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

Shockingly, Slytherin suddenly flitted across the top of the tower, soaring, his feet not touching the ground and his robes flapping like leathery wings. He stopped directly in front of James, towering over him, his eyes fierce and intent. "You are that business," he rasped gleefully. He studied James' face triumphantly, almost lovingly. Then, suddenly, he turned away. His feet touched the ground again and he walked casually out onto the wooden floor of the center of the tower. James saw that the trapdoor in the center of the floor was closed and locked. There'd be no escape that way.

"A moment ago, down in my quarters, I was the teacher and you were the pupil, boy," Slytherin said, looking out over the low wall that surrounded the tower. "Let us now reverse those roles. My friends and I wish to learn much from you tonight. You have the honorable task of teaching us. Let us start with something simple. What is your name?"

James felt a strong urge not to answer. If he answered even the most basic question, he feared he would answer all of them. Some latent idea of braveness and nobility insisted he remain silent no matter what Slytherin or his cronies did to him.

"You are thinking it is courageous to remain silent, my boy," Slytherin said slyly, looking back at James over his shoulder. "You are thinking we will not merely kill you and use our arts to extract what we wish from the meat of your dead brain. You are thinking that such things do not happen to brave little boys. And this proves to me, my young friend, that you are indeed unfamiliar with this age. I know not what happens in the time from which you come, but here, terrible things happen to little boys every single day. Moreover, you are unknown here. You are a stranger. No one knows who you are, or even that you exist. If you disappeared, none would look for you. None would so much as notice your absence. Knowing that, do you really wish to stake your life on the hope that I, Salazar Slytherin, might be too soft-hearted to execute you this very night?"

James met Slytherin's eyes. They glittered in the moonlight like coins. There was no soul in them. In them, James could very well see his own death.

James swallowed, and then stood up straight. "My name is James," he declared, trying very hard not to betray his fear.

"See how easy that was, James?" Slytherin asked, gesturing grandly. James saw that the wizard had his wand in his hand. He flicked it, almost casually, and a bolt of stunning, excruciating pain rammed down James' spine. He arched his back and stumbled backwards, landing on the stone terrace. The agony was monumental. In it, James forgot where he was. His vision went white and hazy. All that mattered was that the pain should stop. It seemed to last hours and days. Then, suddenly, it was gone, and James knew that it had been mere seconds. His eyes cleared and he saw Slytherin standing over him, smiling with interest.

"I did not do that because you only answered the question partially," Slytherin said. "I did that because you hesitated. I trust you won't let it happen again."

Slytherin spun, as if to address everyone present. "And now, loud enough for us all to hear, what is your full name?"

James struggled up, grunting. His knees felt watery and very weak, but he got them beneath him. "James Sirius Potter," he answered, hating himself for it. The thought of that pain striking him again was horrid. He'd do almost anything to avoid it. And besides, he thought, what did it matter? What could Slytherin do with any information James might give him? It was a thousand years in the past, wasn't it?

But the future is built on the foundation of the past, a voice seemed to whisper in James' ear. He thought it was the voice of his father. Be careful, James. Be shrewd.

"James Sirius Potter," Slytherin said. "Such an innocent sounding name. Where are you from, Master Potter? When is your time? What can you tell us of it? Pray, leave nothing out."

"I'm from the future," James said grimly. "A thousand years from now. I am a student at this school in that time."

"Amazing," Slytherin said, his voice eager. "And yet this is obviously a lie. I credit your boldness, but it will not serve you well. Answer me truthfully this moment or face the Cruciatus Curse again. What say you?"

"It is the truth," James replied, raising his voice. "If you want me to make up something to suit what you want to hear, just let me know. I'll be happy to tell you whatever story you want."

"Do not tempt us, James Sirius Potter. If, indeed, Hogwarts College exists a thousand years from now, then it exists in a day when the magical realm has finally subjugated the Muggle hoard. There would be no room in such a college for a student like yourself, a boy of obviously dull abilities and mental weakness. Such a college would put you out where you belong: with the Muggle cattle and half-blood dogs. Tell us the truth now, or die with your lies."

"I'm not lying!" James said, growing bold. "Your predictions don't come true! In my time, the Muggles live alongside the magical world. They don't even know about us! The wizarding world has lived in secrecy among them for centuries. There are laws that make sure no witch or wizard tells any Muggle about us. Not only am I a student a Hogwarts, some of my classmates are the children of Muggles. In my time, any witch or wizard can attend Hogwarts, no matter who their parents are. Your stupid plans are going to come to nothing! In fact, in my time, you're best known for getting kicked out of the school because you were a mad, power-hungry loon!"

"You lie!" Slytherin roared, wheeling on James and raising his wand. "You have come here to sow deceit and doubt, but you are found out! You have not the slightest shred of evidence that this time you speak of is true, and the evidence of our very beings proves you false. The wizarding realm could never sink into the shadows of the Muggle world. It would be a blasphemy and a mockery. If this age that you describe were a reality, it would collapse under the weight of its own absurdity!"

Slytherin turned again, his robes flapping in the wind as he raised his arms. "My friends! We are confronted with a mystery. If the world this James Sirius Potter describes is, in some version of the shifting mists of the future—and against all logic—a reality, then it must be prevented at all costs. And if, as I strongly suspect, this boy is a fraud and a liar, flying in the face of our every attempt to consort with him as gentlemen, then he is our mortal enemy. Either way, our course is clear…" Here, Slytherin whipped around again and glared at James. "The boy must die," he said, grinning viciously. He raised his wand.

Without thinking, James ducked and leapt as Slytherin called the words of the Killing Curse. The bolt of green sizzled over James' head. He scrambled down to the lowest terrace and hid behind one of the two stone chairs.

"Stay your wands," Slytherin called to his associates, unperturbed. "I can manage the boy. None of you need bother yourselves."

James wished desperately that he still had his wand. An idea occurred to him and he called out. "Hey! You call yourself a gentleman? Not much nobility in cursing a kid, is there? At least give me my wand!"

Slytherin laughed in delight. "Finally, the boy shows some spirit," he cried. "As you wish, Master Potter. Let us duel. Come forth and collect your wand."

James peered cautiously around the side of the throne. Slytherin saw him and his grin widened. He produced James' wand from his robes and held it out. James steeled himself and climbed to his feet again. He began to cross the wooden floor toward Slytherin, carefully and quickly, his heart pounding.

Suddenly, surprisingly, there was a loud thump from directly beneath James' feet. He jumped, startled, and looked down. He was standing on the trapdoor.