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

James sighed. "I've got a plan, Rose," he admitted in a low voice. "I wasn't sure I was going to go through with it, but I am now. I need to clear Merlin's name if I can. I'm going to find out the truth about whether he is involved with those people we saw, and that horrible, er, thing in the smoky cloak."

Rose narrowed her eyes at James. "You know something about that thing, don't you?" she asked. "You're hiding something. Does it have to do with that weird pain you get in your forehead sometimes?"

"What?" James said, startled. "No! I… er, I don't feel that anymore."

"Right," Rose nodded. "You smacked your forehead and yelled in pain that day outside the Headmaster's office because you suddenly remembered the extra credit answer on your Arithmancy test."

James deflated. "Look, yeah, I still feel it sometimes. I don't know where it's coming from. But it doesn't have anything to do with Merlin, all right?"

"Scorpius says you're having bad dreams," Rose said, looking closely at James.

"Bloody hell, Rose! What's he doing, staying up nights taking notes?"

"He says you've been talking in your sleep and getting all worked up. He can't hear what you're saying, but it always seems to be the same. And it's happening a couple of times a week."

James glared at Rose, and then looked away. "Yeah, so what? I hardly ever even remember the dreams. And even when I do, they don't make any sense. There's always a voice talking, and flashing blades, and the sound of old machinery. Someone is walking and I'm following them, but I can't see who it is. And then there's water and some weird faces. So what? It's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I know you well enough to know you don't believe that."

James shook his head. "Look, I don't know what it's all about. Maybe it does have something to do with the weird pain I get on my forehead sometimes. Cedric… Cedric says he can actually see a scar there. He says it glows green."

"No!" Rose exclaimed, as if she thought that was the coolest thing she'd ever heard. She leaned in, studying James' forehead. "Can you see it when you look in the mirror? Does it glow when you turn off the lights?"

"This isn't funny, Rose!" James said, backing away. "But at least it means I'm not a nutter. If Cedric sees it, then it isn't in my head."

"Yeah," Rose agreed. "Technically, it's on your head."

James grimaced at his cousin. "But the point is that this has nothing to do with how I intend to find out the truth about Merlin."

"How, James?" Rose asked seriously. "I mean, Ralph's right about one thing: if Merlin is involved with that evil plot, he's one scary character to go up against. He'd have no qualms about getting you out of the way. Let Ralph and me help you, at least."

James shook his head. "I don't need help, Rose. Sorry. It'd just get you two into trouble too if we got caught."

Rose had always been very practical. She nodded solemnly. "When are you going to do it?"

James' face grew determined. "Tonight, if I can. If everything goes right, we'll know the truth by tomorrow morning. Wish me luck."

"You'll need more than luck, you berk," Rose said. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing."

James thought of the way Merlin had found him in the halls, both when he'd been standing guard for the Gremlins and when he'd gone for the rolling chalkboard. Merlin knew when things were going on around the school, and he'd know what James was up to if James wasn't very careful.

"So do I, Rose," James agreed as he and his cousin walked down the corridor toward the Great Hall, "so do I."

James had a simple plan. He'd talked Cedric's ghost into helping, although it had been a close thing. Cedric didn't like going into the Headmaster's office now that Merlin was occupying it, and there was some sort of boundary that prevented ghosts from entering the Headmaster's personal quarters. Still, Cedric could hover outside the windows and see when the lights went off. Presumably, Merlin slept sometime. When the lights in his quarters had been off for an hour, Cedric was to come and wake James.

James went to bed that night certain that he wouldn't sleep a wink. He was nervous about his plan, partly because he thought he might be caught no matter how sneaky he was and partly because he was afraid of what he'd discover if the plan succeeded. Every time he began to drift to sleep, he'd imagine he was hearing Cedric coming to wake him. It was silly because the ghost made no noise whatsoever unless he wanted to, so James would never hear his approach. Still, every bump and creak caught James' attention until, eventually, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

He had the dream again, but it was different this time. As always, it began with the swish and glimmer of metal blades, frighteningly close, and the rumble of ancient machinery. There was the voice, silky and ingratiating, a little maddening. It echoed so that James couldn't understand it, but occasional phrases slipped through. "Time is not yet come…," the voice said, and "The task set before you…" and "… bearer of redemption…" In the dream, James shuddered.

There was a figure walking with him, but all James could see in the darkness was a faceless silhouette. James seemed to float with the figure, as if carried by it somehow. He felt the scar on his head like a weight. Then, for the first time, light bloomed in the strange space. It emanated from the pool, green and flickering, throwing dancing ripples over every surface. The walls were stone, old and slick with moss. James had a sense of being underground, far from the light of day. The voice continued to speak as figures moved in the brightly glimmering water, like reflections from another world. The voice came from a figure in the dark corner, draped in black. As it spoke, the two faces formed in the water again, their expressions both sad and hopeful, pleading. They were clearer this time, rippling just under the water's surface: a man and a woman, younger than James' parents. James' companion gasped and dropped to kneel, crawling to the water's edge, reaching to touch the rippling surface.

"Stop," the voice commanded. "The time is not yet come. You would join them in that world, not return them to this one. Their blood calls for payment. Only then can they cross over. But you can extract that payment. You are the one to bring about redemption, not only for them, but for all who've gone over at the will of the oppressors. You are the hand of balance. Your duty is harsh, and your burden heavy, but it is not without its rewards. You will have them back. And you will live to see the day of change. If you wish it."

"I wish it," the voice of James' companion whispered, and James whispered it as well, helpless not to. His voice made no sound at all.

He awoke, startled by some noise. The dream remained vivid in his memory so that it almost felt like he was still dreaming. He sat up in his bed and could tell by the moonlight that it was the very dead of night. Nearby, Graham slept with one arm dangling over the bed. The room was full of the silence of deep sleep.

"Cedric?" James whispered very quietly, careful not to wake anyone. He threw back his covers and slipped out of bed. There was no sign of the ghost. Perhaps he was down in the common room. James collected his wand and his glasses from his satchel and made his way to the stairs. He stopped near the doorway, noticing something strange. Scorpius' bed was rumpled but empty. James narrowed his eyes. Where was that little viper? He thought about Scorpius telling Rose he'd heard James talking in his sleep. Why had Scorpius been awake those times? He was surely up to something. Reluctantly, James determined to think about it later. He had more important things to do now. He turned and crept down the stairs to the common room.