G. Lippert - James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"James?" Rose asked, concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What does it do?" James replied bluntly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What manner of club?" Merlin asked briskly.

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

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

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

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