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

Zane wasn't so certain. "This is old magic, Rose. It isn't like Ralph battled Merlin and won his wand. The staff was broken up, and Ralph only got a part of it. It still remembers when it was whole, and knows Merlin is still master of the rest of it. You might be right, but we can't assume what is true of a whole wand is true of a partial staff."

"Definitely don't tell Ralph that," James said. "He's nervous enough already, and he'll never know the truth unless it comes down to a fight. It'd be best if he truly believed his wand was his entirely. It might actually help make it true."

Zane nodded. "In the meantime, I'll check with Madame Delacroix about your voodoo doll. I'll try to get her to tell me what it can do. After all, she's the one that made it."

Rose asked, "You can talk to her?"

"Sure. She's right here on the grounds, on the psychiatric floor of the Poe Medical College. They keep her under lock and key, but she's allowed visitors. She's pretty dotty after that whole experience in the Grotto Keep, but I bet she remembers me. And a big chunk of log." Zane grinned a little wickedly.

"I doubt it will come to that again," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "But it might help loosen her tongue. After all, it was one of your presidents that said to speak softly and carry a big stick."

"Yeah," Zane agreed, "big sticks are a specialty of mine."

After that, Zane wished James and Rose a goodnight and Merry Christmas. He apparently had a Christmas party to go to himself, since it was quite a lot earlier where he was. He broke into a rather rude Christmas carol and vanished halfway through the chorus.

James and Rose said goodnight as well and went their separate ways, climbing the stairs to their dormitories. It occurred to James that he had the second-years' dormitory all to himself during the holiday, and it worried him a little. He reminded himself that if what Zane said was true, Merlin couldn't harm him inside the walls of Hogwarts. Still, the thought that Merlin might actually desire to harm James, as well as Rose and Ralph, was slightly terrifying. It was one thing to have a nebulous, generic enemy floating loose on the earth, but it was another thing entirely to have a specific enemy under the same roof as you, and to know that that enemy was one of the most powerful sorcerers ever. Fortunately, after the day's activities in the snow and the stresses of his conversations with Petra and his parents, James was exhausted enough not to care. Besides, James had a vague sense that Cedric was watching out for him. If Merlin came for James, Cedric would find a way to warn him first. Thinking that, James fell into a deep sleep.

He had the dream again, and it was clearer than ever. There was the flash and swish of blades and the rattle of old machinery. There was the flickering pool and the sad faces of the young man and woman. Worst of all, there was the keening voice of the dark shape in the shadows, constantly enticing, promising, instructing. A sense of deep sadness pervaded the dream, but under the sadness, like sharp knives under a soft blanket, there was anger. It was a cold, pulsing rage, broad as the sky and deep as the ocean. And finally, for the first time, James saw his companion, reflected in the rippling surface of the pool; a silhouette and a hint of a face. He still didn't know where the pool was or where this secret, hidden place was buried, but he finally had a sense of who this tormented person was. Long, raven hair hung past piercing eyes. The eyes were like coals: hard and cold, but concealing a fire that could burn anything and everything.

"You have cursed," the voice of the shadows said softly, evilly. "You have tested the waters, yes. But you must perform the ultimate rite to become truly worthy. You must make a sacrifice so great that there will be no turning back. You must take from those who took from you. It will be a hard and painful path, and only you can walk it, but it is the price of balance. You must be willing to tread that path for all those who will come after you. And for that sacrifice, they will honor your memory. They will sing of you. Your story will become legend. And through that legend, you will live forever, no matter what happens to your mortal form. Through your trials, justice will be achieved. Those you've lost will be returned. Their blood will be repaid in the only way that it can be: with more blood. It is your duty and your honor."

"It is my honor," the raven-haired figure answered in a cold, calm voice. A tear dripped from the figure's chin and struck the pool, where it steamed.

James slept on. And in the morning, he barely remembered the dream. But his phantom scar throbbed worryingly, and James wondered about it, knowing it meant something, but unable to quite work out what. He made his way down to breakfast, and by the time he entered the Great Hall, the pain in his forehead had gone entirely. Albus and Rose were seated at the Gryffindor table with Hugo and Petra, and all of them were engaged in raucous conversation. James joined them, smiling happily.

By the time breakfast was over, he'd completely forgotten the dream.

14. A RTIS D ECERTO

The Christmas holiday ended strangely for James. Since neither he, Rose nor Albus had gone anywhere, there was no doleful return trip. Instead, it felt as if school returned to them. On the Sunday when most of the students arrived back from their travels, James and Rose sat in a sunny window seat overlooking the courtyard. Silently, they watched bundled classmates unloading their bags and trunks, lugging them up the steps to the main entrance. The enormous snowman James, Rose, and Albus had erected was becoming soft in a sudden thaw. Its carrot nose drooped sadly and one of its stick arms had fallen off. Melting snow dripped steadily from the castle roofs and balconies. James felt rather glad that the holidays were over and looked forward to resuming classes and drama rehearsals.

Strangely enough, none of them had seen Merlin at all during the entire holiday. James had passed Professor McGonagall in the hall outside her office, and she had informed him that, as far as she knew, Merlin had spent the holiday at the castle.

"It isn't as if the Headmaster has any family, you know," she'd commented. "And one can only assume that his Christmas traditions would be rather different than ours, at any rate. Besides, Headmaster Ambrosius is a very private man, as you may have noticed. If he had any plans, I doubt he'd have told any of us."

Classes began again and James noticed that the second half of the term had a rather different tone than the first. Especially with the older students, there was a noticeably more serious attitude about homework and studies. All in all, it made James glad he was not yet old enough to participate in O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. examinations.

As Defence Against the Dark Arts classes resumed, Professor Debellows introduced techniques from a form of magical martial arts called Artis Decerto. James' attitude about such things had been rather transformed by his encounter with Salazar Slytherin on the top of the Sylvven Tower, where he'd surprised himself by putting Debellows physical defensive techniques to very good use. He paid close attention to the new moves, which looked quite a lot like dancing, but were actually a method of keeping one's body light and flexible, allowing for impressive displays of spell dodging. As an example, Debellows invited the class to form a line and make their wands ready. One by one, each student was to attempt to Disarm, Stun, or Sting Debellows. "Your choice," the professor said, grinning and hopping lightly from foot to foot.