"Where will we go then?" Izzy asked, and as she raised her head once more, Lucy saw the first cloud of doubt pass over the girl's face.

"You'll go… somewhere else," Lucy answered, not taking her gaze from Izzy's eyes.

Izzy whispered, "But what about Petra?"

Lucy shook her head and tried to smile encouragingly. It was very difficult. "It'll be all right, Iz," she said. "You won't remember her."

Izzy's face began to darken. Her lips pulled down in a slow frown and her brow clouded. Her eyes thickened with sudden tears. "I'll remember Petra," she said, certainty and doubt mingling in her words. "I could never forget Petra."

"I'm sorry, Iz," Lucy said, cursing herself for ruining the poor girl's last moments of awareness.

"I won't forget Petra," Izzy said again stubbornly. A tear spilled over onto her right cheek and she glanced toward the door. The men came into sight even as she looked. The one in the lead was the arbiter, Albert Keynes. Behind him, looking perfectly miserable, his face pinched into a helpless frown, was Lucy's father.

"Izabella," Keynes said, cocking his head slightly and smiling, "come on over here now, darling. We're all ready for you."

"No," Izzy replied immediately, pressing back into her chair. Her lower lip stuck out in defiance.

Keynes stopped in front of Izzy. Still smiling, he hunkered down on one knee before her.

"I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer, darling," the man said, tilting his head toward her, as if he meant to play. "Come along with me, and when it's all over, I'll give you a lollipop."

"I won't remember lollipops when it's all over," Izzy replied immediately. "And I won't remember you. Or Lucy. Or any of the rest of you. And I won't… remember … Petra ."

Lucy realized that Izzy was crying. Tears ran down her pink cheeks in shining rivulets. They weren't tears of sadness, however, at least not entirely. Mostly, Lucy realized, they were tears of anger.