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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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