here - James Potter Project

JAMES POTTER
AND THE BOLT OF AGES
By
Lisa Marie Wilt
www.jamespotterproject.com
[email protected]
The James Potter Project is a fan-fic written by Lisa Marie Wilt. It is based upon the Harry Potter series written by
J.K. Rowling and is in no way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or Warner Brothers.
*i*
For fans everywhere who, like me,
weren’t ready to say goodbye.
* ii *
CONTENTS
ONE
Seer and Plot – 1
TWO
The Wand Chooses the Wizard – 8
THREE
The Sorting Hat’s Offer – 23
FOUR
The Marked Man – 42
FIVE
The Bolt of Ages – 61
SIX
The Journey to Flourish and Blotts – 74
SEVEN
Rhyme and Riddle – 89
EIGHT
Winter’s Daughter – 98
NINE
A Closer Look – 114
* iii *
TEN
The Asps of Slytherin – 129
ELEVEN
Hera – 143
TWELVE
Kreachers and Snares – 154
THIRTEEN
The Pendant of Bast – 169
FOURTEEN
Which Where – 179
FIFTEEN
The Collector - 194
SIXTEEN
Uncle Alphard – 220
SEVENTEEN
Feet With No Owner – 233
EIGHTEEN
The Man on the Platform – 241
* iv *
NINETEEN
The Mark Revealed – 256
*v*
CHAPTER ONE
SEER AND PLOT
December 31st, 1926
A light snow was just beginning to fall on the streets of London. It dusted rooftops and
danced beneath street lamps, eventually coming to settle on empty sidewalks. It was still early
evening, but the sounds of raucous New Year’s Eve celebrations were already drifting out of
clubs and dance halls, as if in defiance to the cold silence outside.
On the outskirts of the city, far away from the blast of trumpets, the clinking of glasses,
and the laughter of pretty girls, the same light snow fell on a courtyard in front of a tall, square
building surrounded by high railings. Like the other buildings around it, its windows were dark
and its facade grim, making it seem to exude unfriendliness. It might have even appeared
unoccupied or derelict, if it weren’t for the sound of a woman’s agonized wails coming from
within.
Inside the cellar, a lantern flared to life, illuminating the exhausted face of a sixteen year
old girl with cropped black hair. As she shook out the match, her hand trembled. It wasn’t
because she was tired (though she was). It wasn’t because of the chill in the cellar, either. It
wasn’t even because that small, dark room below the kitchens had always made her feel uneasy
(especially when she was sent down alone). No, the discomfort she was feeling was most
certainly centered around the strange girl who had arrived at the orphanage that evening — the
girl who was writhing on the bedstead behind her.
*1*
In the few weeks that Ruth had been working at Wool’s Orphanage, she had already seen
a number of desperate, pregnant women stagger up the building’s front steps, but something
about this girl — yes, she was only a girl, she couldn’t be much older than Ruth herself — was
more unsettling than usual. Perhaps it had to do with her skeletal appearance, the odd way that
her dull, sunken eyes seemed to stare in opposite directions. Then again, perhaps it was
something else. Something unnamable and intangible, but certainly present, that hung around
the girl like a heavy mist…
“Ruth, what are you waiting for? The baby’s coming now! Mind the girl’s head!”
Frances Busby, a formidable old woman, had been the matron at Wool’s for more than
forty years. She had a tight, mean little mouth, wore a plain grey dress, and never seemed to
have a problem informing Ruth of all of her shortcomings.
“You’re probably still sulking over that blasted party. I don’t want to hear another word
about it, or about that boy, Roger Cowl.”
Ruth tried her best not to grimace as she assumed a position near the girl’s head. The
boy’s name was Roger Cole, not Roger Cowl, and Ruth had fancied him for years. He was
throwing a New Year’s Eve party at his flat that evening while his parents were on holiday. If
Ruth had been free to go, she might have gotten the chance to talk to him, or even to dance with
him, but instead here she was in a dark cellar, delivering another unfortunate child into the
world. Plucking up her courage as best she could, because the thought of touching the girl at all
seemed abhorrent, Ruth took the corner of the soiled sheet the girl lay on and used it to gingerly
mop her sweaty brow.
Frances was by now, with all of her experience, very efficient at delivering babies. It
wasn’t very long at all before the girl’s body went limp, and Frances straightened up to hand a
newborn infant to Ruth. He was surprisingly light, and laid very still.
“He isn’t crying,” Ruth said.
“Is he breathing?” Frances asked without looking, wiping her hands on her dirty apron.
Ruth felt around the baby’s ribs, and held her ear near his mouth. He was breathing, but
he was very cold. This worried her, because she had never before been handed a newborn child
that was as cold as he was.
“Yes, I think so, but he’s freezing.”
Frances took off the apron and handed it to her.
*2*
“Wrap him in this, give him to his mother. Let her decide if she’s keeping him or not. I
need to check on the other children. Albert has been having nightmares, and Lucy’s been
sneaking out of bed...”
Frances abruptly disappeared up the creaking stairs, leaving Ruth alone with the strange
girl, who was now quiet but for her shallow, raspy breathing. She had her dull eyes fixed on the
dark ceiling, but it seemed that she wasn’t really looking at it at all. Ruth wrapped the infant
gently in the apron before cautiously approaching her.
“It’s a boy,” she said quietly, stopping a few feet away from the iron bedstead.
The girl said nothing, merely keeping her ill-aligned eyes on the ceiling. Ruth chanced to
take a few steps closer.
“Would you like to hold him?”
For a long while the girl still did not reply. Finally, without taking her eyes off the
ceiling, she spoke. Her voice was low, barely above a whisper.
“I hope… he looks like his papa.”
By the whiteness of her face, and the slight tremors rocking her small body, Ruth now
realized that the girl was in no state to hold the baby.
“Are you all right, love? Do you need me to send for a doctor?”
The girl did not respond.
“I’ll go send for a doctor,” said Ruth, backing toward the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!”
The girl suddenly reached for the back of Ruth’s skirt, her eyes bulging frighteningly.
“Stay… please!”
Ruth hesitated. After all, what did she owe the girl? In that moment, she took in the
girl’s stringy black hair, and the way it hung like rotting seaweed on either side of her gaunt,
hollowed face. Where had the girl come from? What had she been through? Perhaps it was the
way the girl was so desperate to connect to someone, anyone at all, but finally Ruth softened.
She took a seat on the edge of the bedstead.
“I’m here. I’ll stay with you.”
The girl gasped a sigh of relief, and her vice-like grip loosened as she slumped back onto
the pillow.
*3*
“He must be called Tom… after his father. Marvolo… after mine. Tom Marvolo
Riddle.”
“Tom… Marvolo… Riddle,” repeated Ruth uncertainly. It sounded to her like a name
that belonged in a circus, and she wondered for a moment if that was where the girl had come
from.
“Yes…” breathed the girl. Her glassy gaze returned to the ceiling. A long silence passed
before she spoke again.
“When I was a little girl, I used to dream about knowing my mother. She died when I
was too small to remember her. Perhaps now my son will grow up, and someday he will dream
about knowing me.”
A tear slid down her cheek. It carved a shining trail through the film of grime that
covered her face.
“I was never a beautiful girl. I was never smart… but I loved someone. I’ve known what
it is to live for someone else. Is that enough to say that my life was worth something?”
She looked then at Ruth with her dead, hollow eyes.
“I hope for him, for my little Tom… that he will go on to do great things. He will not be
doomed to dwell in dark corners, as I have done for all of my life… If there is any power left in
my blood, in my family’s blood… let it pass now to him. May it help him to grow strong…”
It felt in that moment that the room grew a little darker, as if the air itself contracted ever
so slightly. The flame in the lantern sputtered and danced. When Ruth looked back to the girl,
she was surprised to find that she had twisted, with her eyes facing the lantern. The weak flame
reflected in them like a ghost. She uttered five more words, and her voice was colder than the
chill outside.
“…may he never fear death.”
The girl’s eyes continued to stare, but after a few more beats of Ruth’s heart, something
behind them slipped away, leaving them horribly empty. All that remained within were the
reflected images of the dancing flame.
Ruth sat for a long moment, now feeling as empty as those wide, staring eyes. It wasn’t
until the tiny creature in her arms made a small sound, something between a moan and a hiss,
that she remembered the baby. She rose from the bed and took a few steps toward the light of
the lantern on the table, rocking him in her arms as she went. As the light spilled across his
*4*
small face, the boy opened his eyes, and Ruth was startled to see that they were calm, dark, and
intelligent. Ruth touched the tip of her finger to his tiny hand.
“Hello, Tom.”
45 Years Later
“Turn her over.”
In response to the order, which seemed to have come from mid-air, a man in a hooded
cloak and mask obediently entered a small ring of light in a dark, musty room. He dug the toe of
his steel boot into the ribs of an ancient woman on the ground in the center, whose fragile frame
was draped in tattered shawls. She rolled to face upwards, her bruised face stained from tears
mixed with small rivulets of blood.
“I have little patience for disobedience,” continued the voice. “You can either tell me
who you spoke of in the prophecy now, or you can tell me later, when your family is hanging
before you, clawing their eyes from their skulls to escape the visions of pain and death I will
inflict upon them…”
The old woman choked out a shuddering cough.
“I do not know,” she pleaded, her veined hands scraping against the dusty, rotting
floorboards. “I have told you already, a true prophecy is not heard or sensed in any manner by
the seer herself!”
Suddenly, the woman was yanked violently into the air, as if an invisible hand had
clasped her around the neck, but the hand wasn’t invisible. It was white and bony, and the man it
belonged to seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. He was tall, muscular, and strong, and
had the look of someone who had been handsome once, but whose ugliness within had finally
risen to the surface. His face was pale, his features waxy and distorted. The whites of his eyes
were bloodshot, and his pupils were ringed with red.
“Who dares to thrice defy me! Who dares to stand in my way, me, after I have
transcended so far beyond the boundaries of mortality? Who DARES!?”
“I can’t…”
*5*
The man tightened his grip around the seer’s neck, and for a few moments, she could do
no more than gasp for breath. Then, just as it seemed she might be slipping away, he released
her. She fell heavily to the ground on her back.
“Avada Kedavra!”
In a flash of blinding green light, the woman trembled no more. The others in the room
dared not to breathe. There were many of them. Their numbers seemed to swell more and more
each day. They clung to the shadowy corners of the room like spiders, as if the darkness might
keep them safely out of the way of the one who led them – the one they both loved and
feared. When the tension became nearly unbearable, one among them stepped forward to
speak. He was not the tallest, and he was not the most imposing (in fact he was a bit round at his
middle), but it was a move so bold that only someone of high rank would dare to do it.
“My lord,” he drawled unctuously, “was it entirely wise to silence her? No one else alive
knows the prophecy.”
For a fleeting moment, the pale man’s eyes seemed to flash scarlet in the dim room.
“Malfoy, I always thought you were one of my most faithful Death Eaters.”
The servant seemed to shrink considerably.
“My lord?”
His master pressed his bare foot to the face of the dead seer, examining her empty, wideeyed stare with no trace of pity.
“My dear Abraxas, before you challenge my logic, or my leadership, please be aware that
you are as discardable to me as Madame Trelawney here.”
Malfoy melted back into the shadows without another word. The others watched with
greedy satisfaction.
“It is no matter,” the man continued, stepping over Trelawney’s body. He addressed the
room at large. “She was telling the truth. You see, I always know when I am being lied to…”
Some of the shapes around the room shifted uneasily.
“Everything will go as planned. If someone at Hogwarts, or anywhere else for that
matter dares to interfere with our noble work, be assured that they will beg for death long before
I graciously… provide it.”
The last two words hung in the musty air with terrible finality.
“My lord, will you personally retrieve the pieces?” asked another hooded figure.
*6*
His master stiffened with disdain.
“I would, if it weren’t for that interfering lover of Mudblood filth, Albus Dumbledore. I
have others who will do my bidding, Death Eaters more faithful than even you,
Grungbull. Servants who can effectively hide amongst the sniveling, scraping Muggle-lovers
that teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
He crossed the room and blasted open the shutters of a window with a flourish of his
twisted yew wand. Looking down over the crowded Muggle square below him, his face
contorted with disgust.
“My plan is infallible.”
With those words, he lifted his long, twisted wand, and the broken body of the legendary
seer rose from the floor behind him like a macabre puppet. With the slightest flick, he pitched it
through the window. It spun in the air like a rag doll for a moment or two, then dropped from
sight as it fell ten stories to the Muggle square below.
“Morsmordre!”
Above the square, an immense glowing skull appeared in green sparks, with a snake of
thick smoke slithering grotesquely from its mouth. Before the screaming Muggles in the chaos
below could even look up to the window from which the body had fallen, the man and his Death
Eaters had vanished.
*7*
CHAPTER TWO
THE WAND CHOOSES THE WIZARD
A summer breeze ruffled the leaves of the oak trees lining a narrow country lane in a
place called Godric’s Hollow. It rippled through the dark, unkempt hair of a bespectacled
eleven-year-old boy who waited patiently on the front porch of a white cottage. He stared hard
into the cloudless sky, his hands pressed to his brow to shade his hazel eyes from the bright
morning sunlight.
Every morning for the past two weeks, he had taken up this spot on the porch, squinting
for the slightest movement of wings in the summer sky. Part of him felt entirely sure that what
he was waiting for was bound to arrive at any moment, but then again, another part of him
wasn’t quite as sure. What if the letter never came? What if there was a mistake, and he was
actually a Squib? With a lurch in the boy’s stomach, he imagined a letter in his father’s hands,
regretfully informing him that his son possessed no magical ability, while his mother sobbed in
the background. What could a Squib do within a world full of others possessing an ability that
permeated every part of their existence — a power that he lacked?
At that moment, a dark blot appeared far off in the sky above Mrs. Bagshot’s house. The
heart that was pounding against the boy’s ribs suddenly jumped to his throat. It was a post owl,
and it was coming straight toward him. It grew larger and larger, until it was finally close
enough to swoop down right over his head and drop a heavy envelope into his outstretched
hands.
Mr. James Potter
Number 11, Hartford Row
Godric’s Hollow, South Glamorgan, Wales
*8*
Hands trembling, he tore the envelope open.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
--------//-------Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and
equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Relief flooded James as he read the emerald green ink once, twice, then three times just
to make sure that what he was reading was real and absolute — that he was, indeed, a wizard.
A hand landed softly on his shoulder, making him jump. In his concentration to read the
letter and the supplies list, James did not see or hear the man, who looked so much like him, join
him on the shady porch.
“Congratulations, James.” His warm smile emanated pride.
For a moment James couldn’t remember where to find his voice. His father had been so
busy, leaving to get to the ministry before dawn and coming home late in the evening. He hadn't
expected him to still be at home.
“Does this mean we can go to Diagon Alley?” he finally asked.
*9*
“You’ll need to ask your mother, but between you and me I don’t think it will be
difficult to convince her…” He leaned in, adding conspiratorially, “the Wimbourne Wasp boys
are doing a charity broom wash today to support of St. Mungos. Maybe give it a mention.”
With a wink, he ruffled James’s hair and started down the front steps. James followed.
“Will you come if we wait until the weekend?”
“I wish I could.”
As his father turned, James saw the exhaustion on his face.
“Unfortunately, the Ministry needs all of us every day this week. That wizard we’ve
been after has killed another victim. Aurors keep disappearing… they need support from our
department.” He became suddenly tense. “Do me a favor James… please don’t let your mother
know I told you about it.”
James knew better than to push the subject, but his curiosity got the better of him.
“What’s his name?”
For a moment, it looked as if his father might answer, but then he swallowed hard,
adjusting the glasses on his long, thin nose.
“It’s a better idea not to talk about it,” he replied tersely, crossing the path to the narrow
street. “I shouldn’t have even told you. Your mother would have my head for it.”
He hesitated with one hand on the gate, seeing the disappointment on James’s face.
“Don’t dwell on it, Hobs. Not today, of all days.”
“Hobs” was the nickname James’s father called him, after legendary Quidditch player
Marek Hobson. It was one thing James felt he really had in common with his dad – their love of
the wizarding sport.
“Congratulations on getting your letter, James. You should know we’re very proud of
you.”
Before James could reply, he stepped outside the gate and disapparated with a faint
snap. Staring after him, James still couldn’t help but be curious about the dark wizard. Then, he
remembered the letter in his hand. With a wide grin, he sprinted inside.
The Potter’s kitchen was tight but cozy. The faint scent of sugar cookies always lingered
in the air, mingled with the pungent scents of potions. James’s mother was at the counter
reading the latest edition of Witch Weekly, her wand aimed lazily at the dishes doing themselves
in the sink. She wore dark blue robes with a stained apron over top, and her dark hair was tied
* 10 *
back in a messy knot. Nearby, a handsome German Shepherd was stretched out across the floor,
lazily watching the backyard through the screen door for signs of garden gnomes.
“Mum!” James bolted down the hall, skidding to a halt in the small kitchen. “Mum! I
got my letter from Hogwarts! Can we go to Diagon Alley?”
His mother dropped the magazine on the counter, looking every bit as proud as her
husband had moments earlier.
“Is it that time already? Well Merlin,” she said, addressing the dog by the window, “now
I guess we know what he’s been doing every morning for these past two weeks.”
“So, can we go?” James asked hopefully, opening the back door so that Merlin could go
outside. Then, almost under his breath, he added, “I hear the Wimbourne Wasps are doing a
charity broom wash for St. Mungos…”
The dishes doing themselves in the sink collapsed with a jarring crash.
“What’s that now?”
James shrugged, trying not to smirk.
“Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Or your father thought I would,” she said haughtily, untying her apron. “Well it just so
happens, Mr. Potter, that I need to go to Diagon Alley for some horned slugs and flobberworm
mucus to finish that relaxation draught for your father, not because I happen to fancy Ludo
Bagman’s —”
James raised his eyebrows.
“Flying technique,” she finished delicately. She dropped her apron on the back of one of
the chairs at the kitchen table. It was cluttered with older copies of Witch Weekly and coupon
clippings for beetle eyes, eagle talons, and a mess of other ingredients listed in the Daily
Prophet. On the newspaper’s cover was a black and white photograph of a sparkling green skull
with a snake slithering from its mouth. Sensing James’s eyes on it, she turned it over at once.
“So what’s on the shopping list then?”
James unfolded the small piece of paper that accompanied his letter.
“Three sets of robes, a hat, a pair of protective gloves, a winter cloak, a wand, a cauldron,
glass or crystal phials, a telescope, brass scales, and… an owl, cat, rat, or toad.”
“They still haven’t changed the first year supplies since I was a student at Hogwarts,” she
said, rummaging through rows of multicolored bottles in the cabinet above the sink. “And by the
* 11 *
way, nice try young man, but I know that list says you may bring an owl, cat, rat or toad, not that
you must.”
“But Mum, don’t you think I’m old enough now for my own owl?”
“What’s wrong with Bard?”
James scowled. Bard was his father’s grouchy old long-eared owl, whose tufted ears,
like huge furry eyebrows, always seemed to be pulled down in a permanent frown, and who, on
more than one occasion, had nearly removed one of James’s fingers. If Bard was to carry letters
between James and his parents for the duration of his stay at Hogwarts, then he would certainly
be needing his new protective gloves.
“Nothing’s wrong with Bard,” James said quickly, throwing a cautious glance toward the
dark corner where Bard slept during the day. He was unsettled to see that one of the owl’s big,
ugly, yellow eyes was glaring in his direction. “I would just like to have an owl of my own
someday, that’s all…”
“And perhaps someday you’ll have one,” said his mother, eventually finding a sack of
pale green powder behind a large jar of Horklump juice, “but for now, you and Bard will just
need to learn to get along.”
She poured a handful of the powder into James’s hand.
“Now here you go, make sure you speak clearly this time. I don’t want you to end up in
Batty’s sitting room again. I’ll be right behind you, I just need to fetch the family broomsticks!”
She dashed from the room.
“Glad to see you’re supporting St. Mungos, Mum,” James mumbled to himself. Bard
snapped his beak impatiently.
“I know, I know! I’m going!” James snapped, holding out the handful of Floo powder
for him to see. “Maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll get you some sugar mice…”
Bard shuffled his feathers self-importantly and turned to face the wall. After some
consideration, he added a soft hoot.
“That’s what I thought,” said James, stuffing his letter and supplies list into his back
pocket. A grin spread across his face. “You’d better beware though, if you’re nasty to me, I
don’t care what Mum says… next time I’ll come home with a cat!”
Bard cast him an angry glower, but James wasn’t looking anymore. As he threw down
the Floo powder down in the fireplace, he already felt his spirits lifting. He squeezed the letter in
* 12 *
his pocket, just to make sure one more time that it was really there. It was his. When he stepped
inside the fire, he felt a rush of excitement and warmth rise within him that had nothing to do
with the emerald flames whisking him away to Diagon Alley. He was going to Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn magic, just as his parents had – and he was not a Squib.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Yes, Mum, I promise.”
James’s mother gave him a searching look before handing over a small but heavy sack of
wizard money they had just collected from Gringotts, the wizarding bank.
“Then you be careful, and remember: no accepting spells or potions from strangers, no
matter how nice they seem.”
She gathered up their two family broomsticks.
“Oh, and you had better not spend those galleons on anything but what is on the list in
your hand! If you come home with anything from Eeylops or Magical Menagerie, I don’t care if
it’s an owl, rat, cat, bat, puffskein or house fly, I will send it straight back! And absolutely NO
setting foot in Knockturn Alley!”
After one more warning glance, they finally separated, and James began to wind his way
down the crowded cobbled street. He had never been allowed to explore Diagon Alley alone
before, and there were quite a few places he wanted to see before he got down to his school
shopping.
It wasn’t long before he handed over two silver sickles to a street vendor for a large
black-licorice-and-blueberry ice cream. Beneath the shade of the many multicolored awnings, he
slurped his ice cream and wandered down the long stretch of storefronts. Some had elaborate
window displays (he paused for a long while in front of the Quidditch shop, where a new racing
broom, the Wind Whistler 15 was displayed). Others appeared dark and dingy (the only hint that
anything was going on inside one shop was a thick cloud of smelly smoke rolling from beneath
the door crack). It was difficult to resist the temptation to spend any more of his school shopping
money, especially after he spotted a pack of self-detonating stink pellets for only 4 bronze knuts,
but after he finished his ice cream, James forced himself to unfold his school supply list.
First, he purchased a set of glass phials and a first year potion kit from the apothecary,
which he couldn’t bear to be in for more than a few minutes because of the overwhelming
* 13 *
fumes. Then, he bought a set of brass scales, dragon hide gloves, and a telescope from
Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment. The stack of packages in James’s arms grew taller and taller,
and by the time he purchased his large pewter cauldron from Potage’s Cauldron Shop, it was all
he could do to stagger into the robe shop with a pile too high to see over. Thankfully, after he
was fitted for his school uniforms, the shopkeeper, a kind old witch named Madam Malkin,
placed a weight lifting charm on his purchases. When James left the shop, all he had to do was
hold onto the strings of the brown paper packages like lumpy, misshapen balloons.
With his balloon packages in hand, James headed next for Flourish and Blotts
Bookshop. When he entered, he was startled to find it stacked to the roof with books of every
shape, size and color. There had to be thousands, if not millions of books crammed into almost
every open space between the floor and the ceiling, which was shrouded in darkness far
above. There were only a handful of narrow walkways between the shelves.
Afraid to venture any further, and afraid to release the strings of his packages for fear
they would float off to the far away ceiling, James decided to wait for the shopkeeper near the
counter. It was a few minutes before a brusque, harassed man materialized.
“Another one.”
He snatched the list from James’s free hand.
“Seems like there’s more of you every year… stay here. Do not move, do not touch
anything.” The man shuffled off into the depths of the shop, leaving James alone at the counter
again.
It was then that a snobby looking boy with sleek white-blonde hair strode into the
shop. He was tall, probably in his sixth or seventh year at Hogwarts. He was followed by an
older, more rotund version of himself with a pointed beard, who James could only assume was
his father. James couldn’t help but stare at the two of them. They were clad in finely tailored
black robes, with gleaming green embroidery on the chests and silver fastenings under their
chins. They carried themselves like royalty, and looked down their noses at the dusty floor and
countertops with obvious disdain.
The boy ran his finger along the counter and looked down at it as if it were something he
might find on the bottom of his shoe.
“Disgusting.”
His father nodded in agreement.
* 14 *
“Quite right Lucius, nothing like Spine Binders in Knockturn Alley.” He sniffed with
displeasure. “No help in sight. What is the world coming to, when the richest, purest-blooded
family in all of Britain has to wait for service?”
James spoke before he could stop himself.
“The shopkeeper is helping me right now.”
The two men appeared taken aback. Neither seemed to have noticed James until that
moment.
“Oh is he now?” the older of the two said silkily. “That can be remedied.”
He waved his slender black wand, and a smooth bell tone resounded throughout the
cavernous space. Far off in the distance, at what could have been the back of the store, there was
a loud thud. It sounded suspiciously to James like a pile of first year Hogwarts textbooks hitting
the floor. The old shopkeeper came barreling back up to the counter, clutching at his side and
panting for breath.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir,” he sputtered. “How can I be of service?”
“What about my books!” James said indignantly.
“Never you mind!” the shopkeeper hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “Wait your
turn!”
Knowing there was nothing left to do but wait, James listened as Mr. Malfoy and Lucius
drawled on about what which books they were looking for, and what condition they expected
them to be in. The shopkeeper vanished into the depths of the shop once again, and James,
realizing that he did not want to be left alone with the Malfoys, decided to risk venturing off on
his own.
Flourish and Blotts, which was impressive enough from the front counter, was even
larger than James had initially thought. There were sections on every imaginable subject, from
Everyday Spells to Head-Shrinking. There were books that hummed, trembled, sang, and even
tap danced on the shelf to get his attention.
Despite a book that sprouted an arm and dragged itself after him, pleading to be read,
James was drawn to a section in a dark corner. The case looked quite neglected. It was draped
in cobwebs, and every inch of it was blanketed in a thick layer of dust. The section title was
engraved on a tarnished brass panel nailed to the top shelf.
* 15 *
Myth and Legende
James ran his fingers across the spines on the shelf, raising tiny clouds of dust. He read
the titles as he went: Death Omens: What to do when the worst is coming. The Legend of the
Peverell Brothers. Legacy of the Macedon King. The Lost Stones of Numenor.
“What part of do not touch anything was unclear to you?”
James nearly jumped out of his skin.
“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered.
The shopkeeper chewed his tongue impatiently for a moment, then waved him along.
“That section’s not for first year students. It’s best you forget anything you saw there.”
When they arrived at the front counter, he slammed a pile of books on the counter. They
were new, but scuffed, as if they had been dropped on the floor.
“Your books,” he grunted.
“Er…thanks,” James said, handing over his money. He scooped the pile of books into
his cauldron. “Who were those two men just now?”
The shopkeeper surveyed James with a calculating eye that reminded him a little too
strongly of Bard.
“That was Mr. Abraxas Malfoy, one of the richest and most powerful men in the
country. Remember Nobby Leach’s resignation? Couple years ago? Malfoy and some of his
friends were behind it. Some say he was the brains of it. Never did sit well with them to have a
Minister of Magic that was Muggle-born... That boy with him was his son, Lucius. Sixth year at
Hogwarts this fall. Trust me, you would do well to avoid the both of them. Bad things tend to
happen around the Malfoys.”
James felt his cheeks go hot. He had already managed to get on their bad side.
“What sorts of things?”
“Unless you want to find out for yourself, I suggest you stop asking questions.”
The shopkeeper fixed James with a stare then that made it clear the conversation was
over. Hoping that Hogwarts was big enough that he would never see Lucius Malfoy again,
James thanked the shopkeeper and slipped out through the door.
Once he was back outside in the sunny street, James felt much better. Upon checking his
list, he saw that there was only one item left for him to buy: a wand. He had purposely left this
* 16 *
for last, because there was something about buying a wand that was both wonderful and
terrifying. In fact, some little part of him was still afraid that they might go through every wand
in the store until the owner finally threw him out, telling him to face the fact that he was not a
wizard. With that horrible thought refusing to go away, James made his way to a humble
storefront beneath a fading, ancient looking sign.
OLLIVANDERS
Makers of Magic Wands Since 382 B.C.
James stifled a cough as he entered the narrow, shabby room. There was already a
wizard family speaking with the shop owner, but he was relieved to see that it wasn’t the
Malfoys. Glad for the chance to rest his feet, he sank down on a chair near the window.
At the counter was a short, round-faced boy. He had blonde hair, a pointed nose, and
watery eyes, and looked to be about James’s age. He was dancing anxiously from foot to foot,
which at first gave James the impression that he had to go to the bathroom rather desperately, but
it soon became clear that the boy was becoming distressed by the ordeal of finding a proper
wand. His mother didn’t seem to notice at all. She had her hands full, attempting to control a
spoiled looking little girl in the throes of a wild tantrum.
Mr. Ollivander handed the boy another wand.
It’s all right, it’s all right now young man, just give this one a wave!”
The old man’s words did not seem to encourage the scared-looking boy. His pudgy little
hand was wavered so much, James wondered how he kept hold of the wand at all. His mother
nodded impatiently at him, while trying to console the screaming girl.
“I want an ice cream from Fortescue’s!” she wailed.
“And you’ll have one darling,” cooed the mother, “just after Petey finds himself a wand.”
“But he’s tried seventy-six already!” the girl sobbed. “We’re going to be here forever!”
The boy waved the wand feebly, and suddenly, the glass in the pane next to James
shattered. He ducked and covered his head, fortunately avoiding injury from the falling shards.
“See! Seventy-seven!” the girl screeched.
Mr. Ollivander hastily took the wand away from the watery-eyed boy, who looked about
ready to faint, and aimed his own at the broken window.
* 17 *
“Reparo,” he muttered. All of the glass flew back into place, and a moment later, it
looked quite like it had before. He noticed James. “Oh, hello there, are you all right?”
James lowered his hands to see the old man gazing in his direction with eyes like wide,
pale moons.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good,” said the man, practically shouting to be heard over the squalling girl. She had
just put on a particularly good burst of volume. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to wait until we
find a wand for this young man.”
He handed another to the trembling boy.
“Chestnut, nine-and-a-quarter inches, brittle, with a dragon heartstring core. Maybe
wave it a little gentler this time.”
The boy gave the wand a small wave, and all at once, the room went entirely silent. The
girl had gone inexplicably mute, although her mouth was still moving in what was clearly
screaming.
“Well that’s much better!” breathed Mr. Ollivander. “I think this wand has chosen you,
young man.”
While his mother paid for the wand, the boy approached James.
“Sorry about the racket.” He gestured at his sister, who was already beginning to recover
from being muted. “Is it your first year at Hogwarts, too?”
James nodded.
“Yeah, my name is James. James Potter.” He extended his hand, which the boy shook
with a slightly sweaty palm.
“Petey – I mean, Peter – Pettigrew. Hey, where are your parents?”
James was slightly affronted. He certainly felt old enough to do his own shopping.
“My dad is at work, and my mother is looking at potion ingredients,” he said flatly,
deciding it was better not to mention that she was probably getting a good eyeful of Ludo
Bagman and the other members of the Wimbourne Wasps.
“Oh,” said Peter, now looking very impressed that James was shopping alone. “Which
house are you hoping to get into?”
James did not hesitate with his answer. There were four houses at Hogwarts. Students
were sorted into them upon arriving, based upon their strongest traits.
* 18 *
“Gryffindor,” he said quickly. Both of James’s parents had been Gryffindors, along with
all of his family for as long back as he knew. Gryffindors were said to be brave above all
else. As he thought about it, an entirely new unease slipped into his stomach. Would he be
brave enough to be chosen for Gryffindor?
“Petey, time to go.”
Peter’s mother was already halfway out the door, with his little sister at her heels.
“I’ll see you at Hogwarts,” Peter said with a lame shrug. He hurried away to catch up to
his family.
James watched them go, but then became aware of a strange pinprick feeling on his
back. He turned to find Mr. Ollivander looking him over thoroughly with his wide, orb-like
eyes.
“You must be James Potter,” he said finally.
“Yes, I am,” James said, nearing the high counter. It was still littered with boxes and
wands from Peter. “How did you… Did you overhear me introducing myself to…?”
“No,” Mr. Ollivander replied matter-of-factly, stepping out to shake his hand. “I
recognized your face. You have the look of your father, Benjamin, but with dark hair. You also
have Stella’s smile. I seem to remember her wand was quite unusual, a core of hair taken from
the tail of a centaur. Not typical for centaurs to give tail hairs for wandmaking.”
That was news to James. Before he had time to wonder or ask about it, Mr. Ollivander
produced a long tape measure with silver markings.
“Which is your wand arm?”
“Er…”
“Hold them both up, let me see.”
Feeling foolish, James did so, and Mr. Ollivander seized each hand and stared
hard. Finally detecting something that James certainly couldn’t, he glanced up with a bright
gleam in his eyes.
“Left.”
“Left? But I’m right handed.”
“Left, Mr. Potter, left. Who knows why, these things have never been clear to those of us
who study the art of wand-making, but I am sure of it. Your left hand is your wand hand.”
“How can you tell?” asked James.
* 19 *
“Trade secrets Mr. Potter, now hold out your arm.”
James obediently held out his left arm, and Mr. Ollivander began to measure him from
shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, and knee to armpit. As the wandmaker
moved on to measure the back of his neck and the circumference around his head, James stared
hard at his left palm. He certainly couldn’t see anything different about it.
Mr. Ollivander was nodding vaguely.
“Yes… yes… let me see…”
He left the tape to continue measuring on its own, and began to rummage behind the
counter in the back room.
“We typically use only unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of
dragons in our wands here,” he called. “There are others here in this shop, like your mother’s,
but, well, let’s just say they can be a bit temperamental, perhaps even volatile. Then again, some
people prefer that in a wand.”
He emerged with an armload of boxes, which he deposited on the counter next to the pile
Peter left behind.
“Now, let’s see, your father’s wand is holly, so it would not surprise me if you attracted
one as well — oh, that’s enough, by the way.”
The measuring tape seemed to be having a fit, and was now tying itself in knots around
James’s ankles. Mr. Ollivander waved his wand and it fell to the floor in a loose heap.
“Too many students in this week buying new wands, I daresay it’s feeling a bit
overworked,” Mr. Ollivander said sadly. He removed a dark, handsome wand from a box in the
pile and handed it to James. “Now, here’s a nice holly and phoenix tail model, eleven inches,
nice and supple.”
Fearing that he might shatter the window like Peter had, James closed his eyes and waved
the wand as gently as he could. There was no resounding crash. In fact, there wasn’t even so
much as a bump or a pop. James opened his eyes. As far as he could tell, nothing had happened
at all. The only thing that seemed to have changed was the expression on Mr. Ollivander’s face.
“That was the first time in all my years at this shop — and trust me, there have been
many… that absolutely nothing happened when someone waved a wand.”
He peered curiously at James, which made James feel very uncomfortable indeed.
* 20 *
“So, does that mean I should buy it?” he asked hesitantly, wishing Mr. Ollivander would
look away.
“Usually a wand will respond if provoked. Yes, I choose you, or yes, I’ll let you use me,
though I’m not ready for a long term commitment. Maybe even no, put me down before I turn
your blood to vinegar! The wand chooses the wizard, you see. Some of these reactions can be
quite slight, almost impossible to detect for any but those with the trained hand and senses, but
this is odd, odd indeed… In all of my years, I have never seen a wand fail to react…”
He took the wand back and observed it closely. James started to panic. Did this mean his
horrible fears were coming true? That he wasn’t a wizard?
“I remember your brother,” Mr. Ollivander finally said. It was so absurd, James forgot
his panic. He was about to respond that he didn’t have a brother at all, but then Mr. Ollivander
spoke again, and it became clear that he was not speaking to James. He was speaking to the
wand.
“Wayward, misguided…” Mr. Ollivander nodded, frowning. He paused for a moment,
as if listening. “Patiently, I can see, but for what? For who?”
Then Mr. Ollivander looked sharply up at James, which caught him off guard. His gaze
was hard, as if he were trying to work out a puzzle of some kind. Just when James thought he
couldn’t take a second more of it, Mr. Ollivander swiftly packed the wand back into its box. He
tucked the box deep into a dark alcove in the corner. He did not mention it again, and James
knew better than to ask.
Each of the next few wands produced results when waved. After blowing up the register
(resulting in a silver and gold downpour of sickles and galleons), vanishing Mr. Ollivander’s hair
(which there wasn’t very much of to begin with), and turning the flowers on the counter into
spiders the size of teacups (they escaped through the crack beneath the door), none of the wands
seemed to be “choosing” him like Mr. Ollivander said they would. The pile of discarded wands
on the counter continued to grow, and soon, it was almost the size of Peter’s.
Out of frustration, James waved the next wand Mr. Ollivander handed him much harder
than he should have. With a bang, every box in the store flew off of shelves, out from cabinets,
and from inside closets. They crashed to the floor and wands rolled everywhere. James braced
himself for Mr. Ollivander to get angry, but then he saw that the old man wasn’t even looking at
him.
* 21 *
“What’s this?” Mr. Ollivander mused, reaching into the depths of the alcove behind
him. He produced a long, thin, crimson box. “It seems that this was the only wand left behind.”
He blew hard on the top of the box, and a small cloud of dust cleared away. James
noticed out of the corner of his eye that it actually wasn’t the only wand that had been left
behind. The box containing the holly and phoenix tail wand was still exactly where Mr.
Ollivander safely stowed it.
“Mahogany, 11 inches, pliable… good for transfiguration, the heartstring of a stag. Odd
core, but then again, odd cores seem to run in your family. Why not give it a go?”
As Mr. Ollivander placed the wand in his hand, James felt a rush of golden warmth
spread from his fingertips through his palm. It ran up through his arm, past his shoulder, and
into his chest, where it gathered in strength. Even the atmosphere in the room seemed to be
changing, as if the light streaming through the dusty windowpanes was suddenly a bit brighter.
“I think… we found a winner,” said Mr. Ollivander, looking impressed. “It seems the
shop grew impatient and decided to show us which wand was yours. It is certainly not the first
time curious things have happened here, and I doubt it will be the last…”
He smiled a crooked smile, which seemed to be more in amusement at some sort of
private joke than anything meant for James’s benefit.
James quickly paid for the wand and gathered his other packages (which were beginning
to sink lower as the charm wore off). He thanked Mr. Ollivander, and still feeling the piercing
gaze of those moon-like eyes on his back, carefully found his way to the door through the mess
of wands cluttering the ground. As he hurried through the crowd to the main square to find his
mother, his thoughts remained on the holly and phoenix tail wand. He wondered why it so
curiously did nothing, what it was waiting for, and if its fate could possibly be related to his own.
* 22 *
CHAPTER THREE
THE SORTING HAT’S OFFER
“Wow…”
James had just passed through the barrier at platform nine and three-quarters, and was
now standing on a wide train platform packed with wizarding families. Some were in utter
chaos. Others were in the midst of tearful goodbyes. Owls hooted from cages, and cats chased
rats through the tangle of legs. At the center of the scene, a handsome scarlet steam engine
waited on the tracks near the platform, belching thick clouds of steam.
“Mark, I thought I told you to leave the Dungbombs at home!”
James quickly dodged out of the way to avoid the foul smelling, slightly smoking packets
that an angry woman was summoning from her son’s pockets. He nearly stumbled into the
middle of a small knot of older boys.
“Give your little brother one of these!”
One of them handed a younger boy what looked like an ordinary sweet. He popped it in
his mouth, and at once, his earlobes began to grow. They stretched longer and longer, until they
finally puddled on the floor. The older students roared with laughter.
Grinning, James stepped around the boy and his ear puddle. A little further down the
platform, he spotted a family of three in well-tailored black robes. They stood out from the
* 23 *
background of other wizard families, and their air of superiority briefly reminded him of the
Malfoys. The stocky, dark haired mother was addressing her child, who James assumed must
already be on the train.
“Write as soon as you know which house you’re sorted into!” she called, adjusting the
small black cap on her head. Her scrawny dark-haired son, apparently too young to go to
Hogwarts, sulked nearby. He shot an angry look at James for staring.
“Walburga, we already know he’s a born Slytherin,” said a handsome dark-haired man to
her right. He patted his son on the head.
“Regulus, don’t look so forlorn. You’ll be at Hogwarts next year.”
“James? James!”
James tore his gaze away from the family.
“Yes?”
His own mother and father had only just caught up to him. They looked winded, but their
smiles told him they understood exactly what he was feeling.
“Your trunk,” his mother said. “You need to take it to the baggage car.”
“Right…”
James seized the handle of his trunk and started dragging it through the crowd. He was
careful not to get too close to the Slytherin family. While Gryffindor House accepted students
whose strongest trait was bravery, Slytherin House was where those of ambition were
sorted. There wasn’t a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn’t from there. Thinking he would
rather be sorted to any other house, James hoisted his heavy trunk into the luggage compartment,
and kicked it until it was most of the way in. Praying that nothing inside was broken, he found
his way back to his parents.
“That hair of yours…” his mother said, trying to smooth it down. “It has a mind of its
own that not even magic can tame.”
James smiled despite himself. He had always rather liked his unkempt hair. His father’s
was exactly the same way, except it was a shade lighter. As his mother planted a soft goodbye
kiss on his cheek, his father stepped back to look him over.
“For the past five generations, and probably even before that, our family have all been
sorted into Gryffindor House, where dwell the brave at heart. We would be proud to see you
become a Gryffindor too, but we want you to know that if the Sorting Hat puts you in another
* 24 *
house, there’s nothing wrong with that. The hat will take your choices into account too, and
what have I always told you about our choices James?”
“It’s our choices that define us, not our abilities.”
“That’s my boy.”
He pulled James into a hug, and then unexpectedly stooped down to be at his level.
“You know,” he said, and it was quieter so that it was only between the two of them,
“these are things that my father said to me on the day that I left for Hogwarts. Maybe someday
you can tell your son the same thing. And your son will tell his son, eh Hobs?”
James wanted to reply, but didn’t know what to say. Then the train whistle blew,
startling all of them, and it robbed him of his chance. His mother threw her arms around him one
last time.
“We love you, James. Now, go! You’re going to be late!”
After one last look, James tore himself away from the pair of them and climbed aboard
the train, which was beginning to move slowly. Inside, the aisles were crowded with students
waving goodbye to their families, so it took him a while to find space at a window and squeeze
into it.
Quickly scanning the platform, he caught a fleeting glimpse of his mother’s and father’s
proud faces. He was just barely able to wave back, but then the train turned a corner, and they
disappeared from view.
The aisles began to empty. James wandered in and out of compartments for a long time
until he finally found one that wasn’t full. There were only two other students inside it: a redhaired girl who was alone at the window, and a dark-haired boy sitting near the door. To
James’s surprise, the boy looked familiar. He was the sulking son from the black-robed
Slytherin family on the platform.
“Did you sneak on the train?” James asked, sinking down across from him.
The boy stared back at him quizzically.
“What?” he asked.
“I thought you were on the platform because you couldn’t come until next year,” James
said.
For another few seconds the boy looked still looked very confused, but then a look of
comprehension came over his face. He laughed, swiping his dark bangs out of his grey eyes to
* 25 *
get a better look at James. Now James could see that he had made a mistake. This boy’s eyes
were more mischievous, and more carefree than the eyes of the boy on the platform. He was also
leaner, and more handsome than that boy.
“You must have seen my brother, Regulus,” the boy explained. He extended a hand
around a sallow, hook-nosed boy that entered the compartment to sit with the girl by the
window. “I’m Sirius Black. Are you a first year too?”
James shook the boy’s hand, which was not at all sweaty like Peter’s.
“Yeah. I’m James Potter.” They exchanged nervous smiles.
“So are you into Quidditch teams?” asked Sirius, leaning back to put his feet up on the
seat. “I see you’ve got a Harpies shirt.”
“I’ll support Holyhead Harpies until the day I die!” said James, pleased to find someone
else interested in Quidditch.
“Holyhead Harpies? I heard about their defeat of the Heidelberg Harriers in that sevenday match almost twenty years ago. My old man swears he was there.”
“Wow, he’s lucky,” breathed James. “My parents never mentioned it, so I don’t think
either of them was there. My dad was a beater on his house team though. Someday I want to
play on the house team, but I hear first years never make it. What about you? Will you try out?”
Sirius let out a barking laugh.
“Quidditch isn’t my thing. Now if they had a stunt motorbike team at Hogwarts, I might
be interested in trying out for that.”
James was fascinated.
“Motorbikes? Aren’t those for Muggles?”
“Yeah, but they’re not bad at all. You should see the way my mother looks when I read
motorbike magazines…” He trailed off with a small smile, as if reliving a pleasant
memory. Just then, the stringy hook-nosed boy near the window spoke loudly.
“You’d better be in Slytherin,” he said to the girl across from him, who looked slightly
flattered but confused.
“Slytherin?” she asked.
James looked around at the word.
“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” he asked Sirius, who
was still lounging in the seats opposite him.
* 26 *
“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said.
“Blimey,” said James, “and I thought you seemed all right!”
Sirius grinned.
“Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading if you’ve got the choice?”
James lifted an invisible sword.
“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart! Like my dad.”
The sallow-faced boy made a small, disparaging noise. He shot James a look of
disgust. James burned with anger.
“Got a problem with that?”
“No,” said the boy, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny
than brainy…”
“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius.
James roared with laughter. The red-haired girl sat up, rather flushed, and looked from
James to Sirius in dislike. James hadn’t noticed before that she was actually very pretty.
“Come on Severus, let’s find another compartment,” she said.
“Oooooo…”
James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice. Just as Severus was climbing over James’s
outstretched legs, the train gave a sudden lurch, and he nearly tripped. He glared at James with
fury before sweeping out of the compartment like a miniature bat.
“See ya, Snivellus!” Sirius called out the door after Severus’s trailing black robe
bottoms. “Nice one, tripping him on the way out. He seems really eager to get into Slytherin…
that can’t mean he’s up to any good.”
“Yeah…” James was still thinking about the red-haired girl. “She didn’t really look his
type though, did she?”
“Well, she was definitely too pretty to be sitting with a creep like him,” Sirius replied,
now stretching out into the space that had been occupied by Severus. “There must be something
wrong with her though, if she prefers that little git for company.”
James forced a laugh. In truth, he was half wishing that he had introduced himself to the
girl properly.
The train chugged along through the countryside. Soon, the afternoon light changed to
brilliant red and gold, and then dimmed into a dark blue night. As they began to slow down,
* 27 *
James and Sirius hurriedly changed into their school robes and scrambled to stuff the remaining
pile of sweets, which Sirius had purchased from the trolley for them to share, into their
pockets. Joining the crowd outside their compartment, they waited as they pulled into the
station. Though he didn’t really know why he was doing it, James realized that he was looking
for the red-haired girl. She was nowhere to be seen.
The train stopped and the doors opened, and they were forced along with the current until
they eventually spilled out into the warm evening air on a narrow platform. A sign, painted in
peeling green letters, hung overhead:
Welcome to Hogsmeade
The only entirely wizarding village in Britain.
James strained his eyes to see into the distance. He could just make out the dim lights of
a small village.
“Look,” he nudged Sirius, pointing.
Sirius squinted in the same direction.
“I hear the older students are allowed to go there on the weekends…”
Sirius might have kept talking, but James stopped hearing whatever he was saying,
because there she was. She had only just stepped out of the passenger car and onto the platform,
and the steam from the engine was rolling around her. It happened as if in slow motion. First
she was reading the Hogsmeade sign with an expression of awed excitement, then she was pulled
to the side of the train by Severus, the sallow hook-nosed boy. She beamed at him and said
something, and he said something back, close to her ear. She laughed, her green eyes
bright. Then, perhaps sensing something strange, she unexpectedly looked up, and her eyes met
James’s.
A booming voice suddenly rang out over the crowd, startling everyone.
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, over here!”
A man, almost twice as tall as a normal person and about three times as wide, stepped out
of the steam issuing from the engine. His hands were the size of dustbins, and James thought he
could fit Merlin into one of his massive shoes. He wore a patched moleskin coat with many
bulging pockets, and at his heels came an enormous black boarhound. Some of the first years
* 28 *
had fallen over in shock at the sound of his voice. The giant looked down at them with mild
surprise.
“Oh, sorry abou’ that!”
He reached down with one hand and easily lifted a couple of them to their feet by the
backs of their robes before he continued.
“I’m Hagrid, Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, and this here’s my pup, Fang.”
“That’s a puppy?!” Sirius muttered near James’s ear.
“The two of us are here ter take you firs’ years across the lake,” Hagrid said. “Bit of a
tradition ‘round here.”
James noticed then that all of the older students had gone, and that he and the other first
year students were alone with Hagrid. He wondered where they went.
“Now the path we’re goin’ down is a bit steep, so mind yer step, and don’t stray off inter
the trees. There’s been talk abou’ a gang of hinkypunks luring people off and inter the bog...”
The first years exchanged confused but terrified glances while Hagrid scratched at his
wild looking beard, looking thoughtful.
“Mm, I think tha’s abou’ it. We ready then? All righ’, follow me.”
He turned and began to make his way down the road behind the station, disappearing into
the darkness beyond. At first, nobody seemed to want to go after him, but then Sirius shrugged
and confidently followed, as if he did this sort of thing every evening. Reluctantly, everyone
else fell into step behind him, with Fang bringing up the rear. James hurried to catch up, pushing
through a few groups of giggling girls that were trying to catch Sirius’s eye to draw level with
him.
“What’s a hinkypunk?” he whispered.
“No idea,” Sirius answered.
Fortunately, whatever a hinkypunk was, they never ran into one, but the path they
traveled down was every bit as narrow and steep as Hagrid had warned. The group made very
slow progress as a result. They kept having to stop to help someone who fell down, or to free
someone who got hopelessly tangled up in the thick brambles around the path. Nobody spoke
very much in between these events, so when Hagrid abruptly halted and broke the silence, it
seemed abnormally loud.
“Yeh can normally see the castle from here. A bit cloudy this evenin’.”
* 29 *
The path had opened up, and they were now standing at the edge of a great, black
lake. Waiting there for them were many small boats hung with softly glowing lanterns. Hagrid
climbed into the largest one, which promptly sank low enough to threaten sinking, but it
somehow miraculously stayed afloat.
Following his lead, everyone clambered into the boats after him. James and Sirius found
one that still had room for two and climbed in.
“Oh, one o’ yeh needs to sit with Fang!” Hagrid called over his shoulder.
The boarhound came bounding down the path and performed a flying leap into the last
boat, which had a very disgruntled looking pair of identical blonde girls sitting in it. One of
them was holding a cat, and when Fang landed next to her, it screeched and leapt onto the girl’s
head.
As their boat slid out into the dark water, James recognized the pointed nose and watery
eyes of the other boy sitting with them.
“Peter?”
The boy jumped.
“Oh, James, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, this is Sirius.” James motioned to Sirius, who shot James an expression that
clearly asked why he was hanging out with someone this uncool. “I met Peter in Diagon Alley,
while I was buying my wand.”
“Charmed.” Sirius shook Peter’s hand. Judging by the look on Sirius’s face, it was
probably sweaty again.
Soon, the dim lights of Hogsmeade disappeared into the deepening night, and the only
sources of light were the lanterns, whose ghostly reflections swam on the smooth black surface
of the lake. Peter kept stealing glances over the sides of the boat, as if worried that a giant
monster were about to pop out at any moment. Sirius lounged back in his characteristic way,
letting his fingers trail lazily in the dark water. James, however, was straining to see as far off
into the distance as possible. He yearned for his first glimpse of Hogwarts, his home for the next
ten months.
As if obeying his will, a gentle breeze picked up, and the clouds obscuring the crescent
moon parted, spilling moonlight down upon a brilliant castle on a cliff. It was much closer than
James thought it would be. Other students pointed and spoke in hushed voices, as if hesitant to
* 30 *
speak out loud and break the noiselessness of their journey across the lake. As they drew closer,
the castle grew larger and larger, and soon everyone was craning their neck to keep it in view.
“Heads down!” barked Hagrid from the front.
They passed through a curtain of ivy in the cliff face, and then they were rushing through
a dark tunnel. Soon, the bottoms of the boats scraped on gravel. They had arrived at a small
dock below the cliffs. As students began to pile out of the boats, there was a small splash behind
James. He turned to look, and thought he saw a huge, ghostly shape just below the surface of the
water glide away. Deciding he must have imagined it, he hurried to follow Sirius and Peter up
through a tunnel of rough steps, which eventually led out onto the smooth, damp grass that lay
just below the shadow of the castle.
Waiting inside the Entrance Hall was one of the most severe looking women James had
ever seen. She wasn’t particularly old, but her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her
sharp, dark eyes took in the timid first years from behind small square glasses. If there had been
a ruler in her hand, he might have worried about getting his wrist slapped.
“My name is Minerva McGonagall,” she said sharply. “I will be your transfiguration
teacher for this school year. I am also the head of Gryffindor House. In a moment, you will
follow me into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. We have four houses here at Hogwarts:
Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be like
your family. Your triumphs will result in the awarding of house points, any rule breaking, and
you will lose house points.”
Sirius smirked at James.
“Now,” she continued, though James thought she might have noticed the look he and
Sirius had just exchanged, “if you will follow me, it is time for the Sorting.”
Two wide double doors behind her opened, and she led the group into the room
beyond. It was splendid, with thousands of candles floating in mid-air. Soft grey clouds rolled
gently across a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Four long tables filled the room, and the
older students were already seated there, looking very hungry. At the front of the room, there
was a fifth table, where the teachers were sitting. In the center sat a very old looking man with a
long white beard. His brilliant blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of half-moon spectacles perched
on a crooked nose.
* 31 *
Albus Dumbledore — the headmaster. He was a legend. Everyone knew about his
defeat of the dark wizard, Grindelwald. He lived in James’s own village, Godric’s Hollow, and
though James frequently passed the hulking, forbidding shape that was Dumbledore Manor, he
had never seen the man that dwelled in it before.
Distracted, James nearly walked into the girl in front of him. Professor McGonagall was
now ushering them into the space between the house tables and staff table. Once they were in
place, she brought out a four-legged stool, and what looked like a wadded up bundle of brown
rags. She produced a long piece of parchment from within her robes.
“Avery, William!”
The Sorting had begun. A boy with a pinched face stumbled forward and sat upon the
stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the bundle of rags on his head, and James realized that it
was actually a beat up old wizard’s hat. Before he even had time to wonder what it would do, a
rip in the front opened, and it bellowed,
“SLYTHERIN!”
The table to the far right burst out into applause. Avery handed the Sorting Hat back to
Professor McGonagall, and then seated himself at the applauding table beneath a banner of a
green and silver serpent. As ‘Battley, Vasilios’ and ‘Bishop, Megan’ became the first two
Ravenclaws (the second table from the left, below a banner of a blue and bronze eagle broke out
into cheers), James scanned the faces of the students sitting at the Slytherin table. They looked
arrogant and unfriendly.
“Black, Sirius!”
As Sirius sauntered forward and sat comfortably down on the stool, James noticed that
Dumbledore seemed to be taking a particular interest in his sorting. Professor McGonagall
placed the hat on his head, but oddly, the hat did not call out his house right away, as it had done
for the three students before him. The confident smirk on Sirius’s face was suddenly gone, and
now he was looking determined, maybe even a little bit mutinous. Tense minutes ticked by, but
finally, the hat’s voice filled the hall once more.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Sirius’s face blossomed with pure delight, and the Gryffindor table (on the far left)
exploded with raucous clapping, cheers and whistles. After handing the hat back to Professor
McGonagall, who looked very proud, Sirius smoothed his hair, reassumed his confident stance,
* 32 *
and seated himself at the Gryffindor table beneath a banner of a red and gold lion. He gave
James a thumbs-up as a tall black boy with an earring patted him on the back.
A strange change had come over the Slytherin table. Many of them were muttering to
each other in hushed voices. Some of them even looked furious. In particular, James recognized
Lucius Malfoy at the end, his glinting eyes narrowed to slits. There was a silver and green
prefect’s badge gleaming on his chest.
Despite the upset, the Sorting Ceremony continued, and the hat declared ‘Brocklehurst,
Dalton’ a Hufflepuff. He joined the friendly looking crowd at the table second from the right,
below a yellow and black badger. As other students came forward to receive their house
assignments, the novelty of the Sorting Ceremony began to wear off for James. Soon, his mind
wandered, and as ‘DeLauney, Gwendolyn’ joined the Gryffindor table, his thoughts turned to
how hungry he was. The sweets he and Sirius bought on the train were not enough to ease his
growling stomach, and though he still had a pocket full of pepper imps and licorice wands, he
doubted it would look good for him to begin stuffing his face in the middle of the Sorting
Ceremony.
“Evans, Lily!”
James was brought back to the present as the pretty red-haired girl from the train stepped
forward on trembling legs to sit upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the
Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it touched her dark red hair, the hat cried,
“GRYFFINDOR!”
James heard a tiny groan a few feet away. It had come from Severus.
Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the
cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Severus, and there was a sad little
smile on her face. Sirius moved up the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him,
seemed to recognize him from the train, folded her arms, and firmly turned her back on him.
After Lily, the identical blonde girls, Casta and Polluxa Fane, were sorted into
Slytherin. As far as James could tell, the only way to tell them apart was by Polluxa’s hair,
because it was still a mess from her cat leaping into it. As the ceremony continued, James
thought he might have recognized some of the surnames that were called (like Longbottom,
MacMillan, McLaggen, and Mulciber), though only knew them from conversations overheard
* 33 *
between his mother and father about other wizard families. He didn’t yet know any of the faces
that went with the names.
After ‘Perks, Maddy’ was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall called Peter.
“Pettigrew, Peter!”
Peter edged forward, shaking from head to foot. He flinched as Professor McGonagall
dropped the Sorting Hat onto his head, and after some deliberation, the hat eventually declared
him a Gryffindor. Then, before James had even a moment to prepare himself, Professor
McGonagall called his name.
“Potter, James!”
James’s legs turned to lead. It was as if they had forgotten what they were supposed to
do.
“Potter, James?” Professor McGonagall repeated, peering over her glasses at the
remaining unsorted first years. A few of the older students started laughing.
James had to very strongly will his body into action. He awkwardly staggered up to the
four-legged stool and sat down hard, suddenly and painfully aware that all eyes in the hall were
now upon him. As the hat fell over his dark, messy hair, a gravelly voice whispered in his ear.
“James Potter…” it said thoughtfully.
James wondered if everyone in the room could hear it speaking. Judging by their
unmoved faces, they probably couldn’t.
“Your father was a Gryffindor, as was his father, and his father’s father…”
James was opening his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything out loud, his
own voice rang out in his head.
“I’m a Gryffindor too.”
“Are we?” quipped the Sorting Hat. “There is certainly courage here, but I also see a
sharp mind, and fierce loyalty, yes… and talent, talent indeed... You have the power to change
not only yourself, but also those around you. With this kind of power to influence, you would do
well in Slytherin, you know…”
James focused all of his thoughts as hard as he could on two words:
“Not Slytherin.”
* 34 *
The hat paused then for a long while. James wasn’t sure whether to say anything or
not. Was it thinking really hard, or could it have perhaps fallen asleep? He considered taking it
off and putting it back on again, but then the hat suddenly spoke again.
“I will let you in on a little secret, Potter. I can read minds yes, and reading minds is
what I do, quite well if I do say so myself. That said, my talents go a good deal further than
simply reading minds, which, sadly, are almost always simple. Let me just say, Potter, that
though I have no eyes, I can see… yes, I see, and further than you might think. I will offer you
something more than just the name your house, if, of course, you decide to accept that something
more. Knowledge is a terrible and powerful thing, but something tells me you’re not going to
shrink from that.”
James wondered for a moment if this was some kind of trick, or test.
“I accept,” he said.
The hat took another deep breath.
“Something is coming. Of that I am sure, and something tells me you’re going to be a
part of it. The question, however, is who you’ll be. What part you’ll play. I see two paths ahead
of you, paved by your choices, guided by the people you meet along the way. At the end of one
path, I see success. I see the realization of all of your ambitions. You will thrive where others
cannot. You will be powerful, great and powerful, yes...”
James envisioned himself, a mighty sorcerer receiving the Order of Merlin, First
Class. No, not Merlin First Class — they were naming a new Order after him. He was tall, and
handsome — the youngest Minister of Magic in all of history. The picture was tantalizingly
exciting at first, as if no dream was too big and nothing was beyond his reach, but the feeling
began to slowly melt away. It was as if James had peeled back a layer and found that there was
nothing underneath. It was all hollow, and artificial. Something was missing.
“Ah, yes…” the hat said quietly. “You have discovered it. There would be one desire
unattainable, one void that despite all of your success, you would never be able to fill. That is
the price you would have to pay, should you accept the path to greatness that begins at Slytherin
House.”
“What is the void?” James asked.
“Not even I, while probing the depths of your mind with my magic, can tell you that,” the
hat replied stiffly. “It is something you must either leave behind for your ambitions to power and
* 35 *
success, or choose to discover at a cost. It is a choice that you will need to make somewhere that
I cannot see.”
James felt very dizzy, as if the room around him was no longer stationary. The hall full
of students before him seemed to surge. From the chaos, he could pick out only one thing that
was steady — a pair of dazzling green eyes that were looking up at him from the Gryffindor
table with curiosity and interest. James’s heart made the decision before his head knew what
was happening.
“I choose Gryffindor.”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The hat’s words echoed around the Hall. James handed the hat back to Professor
McGonagall as the red and gold table erupted with applause. Sirius was standing on the bench,
whooping and cheering with the others, but Lily was facing away again. James returned Sirius’s
grin, and hastily took a seat next to Peter at the front end of the table.
“How long was the hat on my head?” he asked Peter, wondering if he had held up the
ceremony for as long as Sirius.
Peter frowned.
“What are you talking about? It said ‘Gryffindor’ almost as soon as the hat touched your
head!”
“What?” James asked, now feeling very confused. The conversation with the hat felt like
it had taken longer than that. “How long were you talking to the hat? It took at least half a
minute to decide where to put you.”
Peter shrugged.
“It was about that long. It didn’t say much at all. I think it must not have thought I had
any good qualities… in the end it just ended up asking me what I wanted. Sirius was in
Gryffindor, and I was sure you would go where he did, so I asked for Gryffindor too.”
James wondered if his nervousness might have made the seconds seem longer than they
were. The whole conversation with the Sorting Hat did happen, didn’t it?
After the Q’s and R’s, one more familiar name echoed through the hall.
“Snape, Severus!”
As Severus stepped forward, he glanced almost apologetically to Lily, and sat on the
stool. As the hat touched his head, it cried,
* 36 *
“SLYTHERIN!”
Severus moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins
were cheering him. Malfoy patted him on the back, but it seemed that Severus did not share his
enthusiasm. His dark eyes were still on Lily across the hall.
As soon as the rest of the first years were properly sorted into their houses (ending with
‘Wood, Emma’), Dumbledore stood, his midnight blue robes sliding gracefully to the floor. He
spoke, and his voice was clear and powerful.
“To all of the first years, welcome to Hogwarts. To all of our returning students,
welcome back. Before we dig into our bountiful feast, I have a few announcements. The first is
that the western stair of the Astronomy Tower is now reopen, as it has been repaired from last
year’s unfortunate dueling incident. I would like to remind you, however, that the Forbidden
Forest is still strictly off limits to all students, unless accompanied by a teacher.
“Secondly, Quidditch tryouts will be held this Saturday at ten o’clock in the morning for
Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses will be holding theirs on
the following Saturday morning at the same time. I wish you all good luck. Lastly, I would like
to recognize two new staff appointments. As Ogg, our Keeper of Keys and Grounds has retired,
his assistant, Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, will be replacing him.”
There was hearty applause from all of the tables except Slytherin. Though most of the
staff members applauded too, a few of them looked uncertain. Hagrid, not seeming to notice,
blushed crimson and waved merrily from his place next to Professor McGonagall.
“In addition,” continued Dumbledore, “As there is once again an opening for our Defense
Against the Dark Arts teaching position, I would like to introduce Mr. Edrian Turnbill.”
A tall, handsome man with wavy brown hair that reached to his shoulders acknowledged
the student body on Professor McGonagall’s right. He was surprisingly young. He looked like
he might be in his mid to late twenties. His skin was deeply tanned, his chin was stubbled, and
James even noticed a pair of worn out old hiking boots protruding from his chocolate colored
robes beneath the table. As he held up his hand in greeting, his sleeve fell away to reveal a tattoo
on his arm, but James couldn’t see what it was from where he was sitting. Dumbledore held his
hands up to quiet the room once again.
“At present, I believe there is nothing left to say, except…
Befuddle! Lumpkin! Dither! Blip!”
* 37 *
Platters of roast chicken, smoked ham, and other delicious foods appeared on the tables,
to the gasps of delight from the first years. James helped himself to mashed potatoes with gravy
and tried to catch Lily’s eye. She was a few heads down the table from him, and seemed
determined not to look at him. Instead, she chatted animatedly with the other girls around
her. James easily remembered the name of the girl on her left, whose long blonde hair almost
reached the floor (Gwendolyn DeLauney), and the square-jawed brunette on her other side (Mary
MacDonald), but it took him a moment to remember the name of the kind looking round-faced
girl who sat across (Alice Minke). Alice whispered something over the table, and Lily laughed,
her green eyes catching the candlelight.
The boy across from James spoke suddenly.
“You’re drowning your potatoes, mate.”
James looked down and realized that he was flooding his plate with gravy.
“Oh, er… thanks,” he said, quickly mopping it up. He looked up at the boy, and almost
recoiled at what he saw. Though he had seen the light brown-haired boy get sorted, he had not
noticed him in detail until now. His skin was pale and sickly looking, with deep scars all over
his face and arms.
After some strained silence, the boy spoke again.
“I’m Remus Lupin. I suppose we’ll be having class together…”
“I’m James Potter, and this is Peter…” James said, but he found it difficult to tear his
eyes from Remus’s scars. Next to him, Peter was also staring, and each of his eyes was almost
as big as the dinner plate in front of him.
Seeming to understand, Remus gestured to his face light heartedly.
“My father keeps blast-ended skrewts. They can be quite a handful when they reach full
size, but their dung is useful in potion making.”
He waited then, as if giving them a moment to decide whether or not they could be
friends. His face was hopeful, but anxious. Peter glanced sideways at James, his expression
clearly asking whether or not it was safe to talk to him, but James immediately decided that he
liked Remus. He rolled up the left sleeve of his robe, revealing a large scar on the back of his
own elbow.
“A Cornish pixie got me when I was visiting my Aunt Kathy’s house, but I like to tell
people it was an Acromantula that did it.”
* 38 *
Remus brightened with relief, and Peter, following James’s lead, relaxed too. After that,
the three of them talked about everything from magical beasts to Quidditch before the sounds of
knives and forks on plates finally died down. The older students began trailing out of the hall.
At first James wasn’t sure whether or not he should try to follow them, but then the boy with the
earring next to Sirius stood up and announced in a deep voice, “First year Gryffindors, come
with me, please.”
James introduced Remus to Sirius, and together, they followed the boy out of the hall.
He seemed to be well liked. Many students were greeting him and clapping him on the shoulder
as he passed.
“His name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. He’s a sixth year, and a prefect,” Sirius explained.
Kingsley led them out of the Entrance Hall, up a large marble staircase, and into a larger
stairwell lined with hundreds of moving portraits. He called loudly over his shoulder to the
group.
“Keep an eye on the staircases when you’re in the main stairwell. They like to move,
especially if you’re late for class.”
As if to prove his point, as they moved up to the second flight, the first slid away just in
time to carry Peter, who was lagging behind at the end of the group, away shrieking. Reacting as
if this kind of thing happened often, Kingsley waved his wand.
“Accio shrieking first year!”
Peter zoomed up to the head of the line next to him.
“It’s best to leave for your classes early,” he said, “just in case these stairs, or any other
objects or inhabitants in the castle for that matter, decide to slow you down.”
“Other inhabitants?” Sirius mouthed at James.
“Other objects?” James mouthed back, wondering if at any moment a rug might pull out
from under his feet.
Kingsley led them down corridors, through doorways, and behind sliding panels and
hanging tapestries. Some of the passages were hidden so cleverly behind columns and statues
that James would never have even known they were there. After what felt like ages, they turned
down a long avenue on the seventh floor. At the very end, they arrived at a large painting of a
rather fat lady in a pink silk dress. Kingsley waved kindly at her, and she giggled coquettishly.
* 39 *
“This is the portrait that leads to our common room. It requires a password to get in, no
matter what time of day or night. The password usually changes by the week, and is never
written down — it passes only by word of mouth. This week, the password is ‘pickled
mandrake’!”
The portrait swung open, and they crossed into the common room, which was full of
squashy armchairs by cozy fireplaces. Kingsley indicated two stairwells on either side of the
room.
“Girls dormitories are on the left, boys are on the right. Your things should already be in
your rooms. Breakfast tomorrow morning begins at seven-thirty. Class schedules will be
handed out at that time. Your first class will begin at nine.”
James followed Sirius, Remus, and Peter up the stairs to the right and entered the first
dorm on the left. Five four-poster beds were arranged around the room, with trunks at the foot of
each and a large stove heater in the middle. James found his trunk at the foot of the bed near the
window. Remus flopped down on the bed to his left, and Sirius began spell-o-taping magazine
pictures of motorbikes on the wall near his bed by the door. Peter’s bed was on the other side of
James, and on Peter’s other side, the sleek-haired boy unpacking his things introduced himself
with a friendly smile as Frank Longbottom.
After they settled in, it wasn’t long before they changed into their pajamas and went to
bed. James gratefully placed his glasses on the bedside table and climbed into his soft fourposter, drawing his red velvet curtains closed behind him. As he lay in the dark with his eyes
shut, he almost couldn’t quite believe that it was all actually happening. In the morning, he
would begin learning real magic.
Just to make sure one last time that everything was truly real, and that he wasn’t just
lying in his room at home in Godric’s Hollow, James crawled forward onto his stomach and
peeked through the curtains at the foot of his bed. The lamps were all extinguished, and now the
only light in the room was coming from the faint coals in the stove heater.
“Psst — James!”
Without his glasses on it was hard to tell, but James could just make out Sirius’s face
across the room, poking out from between the curtains of his bed.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad we’re in Gryffindor together.”
* 40 *
James grinned.
“Me too.”
Sirius’s face disappeared, and James withdrew and closed his curtains. As he curled up
under the soft, downy blankets, his thoughts strayed to the pretty red-haired girl he knew was
sleeping just on the other side of Gryffindor Tower. Secretly, he was very glad that he and Lily
were in Gryffindor together, too.
* 41 *
CHAPTER FOUR
THE MARKED MAN
James awoke the next morning to a dull thudding sound. Sitting upright and putting his
glasses on, he wondered if he had imagined it. Thud – there it was again.
He pulled back the curtains of his bed to see Remus’s sleepy face contemplating the same
noise. Frank and Peter must have already gone down to breakfast, because their beds were
empty, but Sirius’s curtains were still shut. Thud.
“What is it?” yawned Remus.
James jumped out of bed and into his clothes, nearly tripping over a loose floorboard as
he hurried out of the dormitory. The thudding noise seemed to be coming from out in the
common room. As he descended the stairs, he heard it again even louder.
SLAM.
One of the squashy armchairs soared through the air and nearly missed him, smashing
heavily into the wall.
“Ickle firsties! Wakie wakie, eggs and bakey!”
A little man wearing a jingling hat, outlandish clothes, and a garish orange bowtie floated
in the center of the common room. He lifted another squashy armchair and threw it at the wall,
and James ducked deftly out of the way as it smashed into the stone, splintering in all
directions. Remus came pummeling down the stairs, closely followed by an extremely
exhausted and irritable looking Sirius.
“How many more of you are hiding up there?” the little man cackled. “Ickle firsties out
of bed, or you’ll be bumped right on the head…”
* 42 *
“Peeves, get out of here or I’ll call the Bloody Baron!”
Kingsley had just climbed in through the portrait hole.
“All right Mr. Perfect Prefect… I’ll grant your wish this time.” Snorting with laughter,
the poltergeist zoomed out directly through the wall.
“Don’t mind Peeves,” Kingsley said reassuringly, repairing the broken furniture and
returning them to their original places. “He does this to everyone. If he comes back, just ask
Nearly Headless Nick to get the Bloody Baron.”
“Nearly Headless Nick?” Sirius asked, looking slightly horrorstruck.
“Yes,” Kingsley replied. “He’s the Gryffindor ghost. Tall, thin, head hanging off by a
thread. It’s hard to miss him. Anyway, you three had better get down to breakfast. Professor
McGonagall is handing out your class schedules. It wouldn’t be a good idea for you to be late to
your first class — especially if it’s hers.”
“Thanks Kingsley!”
Remus led the way out of the portrait hole, through the corridors, and down seven flights
of temperamental stairs to the Great Hall. James was grateful that he remembered how to get
there, because if it were up to him, he might not have found it until lunchtime. Peter, who was
already seated at the end of the Gryffindor table by himself, waved them over, nearly overturning
his goblet of orange juice.
“Hey guys, over here!”
James, Remus, and Sirius took seats around him, helping themselves to what was left of
breakfast.
“Did you get your schedule yet?” Sirius asked thickly through a mouthful of toast.
“Not yet,” Peter answered.
James helped himself to bacon and glanced down along the table. Not far away, Frank
was sitting with Alice. The two appeared to already know each other well. A little further down
the table, Lily was eating breakfast with Mary and Gwen. Gwen’s eyes flicked toward a
handsome, older boy sitting near them, possibly a third year. She said something to the others,
and they broke into fits of giggles. Girls laughed at the silliest things, but Lily had a pretty smile.
“James.”
“Huh?”
“What do you think?”
* 43 *
“What do I think of what?”
Remus sighed, though it was clear he was amused by James’s distraction.
“Which house do you think we’ll have lessons with?”
“Oh,” replied James. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out in a moment.”
He had just spotted Professor McGonagall descending upon them with small squares of
parchment in hand.
“Here are your schedules,” she said, passing them out. “I will see you at nine o’
clock.” She bustled off to finish handing out the rest.
Sirius groaned.
“How did I know?”
He thrust out the schedule. Even at a glance James could already see – the vast majority
of their classes were shared with Slytherin. Remus’s brows pulled down into a frown.
“We have Astronomy at midnight. I didn’t know there were nighttime classes at
Hogwarts…”
He was interrupted by a great commotion above. Hundreds of owls were streaming into
the Great Hall from an opening in the ceiling in a blur of brown, white and grey. They swooped
low over the heads of the students and staff, dropping off letters and packages into outstretched
hands.
A small tawny owl landed in front of Remus to deliver a Daily Prophet. He tucked it into
his bag and handed over a small bronze knut. Just as that owl departed, a large white one
arrived, swinging low over Sirius’s head to drop a red, square envelope onto his plate. James
recognized what it was right away. Other students must have too, because they were now
leaping out of their seats and backing away. Sirius’s eyes widened with amusement.
“Oh, this is going to be rich…”
“Sirius, that’s a howler!” shrieked Peter.
“I know,” said Sirius, seemingly without concern.
“Who’s it from?” James asked.
Smoke was starting to issue from the corners of the envelope. Further down the table,
Lily looked confused, but Mary leaned over and explained it to her. James realized that she must
not have been wizard raised.
* 44 *
“I think I know exactly who it’s from,” Sirius said delightedly. He fumbled to open the
letter as quickly as he could. Instead of reading it, he placed it grandly on the center of the table
like a holiday centerpiece. He adjusted it minutely, as if to get it situated perfectly, but then, the
booming, magically amplified voice of Walburga Black filled the Great Hall.
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK!”
All activity in the Great Hall ceased. Even Severus, who had his nose in his potions book
over at the Slytherin table, paused to listen. Peter dove under the table. Sirius didn’t look in the
least bit bothered. Quite the contrary, he looked positively thrilled. The booming voice
continued.
“HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN TO OUR FAMILY, YOU SHAMEFUL,
UNGRATEFUL BOY?! CHOOSING TO JOIN FILTHY, VILE, HALF BREEDS AND
MUGGLE-BORNS?”
Lily suddenly looked close to tears. James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What
kind of family did Sirius come from?
“YOUR FATHER IS CONSIDERING DISOWNING YOU! YOUR BROTHER
WOULD NEVER COMMIT SUCH A FOUL CRIME AGAINST OUR FOREFATHERS,
AGAINST THE ANCIENT, NOBLE, PURE-BLOODED HOUSE OF BLACK!”
Remus’s jaw was agape.
“DISHONOR! INSUBOORDINATION!” the voice continued. “YOU SHOULD BE
ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! IF YOU HAVE ANY DIGNITY, YOU WILL SEE THE
HEADMASTER AND REQUEST A CHANGE OF HOUSE RIGHT THIS INSTANT. IF YOU
DON’T HAVE THE COURAGE, MR. GRYFFINDOR, THEN I SUGGEST YOU PACK
YOUR BAGS AND BOARD THE NEXT TRAIN HOME!”
With that, the letter blew a raspberry in Sirius’s face, and it tore itself to shreds that fell
like confetti into what was left of his breakfast. Sirius beamed amicably, as if nothing in the
world could give him more satisfaction.
“It’s always music to my ears to hear her go on and on,” he sighed.
Helping Peter climb out from under the table, James glanced up to where Lily had been
sitting. She was gone.
Sirius finally seemed to register that everyone in the Great Hall was staring at him.
“Just wanted to make sure everyone was awake! Who’s in the mood for learning!?”
* 45 *
With a confident grin, he drained the rest of his orange juice.
At nine o’ clock, the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins trooped into the
Transfiguration classroom on the second floor. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter seated
themselves in the back row. Sirius sniggered.
“Hey, look who’s coming.”
Severus had just entered the classroom, his hooked nose protruding from between sheets
of greasy black hair.
“Hello there, Snivellus,” Sirius said haughtily.
Severus sneered at him.
“Black… did you get a letter from Mummy this morning?”
“Yes, couldn’t you tell how absolutely delighted she was that I’m not consorting with
grease balls like you?”
James and Peter laughed, along with a few students nearby. Remus fumbled for his Daily
Prophet.
Severus’s dark eyes narrowed. They burned with loathing before he leaned dangerously
close to Sirius.
“You and your little friends think you’re so clever,” he hissed. “You’ll get yourselves
expelled before you even learn levitation charms… and tell your friend Potter here that he can
stare at Lily Evans all he wants, but she’d rather milk an erumpet than hang out with him. She
knows a real wizard when she sees one.”
Before James had time to wonder what an erumpet was, Severus swept away to sit with
Lily. Sirius glanced questioningly at James.
“I don’t know what he’s —” James began, but he was saved by Professor McGonagall,
who entered the classroom looking pale and mildly shaken. Remus pulled his note-taking
parchment down low over the Prophet.
“Welcome to Transfiguration.” She waved her wand and expertly transformed the lamp
on her desk into a flamingo. The flamingo squawked in astonishment at finding that it was no
longer a lamp, leapt from the desk, and ran for the door, where it escaped into the castle
beyond. James wondered if this kind of thing happened frequently at Hogwarts.
* 46 *
“I will waste no time at all to warn you that Transfiguration is among the most difficult
but important subjects you will be studying here at Hogwarts. If it is tampered or fooled with,
the results can be disastrous — even fatal. As such, I will tolerate no horseplay or tomfoolery in
this classroom.”
Severus shot a look at Sirius and James, clearly daring them to test Professor
McGonagall’s patience.
“Today,” she continued, “We will be learning a simple Color-Changing Spell.”
She flicked her wand, and the word ‘Colorocambium’ appeared on the board. Then, the
same word appeared phonetically below it. The students copied both into their notes.
“Repeat after me: Colorocambium.”
“Colorocambium,” murmured the class.
Professor McGonagall nodded.
“Good. Be sure to say it firmly, like you mean it. Now, you will soon learn that spells
are characterized by various wand movements. The simple Color-Changing Spell requires only
that your wand is pointed at the object you wish to change the color of. The tricky part,
however, is to focus your mind on the color you choose.”
She pointed her wand at the blackboard.
“Colorocambium,” she said clearly.
It changed from black to aqua-marine.
“You will each take a strawberry from the basket on my desk, and attempt to turn it this
color. I will award ten house points to the first student to successfully make his or her
strawberry match the blackboard.”
There was much scuffling and scraping as everyone hurried forward to take a
strawberry. Remus got up and brought back four.
“Colorocambium!” he shouted at his strawberry. Nothing happened. “Oops, I forgot to
focus on the color…”
Peter was eyeing his strawberry hungrily.
Other students around the room were poking or jabbing at their strawberries,
mispronouncing the spell, or otherwise not concentrating hard enough. Severus pointed his
wand at the strawberry in front of him, but to his confusion, it turned a sickly green color. James
* 47 *
looked sideways and saw that Sirius’s wand was aimed at Severus’s strawberry instead of his
own.
“What!” he laughed defensively. “I was just having a little fun with our new friend.”
“Did you actually choose that color?” James asked, impressed.
“Yeah, I figured it was a nice reflection of his skin tone.”
“If you can do the spell, do it properly on your own strawberry and get us some house
points!” James urged him.
Sirius smoothed his bangs out of his eyes and directed the tip of his wand at his own
strawberry.
“Colorocambium,” he said lazily.
The strawberry turned the exact shade of aqua-marine as the chalkboard. Realizing that
he had not even attempted the spell yet for himself, James decided to try his luck too. To his
delight, his strawberry successfully matched Sirius’s.
Professor McGonagall swept over them, beaming proudly.
“Fantastic spell work, boys! That may have been the fastest that any of my students
mastered a Color-Changing Spell. Ten points to Gryffindor! If you feel adventurous, you may
attempt the spell on other objects around the room.”
James could tell that she was inwardly delighted that students from her own house had
received the points. Severus spun around, his face full of fury. Even Peter looked a little
envious. James, remembering that Mr. Ollivander had said his wand was good for
Transfiguration, couldn’t help but be pleased with himself.
Sirius was already pointing his wand around the room, turning parchment violet, stuffed
owls red, and James’s robes from black to sunny yellow. Soon, other students caught up. Frank
Longbottom’s strawberry was only a shade away from aqua-marine, and Remus, after a few
more botched attempts, made his match the board. Once Lily managed to perform the spell, she
tried to help Mary, Gwen, and Severus. Judging by the looks on Mary and Gwen’s faces, they
were not happy that Severus was joining them.
Peter was still struggling with the spell. He was getting more and more agitated, and his
strawberry had begun to swell in proportion to his frustration. It grew to the size of a
watermelon before Remus intervened.
“Peter, you don’t need to move your wand at all. Just hold it still, like this.”
* 48 *
He showed Peter the proper way to do it. James was going to make a suggestion, but
then he was distracted by something moving beneath the parchment that contained Remus’s
scribbled class notes. He tugged it out and discovered that it was a photograph in the Daily
Prophet. On the front page, just like he had seen in the Prophet on his kitchen table back in July,
a glittering skull was printed with a serpent of smoke issuing from its mouth.
“That’s the Dark Mark,” Sirius said in a voice low enough that nobody could overhear.
“The what?”
“The Dark Mark. I heard my parents talking about it before I left for Hogwarts. It’s the
sign that the Dark Lord and his followers put up in the sky, right after they kill someone.”
James felt stupid. He hadn’t heard much of anything about this Dark Lord.
“Who is he? What does he want?”
Sirius looked amazed that James didn’t know more about it.
“His name is…”
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening before continuing at a very low
whisper.
“His name is Voldemort, but a lot of people are scared of saying his name.”
James remembered his father talking about a dark wizard the day he got his letter. He
hadn’t mentioned the Dark Lord’s name, but James found it difficult to believe that his dad could
be afraid of anything.
“He hates Muggles,” Sirius continued, “and Muggle-borns. He thinks we should get rid
of the whole lot of them.”
“Do your parents agree with that?”
“Couldn’t you tell by my letter is morning?”
James felt his stomach tighten.
“Do you agree with that?”
Sirius rolled his eyes.
“Couldn’t you tell by how happy I was to be in Gryffindor?”
Feeling better, James scanned the article below the picture in the Prophet.
MURDER OF FORMER HOGWARTS TEACHER
* 49 *
The body of former Hogwarts professor Anna Meezerly was discovered in
her Cornwall home last night. A victim of the Killing Curse, the Dark Mark was
summoned above her home shortly after her death, an indication that a certain
individual and his followers have claimed responsibility for the crime. The group
last issued the Dark Mark in July, after the murder of famous seer Cassandra
Trelawney. Anonymous sources say that the macabre symbol also appears on the
left forearms of that certain someone’s servants, who are rumored to be called
“Death Eaters.”
Anna Meezerly taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, and
was very well liked by her students and fellow members of staff. Her
contributions to the study of dark magical artifacts were invaluable to the magical
community, page 4, inside.
James was amazed he hadn’t heard more about this. Now he knew why Professor
McGonagall looked so shaken. Sirius, who had also just finished reading the article, chewed the
tip of his wand in contemplation.
“Why would they kill Anna Meezerly? The Meezerly family is pure-blooded. She had to
have done something that offended them…”
Their thoughts were interrupted when the newspaper they were reading burst into
a loud shade of orange. Peter, with Remus’s help, had finally learned the ColorChanging Spell.
After Transfiguration was Charms. The pint sized professor, who had to stand on
a pile of books to be seen, introduced himself as Professor Flitwick, the head of
Ravenclaw house. After a lesson on levitation spells, James and Sirius were frustrated to
find that Charms did not come as easily to them as Transfiguration did. James felt a little
better though when he saw that Severus was struggling as much as he was. Lily, on the
other hand, found that she was particularly adept at Charms. As soon as Professor
Flitwick told the class to attempt the levitation charm for themselves, with a swish and
flick of her wand, Lily’s feather was zooming around the ceiling before any other student
could so much as make his or hers hover. She looked pleasantly surprised with herself.
* 50 *
After Charms was Herbology. The warm air still smelled like summer as the first
year Gryffindors and Slytherins set out across the open grounds on their way to the
greenhouses. Just as they were passing by the shore of the lake, a group of sixth year
Slytherins returning to the castle came past them in the other direction. At the front,
strutting like a prince, was Lucius Malfoy. His badge caught the late morning light like a
green and silver jewel. James wondered if he stayed up at night polishing it.
“Lucius, why did they plant it? It wasn’t there last year,” one Slytherin asked
him.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what the point of the thing is, but if you ask me it’s an
eyesore,” he drawled. “My father will be disgusted by what they’ve done to this place.”
A delicately beautiful but conceited looking girl with blonde hair and blue eyes
was clutching his arm. She looked down her nose at James as they passed.
Remus’s brow furrowed without comment, but Sirius watched them go before
turning to James.
“That girl on Malfoy’s arm was my cousin, Narcissa Black.”
“She looked friendly,” James commented sarcastically. Sirius laughed.
“You know how warm my family is.”
They arrived outside the double doors of Greenhouse One. A tall wizard with the
sleeves of his robes rolled up and his hair back in a ponytail greeted them there, and
introduced himself as Caradoc Dearborn, the head of Hufflepuff. As he dove into a long
and boring orientation on the greenhouse and the plants inside, Sirius struck up a game of
trying to toss Devil’s Snare seeds into the hood of Severus’s robe. James had to bite his
tongue not to laugh out loud whenever one missed and hit him in the back of the head
(Severus would look around, but never could figure out where they were coming
from). At first Remus tried to encourage them to pay attention, but he had to give up
when Peter, who was standing right behind him, began sneezing uncontrollably on the
back of his head. It turned out that Peter was allergic to almost every plant in the room.
After the orientation, they hurried back inside the castle to meet the History of
Magic teacher, a very old, wheezy ghost named Professor Binns. Being a ghost, he was
unable to pick up the piece of parchment that had the class roster on it, so he began by
having each student introduce his or herself. It took the entire period, because Professor
* 51 *
Binns turned out to be very hard of hearing, and he couldn’t figure out how to pronounce
anyone’s name correctly. In particular, he went back and forth for five minutes with
Remus, offering back names like “poop-chin,” and “droop-skin.”
At noon, they all sat down to lunch in the Great Hall and discussed the morning’s
lessons. After a short break, it was time for potions. The temperature dropped steadily,
along with the amount of light as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins trooped down
to the dungeons, toting their cauldrons, potion kits, and books.
Outside of the Potions classroom, a short, round-bellied man with an enormous
walrus-like mustache introduced himself as Horace Slughorn. He ushered them into a
classroom lined with stone tables and benches. As he pivoted on the balls of his feet to
face the class, the gold buttons on his waistcoat looked threateningly close to popping.
“Today, we will begin with an aging potion. Nothing too strong mind you, just
strong enough that it would make you perhaps two or three days older than you are
now. The ingredients and directions are on the blackboard, as well as page sixteen of
your textbooks. Please be sure to measure just the right amount of bundimun, or some of
you may sprout some rather nasty body hair.”
Students began measuring out the green fungus with their brass scales while
Slughorn paced the rows, supervising and occasionally commenting.
“That’s far too much athelas, Casta. Just two or three roots will do. Karl, hold
your knife properly, it’s not a rapier! You there, what on earth are you doing?”
Severus froze, in the middle of pulverizing a dark green fungus.
“Son, it doesn’t say to crush the bundimun in my directions, or in the book.”
“Sorry, sir.” Severus made to throw the bundimun away, but when Slughorn
turned his back to speak to Frank, he covertly dropped it into his cauldron, and the
contents shifted to a rich royal blue color. He bent low over his book with a quill and
scribbled notes in the margin.
Slughorn came to stand over Lily’s cauldron, just two rows ahead of James.
“What is your name, my dear?”
“Lily Evans,” she replied, dropping the bundimun she had just weighed into her
cauldron. It also deepened to a royal blue, although less vibrant than Severus’s.
* 52 *
“You are a fine potioneer. Do you happen to be related to Garrick Evans, the
inventor of the time-turner?”
“No sir, at least, I don’t think I am. You see, I’m Muggle-born.”
Slughorn’s eyes popped slightly with shock.
“Well then. Good work Lily, I’m curious to see what else you can do.” Then,
catching James off guard, he sauntered over to them.
“Sirius Black, I’ve had all of the Black family members that came through
Hogwarts in Slytherin House with the exception of you, bit of a shame isn’t it? At any
rate, I knew your father, Orion. Great potions master, descended from Proditus Black,
inventor of the Polyjuice Potion. It’s too bad your father did not pursue potions making
after he left Hogwarts.”
Sirius forced a smile and dropped a fistful of bundimun into his smoking
cauldron. The contents turned black, giving off the faint odor of burning hair. Peter took
a step away toward Remus, who was reading his Astronomy book while absent-mindedly
stirring the light blue contents of his cauldron. Slughorn’s face fell at the bubbling black
mess in front of Sirius. He took a look at James and the purple slop in front of him, and
without saying another word, strode off to talk to two Slytherins with chocolate brown
hair and porcelain skin.
“They’re Van Vlecks.” Sirius muttered to James. “They come from another pureblood family. Those are the twins — Dorian and Neysa. Primus, Anicetus and Aelia
play on the Slytherin Quidditch team. They also have a little sister named Persephone,
but she won’t come to Hogwarts for another two or three years.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” James asked.
Sirius shrugged.
“Pure-blood families know other pure-blood families,” he answered simply. “My
mother was hoping I would grow up and marry Neysa, but I think maybe she knows me
better by now.”
By the end of the class, only two students managed to make the potion
correctly: Lily, and much to Slughorn’s surprise, Severus.
* 53 *
“Interesting bloke, Slughorn,” James commented as he, Sirius, Remus, and Peter
hurried back up the dungeon steps to the warm ground floor.
“Professor Slughorn plays favorites,” Sirius said, his nose wrinkled in
disgust. “My dad used to be in his little ‘Slug Club.’ He has a knack for finding students
that are well connected and talented, and then throws little tea parties to make sure they
remember him when they become rich and successful.”
“I wonder what Professor Turnbill is like,” said Peter.
“We’re about to see,” James pointed out.
They joined the queue of students outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts
classroom, where everyone was excitedly buzzing about Professor Turnbill.
“I hear he travels all around the world with his brother, finding treasure for the
Ministry,” Frank was telling Alice.
Nearby, Gwen was talking to Casta and Polluxa Fane, the identical blonde
Slytherin sisters. They also looked identically ditzy, twirling their hair absently while
chewing their Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. Today their hair was styled exactly the
same, so James couldn’t even begin to guess at which sister was which.
“He told the sixth years about lethifolds,” Gwen was saying. “He even showed
them pictures he took of one in Borneo!”
“Wow, leatherfolds…” said one of the sisters spacily.
“Yeah, I think I read about those in Teen Witch,” added the other sister. “They’re
all the rage in Japan right now.”
Just then, the door opened, and Professor Turnbill stepped out. Clad in forest
green robes that draped gracefully over his lean frame, he was still wearing the same
hiking boots from the evening before.
“That’s lethifolds, Casta.” He gave her a friendly smile. “And they’re not an
exotic type of clothing either, Polluxa. They’re dark creatures that can smother you in
your sleep, and digest you without leaving a trace behind.”
As the gum fell out of Casta and Polluxa’s gaping mouths, he turned to Gwen.
“And that’s right Gwen, I did lecture the older students on dark beasts
today. Your sister must have told you. Unfortunately, lethifolds are not a part of the first
year curriculum.”
* 54 *
There was a collective groan from the group.
“Not to worry, not to worry,” Turnbill laughed, waving them inside, “we have an
exciting list of our own topics to learn about this year.”
The students filed into the classroom and took seats, gazing in wonder at all of the
moving photographs on the walls. Most of them depicted Professor Turnbill’s travels
around the world. James and the others sat near the wall at the back of the classroom,
next to a photo of Professor Turnbill posing with what looked like a South American
tribe. He was holding a gold statue of an eagle.
“Looks like he gets around, doesn’t he?” Sirius commented.
Once everyone was seated, Professor Turnbill strode to the front of the room to
face the students, his eyes bright and keen.
“Dumbledore has kindly already introduced me, but for those of you who, like
me, suffer from a bad memory for names, I am Edrian Turnbill. As you may have
guessed, I am a seeker and collector of rare historical artifacts, and I specialize in the
identification of items concealing dark magic.”
Just then, the door at the back of the classroom opened, and Lily and Severus
entered. Turnbill waved them in, frowning.
“Because this is the first class, I’ll let this go, but normally I do not tolerate late
students.”
“Please, sir.” Lily hurried forward and handed him a note. “Professor Slughorn
asked us to stay for a moment after potions. It won’t happen again.”
Turnbill quickly read the note.
“All right. Please take a seat in the back.”
The only seats open in the back were the one next to Sirius, and the one between
Mary and Gwen, which Lily promptly took. Looking as if he would rather gouge out his
eyes with a hot poker, Severus grudgingly dropped his bag and sat down next to Sirius,
who looked equally as disgusted.
“Though I should warn you that there will be days when we’ll only be taking
notes, today we’re going to have a practical lesson to get to know each other.” Turnbill
motioned to a pile of items in front of his desk that looked like normal Muggle
junk. There were old trainers, watering cans, books and toys.
* 55 *
“There are twenty-one items here, one for each student. Of these twenty-one
objects, three are cursed with concealed, dark magic.”
Peter gave a squeak of fright. Turnbill turned in his direction.
“What is your name?”
“Peter Pettigrew.”
“Well Peter,” he said reassuringly, “there is no need to worry. None of these
objects will attack you. They merely contain secrets.”
Peter sagged with relief as Turnbill waved his wand, and spells and instructions
appeared on the blackboards around the room.
“There are dark magic detectors on the tables around the room. I would like for
each of you to select an object, and try all of the detectors on it.” He held up what looked
like an old-fashioned television aerial. “I only have one secrecy sensor, so please be
gentle with it and take turns. Don’t forget, there are also spells written on the
blackboards that command your object to reveal its secrets. Any questions? All right,
have at it!”
Students surged forward to take items from the pile. Sirius took a baseball, and
James took a dictionary that was missing quite a few pages. Remus was already
performing spells on an old boot, while Peter swiped the secrecy sensor all around an
ugly old teddy bear that was missing an eye. On the other side of Sirius, Severus was
examining every inch of a brass necklace with an object that looked like a multi-lens
magnifying glass.
“He’s interesting, Turnbill, isn’t he?” Remus asked James.
“Yeah, I want to hear more about where he goes and what he does,” James
replied.
Sirius craned his neck to get a better look at him.
“Did you see that he has a tattoo on his arm at the feast?” he said. “Too bad he’s
got his sleeves down, I wish I could see what it was.”
After a few minutes, Alice discovered that her candelabra was concealing dark
magic. She was soon joined by a Slytherin boy named Karl Rosenblatt, whose rusty fork
made the secrecy sensor go haywire. Karl put the secrecy sensor back down on the table,
* 56 *
and just as Sirius was reaching for it, Severus snatched it away. For a moment Sirius
looked like he was going to say something angry, but then he recovered his cool.
“Nice necklace, Snivellus. If you wear it, you’ll look even more like a girl than
you do now…”
James, Peter, and a number of nearby students laughed uproariously. Even Lily
giggled over the old silver hairbrush in front of her.
Maybe it was because everyone was laughing, or maybe it had more to do with
the fact that Lily was, but Severus’s sallow skin deepened into an ugly shade of puce. In
a flash, he had his wand in his hand, aimed at Sirius’s turned back.
“Corpomorsus!”
“NO!”
James flung himself into Severus just as he uttered the hex, causing it to miss
Sirius and singe the wall a few inches to his left. Casta and Polluxa Fane shrieked and
leapt out of the way as they landed hard on the cold stone floor.
“Never…NEVER curse my friends when their backs are turned!” James snarled
into his greasy ear.
Someone was suddenly pulling him away. Severus remained on the floor, his
chest heaving with certain loathing.
“What is going on over here?” Turnbill demanded.
James trembled with rage.
“He tried to put a stinging hex on Sirius when his back was turned.”
Severus’s lip curled.
“Potter called Evans a Mudblood.”
A round of whispers and shocked gasps rippled through the room. After the
moment it took her to understand that the word was a severe insult, Lily’s green eyes
narrowed.
“James Potter, you are a bully and a creep, just like your friends!”
With that, she gathered up her things and moved to a table on the other side of the
room. Professor Turnbill’s brow creased as he looked between Severus and James.
* 57 *
“I can’t allow childishness like this to disrupt my class,” he said evenly. “Ten
points from each house, and both of you will receive detention. After dinner tomorrow
night, in my office.”
James and Severus exchanged mutinous glances while Turnbill addressed the rest
of the class.
“Back to work everyone — there’s nothing to see here.”
After the last dark item was found, a teakettle that caused one of the lenses of the
magnifying glass to crack, the class was dismissed. Slinging his bag over his shoulder,
James felt dreadful — not because he was sentenced to detention with Severus, but
because Lily thought he had called her that horrible name.
Sirius gave him a pat on the back a few minutes later, as they traipsed back
through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room.
“Hey, thanks mate,” he said sincerely. “Thanks for having my back. That nasty
stinging hex would have really left a mark.”
A mark. James stopped dead. Remus walked directly into him, and Peter walked
directly into Remus.
“A mark… You just reminded me. The Dark Mark!” James pressed a hand to his
forehead.
“Blimey James, don’t say that too loud,” warned Peter, looking around nervously.
“The Dark Mark was in the paper today, what’s that have to do with anything?”
asked Remus, pulling them aside so other students could come in through the portrait
hole.
“Turnbill has a tattoo doesn’t he?” James said intently, looking from one
incredulous face to another. “He has a tattoo, and it’s on his left forearm. None of us
know what it is. The article said V…Voldemort’s followers have a Dark Mark on their
left forearm. You don’t think he could be a Death Eater, do you?”
They all looked contemplative. At last, Remus broke the silence.
“James, do you think he really would have sat at the staff table showing off his
Dark Mark? Dumbledore was sitting just a few feet away. Anyone at the staff table
could have seen it.”
Sirius was quick to jump to James’s defense.
* 58 *
“But we only saw it for a split second when he waved to everyone. For the rest of
the night, his sleeve was covering it. From that angle, the only people who would have
seen the tattoo were the students. Nobody at the staff table would have been able to see
it!”
“Honestly, Sirius, you don’t really think Dumbledore would be dumb enough to
hire a Death Eater?” Remus argued. “He’s the greatest wizard of this age!”
“Well, who knows!” Sirius said defensively. “My parents said Death Eaters are
everywhere these days. They’re infiltrating pretty much every magical outfit in the
country. They’re even in the Ministry of Magic now. Why wouldn’t they send someone
to Hogwarts?”
“Your parents seem to know an awful lot about Death Eaters,” Remus muttered.
James bit his lip.
“Sirius,” he said slowly, trying to be as tactful as possible, “are your parents
Death Eaters?”
“No!” Sirius spat, but then his defiant expression lost its intensity. He suddenly
looked uncertain. “I mean, well, at least… I don’t think they are,” he said quietly. He
shoved his hands in his pockets and picked at the ground with the toe of his trainer.
Remus raised his eyebrows.
“You don’t sound so sure, mate.”
Color suddenly flooded Sirius’s pale cheeks.
“Well if you couldn’t tell, Remus, my parents and I aren’t exactly close.”
Peter shifted uncomfortably. Remus seemed to realize he had crossed some kind
of line. Sirius’s hand was on his wand, and his jaw was set so tightly it looked as if he
was fighting back tears.
“Okay, that’s enough,” James said quickly, getting between the two of them. “It’s
clear Sirius doesn’t know, and even if they were Death Eaters, he’s on our side. So it
doesn’t even matter, okay?”
Without another word, Sirius stormed up the stairs to the boys dormitories.
“What was that all about?” Peter asked.
Remus watched him go.
“Maybe I should go apologize,” he said. A door slammed somewhere upstairs.
* 59 *
“I think he just needs some space,” said James. “Let’s just stay down here. We’ll
see him at dinner.”
Classes were ending, and more students were climbing in through the portrait
hole. James and Remus struck up a half-hearted game of Wizard’s Chess, but it seemed
that neither of them could keep their mind in the game. James’s head was buzzing with
thoughts about Turnbill and the mysterious mark on his arm. Whether Remus believed
he was a Death Eater or not, James decided he would keep a much closer eye on him —
starting at detention the next night.
* 60 *
CHAPTER FIVE
THE BOLT OF AGES
After his outburst in the common room, Sirius was uncharacteristically quiet. He did not
show up for dinner that evening, and in Astronomy class (at midnight that night), he set up his
telescope on the far side of the tower, away from James, Remus, and Peter. His bad mood
extended into classes the next morning, too. For most of the day, he didn’t speak at all unless
absolutely necessary, and even then, it was only in one or two words at a time.
At four o’ clock that afternoon, after Defense Against the Dark Arts, the first year
Gryffindors and Slytherins hurried down to the Quidditch Pitch for their for their first flying
lesson. Once the school brooms (which had seen much better days) were passed out, and James
was allowed to kick up off the grass, he was pleased to discover that he wasn’t the worst flier in
the class — it was actually quite the contrary. He wasn’t slipping off the back like Remus,
jerking around erratically like Sirius, or hanging on upside down like Peter.
The worst flier in the class by far was Severus, who couldn’t even figure out how to
mount his broom properly. First he got on facing the wrong direction, and the bristly end of the
broom tipped upwards and smacked him square in the face. Then, after he managed to figure out
which way was forwards, he couldn’t seem to get the broom to lift him off the ground. In fact,
James thought he spotted Severus slamming into the ground more times than he saw him lifting
off of it. Sirius in particular seemed to be enjoying the show, and fortunately, by the end of the
lesson, he seemed almost totally himself again.
* 61 *
As they trudged back up to the castle, beaten and bruised, with Sirius chattering away
about a particularly hard hit that Severus had taken to his rear end, James tried to catch Lily’s
eye. She must have known what he was trying to do, because she suddenly picked up speed,
striking up an intense conversation with Gwen as she did so. All day James had been trying to
catch her alone. He wanted to properly explain what happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts
the day before, but she seemed determined to avoid him. It wasn’t until dinner that he finally
managed to corner her.
“Lily?” James sat down next to her at the table. She promptly stood and slung her bag
over her back. “Lily wait, I want to apologize.”
Maybe he sounded pathetic enough to make her feel sorry for him, because she paused
and waited, though she still wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Don’t you have a detention to get to?” she asked coolly.
“I do, that’s why I’m here early,” James said, feeling glad that he had come without
Sirius, Remus, or Peter. It was his first time actually speaking to Lily, and he was feeling quite
nervous.
“Well, say what you want to say then,” she said crossly.
“I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t call you a Mudblood,” James said quickly, the
words tumbling from his mouth in a rush. “I really told Severus not to curse my friends when
their backs are turned.”
Lily frowned and stared at him long and hard, trying to decide for herself if he was being
truthful. Then, to James’s relief, her expression softened.
“I had a feeling you didn’t. It’s just been hard. I never knew how looked down upon
people like me are around here.”
“Only by those rotten Slytherins.”
James’s eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table. Severus, still black and blue from flying
lessons, was eyeing him keenly over his plate. Lily was quick to jump to his defense.
“I’ll have you know my best friend is a Slytherin, and he doesn’t think I’m inferior!”
“Why are you even friends with him Lily?” James asked, hating Severus more by the
minute. “He’s vile, and he’s a liar! You have to see that… are you sure he didn’t slip you a
potion or something?”
* 62 *
“No!” she replied angrily, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “And it’s none of your
business who I hang around with!”
She abruptly turned on her heel and stormed away, just as Sirius, Remus, and Peter
arrived. They plopped down on the bench around James.
“What was that about?” Sirius asked, watching her retreating back.
“Nothing,” muttered James. “I just wanted to ask her something from class.”
Sirius and Remus exchanged knowing looks.
“Oh, knock it off. It’s not like I… I don’t — ”
Remus jumped to change the subject.
“Are you ready for your detention with Turnbill?” he asked. “I wonder what he’s going
to make you do.”
“Maybe he’ll make you do lines,” Sirius suggested. He held up his hand and pretended to
write in the air. “I… will… not… attack… greasy… gits.”
They all laughed. James was glad to hear Sirius sounding like himself again. Remus
especially looked relieved.
After he ate his fill of roast beef, James gathered his things and left for Professor
Turnbill’s office, even though he was a few minutes early. He was hopeful that he might have a
chance to look around before Turnbill got there, to search for any evidence of Death Eater
connections.
Turnbill’s office was on the second floor. The door was wide open, and light was
pouring out. As James approached, he began to hear snatches of a hushed but agitated
conversation between two people. There was a familiar voice speaking.
“Albus has his sources. He knows Voldemort is looking for it, and apparently he has told
his Death Eaters that the pieces are here — in the school, Edrian!”
James froze. Voldemort wanted something at Hogwarts?
Next, he heard Professor Turnbill’s calm, evenly maintained voice.
“Minerva, I know this was Anna’s subject, may she rest in peace, but I am a specialist,
and I can assure you that there is absolutely no chance that all of the pieces are still in the
castle. After it was broken, the pieces were said to have scattered across Europe. It’s likely that
one or more are even in another continent by now.”
* 63 *
“Voldemort is not a fool, Edrian!” Professor McGonagall said insistently. “He may
know something that we don’t. Whether the pieces are here or not, he will send Death Eaters to
search the school — maybe even come himself, and with the new passage leading to our grounds
from Hogsmeade, we are only making ourselves more vulnerable to attack. I know Dumbledore
insisted upon it for one of my new students, but I don’t think he really stopped to consider just
how it would affect the school’s security –”
“Minerva, there is no need to worry. Voldemort would not dare come here while Albus
Dumbledore is still headmaster. Our school is very well protected, and there is no chance that he
will find what he is looking for, because the pieces have been, ironically, lost to time.”
“Please Edrian, you are the member of the staff most skilled at finding magical
artifacts. Give the school a search, just to make sure there is nothing here.”
“I wish I could help, but I will not act unless Albus Dumbledore asks me to do so
himself, which he has not. Now I apologize, but you’ll have to excuse me, I’m expecting a
student for detention.”
Professor McGonagall’s brisk footsteps came toward the door, and James realized that he
needed to move quickly. Looking around frantically, he hid himself behind a suit of armor a few
feet away. He was just in time. Professor McGonagall burst through the door and stormed past
his hiding place, muttering angrily to herself all the way down the corridor. When she was gone,
he stepped out and entered the office. He was disappointed to see that Turnbill was wearing long
sleeves again.
“Ah, James,” Turnbill said, waving him in. “I’m afraid Severus will not be joining us
tonight. Professor Slughorn is borrowing him. He’ll be joining me tomorrow night instead.”
James did not feel angry at all. Severus could have as many dessert parties with Horace
Slughorn as he wanted, as long as he didn’t have to spend his evening with him. Contenting
himself with a mental image of Severus choking on his ice cream, James shifted his attention to
the office itself.
Turnbill’s office walls were covered with even more photographs of his travels than his
classroom. There were piles upon piles of books, and an assortment of stone and metal statues,
crowns, goblets and swords. It looked like a small museum, all crammed into a tiny
space. James examined the closest object, a shallow stone basin with runes carved around the
edge. It was empty.
* 64 *
“I see you’re admiring my collection,” Turnbill said, joining him at the basin. “These are
only a few of my artifacts. Albus was kind enough to let me store some of my rarer, more
valuable pieces somewhere else here in the castle. Now, we mustn’t forget why we’re both
here.”
He motioned to a pile of books in the corner, next to an empty shelf.
“Tonight, I’m going to ask you to alphabetize my books here, and put them up on this
shelf. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. You may go when you’re finished.”
James hoped that he might leave the office so he could take a look around, but instead he
sat down at his desk and began grading homework.
Give Severus a D, James thought. Forced to do the task set before him, he kneeled and
began to go through the nearest pile of books. After an hour and a half of shifting, inserting, and
reorganizing, the shelf looked much neater. Over at the desk, Turnbill stood, gazing down hard
at an old book. Then he pushed it aside, shaking his head. As if suddenly remembering James
was there, he glanced over.
“Looks great, James,” he said, nodding approvingly. “You’re a good worker. I’m going
to visit the kitchens for a moment — I missed dinner because I was speaking with… that is to
say, I was busy. Will you be all right on your own for a few minutes?”
James couldn’t believe his luck.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, I’ll be back.”
James watched him leave, and then sat still for another whole minute, craning his neck to
make sure that he really had gone. When he was quite sure that he was alone, he leapt to his feet
and went to Turnbill’s desk. It was scattered with hundreds of papers, which he knew he did not
have time to read. He opened a couple of drawers, hoping to find something incriminating, but
there was nothing more interesting than a few old quills, some blank parchment, and an old bag
of Bertie Botts Beans.
The book Turnbill had pushed aside was still sitting open on top of the desk. On its dry,
yellowing pages was a medieval painting of a crowned warrior on horseback. James read the
caption.
* 65 *
Alexander the Great was one of the most powerful wizards in
history. Undefeated in battle, Alexander conquered the entire Persian Empire,
which at that time included Anatolia, Syria, Phoenicia, Judea, Gaza, Egypt,
Bactria, and Mesopotamia. Legend suggests that the reason for this triumph was
a scepter he forged from metal sent to earth by the gods.
James frowned. He didn’t know that Alexander the Great was a wizard, nor had he heard
of any scepter he forged. Could that be what Voldemort was searching for? How would a
scepter like that have ended up at Hogwarts? There was certainly no more information about it
in the book.
Sounds from the corridor announced that Turnbill was already back. Wondering how he
had gone down to the kitchens and returned so speedily, James rushed back to the pile of books,
seizing the nearest one. Its title was written in peculiar symbols he couldn’t read.
“How’s it going James?”
“Good, sir,” James replied, wondering how on earth to alphabetize the book with the
unfamiliar symbols.
Turnbill checked his watch, which had planets and stars on it that rotated rather than
hands.
“I suppose this task is taking longer than I thought it would. I’ll tell you what, why don’t
you go ahead back to your common room. I’ll have Severus pick up where you left off
tomorrow night.”
James dropped the book with the peculiar symbols back onto the pile. Severus could
figure out what to do with it.
“Thanks Professor,” he said, shouldering his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow in class!”
Back in the common room, James caught Sirius, Remus, and Peter up on what he had
learned from the conversation between Professors McGonagall and Turnbill. He also told them
about Alexander the Great and the scepter.
Remus looked thoughtful.
“I’ve never heard of the scepter of Alexander the Great either. I’ll go by the library
tomorrow and see if there’s any information about it.”
* 66 *
“Tomorrow?!”
Sirius leapt down from the windowsill, where he had been lounging.
“If Voldemort wants this scepter thing, don’t you think we should get on it before he has
a chance to find it? Especially if none of the teachers are going to look for it. I think we should
go now.”
Remus’s jaw dropped, his eyes as wide as if Sirius had just suggested robbing Gringotts.
“Now? It’s too late to leave the common room!”
Sirius laughed, his dark eyes glinting.
“You’re really going to let their silly rules stop you? You really think the rules are more
important than stopping Voldemort from finding a weapon that could destroy the world?”
Remus rolled his eyes with a laugh.
“Sirius, you don’t even know what it does yet.”
“Well that’s the point!” Sirius said obstinately. “We need to find out!”
James couldn’t help but agree. He turned to Sirius.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Me too!” squeaked Peter.
Remus appeared to be fighting an internal battle, torn between following the rules or his
friends. The corner of his lip twitched upward, and he threw his hands up with an exasperated
sigh.
“You three had better not get me expelled.”
With teachers and prefects patrolling the halls, it took a long time to tip-toe down to the
fourth floor. At first the mood was light hearted, and with all the whispering and muffled
laughter, it almost felt to James like they were only sneaking out for a good time. The fun ended,
however, when Peter let loose a shrill shriek after catching sight of their reflections in a large
mirror outside of Professor Flitwick’s office. After a few moments of tense waiting, they felt
safe enough to continue, but did not speak again until they reached the heavy double doors of the
Hogwarts library.
“Peter,” James whispered, “we need you to stand guard here at the door. If you hear
someone coming, you need to come warn us.”
* 67 *
Looking thoroughly unhappy to be assigned that job, Peter remained at the doorway
while the others crept deeper into the library.
“Find everything you can on famous scepters and Alexander the Great,” Remus
said. They fanned out to search the dark library. James, realizing the librarian wasn’t there to
protest, felt a thrill of excitement as he stepped beyond the velvet rope that sectioned off the
restricted section.
Twenty minutes later, they had collected a small mountain of books on one of the study
tables, and were perusing the pages by the dim light of their wands.
“Not one mention of Alexander the Great in this one,” James said, pushing aside Staves
and Scepters of Old.
“Alexander the Great, also known as Alexander the Third, conquered all of Persia… blah,
blah… must successful King of Macedon, yadda yadda… nothing new in this one.” Sirius
tossed a heavy encyclopedia away.
Macedon, James thought. Why does that sound familiar?
“I’ve got gold!” Remus cried excitedly. James and Sirius hastily hushed him before they
all put their heads together. Remus read aloud from the massive volume in front of him, entitled
Ancient Myths and Legends of the Old Wizarding World, by the light of his wand.
“Alexander the Great, the undefeated warrior and king of Macedon, is said to have forged
a scepter from the metal of a meteorite, hurled to earth by Zeus himself. Wielding this scepter,
he became the master and commander of time. While the simple time-turner allows for travel
only within a few hours from the present, this scepter enabled the user to travel across time
spanning eons. With this power, he expanded his empire to lands beyond Anatolia, Syria,
Phoenicia, Judea, Gaza, Egypt, Bactria, Mesopotamia, and even as far as Punjab.
“Jealous of the power the scepter provided, the sons of Antipater, a Macedon general
beneath Alexander, plotted to steal it from him. One night they poisoned him, and took the
scepter, which they renamed the Bolt of Ages. For a great many years, the Bolt of Ages faded
from living memory. In the year 987 A.D., a wizard by the name of Thackary Petrie found the
scepter while conducting an excavation in the city of Alexandria, which was named after its
founder, Alexander the Great.
“Legend has it that Petrie brought the scepter with him back to Britain, where he
entreated the advice of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which
* 68 *
opened its doors in 990 A.D. Together, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff,
and Rowena Ravenclaw decided that no one should ever be allowed to abuse the scepter’s power
again. They split the scepter into four pieces, which were hidden by each under heavy
enchantment within the school they had just founded. Petrie, who assisted each founder, was the
only soul ever to know the final resting places of all four pieces.
“Fearing that the scepter’s secret would be lost forever, Petrie hand wrote one copy of a
diary he titled Legacy of the Macedon King, which is said to detail the exact locations of each
piece of the scepter. The diary disappeared after his death in London in 1001 A.D. Many
scholars believe that over the next few hundred years, one or more pieces of the scepter were
found, and carried away to Africa, Asia, and perhaps even across the ocean to the New World,
where they were lost forever.”
Remus had reached the end of the chapter.
“Wow…” Sirius leaned back on two legs of his chair. “The power to control time. I
told you it was serious.”
“All right, you were right,” Remus snapped. “But how can we know if the pieces were
scattered or not?”
“Well it’s obvious isn’t it?” Sirius said. “We have to find Petrie’s diary and follow his
instructions to see for ourselves!”
“How?” Remus asked, looking doubtful. “The diary is lost, we wouldn’t even know
where to begin looking.”
James was thinking very hard. The title sounded so familiar. Legacy of the Macedon
King… where had he heard that title before? Suddenly, it struck him.
“I know where it is,” he said aloud.
Remus dropped the book to the floor with a gasp, and it echoed loudly around the
library. Sirius stared agape.
“Well… would you like to share it with the class?”
“It’s at Flourish and Blotts, in Diagon Alley. I saw it there when I bought my books for
school in July.”
Remus’s scarred face contorted with disbelief.
“James, Petrie’s lost diary is not on a shelf in a bookstore at Diagon Alley. Not for nine
hundred and seventy years! Someone would have noticed it, someone would have bought it!”
* 69 *
“Not if they didn’t know what it was…”
James twirled his wand between his fingers as he thought aloud.
“We certainly had never heard of it before. There are thousands, if not millions of books
in that shop. I think it’s entirely possible that that book sat quietly on that shelf since Petrie died
in 1001. After all, some of the shops there date back to 382 B.C. All of that aside, I saw it
myself. I know it’s there.”
“So how do we get there?” asked Sirius.
“How about the Knight Bus?” Peter said loudly, right behind Remus.
All three of them jumped, nearly knocking the tall pile of books right off of the library
table.
“Peter!” Sirius hissed. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be keeping watch at
the door! How long have you been listening here?”
“I listened to the whole thing. After ten minutes at the door, I started feeling jittery, so I
came looking for you.”
James quickly changed the subject back before Sirius could say whatever nasty thing he
looked like he was about to say.
“The Knight Bus? We’re not allowed to leave, and the bus can’t pick us up right in front
of the school. How can we get off the grounds? The gates are protected by enchantments that
ensure no students sneak off without permission.”
Remus’s face lit up.
“Hogsmeade! There’s a passage —”
He stopped himself mid-sentence, deflating into his seat like a balloon with a hole in
it. Sirius let his chair drop back down to its front legs.
“A what?”
Remus seemed very tense and uncomfortable. James could almost see the wheels turning
in his head.
“There’s a… a way to get to Hogsmeade from the school… the boats! The boats, at the
bottom of the cliff, the ones that we took across the lake on our first day. We can cross the lake
to Hogsmeade and call the Knight Bus there.”
James had more than a suspicion that this plan wasn’t the one Remus was originally
going to suggest.
* 70 *
“When?” asked Sirius, who didn’t seem to notice.
“We can’t cut class,” said James. He winced to imagine the punishment Professor
McGonagall would inflict upon them if she found out. Sirius thought for a moment.
“We’ll have to go on Saturday.”
Remus’s face fell.
“I can’t go with you,” he said.
Sirius exhaled exasperatedly.
“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re scared to break the rules again!”
“No.” Remus looked stricken. “I have to… visit my mother, she’s very ill.”
“Oh…”
Sirius and James glanced at each other. Clearly, neither of them knew about this. Sirius
pressed it.
“Don’t you think this is important, though? I mean, you can always visit her on Sunday,
right?”
“No. I have to visit her on Saturday,” Remus said stiffly. “I’ll probably be gone for a
few days. I’m sorry.”
James sighed, sensing Remus’s discomfort.
“Then you should visit her, Remus. It’s all right. Sirius, Peter, and I will find the diary.”
Peter piped up.
“What are we going to tell Frank? Don’t you think he’ll wonder why he’s the only
student in the dorm this weekend?”
“We can tell him we’re all going to visit Remus’s mother together,” said Sirius.
Suddenly, there was a loud SLAM as the library door swung open. All four of them
froze, barely daring to breathe, listening hard while their hearts pounded away.
“Maybe it was Peeves,” whispered Remus.
“As if that would be any better than a teacher,” Sirius hissed.
It wasn’t Peeves, because a moment later, heavy footsteps entered the library. Sirius shot
Peter an angry ‘this is all your fault’ look. They began to scatter, but James turned back.
“Hide the books!”
Sirius grabbed him by the arm.
“There isn’t any time!”
* 71 *
James barely managed to flip the cover of Ancient Myths and Legends of the Old
Wizarding World closed before Sirius dragged him off into the shadows. The drawling voice of
Lucius Malfoy carried over the shelves.
“Is someone in here? If you’re a student, you’ll be sorry I’ve caught you out of bed…”
He stalked down the central aisle of the library with his lit wand aloft. James and the
others were just able to sneak along the periphery, out through the open door, and back into the
corridor. After a tense journey up three flights of stairs, they finally dared to breathe again in the
Gryffindor common room. Sirius laughed as if he had never had more fun in his life.
“What a git!”
James realized that he, too, was laughing.
“Did you see his face?”
“We have to do that again —”
“You don’t think he figured out what we were reading about, do you?” interrupted
Remus.
“Stop worrying Remus!” Sirius said, his eyes still gleaming with mirth. “He’s probably
too dumb to know the top of the cauldron from the bottom.”
“I did close the book before we left,” James said defensively.
“And besides,” Sirius said, “He doesn’t know where the diary is, and James does.”
Remus still didn’t look very convinced.
“He’s a prefect Sirius, he has to have a decent head on his shoulders if he’s—”
Remus was interrupted mid-sentence as a pearly white and slightly transparent cloud
came out of the wall and floated directly through him.
“A decent head on his shoulders? You wouldn’t happen to be talking about me now
would you?”
The cloud was a man, or at least, the ghost of a man. He had long curly hair, wore
breeches, a doublet, and a tunic, and had a ruff fastened about his neck.
Remus sputtered as if someone had doused him with ice cold water.
“Who are you!”
“I say, you must be first year students. We haven’t been properly introduced! Sir
Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, ghost of Gryffindor Tower, at your service.”
* 72 *
The ghost gave a bow, but as he bent low, his head accidentally tipped sideways off his
shoulders. It just barely clung on by a thin strip of skin.
“Dear me, I apologize… how undignified of me.”
While the ghost struggled to reposition his head, Sirius’s face brightened with
recognition.
“Hey, you’re Nearly Headless Nick! Kingsley told us about you!”
“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —”
“What happened to your head?” Peter interrupted.
“Same thing every year…” Nick muttered morosely. “You’d think people would figure
out what a straight cut through the neck means, I was hardly mauled by a werewolf…”
Remus flinched and made a strange choking noise.
“You were executed?” James asked.
“Indeed I was, now if you would prefer to stay your own executions, I suggest you four
go back up to your dormitory, where you belong at this hour.”
James and the others reluctantly did as they were told. Peter tripped over the loose,
squeaky floorboard as they entered the room and nearly tumbled to the floor, but Remus caught
him in time.
“Shh,” Sirius shushed them. “Don’t wake up Frank!”
Luckily, Frank hadn’t stirred. He was still snoring softly in his four-poster. Being more
careful, the four of them changed quietly into their pajamas. Before getting in bed, James turned
to Sirius and Peter.
“We leave Saturday, at five in the morning — before the sun comes up. We sneak down
to the dock, take the boats across the lake to Hogsmeade, and summon the Knight Bus to Diagon
Alley. Then, we find the diary.”
Sirius and Peter nodded in agreement, but Remus climbed miserably into his bed and
dragged the curtains shut without comment. Wondering what illness Mrs. Lupin could possibly
have that was urgent enough to require her son to come home, James climbed into his own bed
and closed the curtains.
* 73 *
CHAPTER SIX
THE JOURNEY TO FLOURISH AND BLOTTS
On Saturday morning, James was shaken awake by Peter, whose pointed noise was just
visible in the dark.
“It’s 4:45. We should be going.”
James rolled out of bed and put his glasses on. Remus’s bed was empty. He hadn’t
returned to the common room the night before.
“Did you leave a note for Frank?” James asked, changing into the pair of jeans and
sweater he had laid out the night before.
“Yes, I left it on his bedside table. He’ll find it when he wakes up.”
“Good,” James replied. He crossed the room and ripped back Sirius’s bed curtains.
“Wake up, sleepy head.”
Sirius rolled over and pulled the blankets back up over his head.
“He can have the Bolt of Ages, I just want to sleep in,” he muttered groggily.
“Wake up, Sirius!” Peter hissed, attempting to shake him.
“Go back to your cupboard, Kreacher!” Sirius moaned, kicking at him.
“Who’s Kreacher?” Peter asked James.
“No idea, but that’s enough of this.”
James whipped the covers off and threw them on the floor. He pulled his wand out of his
back pocket and directed it at Sirius.
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
Sirius rose into the air, hovered for a moment, and then floated out of the bed. Professor
Flitwick had clearly not been joking when he warned that the hover charm was not to be used on
* 74 *
people. James’s wand began to wobble. It felt like he was carrying a boulder with one arm.
Quite suddenly, as if Sirius had been lying on a tree branch that suddenly snapped, he fell with a
dull thud on the dormitory floor.
“OW! I was going, I was going!”
Frank shifted in his sleep and gave a vague snore, but didn’t wake.
“Then get some clothes on,” James said. “We’re leaving.”
Within ten minutes, James, Sirius, and Peter were sneaking out through the portrait hole
for the second time in a week. Though the full moon was still visible through the darkened
windows, it seemed that the teachers and prefects who normally roamed the corridors at night
had finally gone to bed. Tip-toeing past what sounded like Peeves in the Great Hall, they were
able to slip through the castle’s two enormous front doors into the dark, chilly morning, and
down the hewn stone steps that led to the underground boat dock. The small boats that had taken
them across the lake on their first night at Hogwarts were still tethered there.
“Don’t light the lamp,” James warned Sirius, just as he was lifting his wand to light
it. “We don’t want to be spotted out there.”
They piled into the boat and Sirius untied the rope. Then, staring at each other, they
realized that they did not know what to do next.
“There aren’t any oars,” Peter said.
“We didn’t need them the first night we were here,” James said, inspecting every inch of
the small boat. There was nothing useful in sight. They tried every spell they knew (which,
admittedly, there weren’t many of), but the boat still remained resolutely motionless. Out of
exasperation, Sirius finally stood and threw his hands up into the air.
“Why don’t we just ASK them to take us to Hogsmeade! It’s the only thing we haven’t
tried yet!”
The boat suddenly lurched, knocking everyone off their feet, and then they were flying
through the dark tunnel toward the wall of ivy. Peter sprawled on top of Sirius.
“My wand!”
Sirius’s wand was knocked out of his hand. He made a grab for it, but missed, and it
tumbled over the side and into the dark water with a splash.
“I’ll go in after it!” he shouted wildly.
* 75 *
“No Sirius!” Peter cried, grabbing the back of his jacket. “They won’t let you on the
Knight Bus soaking wet!”
Sirius still looked like he was seriously considering leaping overboard, but even he could
see that it was too late. The boat was moving too quickly, and none of them were even sure
where it had fallen in.
“We’re on our way to Diagon Alley,” James said, putting a comforting hand on Sirius’s
back. “You can get another wand at Ollivander’s.”
Sirius sat back gloomily and didn’t say another word as the boat glided smoothly through
the rest of the dark tunnel. They passed through the curtain of ivy, and when they felt the breeze
on their faces and saw the grey light on the horizon, they knew they were out on the lake. A
heavy mist clung to its surface.
“Isn’t this just Déjà vu?” Sirius said sarcastically.
BUMP.
The boat gave an extraordinary shudder. Peter, who had been staring over the side,
cowered down to the floor.
“What was that?” he asked shrilly.
James spun around, looking over the sides.
“We’ve just hit something… maybe a submerged tree root, or a rock…”
Sirius shook his head, his face pale.
“James, the lake has to be at least fifty feet deep out here.”
BUMP.
Now all three boys were cowering in the bottom.
“Maybe you should look over the side,” Peter whispered.
James swallowed hard and sat up slowly. As he peered over the side, he suddenly found
himself staring at his own reflection in something large and round. It was an eye, and it was the
size of a dinner plate.
“AHHHHHHHH!!!”
Sirius and Peter sat up quickly, then they started yelling too. James crawled backwards,
trying to get away from the eye, but to his horror, he saw that there were giant tentacles rising up
out of the mist all around them.
“Use a spell! Use a spell!!” Peter cried, clawing at Sirius as if he were a life ring.
* 76 *
“What am I going to do, Colorocambium it to death!?” Sirius shouted back at him. He
backed as far away as he could, until he was almost falling out the other side of the boat.
“Then stab it with your wand!” Peter screamed.
“I don’t have my wand!” Sirius hollered. “You stab it with your wand!”
“Wait!” James shouted. The creature seemed to be waiting patiently for them to calm
down. “It’s had plenty of time to turn the boat over and eat us… I don’t think it wants to hurt
us!”
“Then… what does it want?” Sirius asked.
In answer to his question, a tentacle as tall and thick as a tree trunk rose out of the water
behind him. It gently began pushing him forward.
“Oh no… no, no no no!”
“Sirius!”
James flung himself forward to pull Sirius back to safety, but another tentacle wrapped
itself around his waist, and he felt himself being dragged roughly away.
Sirius tried to dig his heels in, but it did him no good. The tentacle pushed him further
and further along until he was all the way up against the edge, face to face with the eye.
“What do you want?!” he demanded.
The question was answered almost immediately. Another tentacle rose from the water in
front of him, and it was holding something long and thin. Sirius gingerly reached out and took
it. It was his wand.
“Er…thanks,” he said, smiling weakly.
Suddenly, all of the tentacles retracted, including the one wrapped around James’s
waist. He landed hard on the bottom of the boat. Getting quickly to his feet, he looked over the
side and watched as the giant squid began to retreat slowly and majestically back down into the
lake. As the last tentacle slipped beneath the dark surface of the water, James thought he saw it
wave goodbye to them.
Once they were moving again, a gravelly beach and a long dock lit by dimly burning
lanterns came into view on the opposite shore.
“I can’t believe we made it,” Peter said, glancing back over his shoulder at the lake. “I
thought that squid was going to eat us for sure… or at least you, Sirius.”
* 77 *
Sirius, who was still admiring his wand, rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, thanks for trying to save me Peter.”
As the boat came to a stop, they hopped out and dragged it up onto the gravelly beach.
“So how do we call the Knight Bus?” James asked.
Peter glanced around.
“We should probably be on a road. Like the one up by the rail station.”
Together, they drew in a brave breath and began to make their way up the same forest
path that Hagrid had led them down on their first night. It was still just as dark and treacherous
as it had been before.
“We should have gotten some breakfast before we left,” Sirius said wistfully after a
while.
“I doubt… the kitchens… were even… open yet,” Peter gasped out from the rear. He
was already out of breath.
“Who makes the food at Hogwarts, anyway?” James asked, deliberately walking a little
bit slower to allow Peter to catch up.
“House elves, of course,” Sirius answered, not seeming to care that Peter was huffing and
puffing like the Hogwarts Express. “They clean up around the castle too. The elves at Hogwarts
must be very sneaky and quiet though. Back home Kreacher is always muttering and grumbling,
knocking things over… I think he’s getting old.”
“You have a house elf?” James asked incredulously.
“Yeah, but trust me, you don’t want a house elf like Kreacher. He’s vile. Now how far is
it? It didn’t seem like it was this far the night we arrived.”
James squinted down the path.
“I think I see light up ahead, it doesn’t look like it’s too much further.”
Together, they continued to walk in silence toward the light.
“Maybe we can get something to eat in Diagon Alley,” Sirius said hopefully.
“And we could visit the junk shop,” James said, remembering he didn’t have enough time
to in the summer.
“And this forest is starting to really creep me out,” chimed in Peter.
In response to something unspoken, they all began to walk a little faster.
“Do you think there’s ice cream?” Sirius panted.
* 78 *
“You’ve never been there?” James asked.
“Of course not, Kreacher does all of our shopping. Mother and Father go sometimes if
they have business there, but I never get to go.”
“There’s Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, and all kinds of street venders, I got a blacklicorice-and-blueberry ice cream from one last month.”
Now they were running toward the light, no longer caring about how treacherous the path
was.
“Oh, I hope they have chocolate-and-chili-pepper ice cream!” Sirius crowed.
Suddenly there was a grunt, and James became aware that Peter was no longer behind
him.
“Peter?”
He looked around, and in his moment of distraction, he tripped over a huge tree root.
“Ow! Hey, we’re not on the path anymore!”
It took Sirius a moment longer to realize what had happened.
“What? How can we not be on the path? The light is right ther—”
He abruptly slowed to a stop.
“What the…?”
Where before there had been one light, there were now two. James noticed that more
lights were now appearing all around them. They were soft and grey, much like the edges of the
morning sky had been during their dark journey across the lake. Some bobbed up and down
invitingly, others winked in and out, as if floating amongst the thick tree trunks.
James found Peter in the dark. He was curled up in a tiny ball and whimpering. Sirius
back tracked a few steps and squatted down with them.
“What are they?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” James answered back.
Sirius cleared his throat.
“Hello?” he called, throwing his voice as far as it could go.
Suddenly, all of the lights went out. Then, a second later, the first light flared back up
directly ahead.
“I think it wants us to follow it,” Sirius said, standing back up slowly.
* 79 *
James helped Peter up, and the three of them approached it together, though much more
cautiously this time. The light quivered excitedly and bounced off further into the woods. The
other lights began to join back in, dancing and whirling together after the first.
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Peter asked in a small, shivering voice.
“Maybe they’re leading us back to the path!” Sirius said loudly. Seeming to forget
caution, he began galloping recklessly after them. James and Peter had to run to catch up,
climbing over huge tree roots and ducking under low hanging branches.
“Sirius, slow down!” whined Peter.
Something about the lights was really beginning to bother James. They were affecting
Sirius in an odd way. He seemed ready to blindly follow them anywhere – even if it was into a
briar patch… or off a cliff… or into a bog….
“STOP!”
It was too late. All at once, the ground beneath their feet seemed to disappear, leaving
them chest deep in cold, wet sludge. Sirius snapped out of his trance.
“What? What happened?”
James spit out a bit that had gotten in his mouth. It tasted awful.
“They’re those things that Hagrid warned us about the night we arrived! What were they
called… Hunkerpinks? Hankypanks? He said there was a gang of them, luring people into
bogs!”
Poor Peter, who was a head shorter than all of the others, was almost up to his neck.
“What do they do to the people they lure in here?”
As much as James wanted to hope that they had a good laugh and left, he could already
see that the lights had wheeled around, and were now converging back in on them.
“I don’t know, but unless we want to find out, we have to get out of here!”
The three of them worked their arms and legs wildly, but they couldn’t manage to move
more than a few inches.
“They’re getting closer!” Sirius warned. He was right. The lights at the head of the pack
were less than thirty feet away…
Peter struggled furiously.
“James hold out your wand arm!”
“What?”
* 80 *
“My arms are stuck, hold out your wand arm!”
“Why?!”
“DO IT!”
Not knowing what he was doing or why, James jabbed out his left arm out into the
air. There was a deafening BANG, and a blinding light. As it spilled across the bog, James
could just make out the shadowy forms of short, stout, smokelike creatures, which were now
squealing with rage and retreating into the trees.
“JAMES, LOOK OUT!” Sirius bellowed.
James wheeled his head around to see something enormous and violently purple sailing
right for him. He threw up his arms to shield himself from the impact, but it veered crazily to the
right, hovered for a moment in mid-air, and then dropped down into the bog with a loud
squelching noise.
James dropped his hands, and realizing he was holding his breath, exhaled heavily. The
violently purple object was a triple-decker bus. It had gold lettering over the windshield.
The Knight Bus
Muffled curses began issuing from the area around the door, which was a couple of feet
deep in the bog. The door rattled, making some rather fantastic sucking and squishing sounds in
the mud (had James been in a better mood, he might have started laughing), but then a window
on the first level of the bus popped open. The very surly looking face of an eighteen or nineteen
year old girl appeared.
“What you three think you’re doing? Are you out of your minds?!”
Another voice, an older woman by the sound of it, issued from inside.
“Jill, what did I tell you about the mandatory greeting?”
Jill heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard,” she
quickly recited in a voice that very much suggested that they were unwelcome. “My name is Jill
Puddledip, and I will be your conductor this evening. Just pay our nominal fee, hop aboard, and
let us whisk you off in comfort and style to any destination. Curl up in one of our luxury
* 81 *
beds. Brush your teeth with one of our complimentary toothbrushes. Why apparate, when you
can nap-parate, on the Knight Bus.”
She finished the speech and resumed her sour mood right where she had left off.
“You nearly killed us, calling us to a place like this!”
“We almost killed you?” James asked indignantly, slogging as far forward as he could,
until he was almost reaching the bus.
“Oy, you’d better not think you’re getting on here!” Jill shrieked.
“What do you mean you won’t let us on?” Sirius demanded. “You said emergency
transport for the stranded witch or wizard! Do we not look thoroughly stranded to you?!”
“Then it’s emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard not covered in pond
slime!” Jill retorted.
“Evanesco!”
The door of the Knight Bus suddenly vanished, revealing a very old woman in an
armchair in front of the steering wheel. Her luminous eyes were two different colors (yellow and
green), and her hair was wild.
“Are you a witch or aren’t you, Jill? Let these poor boys aboard, and we can get them
cleaned up.”
James used the railing to pull himself out of the gluey bog, then turned to help Sirius and
Peter. The old witch produced a short, stubby wand and pointed it at the three of them.
“Scourgify!”
James felt as if a huge, invisible vacuum was sucking at all of his clothing. An instant
later, all of the mud was gone.
“Thank you,” said James, shuddering to imagine what would have happened to them if
Peter hadn’t known about the Knight Bus.
“Oh no problem my dear,” the witch said. “Where are you three headed?”
“Diagon Alley,” Sirius answered, now digging in his pocket for money. He handed Jill a
gold Galleon and sixteen silver Sickles. She took a moment to count it, and gestured for them to
sit down. The bus was filled with beds, all of which were empty.
“Diagon Alley, coming right up!” the witch said heartily, yanking on a large yellow
crank. The entire bus began to rumble.
* 82 *
“Say, have you three been on the Knight Bus before?” Jill asked, eyeing them up
suspiciously. Peter nodded, and grasped tightly to the pole nearest him, but James and Sirius
shook their heads.
There was another tremendous BANG, and James and Sirius were thrown to the
floor. Sirius’s wand rolled away from him.
“That’s twice in a row!” he said, scrambling after it.
James managed to haul himself up onto one of the beds, which was rolling around the
inside of the bus crazily. Looking through one of the large, square windows, he could see the
trees flying past at an alarming speed.
“How are we not hitting anything?” he asked Peter. Peter only shook his head, his lips
tightly shut. He looked very green.
“Look,” said Sirius, pointing toward the front window.
James followed the direction of his finger to see rocks and trees leaping deftly out of the
way of the bus. He was fascinated, but only had a moment to look before –
BANG!
Suddenly the trees were gone, and they were flying through central London. Just as the
trees had done, now buildings and park benches were squeezing themselves out of the Knight
Bus’s way.
“I think I just saw my house!” Sirius shouted, and James leapt to look, but the bus was
moving too quickly.
Suddenly, the old witch slammed on the brakes, and the bus jammed to a stop, sending
James and Sirius flying. James crashed into a cluster of beds in the corner, and Sirius flew headlong into the pole that Peter was clinging to. Peter finally lost the contents of his stomach,
narrowly missing Sirius, and inciting another long tirade of curses from Jill. Once he was back
on his feet, James could see that they were just outside of a shabby-looking pub.
“Diagon Alley is through there,” the old witch said, nodding toward the door to the
pub. She looked expectantly at Jill, and when she didn’t say anything, she prodded her sharply
with her elbow.
“Thank you for riding the Knight Bus,” Jill said acidly. “We hope you had a pleasant
journey, and you will travel with us again soon. Remember, if you need a way out of town, just
flag us down.”
* 83 *
James, Sirius, and Peter stepped down to the ground, and before they could blink an eye,
the Knight Bus disappeared with another BANG.
“Thanks Peter,” James said, watching the small cyclone of whirling leaves and litter that
the Knight Bus left behind. “You saved us back there.”
“Don’t mention it,” Peter said weakly, his face still delicately green.
As they neared the door of the pub, the sign hanging above came into focus.
“The Leaky Cauldron,” James read. He and his parents always used Floo Powder to get
to Diagon Alley, so the name was unfamiliar. “Diagon Alley is through here?”
“Yes,” said Peter. “It’s in the back, by the bins.”
They ventured inside, and then out into a small courtyard where the rubbish bins were
kept. Recovering from his motion sickness, Peter tapped three places on the brick wall with his
wand. A small hole opened up, which widened and widened until they found themselves looking
out upon the quiet cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, bathed in warm morning light. A few
witches and wizards were already bustling about in the streets, and shopkeepers were opening
windows and sweeping out doorways.
“Which way is Flourish and Blotts?” Sirius asked.
“This way,” said James, now getting his bearings. They passed the apothecary, the
Quidditch supplies store, and the stationary shop before they reached it.
“Please let it still be here,” he breathed.
They entered quietly. The rows and rows of dusty volumes looked just the same as
James remembered.
“It’s back in one of the far corners, in the Myth and Legend section.”
It was difficult to remember exactly where it was, but after some searching, James finally
found the same shelf with the tarnished brass plate.
“It’s here somewhere, right about at eye level…”
They searched the shelves in silence for a few minutes, but then Sirius suddenly stiffened,
like a hunting dog listening for a fox.
“I think someone’s here,” he whispered.
James was too engrossed in searching to listen. He was afraid that he might have
remembered wrong, and that the whole trip could be for nothing, but finally, by lucky chance, he
spotted it. It was a short, crumbling, grubby little book with blotchy green ink down the spine.
* 84 *
“I have it! It’s here!”
James snatched it down and flipped quickly through the yellowing, brittle pages, which
were handwritten.
“This is it!”
“Are we stealing it?” asked Peter.
“Let’s hope not,” said an old, wheezy voice behind them. The same harassed looking
shopkeeper that James met in July stepped out from behind a shelf. He held out a rough hand for
the diary, and James, feeling as if he had been caught with something he shouldn’t have,
reluctantly handed it over.
The shopkeeper removed a cloudy pair of old spectacles from his breast pocket, and
attentively examined the diary. He did not appear to recognize it as anything
important. Apparently deciding he could get rid of it, he handed it back to James.
“I want fifteen Galleons for it.”
James’s face fell. Sirius had exorbitant amounts of money in his trunk, and he had taken
two very large fistfuls of coins that morning, but he didn’t have that much. Quickly, James
began thinking through all of his options. Return at night and steal it… grab it out of his hands
and make a run for it… each idea sounded worse than the one before it.
“WHAT!” Sirius exploded. “For that piece of junk? Put it back James, we can do our
book report on something else! Let’s go to another store.”
He seized the diary and forcefully shoved it back into the shopkeepers hands. Then, he
marched away without a second glance. James followed, bewildered.
“Sirius, what are you doing?!”
“Shhh!” he hissed back.
“Wait! Don’t go to Spine Binders!”
The shopkeeper, apparently horrified at the prospect of losing business to a book seller
called Spine Binders, was running after them. He took one more critical look at the tattered
diary in his hands.
“All right you wretched kids. Take it for eight galleons or leave it.”
Sirius dug in his pocket.
“I only have three.”
James knew he was lying. He had more than that.
* 85 *
“Three then,” conceded the shopkeeper. He finally appeared to accept that he wasn’t
going to get a good bargain out of them.
Sirius handed him the money and took the diary back.
“Thanks, pleasure doing business with you!”
Before the shopkeeper could say anything further, the three of them ran for the
door. Back outside among the bustling crowd, Sirius opened the diary.
“Sirius, don’t,” James said. “We should wait until we’re alone in the common room.”
Sirius grudgingly shut it and shoved it deep into one of his jacket pockets.
“Well, how about that chocolate-and-chili-pepper ice cream?” he asked hopefully.
After a round of ice cream from Fortescue’s (chocolate-and-chili-pepper was not an
available flavor that day, so Sirius settled for blackberry-and-cocoa), they found their way back
to the stretch of wall covered by bricks, and exited back to London through the Leaky
Cauldron. There, they re-hailed the Knight Bus (Jill was very displeased to have to recite her
lines all over again), and asked to be taken back to Hogsmeade, this time on the road near the
train station. Once there, they were just beginning back down the forest path when Sirius
paused, smiling mischievously.
“You know, Hogsmeade is the only entirely wizarding settlement in Britain. As wizards
in training, don’t you think it would be… educational for us to take a look around?”
With a wink, he set off the other direction, toward the tiny village not far from the
station. Laughing, James ran to catch up. Peter stumbled after them desperately.
“Sirius, James, wait, what are you doing? It’s a Hogsmeade weekend!”
“It’s a what?” Sirius asked over his shoulder, not breaking in step.
“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend!” Peter repeated, scrambling to catch up. “The older
students are allowed to come to Hogsmeade! What if someone we know sees us?”
“Oh come on Peter, don’t be such a weenie!” said Sirius dismissively. “What about you
James, what do you think?”
James considered it, but he knew the expression on his face was already showing what he
was thinking.
“I think I can afford to check out Zonkos.”
* 86 *
It was a joyous afternoon. They filled their pockets to the brim with Honeydukes
candies, and tried on fancy and expensive robes in Gladrags Wizardwear. They made fun of
older couples snogging through the window of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and laughed until
their ribs hurt in Dominic Maestro’s, where Sirius gave them a show of his poor violin skills (the
only product of lessons his mother forced him to take every summer. The violin chased them out
in the end). They tried to buy butterbeer from a bustling pub on high street called the Three
Broomsticks, but when they spotted Professors Slughorn, Flitwick, and Dearborn at a table near
the bar, decided not to push their luck.
Zonkos was every bit as wonderful as James had heard from other students. He was
awed into silence by the towering displays of disappearing toilet seats, self-detonating
Dungbombs, and biting ear muffs. They were so engrossed that they almost ran into Professor
McGonagall on their way out, who was hovering near the doorway. James wondered if she
positioned herself there on purpose in some ill-guided attempt to monitor the merchandise
making its way back to Hogwarts. Forced to find a different exit, Sirius led them through the
back door and into an alleyway behind the shops.
They continued down the alley for a long while, until the shops became sparser and
sparser, and eventually ended altogether. Soon, they found themselves approaching a wide hill
upon which stood a lonely, dilapidated house. All of its windows were boarded up except for
one at the very top, in what James decided was probably the attic. The room beyond the window
was dark, obscured by a shredded and tattered strip of fabric that served as a curtain. The garden
outside the house was dank and overgrown, surrounded by a wrought iron fence.
A freshly painted sign on the gate read,
SHRIEKING SHACK
The most haunted house in Britain, terrorized screams and inhuman wails of
torment are often heard emanating from within this buildings walls. Some can be
heard from as far away as Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.
“Do you suppose anyone still lives there?” Sirius asked, edging up close enough to the
fence to put his face between the bars.
* 87 *
“I doubt it,” said James, noting that the front door was nailed closed. “At least, I doubt
anyone living lives there.”
Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement in the open window. Then, it abruptly
slammed shut. Peter bolted in the direction of the train station, and James and Sirius, though
intrigued, turned and followed.
* 88 *
CHAPTER SEVEN
RHYME AND RIDDLE
James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were very disappointed by the contents of Legacy of the
Macedon King, which they took turns reading for the next couple of weeks. Though there was
an interesting account of what it was like knowing the Hogwarts founders (apparently Rowena
Ravenclaw had a large collection of glass birds, and Godric Gryffindor had a particular fondness
for putting powdered Billiwig stings in his tea), the text merely echoed the story that they had
already read in the library. Many parts did not even seem to have anything to do with the scepter
at all (For example, Petrie had dedicated four and a half chapters to the subject of Magical Beast
droppings, and which type made the best fertilizer for his tomato garden). The only new piece of
information was a short poem on the inside of the front cover, which Petrie had apparently
thought would be a clever opening to the diary.
“I spent three galleons on this?”
Sirius, who had been flipping absently through the diary all Saturday morning, tossed it
to Peter, who was too busy working on a lunar chart to notice. It hit him in the back of the head.
“Hey! Oww!”
“I can’t believe I missed Quidditch tryouts to get that thing,” James said
bitterly. “Remus, read the poem again, will you?”
Remus had returned from his visit home looking much paler than before. He was
sporting a few new deep gouges in his arms, and was walking with a slight limp, but he was
playing it off like nothing at all was different. He picked the book up off the floor, opened it to
the inside of the front cover, and began reading:
* 89 *
From mighty hand of Zeus himself came hurtling down to earth,
A godly gift awarded to a Greek of noble birth.
From the lightning stone and fire, Alexander did create
A scepter with the power to change the course of time and fate.
The jealous sons of Antipater hatched an evil plan,
To poison him and deftly steal the scepter from his hand.
With their prize in hand that night the evil traitors fled,
Leaving Babylon forever and King Alexander dead.
For many years the scepter vanished from all history,
Until I found it in a temple hidden by the sea.
From this place I brought it back to lands of British rule,
And sought the help of four bright minds who founded Hogwarts School.
The scepter then was split in four and hidden deep within
The walls of their own school where magic learning does begin.
With the scepter broken and the pieces out of sight,
They did not believe a chance the pieces someday reunite.
Take caution now, you readers must be surely brave at heart
To follow what I’ve left behind and find the scepter’s parts.
It may be wise to start your searching right here where you are,
For some things that seem miles away may really not be far.
“So… what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked, chewing the tip of his
wand. “Start searching around Gryffindor tower?”
Remus shrugged.
“No idea. Where does Petrie think we would be reading this?”
“Maybe he thinks we’re standing in Flourish and Blotts,” Peter said.
* 90 *
James sat up and tossed a botched lunar chart into the corner rubbish pail.
“If the map is hidden somewhere in that shop, then there’s absolutely no chance we’re
ever going to find it,” he said miserably.
“At least there’s a bright side,” Sirius said with a tinge of amusement, “Voldemort will
never find it either.”
Remus closed the diary and looked down at its beaten cover.
“Do you think we should give this to Professor Turnbill?” he asked.
“No way!” Sirius said, snatching the diary back. “If he’s a Death Eater, he’ll hand it right
over to Voldemort!”
Remus sighed.
“Sirius, Professor Turnbill is not a Death Eater. He’s a good Defense Against the Dark
Arts teacher.”
“Maybe you’re just defending him because you’re so much better at his class than the rest
of us,” Sirius said flippantly. He pointed dramatically at his left forearm. “How many normal
Hogwarts teachers have tattoos on their left forearms? Besides, I paid for the diary, so it’s
technically mine and I get to decide.”
James, still contemplating the last two lines of the poem, decided to leave Sirius and
Remus to their arguing. He exited the portrait hole, and without really thinking about where he
was going, found himself outside on the Hogwarts grounds. The afternoon’s crisp, autumn air
seemed to help him think. As he walked along the lake, he found himself wondering where the
giant squid was, and where it had come from. He had an odd mental image of the squid floating
through the back door of an underwater house, where his squid wife and squid children waited
for him around a dinner table.
Just when he was passing Hagrid’s Hut, James was startled out of his reverie as someone
stepped out of the Forbidden Forest a short distance ahead. It was Turnbill. James’s first instinct
was to wave and call out a greeting, but he quickly stifled it. Even if he hadn’t suspected him of
being a Death Eater, the expression on Turnbill’s face would have stopped him. It looked grim,
maybe even sinister. What was he doing in the forest anyway? Dumbledore had expressly
forbidden students from entering, so what business would a teacher have going in there?
James crept along silently, using Hagrid’s garden for cover. Perhaps sensing that he was
being followed, Turnbill checked back over his shoulder, and James darted behind one of the
* 91 *
baby-elephant-sized pumpkins to hide. Knees to his chest, he crouched uncomfortably,
waiting. When his legs couldn’t take it any longer, he risked taking a peek around the
side. Turnbill was nowhere to be seen. Standing up, James took a few steps down the path that
led back toward the castle. There was still no sign of Turnbill.
Feeling very annoyed with himself for losing him, James started down the path in the
direction he was sure he had gone. He was almost around the bend, where he could get a wider
view of the whole Hogwarts grounds, but then he suddenly heard the sound of girls’ voices
approaching. There was a shrill giggle.
“…but he likes you, obviously. He wouldn’t have made such an effort to talk to you after
flying lessons if he didn’t!”
James stopped in his tracks, feeling as if ice cold water had been poured down his
back. Another girl’s voice chimed in, and he recognized it immediately as Gwen DeLauney’s.
“He’s not so bad-looking either!”
The third voice sent James’s heart racing.
“Maybe he isn’t so bad-looking, but I’d rather date the giant squid than James Potter.”
Realizing that they were about to turn the corner, and that they would find him standing
in the middle of the path looking incredibly stupid, James looked around frantically for a place to
hide. The only promising option he had was a nearby tree, with wild, tangled branches. It was
very conspicuous, but it was better than nothing.
Nearly tripping over his own legs, James ran for it. He was just reaching to grasp the
lowest branch and haul himself up, when something struck him in the stomach with the force of a
bludger.
WUMP.
James’s glasses flew off his face with the force of the hit. He dropped to his hands and
knees and began desperately feeling around for them. He wouldn’t make it far up the tree
without them. The voices of the girls were growing steadily louder. Looking up to make sure
they hadn’t come around the corner yet, James caught a fleeting glimpse of a blurry branch,
swinging right for his face. It seemed to move in slow motion. Before he could dodge, before he
even had a chance to wonder who was swinging it, in a burst of stars, he blacked out completely.
“Poppy, he’s awake!”
* 92 *
James’s eyelids fluttered open slowly to find two blurry shapes hovering near his
bedside. One was tall and thin, the other massive.
“Yes I can see that, Hagrid. I know Albus insisted on that tree, but it’s downright
dangerous!”
James reached for his glasses, and relieved to see that they were not broken, put them
back on. He discovered a young brunette before him, who he assumed must be the school nurse,
with Hagrid at her side.
“How long was I out?” he asked groggily.
“’Few hours,” Hagrid answered. “Whompin’ Willow got yeh, and pretty good by the
looks of it. Lily Evans came runnin’ and got me. Yeh was knocked out cold, bu’ Madam
Pomfrey here’s fixed yeh up good.”
James rubbed his head.
“The Whomping Willow? What’s that? Why is it on the school grounds?”
Hagrid was just opening his mouth to answer when the nurse gave him a stern, silencing
look. She turned back to James and peered into each of his eyes with the lit tip of her wand.
“Never you mind,” she said shortly. “You were hit on the head very hard, and you need
to stay here in the hospital wing tonight. Lucius Malfoy will be here with you, he had a bit of a
nasty fall at Quidditch practice.”
Hagrid was seemingly oblivious to the look of dismay that washed across James’s face.
“Yer in capable hands, James,” he said. “Now, if yeh don’t mind, I got ter get back ter
Greenhouse Five. Nasty problem with a pack o’ wild bowtruckles in the trees ou’side,
see. Tryin’a scratch out people’s eyes when they get too close.”
Hagrid gave him a friendly nod, and stomped back out to the corridor. Madam Pomfrey
bustled over to check on Malfoy, and James chanced a sideways glance in his direction. He was
lying in the far corner of the room with his leg in a sling. Luckily, he was staring sullenly at the
ceiling, ignoring Madam Pomfrey as she worked over him.
Good, James thought. Maybe he won’t notice me.
Hardly another moment went by before Sirius, Remus, and Peter came bursting through
the doorway.
“JAMES! Hagrid said you were awake!”
Sirius came bouncing in and plopped down on the bed at his side.
* 93 *
“As soon as we heard from Mary MacDonald that you were here, we came down and
waited. We’ve been sitting outside for hours, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let us in until you
were awake.”
“Are you feeling better?” Remus asked, studying James’s face closely. He suddenly
looked troubled. “What were you doing near the Whomping Willow?”
James’s cheeks grew hot. He certainly didn’t want to tell them that he was
eavesdropping on Lily.
“I was trying to get a better look at the lake,” he invented quickly. “I wanted to see the
giant squid again.”
They seemed to accept his answer without question. After a few minutes of chatter, and
Sirius’s mirth at seeing Malfoy with his leg up in a sling, Madam Pomfrey swooped down to
kick the three of them out.
“The boy needs his rest!” she said, steering Sirius squarely by the shoulders toward the
door. “Come now, and your little friend… Remus, you too!”
After an apologetic look back, the three exited, leaving James alone with Malfoy, who
was now giving him a withering glare. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey saved him from it as she
dragged over a privacy screen and encouraged him to go to sleep. Realizing that there was
nothing else to do but take her advice, James slumped back on the pillows and shut his eyes.
He was stirred awake again later by hushed voices just outside the doorway of the
hospital wing. His body was much sorer now, and his head felt like it was the size of one of
Hagrid’s pumpkins. Through the headache induced fog, he became aware of a deep, unctuous
voice.
“It will be in the papers tomorrow. She was asked to complete this task quietly, but we
all know young Bella can act… imprudently…”
“Did she get the name of the students who took it?” asked another, more familiar
sounding voice. James couldn’t quite place it.
“No, the shopkeeper did not know, but Bella was at least able to extract descriptions from
him. They were young – first or second years by the sound of it. Two dark haired boys, and
their smaller, light haired little friend.”
“I will find them. What does the Dark Lord wish me to do with them?”
* 94 *
“The Dark Lord wishes for you to fall back. Watch and wait for the time being... After
all, dead children from Hogwarts on the front page of the Daily Prophet will do nothing but draw
attention to us. We wouldn’t want that… not yet anyway...”
“And if they go to Dumbledore?”
“Dumbledore knows nothing about the scepter, or that these children have found the
book. If they are wise, they will not tell him. Dumbledore has sought the scepter for years now,
just as he has searched for the Deathly Hallows. No doubt he would take it away for his own
gain if they brought it to him. If by some stroke of miracle they survive long enough to find all
of the pieces, by all means, silence them.”
“What about dead children on the cover of the Prophet?”
“If they find all of the pieces, you will deliver them to the Dark Lord by any means
necessary. Then, there will be many more bodies on the front page of the Prophet than theirs,
Turnbill.”
James stiffened. Though he had suspected it, the confirmation that Turnbill was a Death
Eater shocked him to the core. Perhaps some part of him up until that moment still didn’t fully
believe it, not when Turnbill was so friendly and amicable to them during Defense Against the
Dark Arts…
“How is Lucius?” Turnbill asked.
“He will be all right, though he knows how disgraced I am that my own son can’t
successfully pull off a Quidditch feint. He’s had the finest flying instructors since he was six. I
expect better of him.”
“Does he know anything of the plan?”
“No, and do not let him suspect you. He is not fully ready to join us, and I do not yet
trust that he can keep such confidences under pressure. If you have any new information, contact
me at my manor in Wiltshire. Good luck.”
The sound of retreating footsteps told James that the discussion was over. Lying in the
dark, staring at the high ceiling, he tried to comprehend the scope of the battle he was now
involved in. The enemy now knew what they looked like. It would only be a matter of time
before Turnbill figured out who they were.
Should they hide the diary? Should they destroy it? If they hid or destroyed it, they
would likely be questioned and killed by Turnbill anyway. Should they give the diary to
* 95 *
Dumbledore? Mr. Malfoy had said Dumbledore wanted the scepter for his own gain. What
would Dumbledore do with it? He would certainly not let them keep it... What other options
were there? James rolled onto his side, wishing Sirius, Remus, and Peter were around to talk to.
They would need to find the pieces in secret, he decided. Though he wanted to pretend
that they would do the right thing and destroy the pieces, James couldn’t help picturing himself
holding the Bolt of Ages intact – a master of time. What things he could do if he could go back
and alter the past, or know the things yet to come...
While James was still wading through his tangled knot of thoughts, sleep unexpectedly
crept up on him, and he drifted off into troubled dreams.
The next morning, Madam Pomfrey woke James, and after a quick examination, allowed
him to leave. Hurrying to the Great Hall, he joined Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who were eating
breakfast together at the far end of the Gryffindor Table. In a hushed voice, he caught them up
on everything he overheard.
“TOLD you he was a Death Eater!” Sirius bellowed triumphantly, pointing his fork in
Remus’s face, which had paled when James told them the news.
“Are you sure James? I mean, you were hit pretty hard on the head, are you sure you
didn’t just mishear –?”
“I know what I heard!” James said crossly, dumping a heaping dollop of porridge in a
bowl. “Getting hit in the head by a maniac tree might hurt a lot, but it doesn’t make you deaf.”
“I wonder if the shopkeeper got hurt,” fretted Peter. A bit of egg dribbled from the side
of his quavering spoon.
“Here comes the Prophet,” said Remus. The morning owls had arrived. A small,
twittering tawny landed in his cereal, and after receiving a bronze Knut, it took off, spraying
beads of milk all over Peter. Remus squeezed the milk out of the paper and opened it, and they
all put their heads together to read the article on the front page.
Sure enough, there was an enlarged photograph of Flourish and Blotts, whose towering
shelves of books were overturned. Ripped pages and scattered volumes littered the marble floor.
FLOURISH AND BLOTTS RANSACKED
* 96 *
Yesterday afternoon, the peaceful shopping village of Diagon Alley was
disturbed by the destruction of its most prominent bookseller, Flourish and
Blotts. Eugene Blott, co-owner of the shop, was found among wreckage, battered
and severely confunded.
There are no leads on the attacker, nor any motive, as Aurors have
determined that though many items were destroyed, nothing is missing. Anyone
with information is urged to contact their closest Auror office.
Continued on page 5.
“Wow, how on earth could the Aurors tell that nothing was missing?” Sirius sniggered.
Suddenly, Remus shoved the paper under the table. Professor Turnbill had just entered
through the double doors, and was coming their way.
“Good morning, boys!” he beamed down at them. “Ready for that exam on disarming
and defensive spells today?”
Remus smiled back weakly, and Sirius quickly took a bite of toast. Peter looked ready to
pass out, which actually seemed normal for him before an exam. James, wondering if Turnbill
knew they had the diary yet, nodded and attempted to smile.
“Been studying all night.”
“Studying all night in the hospital wing, eh?” asked Turnbill, one eyebrow raised. He
laughed when James stiffened. “Yes, I heard all about your run in with the Whomping Willow
from Hagrid. I do hope you feel better, Poppy said you had a bump the size of a bubotuber. I’ll
see you boys in class. Good luck!”
Remus watched Turnbill’s retreating back.
“I think he knows,” he said grimly.
* 97 *
CHAPTER EIGHT
WINTER’S DAUGHTER
September turned to October, and at last the cool air had no more hint of summer’s
warmth. Without any other ideas about the last few lines of the poem, and with alarming
amounts of schoolwork beginning to pile up, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were forced to
temporarily put aside their search for the scepter’s pieces.
Turnbill continued to act friendly toward them, though he occasionally seemed to drop
into fits of moodiness when they encountered him outside of the classroom. Once or twice,
James even spotted him at the edge of the Forbidden Forest again.
“I’m going to follow him next time,” James said over the lunch table the next time it
happened.
“Don’t be stupid James,” Remus said back. “He’s Defense Against the Dark Arts
teacher! He’s probably just collecting things he needs for classes.”
When Gwen DeLauney reported (having been told by her older sister) that the sixth year
students got to see a real Hinkypunk in a tank, James accepted this as a possibility, though the
warning bells in the back of his mind still stubbornly refused to go away.
It wasn’t until Halloween that James became entirely convinced Turnbill was
dangerous. That afternoon, they were finishing their lunch beneath the Beech tree by the lake
when James spotted Turnbill, half hidden behind the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. He was as
* 98 *
still as a statue, and his face was stony. He was watching them, his gaze was hard and
unfriendly. Fortunately, the bell signaling the next class rang up at the castle, and it served as an
excuse for them to quickly gather their things and run.
“I really don’t understand him,” said Remus, fifteen minutes later in the Potions
Classroom. The four of them were standing in front of bubbling cauldrons, attempting to brew
energy potions. “He treats us like his favorite students during class, but then just now he looked
like he wanted to murder us!”
As much as James had wanted to believe that the four of them would get away with
keeping the diary in secret, he had always known it was only a matter of time before Turnbill
figured out who the three mystery students were.
“Well, now we have to figure out the poem,” James said wearily.
Sirius, who was levitating random ingredients into Severus’s cauldron a few rows ahead,
wasn’t listening.
“Watch him, watch him! Aw, he looks so confused… It’s amazing though, he always
manages to fix it again.”
As much as he hated to admit it, James was impressed by Severus’s potion work. In fact,
over the last few weeks, Severus had demonstrated not only his aptitude in Potions, but also for
learning and inventing more jinxes and hexes than any other student in their year. He aimed
most of these at Sirius and James, though Peter and Remus also received their fair share of bat
bogeys and leg locks. Disgustingly, Severus had even made friends with a couple of other first
and second year Slytherins, who also seemed impressed with his spell repertoire. Even more
disgustingly, James thought he saw Lucius Malfoy give him a pat on the back at dinner one
night.
“We do not have to figure out the poem!” Remus said in a low but forceful voice. “Even
if we tried, we’d be graduating from Hogwarts before we even worked out one useful thing from
it!”
James watched as one of Sirius’s levitated ingredients, a slimy newt’s tail, slomped into
Severus’s cauldron while his back was turned.
“Why not?” he said quietly. “Who’s to say we wouldn’t work it out ourselves?”
“Let me ask you this,” Remus said reasonably, and he had to keep his voice down
because Slughorn was talking to the Van Vleck siblings a couple of cauldrons away, “Do you
* 99 *
think solving the puzzle and finding all of the pieces of the scepter will get us out of this
mess? Do you think they’re just going to let us figure everything out and keep the Bolt of
Ages?”
That got Sirius’s attention. He snapped around to look at Remus, and the rat spleen that
he in the middle of levitating to Severus’s cauldron landed with a splat on one of the Fanes’s
heads. James thought it might be Polluxa, but he still wasn’t sure.
“Are you suggesting we just hand the diary over to Voldemort?” Sirius
demanded. “Give up?”
“Of course not,” Remus said heavily, watching Slughorn move away across the
room. “I’m just trying to be realistic. It seems like no matter what we do we’re probably going
to end up dead.”
“Dead?” Peter asked timidly.
“Yes Peter, dead,” Remus repeated.
“Such an optimist,” Sirius muttered.
James smashed his face into the palm of his hand. Remus was right, it was a long shot
that they would make it out alive. He thought back to his night in the hospital wing, and the
conclusion he had reached then.
“The only way we’re going to survive this is to find the pieces ourselves, and figure out
how to use them before Turnbill can stop us.”
He was startled to see the others staring back at him with blank, slack jawed stares.
“What?”
“USE them?!” Remus finally gasped. “Blimey James, what happened to just stopping
Voldemort from finding them!”
James felt a prick of annoyance that they could be so shortsighted.
“Don’t you guys see? If we figure out how to use the scepter, we can go back in
time! We could stop Voldemort from ever being born! We could look to the future, and tip off
the Ministry about crimes he’s planning to commit! We could –”
“James, we’re just kids!” Remus interrupted. “What if we seriously messed things
up? What if we changed something we weren’t supposed to? What if we accidentally ended up
a thousand years ago, and couldn’t figure out how to get back?”
* 100 *
“And you’d rather be tortured to death by Voldemort’s followers?” James asked with a
little more ferocity than he intended. No one said anything.
“Remus,” James said, gentling when he saw the look of hurt on Remus’s face, “Just think
about what we could do. Wouldn’t you want to go back in time, and save your mother from
getting sick?”
That touched a nerve. Remus’s eyes lowered back to his cauldron, at a loss. He reached
wordlessly for the pile of valerian sprigs and began shredding them, but James thought he saw a
heavy shadow pass over his face.
“We can do it Remus,” said Sirius, digging in his bag for the diary. He looked around in
case anyone was listening, and then slipped it out. “If we could find this thing, who’s to say we
can’t find the pieces and use them for good?”
Remus’s gaze remained low, but slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
“Okay.”
Feeling encouraged, James took the diary from Sirius and flipped it open. He examined
the last four lines of the poem as he had done countless times before, hoping to see something
new that he hadn’t seen yet.
“Right here where you are…”
“I think he wrote that on purpose to frustrate us,” said Sirius, now chipping away at the
hard mass of mud colored muck in his cauldron with the knife of his potion kit. “He wants us to
start searching right here where we are? Maybe we should stomp on his diary until it tells us
what to do, that’s right here where we are.”
James’s eyes widened. Sirius had been sarcastic, but he touched on a very important
point. If someone was reading the diary, the diary would of course be right there where they
were. More specifically, if someone was reading the poem, the back of the front cover would be
right there where they were…
“Sirius, let me see your knife for a second?”
Sirius passed it to him.
“What are you going to do, threaten it? Stab it? Maybe it’ll talk!”
“No,” said James, “but you made me think of something else...”
* 101 *
Carefully, he sliced through the thick paper lining inside of the front cover. Peeling it
back gingerly, he felt a thrill pass through him as he revealed something underneath. It was the
corner of a very old, folded piece of parchment.
“Right here, all along,” he said, feeling very stupid for not seeing it before. Slowly, with
great care, he drew the parchment out and unfolded it, but then they all groaned with
disappointment. It was blank.
Remus leaned in closer.
“Wait… Remember what Turnbill told us in class last week?”
Sirius pulled a face.
“Remember what Turnbill just did twenty minutes ago?”
Remus pretended not to hear him. Instead, he slid his wand out of his school bag.
“A blank piece of parchment may still have a hidden message,” he explained. “The best
spell to use to reveal it is… Aparecium.”
He touched his wand to the center of the parchment, and right at the place that it made
contact, a small point of ink blossomed. Its spidery tendrils grew, forming lines and shapes. The
lines and shapes joined, spelling out a phrase across the top of the page:
Petrie’s Map for Marauders
More and more coils of ink continued to roll out across the parchment, dancing and
swirling into outlines that assembled together in more and more complex patterns.
“Is that…?”
“It is!” said James, his heart pounding. He could already see four long, thin rectangles
inside a spacious room, and a wide open square lined with many staircases. “The Great Hall…
the Grand Staircases…it’s Hogwarts!”
“Look, there’s the Transfiguration courtyard!” said Sirius, pointing to a wide circle
coming off of the west side of the castle.
“And there’s the common room!” said Peter, pointing at the North Tower.
Remus’s eyes were very round.
“Look at all of the –”
“What’s going on here?”
* 102 *
James quickly shoved the map back into the diary. Slughorn was towering over them,
looking expectant.
“Nothing sir, we were just…”
“Potter, that potion needs valerian sprigs, it’s about to curdle.”
Wondering why he wasn’t saying a word about the disaster in Sirius’s cauldron, James
nodded. He reached quickly for the bag of valerian sprigs in front of Remus.
“Yes, thank you sir.”
Slughorn nodded, and then moved two rows forward to speak with Severus, whose
potion, despite Sirius’s improvised additions, still looked exactly like the picture in the textbook.
“How does he do it!?” Sirius asked, unable to hide the resentment in his voice.
Once he was sure Slughorn was occupied, James slid the parchment back out and
unfolded it, this time holding it low.
“You guys missed the best thing on the map.”
The others leaned back in to look as James pointed to something blinking in the West
Tower, right outside of Professor Flitwick’s office. It was a dot labeled in the same swirly
handwriting as the title: Ravenclaw’s Piece.
“What do you say?” James said, a grin now spreading across his face. “Feel like
sneaking out after the Halloween feast?”
The Great Hall was brilliantly decorated for the Halloween Feast that evening. Floating
jack o’ lanterns grinned down from the rafters, and crepe paper bats flapped about beneath the
dark, stormy ceiling. Glowing orange and purple orbs hovered around the house tables, and
bewitched skeletons (James hoped they weren’t real) marched up and down the aisles in
regimented formations.
Sirius nudged James.
“Look who’s staring at us.”
At the staff table, Turnbill was looking in their direction. When he saw them looking
back, he waved, beaming.
“Do you think he’s mental?” James asked, waving back.
Remus, who was in the middle of eating a large piece of chocolate cake with orange
icing, followed their gaze.
* 103 *
“I hope he doesn’t follow us tonight. Do you think he will?”
Peter squealed, dropping his fork with a clatter.
“No,” James said, thinking back to what he overheard in the hospital wing. “He’s
supposed to fall back and let us figure things out. Maybe he’s hoping we’ll trigger all the traps
and get blown up, so he can waltz in and take the pieces.”
Remus’s eyebrows knitted together.
“You could be right James, about the blowing up I mean. There could be traps, things
we’re not ready to deal with yet. I still don’t know if this is such a good idea –”
Sirius’s barking laugh cut him off.
“Come on Remus, where’s your sense of adventure? I’m not scared, and neither is
James.”
James saw that Lily, a few seats away, had turned toward them at Sirius’s
words. Involuntarily, his hand flew up to his hair in a self-conscious movement. He never had
properly thanked her for getting help when the Whomping Willow knocked him out. Before he
could figure out what to say, she was facing the other way again.
All too quickly, the piles of cookies, cakes and sweets dwindled down to nothing, and
Kingsley stood to lead the now very sleepy (and in some cases queasy from too much sugar)
Gryffindors back up to the common room. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter loitered near the
fireplace until everyone had gone to bed before checking Petrie’s map again. The Ravenclaw dot
was still blinking in the West Tower near Professor Flitwick’s office. James took a deep,
steadying breath.
“Well, this is it.”
The four of them climbed cautiously out of the portrait hole and began to make their way
down the corridor. While their mood had been light hearted on the way to the library a few
weeks earlier, on this journey it was quite the opposite. Back then, they had not yet known the
seriousness or the urgency of the situation. Back then, they had not even considered the
possibility of dying on their quest. James swallowed hard, trying not to imagine that they were
voluntarily walking to their doom.
These gruesome thoughts must have been in everyone’s heads, because when a
disconcertingly loud yowl suddenly tore through the dark, they all jumped as if a bomb had gone
off.
* 104 *
“What was that?” Remus asked, after they all had a moment to recover.
On either side of them, there were imposing suits of armor lined up along the
walls. James eyed the furthest on the right, where he thought the sound might have come from.
“I think it came from that one.”
“Maybe it’s McGonagall’s flamingo,” Sirius ventured.
As James neared the suspicious suit of armor, the yowling noise issued from inside it
again. It sounded like some sort of animal trapped inside. Carefully, he tipped the statue
forward and opened the helmet.
A dust colored cat with yellow lamp-like eyes fell out, looking quite disheveled. Remus
recoiled.
“James, that’s Filch’s cat! Someone must have stuffed her in there!”
“Filch?” James asked curiously, feeling bad for her.
“You know, the caretaker’s apprentice,” Remus replied. “He’s always following old
Pringle around.”
Sirius made a repulsed face.
“I hate cats,” he growled. “James you should have left her in there. She’s going to get us
in trouble!”
“She was trapped,” James said, positioning the suit of armor back into its original
place. “How would you like it if someone came along and shut you up in a suit of armor?”
Sirius scowled, but Remus looked worried.
“If we’re not putting her back in, we need to keep moving. If she’s been in this suit of
armor all day, I can guarantee you Filch is around looking for her.”
James looked back down at the cat. She was peering up at him curiously, her tail flicking
from side to side. There was something strange about her.
“Okay, come on,” he agreed, leading the way forward.
They left the cat behind in the dark. After a few more stretching minutes of silence, they
reached the door to Flitwick’s office.
“What now?” asked Peter.
James didn’t see any other doors. It was a door they were looking for, wasn’t it? The
piece of the scepter couldn’t just be sitting out in the corridor. With a sinking feeling in his
stomach, James hoped against hope that the piece wasn’t hidden inside Flitwick’s
* 105 *
office. Sneaking out of the common room at night and looking for ancient weapons were both
on the list of things he was willing to do, but breaking into a teacher’s office was an
unmentionably scary prospect.
“Check the map again, James,” Sirius suggested.
James took the map and his wand out of his pocket.
“Lumos. Aparecium.”
By the lit tip of his wand, he studied the old, waxy parchment in his hands. The dot was
still blinking, unmoved. Feeling frustrated, James was about to fold it up and stuff it back in his
pocket, but then the dot shifted. It assumed the shape of a boy – a boy with dark, tussled hair and
glasses. The figure, holding his own miniature version of the map in his hands, walked directly
up to a large frame on the wall, and stepped through it. Sirius and Remus, who were also
watching over James’s shoulder, exchanged quizzical glances.
“It must be a painting, or a portrait,” James said, turning on the spot to search for any
nearby. There was only one – a painting of a little girl in a long silvery blue gown with flowing
chestnut hair. She was fast asleep in her chair. James put his free hand on the canvas, but
nothing happened. It was very solid. How were they supposed to go through it?
“Maybe it’s like platform nine and three-quarters,” James murmured to himself, thinking
back to September. “All we have to do is…”
He took a deep breath, stepped back, and then charged at it.
SMACK.
James bounced off of the painting and landed sprawled on his back on the cold, hard
floor. Sirius, Remus, and Peter roared with laughter.
“Shh!” James shushed them, but it was too late. The sound of footsteps in a distant
corridor reached their ears.
“Ooh, now what!” Peter panicked shrilly.
The girl in the painting was now awake. In confusion, she looked from each boy to the
next, her eyes finally coming to rest on James, and the map in his hands.
“Boy, I think you’re looking for that mirror across the way,” she said, pointing to the
opposite wall. “Hurry, or you’ll be caught!”
James looked in the direction she indicated, and realized she was pointing to a mirror –
the same mirror that had scared Peter on the way to the library weeks earlier.
* 106 *
“Thank you!” he said, jumping to his feet and rushing over to it. To his delight, his
fingers sank through its smooth, glassy surface when he touched it. It was quite cold.
Sirius, Remus, and Peter put their hands up to it as well, but nothing happened.
“Try touching me,” James suggested.
Once everyone had a hand on him, their fingers slid easily beneath the surface of the
glass, as if it was nothing more than very cold, suspended water. Their gasps of delight were
drowned out by a furious voice that carried down the corridor, much too close for comfort.
“Who’s there? Are you the brats that took my Mrs. Norris? If you don’t tell me what
you’ve done to her so help me I’ll –”
“Mrs. Norris?...” Sirius snickered at the name.
“We have to go through!” James hissed through his clenched teeth, and without waiting,
he dove through the glass, dragging the others with him.
James held his breath, more involuntarily than anything else. It was like plunging into
ice-cold water. He could feel Remus and Sirius’s bodies beside him on either side, banging into
his in the attempt to stay by his side. He opened his eyes slowly, and was startled to find that he
could see just fine, though everything was tinted a fabulous shade of blue. There was a soft,
glowing light ahead of them.
“PEEeeeeteEeerRRRrrrr!”
It was impossible to tell who yelled the name, because the voice echoed and distorted, as
if spoken underwater. James whipped his head around, but it took a longer for the action to catch
up with his thought, as if in a dream. Peter’s fingers were slipping through the fabric of his
robes. Not wanting to imagine what could happen if he let go, James reached out a free hand to
grab him. It felt like reaching through cold gelatin, and it seemed to take forever, but at last he
felt the fabric of Peter’s sleeve in his grasp.
After what seemed like a small eternity, James finally gasped and sucked pure, freezing
air into his aching lungs. They emerged into an open space, and together, they collapsed in a
tangled heap. After he managed to wriggle out from underneath Remus, James realized that his
hands and knees were buried in soft, powdery snow. Behind them was an identical mirror to the
one they had left behind in the corridor by Professor Flitwick’s office. James put his hand on it,
and he was pleased to find that it was warm against his cold, wet hand.
Sirius, who was the first to get back on his feet, looked around the room with wide eyes.
* 107 *
“Brilliant,” he exhaled.
James stood and took a few steps forward to stand by his side. They were in a round,
cathedral sized room, and ahead was what looked like a small temple, built from polished white
marble. The room was quiet, serene, and very still, except for gentle snowflakes that drifted
peacefully down from the ceiling, which was bewitched to appear like the dark night sky. This
sky was much more beautiful and majestic than the one that appeared in the Great Hall – planets
rotated in the velvet darkness between twinkling points of starlight. A bright, full moon was
suspended at its apex, its silver light pouring down on the marble walls of the temple, making it
seem to almost glow celestially.
“Do you think the piece of the scepter is in there?” Peter asked, nodding timidly toward
the temple’s entrance.
“Where else would it be?” James replied, tucking the map into his robes and starting for
it. Sirius and Peter followed, but Remus hung behind, staring transfixed at the moon.
James slowed and looked back.
“Remus?”
Remus still didn’t respond. Sirius took him by the arm, trying to drag him along, but his
feet wouldn’t move. He tore his arm out of Sirius’s grasp and stared down at his hand as if awestruck by it, and then returned his wide eyes to the moon above.
“What is it?” Sirius asked, annoyed.
Finally Remus seemed to come back to himself.
“Nothing,” he said flatly, turning his eyes down to the snow at his feet. “Let’s go.”
James led the way into the temple, his lit wand aloft. Their footfalls echoed hollowly on
the polished marble floor, disrupting the tranquil silence. Ahead was an altar, upon which
something glowed with a brilliant golden light. It was a broken piece of the scepter, the color of
onyx, and ornately carved with images of gods, goddesses, and ancient battles. Sirius reached to
take it, but Remus’s hand suddenly shot out to catch his wrist.
“Wait,” he said. “It seems too simple… the scepter is supposed to be heavily protected
by beasts and enchantments. I wouldn’t touch it with a bare hand.”
“I have an idea,” James said, squatting down to the floor. He untied the laces of one shoe
and slipped it off. “Stand back.”
* 108 *
He took a couple of steps backwards, and then lobbed it at the piece of the scepter. As
soon as it made contact, it turned entirely to ashes, which scattered across the polished white
surface of the altar. The piece lay undisturbed.
“Thanks, guys,” Sirius said, cradling his hand.
James began to say ‘you’re welcome,’ but never even got started. Something peculiar
was beginning to happen. The floor was vibrating beneath them –a low hum at first, but growing
in volume and strength.
“Um… do you guys feel that?” James asked, staring down at his shoe and his sock on the
floor.
They didn’t respond, but the startled looks on their faces confirmed that they did.
The vibration escalated into an all-out earthquake, as if a beast was awakening beneath
the marble floor that had not been disturbed for hundreds of years. The floor cracked and split,
separating James and Peter from Remus and Sirius. The distance between them doubled, and
then tripled. A freezing white mist began to issue from the fracture, and then, to James’s horror,
something solid rose out of it. It was shaped like a human, silhouetted by the golden glow of the
scepter on the altar behind it.
The two sections of the marble floor began to slide back into place, slowly fusing where
they had broken. The mist dissipated, revealing a pale, beautiful girl. She floated above the
resealed marble floor, her flowing white hair rippling in an unseen breeze. She looked no older
than they were. Clothed in a flowing silver gown, she wore a tiara of gleaming sapphires. She
descended slowly to the ground, landing softly on the balls of her bare feet. Her eyes opened,
and they were a piercing shade of ice blue.
With Peter cowering behind him, James drew himself up as tall as he could.
“I’m James Potter. We’re here for the Bolt of Ages.”
The girl took two lithe, graceful steps forward, leaving frosty footprints on the marble
behind her. She was too beautiful and wild to be entirely human. The very air around her
seemed to hum with power. It permeated James’s body and pierced him to his core, striking
some kind of primal fear in his heart, but he forced himself to stand his ground.
“I know who you are, James Potter,” the goddess said, her voice tinkling like wind
chimes. She smiled, revealing sparkling diamond teeth. “It was I who foretold that you and your
* 109 *
friends would come here, seeking what I have sworn to protect. I spoke this vision through the
lips of a prophet who knows me well, but I can no longer feel her presence on this plane…”
A shadow of fear crossed her small, perfect face.
“Who are you?” asked Sirius. “How long have you been here?”
The girl answered him, not shifting her gaze away from James.
“I am the daughter of winter. My name would sound alien to you, like winter wind. I
was captured in my elemental form by Rowena Ravenclaw many years ago, and as punishment, I
took the body of her granddaughter, Eloise. Out of grief, she brought me here almost a
millennium ago to guard this piece of the scepter of time – the Bolt of Ages, the power of
Alexander, and bound me from speaking its location through the lips of seers and prophets.”
“How do we get it?” James asked, hoping he sounded braver than he felt.
The girl’s eyes shimmered.
“The challenge here is to defeat me in magical combat, however, I will offer you another
option if you choose. I am a prisoner here, and the enchantment binding me can only be broken
by a child of the same age. Rowena Ravenclaw must never have dreamed that someone so
young would find this place. Free me, and you may keep the fragment of time for yourselves.”
“And how do we –” Sirius started.
“What happens if we free you?” Remus wisely interrupted.
For the first time, the girl’s frozen eyes left James. She scrutinized Remus for a moment,
but then her smile deepened.
“I know who you are, Remus John Lupin. Tell me, did you enjoy the ceiling of my
temple?”
Remus winced under her stare as if burned. The color drained from his face until it was
so white that it almost blended into the marble wall behind him. James caught Sirius’s eye, but
the look on his face revealed that he had no idea what she was talking about either.
“I thought you might,” she said delicately, as if enjoying his discomfort. “To answer
your question, I will leave this body and join my mother again. She will be returning here in a
few weeks’ time.”
“What will happen to Rowena Ravenclaw’s granddaughter?” James asked.
“She will not wake again,” the girl replied, unconcerned. “Her body must remain here,
entombed in the temple of air for eternity.”
* 110 *
There was a tense hush, in which everyone contemplated the consequences of freeing the
daughter of winter. It was James that finally spoke.
“Okay. How do we free you?”
“First, swear your intention,” the girl commanded.
James glanced around at the others. They nodded their assent.
“I swear to free you, if you will show me how,” he said, his heart beginning to pound.
The girl flashed her diamond smile again. The room dropped a few more degrees, as if
her already palpable aura was growing exponentially.
“Show me the map!”
James unrolled it and held it out, and the girl swept toward him, her silvery white hair
billowing behind her. An arctic breeze rippled through James’s messy, dark hair. She traced the
outline of the map with one white, stony finger, and it frosted over before melting to reveal
words written in peculiar script.
The characters on the paper were like nothing James had ever seen. The writing was
continuous, smooth and rounded, almost like flowing water. He turned his head to ask her about
it, but then registered with shock that her ice blue eyes had clouded over. Every hair on his body
stood on end.
An unnatural force struck him in the depths of his bones with a force that felt a hundred
times stronger than the Whomping Willow, and it grew outward through every inch of his body
like poison. He was filled with freezing fire, and then burning ice. The marble ceiling cracked,
and the snowflakes that had been so gently falling outside escalated dangerously into a gale that
hurled wind, snow and ice down on them.
James’s mouth was forced open, as if by invisible hands, and a strange, other worldly
voice came rising up from within him. It wasn’t English, in fact, it didn’t even sound like a
language that humans could speak. After the first few syllables James was gone from it, drifting
in and out of awareness. Occasionally he could hear a sound that distantly reminded him of
something familiar, like an avalanche tumbling down a mountain, or the beating of owls’ wings,
and he would wonder if that was what the girl’s name sounded like before retreating back into a
warmer, deeper place inside himself to wait out whatever was happening to him.
CRACK.
* 111 *
A shock passed through James like lightning. He crumpled to the ground, and became
slowly aware that the warm, deep place he was hiding in was radiating outward. The winds died
down abruptly, and stillness crept back in.
James sat up slowly. Light snowflakes were now falling gently through the crack in the
temple ceiling, through which the light of the enchanted moon was shining down on him.
Sirius, Remus, and Peter were suddenly at his side.
“James! James, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” James said, flexing his fingers to make sure they were his again. “What
happened?”
They exchanged apprehensive glances.
“Well, you kind of gave a shudder, and your eyes rolled back in your head,” Sirius
explained. “Then your hair went all white, and you started making these really weird
sounds. Then…” He trailed off, looking uncertain. Remus picked up where he left off.
“Then she left both of you.”
He looked past James, and James followed his gaze. Just a few inches away, lying next
to him, was a motionless little girl. The skin that moments before had been pale and stony was
now soft and glowing, and the hair that had been white as snow was now a warm, flowing
brown. She was human again.
They stared in silence at the girl’s small body for a few moments before Peter spoke.
“Someone should get the piece of the scepter.”
Refusing Sirius and Remus’s help, James got to his feet and crossed to the altar. The
broken piece of the scepter was still there, but the golden glow was gone. James reached out,
and after a small moment of hesitation, took it. It was surprisingly heavy.
“Let’s go back,” he said.
Remus, Sirius, and Peter clambered out of the entrance to the temple and down the
marble steps. James, trailing behind, stopped for a moment to look back at the girl. Her head
was resting on a piece of the broken ceiling, beyond the reach of the falling snowflakes. The rest
of her body was being slowly covered in a thin layer of white; she looked like she could be
sleeping peacefully beneath a glittering blanket. Sirius called from the bottom of the steps.
“James?”
* 112 *
They walked without speaking back toward the mirror. James was looking at the sky. It
was different – all of the planets and stars had vanished, leaving only the orb-like moon high
above the temple to spill its light upon the sleeping granddaughter of Rowena Ravenclaw.
“Remus, what was she talking about when she mentioned the ceiling?”
Remus chewed his lower lip for a long while before answering.
“I don’t know, she must have seen me looking at it.”
James thought he saw Sirius’s eyebrows quietly press together.
Nobody else said anything until they arrived back at the mirror again. The reverse
journey was warm and comforting after the long trudge through the snow. On the other side,
James was relieved to see that the corridor was empty.
“Filch could still be around,” Remus whispered. “So let’s be as quiet as possible.”
He, Sirius, and Peter began creeping back in the direction of the common room. James
was just about to go after them, but then he was distracted by a small movement in the corner of
his eye. The girl in the painting nearby had gotten to her feet. She put her hands up to her
portrait, as if she were trying to keep them in view through a window. James suddenly realized
that he knew who she was.
“Thank you, Eloise,” he said. Though he gave her a tight smile, a small part of him
ached for the girl who watched from her painting, as if trapped in a cage.
“Thank you for freeing my body,” Eloise said, returning the same sad smile. “Do come
back and visit me again.”
* 113 *
CHAPTER NINE
A CLOSER LOOK
In the morning, James checked the map again. He expected to see another blinking dot
somewhere inside the castle, but to his surprise, it wasn’t there. He showed Sirius, Remus, and
Peter, and together, they tried begging, coaxing, and even threatening the map, but it did no
good. As days went by, it was all they talked about during classes, and all they worked on in the
evenings after dinner.
This pattern continued until the first Saturday of November, which marked an event that
made all of them forget the Bolt of Ages for entire day: the first Quidditch match of the
year. Remus was away again to visit his mother, but James, Sirius, and Peter donned their best
red and gold hats and scarves and went to the game together. Gryffindor got flattened by
Slytherin, but James still found himself yearning to play. He was secretly very angry with
himself for missing the tryouts.
Gwen DeLauney must have seen him looking gloomy, because after the game, she came
over to him in the common room (sporting a black eye and a couple of missing teeth) and said,
“First years aren’t allowed to try out for the house teams. Maybe next year we’ll see you on the
pitch, eh?”
After that, James felt much better.
As November wore on into December, the end of term exams loomed large on the
horizon. Frank and Alice could frequently be spotted in the common room studying beneath a
small mountain of books. Whenever he went past the two of them, James felt a twinge of
* 114 *
guilt. If he failed out of Hogwarts in his first year, what would his parents say? Surely if they
knew how important it was to find the Bolt of Ages, they would understand, wouldn’t they?
“I can’t wait for the holiday break,” Peter said during Charms the next Monday. He had
a trombone on the table in front of him; they were supposed to be bewitching musical
instruments to play themselves.
“Your holiday break might go on a lot longer than you want it to if you don’t pass your
Potions exam,” Remus reminded him. The trumpet in front of him made a rude flatulent noise,
and yanked itself out of his grasp. A few students nearby sniggered, but James didn’t. There
was a fresh, deep wound on Remus’s neck that hadn’t been there before his last trip home.
“Are you guys going home for Christmas?” Sirius asked casually, poking at his flute with
the tip of his wand.
Peter was the first to answer.
“Yeah, my mum’s entire family is coming,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “My uncles
Boris and Barney will be there, and Aunt Prudence. She’s bringing my cousins Harriet, Agnes,
and Adelaide with her, and my Grandma Eudora, my Great Aunt Cornelia, and maybe even –”
WOOOOMP.
Remus’s trumpet blasted so loudly that it blew Peter’s hair back.
“I have to go home,” Remus said, pulling the trumpet back to its place in front of him.
“You know, because of my mother.” He lowered his eyes to his lap, looking miserable about it.
Sirius eyed James hopefully. As much as Sirius liked to laugh off his loathing for his
family, James knew that he would be extremely lonely if he was by himself at Hogwarts for the
holidays.
“I’ll be here,” James said, deciding to send an owl home about it after dinner. He was
sure his parents wouldn’t mind.
Sirius looked thrilled. He slashed his wand at his flute a little too enthusiastically, and it
blew a note so shrill that the windowpane behind them exploded. Professor Flitwick repaired it
quickly, and reminded them to concentrate on their work, but James thought he might have seen
the little man wink at them.
“At… least… you two can… try and figure out where… the next room is…” Remus
managed to get out while he wrestled with the trumpet, which had just decided to empty its spit
* 115 *
valve all over the floor. He looked longingly over at James’s triangle, which was happily tingting-tinging away. “How did you get yours to cooperate?”
Sirius, now in a much better mood, laughed.
“Well it’s not that difficult, is it? All it has to do is hit itself…”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath for us to find anything, Remus,” James said. He lifted the
charm on his triangle, and it fell to the table with a clang.
Remus finally gave up trying to restrain his trumpet, and let it go. It jerked around on the
table making more rude noises, but then edged closer and closer to Peter’s trombone. It sidled
up right next to it, and started purring.
“Is that what you wanted this whole time?!” Remus snapped irritably.
Peter had not yet been able to make his trombone do anything, so it lay motionless, as if
ignoring the trumpet’s advances.
“Maybe without so many other students around, it’ll be easier for you guys to think,”
Peter said brightly. He waved his wand up and down at the trombone with excessive force, but
the slide only made the slightest twitch.
James gave a noncommittal shrug. He was quite certain they had already tried everything
they could on the map.
“Just be careful,” Remus said, leaning across the table to seize the trumpet by the
mouthpiece. It immediately began fighting back. “If you two are the only ones in Gryffindor
Tower, Turnbill might take the opportunity to attack you – especially if he figures out that we
have Ravenclaw’s piece of the scepter hidden in the dormitory.”
“He’ll never find it under the loose floorboard,” Sirius said dismissively, “and he’d have
to know the password to get into the common room. If we just watch our backs, we should be
fine.”
“What if he got the password from another Gryffindor?” Peter asked, but no one was
listening. Remus’s trumpet had just sucked the wand straight out of his hand, and it was now
shooting red and gold fireworks around the room, sending everyone diving for cover under the
desks.
That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, James found himself staring at the map
again by the light of his wand. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find, or why he was
* 116 *
doing it. Perhaps it was their conversation about the holiday break that morning that freshened
his resolve, or the reminder that Turnbill was still on their tail. Listening to Remus’s steady
breathing in the bed to his right, he concentrated on each spidery line of ink until his head
throbbed. There had to be some scrap of information between the lines, beneath the lines, or
somewhere…
“Any luck?”
James gasped in surprise as Sirius pulled back the bed curtain and sat down next to him.
“I saw the light of your wand from my bed,” he explained. “I can’t sleep either.”
“No luck,” James said, passing him the map. “No new ideas either. Maybe this thing
wasn’t meant to be found.”
Sirius looked him right in the eye.
“James, just because something was lost, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be found
again.”
“Maybe not by us,” James said, feeling defeated. “Maybe we’re not worthy of it.”
“Not worthy of it?” Sirius scoffed. “Not worthy of it? After we figured out where
Petrie’s diary was? After we solved the poem? After we found the first piece? That was all
us. If you ask me, I think this was meant to happen. We’re supposed to stop Voldemort from
getting his hands on the Bolt of Ages. Not the teachers, not our parents… us.”
James smiled. Though he didn’t say it aloud, deep down he had the same feeling: that
perhaps it was his destiny to defy Voldemort.
“What else can we do? What haven’t we tried yet?”
“I don’t know, but we can’t have tried everything,” Sirius said. “There’s something
we’re missing, or overlooking. Maybe we need to step back and look at the bigger picture. Or
maybe we need to look closer…”
Something was suddenly happening to the map. It was zooming in very quickly on one
corner, giving James the dizzying feeling that he was hurtling to earth from a great height. The
dungeons grew larger and larger, until the small space around the Potions storeroom took up the
entire surface of the map.
“What just happened?” Sirius breathed. “Was it something I said?”
“I think so, you said, look closer!”
* 117 *
The map responded again, dropping them even further into the corner of the storeroom,
until the swirling lines of ink revealed every detail of the stones on the floor. A tiny dot labeled
“Slytherin’s Piece” grew into sight, blinking serenely, as if it had been waiting patiently all that
time to be discovered.
Sirius grinned.
“Don’t I give the best advice?”
After Frank left the dormitory the next morning, James and Sirius told Remus and Peter
what they had discovered about the map.
“Blimey, how many commands does it know how to respond to?” Peter asked, fumbling
with the laces on his trainers.
“And how did you get it to zoom back out again?” Remus asked.
“It took us a while to figure out, but you can say zoom out, or look further away,” James
said, shrugging into his school robes. “It actually responds to a lot of different ways of saying
the same thing. I bet you could even get it to turn on by saying something other than
Aparecium.”
“Like what?” Peter asked.
Sirius, who was tucking his dark hair behind his ears in the mirror, snorted.
“How about, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!’”
They all sniggered.
“So if we’d only asked the right question, we’d have figured this out ages ago!” moaned
Remus. “We kept asking it to show us the next dot, and all this time it was, it was just too small
for us to see!”
“Exactly,” James said, “which leads us to our next problem. We need to find a way to
make ourselves small enough to get into Slytherin’s room.”
Sirius sank down on the trunk at the foot of his bed.
“How do we do that? We don’t know how to do Shrinking Spells yet. Do those even
work on people?”
Remus looked pensive.
“A Shrinking Spell would be very dangerous for us to do, especially if we haven’t been
properly trained. It could reverse, and that would be bad if we were in a really small place.”
* 118 *
“What about a Shrinking Solution?” James suggested.
“That might work,” Remus said thoughtfully, digging in his bag for his potions book. He
flipped to the section on Shrinking Solutions and furrowed his brow, shaking his head.
“This is difficult. I don’t think we’d even be attempting this in class until our third
year. Knowing how we do in Potions, I don’t think any of us could do it even then.”
Remus was right. They had been at Hogwarts for more than two months, and not one of
them had managed to produce a proper potion yet – and those were from the first year
chapters. If they tried to make a Shrinking Solution themselves, they’d be lucky not to
accidentally transform themselves into slugs, or worse. What they needed was someone who
could brew potions properly.
James cringed. The first person to enter his mind was Severus, and he thought it would
be more likely for Hagrid to become the Royal Ballet’s prima ballerina than it would be for
Severus to ever consider helping them. The prospect of even asking him was humiliating… but
there was someone else in Potions class who might be able to do it. Someone who it might be
just as humiliating to ask, but who might actually agree…
“I think I might know someone who can help us.”
Downstairs at breakfast, James saw no sign of Lily. Grabbing a piece of toast on the go,
he decided to take a quick look around the grounds, knowing that she and her friends sometimes
sat near the lake in their free time. As he left the Great Hall, James wondered if he had any
chance of persuading her to help them. After all, their last conversation, all the way back in
September, had ended poorly. On top of that, he still needed to come up with a good lie about
what the potion was for.
He found her faster than he was planning to, just as he came out into the Entrance
Hall. She was standing beneath a portrait of Helga Hufflepuff, near a large golden box that
James had never noticed before.
“Lily?” James asked tentatively.
She looked around, her dark red hair rippling. As soon as she saw who it was, her calm
expression instantly changed into one of suspicion.
“I… what are you doing?” James asked before he could stop himself. Lily had an
envelope in her hand, and she looked like she was about to raise it up to a slot in the golden box.
* 119 *
“This is where people with families like mine send letters,” she answered shortly,
pushing the envelope through the slot. “This box magically transports letters into the Muggle
post system, so they can deliver them the way my family is used to. My sister was very
disturbed by the last owl I sent, so I’ve decided to send my letters home this way from now
on. I’ll see you in class.”
She zipped up her bag and turned to go. Realizing she thought that was all he wanted to
ask her about, James spoke quickly.
“Wait, I never got to thank you – for getting Hagrid, that is. When the Whomping
Willow got me?”
Lily stopped, and turned around to face him. She was blushing suddenly.
“You’re welcome… what were you doing that day? Did you hear us coming?”
“No,” James lied. “I was just trying got get a better look at the lake… I wanted to see the
giant squid.”
The excuse had worked on Sirius, Remus, and Peter, but Lily did not look convinced.
“Actually,” James said, desperate to change the subject, “I was wondering if you might
be willing to help me with something.”
Lily’s green eyes narrowed again. Every instinct inside James was telling him to turn
around and run, but he knew that the others were depending on him.
“I was wondering if you could help me brew a Shrinking Solution.”
Now Lily looked quite curious.
“Why do you need a Shrinking Solution?” she asked.
“I…” James began, starting to panic. He still didn’t have a lie ready.
“I was going to make up some story to tell you, but I can’t,” he finally said. “You just
need to trust me, this is really important, and it needs to stay secret – from everyone, even the
teachers.”
Lily looked torn.
“Please?” James pleaded. He was beginning to feel stupid for being honest with her, but
then she smiled. It was actually more like a half smile, a small twitch that showed she was
grateful for his honesty.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll help you, but only under one condition.”
James couldn’t believe his luck.
* 120 *
“What’s that?” he asked, unable to hide his delight.
“You and your friends leave Severus alone until the potion is finished.”
“Deal,” James replied, before she could change her mind.
“Right,” she said. “I’ll take a look at Shrinking Solutions in our Potions textbook, and
we can figure out what we need and how long it will take to brew. I can’t start it until this
weekend though. I’ll see you in class!”
James stood there in a daze as she danced away to the grand staircase, her red hair
catching the morning light. He had seen her mouth moving, but he had no idea what she
said. All he knew was that she was going to help them, and as far as he was concerned, there
wasn’t anything on earth that could make him happier.
“What!?” Sirius cried indignantly in Transfiguration a few minutes later. James had just
told him about the deal with Lily.
“Look, if you ever want to find the second piece of the Bolt of Ages, you’re just going to
have to leave him alone for a few days, okay?” James shot back. “Sliggado!” The spider web in
the frame in front of him turned to a smooth, grey swatch of silk.
Sirius scowled and put his head on his arms. He shot the dirtiest look he could muster at
the back of Severus’s greasy head, as if he hoped it would burn a hole straight through it.
Remus looked up from his web, which was only just beginning to solidify into something
representing fabric.
“Sirius, at least we’re getting the potion at all.”
“Yeah, but you know he’s going to try and hex us, and now we can’t do anything about
it!”
It turned out that Sirius was right. Severus tripped him as he went to put his silk swatch
on Professor McGonagall’s desk at the end of class, and then aimed a merciless Itching Hex right
at James’s rear as they left the classroom. It took all of their strength and willpower not to seek
revenge as the attacks continued throughout the morning. By the end of Potions that afternoon
though, for some reason, he apparently decided to lay off.
Lily sat down next to James in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
“I’m sorry Severus was being so horrible to you today,” she said pointedly. She removed
her Potions textbook from her bag. “I told him to leave you alone.”
* 121 *
James was beginning to get the familiar bubbly feeling again, and from the looks on
Sirius, Remus, and Peter’s faces, it was beginning to show. He quickly tried to even out his
expression.
“Anyway,” Lily continued, flipping to a spot in the book that she had marked, “I looked
at this Shrinking Solution of yours, and it doesn’t look too bad.”
She scanned down the page with her fingertip.
“It looks like it should only take two or three days to brew. The ingredients are already
in our potion kit, except for Shrivelfig… but I can probably talk to Professor Slughorn and get us
some. Where are we brewing this?”
James hadn’t considered that.
“How about in the common room?”
“I wouldn’t drink something left in the Gryffindor common room overnight if you paid
me!” Sirius laughed.
“He has a point,” Lily admitted, though she refused to look at him. James might have
redeemed himself with an apology, but Sirius was still on her bad side. “Why don’t we brew it
up in your dormitory? I trust Frank, he wouldn’t do anything to it.”
“That could work,” said James.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Remus.
“I agree!” squeaked Peter.
“All right,” Lily said, sliding her Potions textbook back into her bag. Turnbill was
already marching up to the front of the classroom to begin the lesson. “We’ll start on Saturday
morning.”
James couldn’t stop thinking about Saturday for the rest of the week. Did this mean Lily
didn’t hate him anymore? Did this mean that they were friends? Occupied by these thoughts, it
wasn’t hard for him to cope with the deal to leave Severus alone. Unfortunately, things were
much more difficult for Sirius.
Severus, as if determined to get away with as much as he could without Lily noticing,
was taking every opportunity to insult, trip, and curse Sirius. He hated James, there was surely
no question about that, but he reserved a special kind of hatred for Sirius, and as much as James
didn’t like admitting it, sometimes Sirius deserved it.
* 122 *
As they week wore on, the onslaught of curses intensified, and Sirius’s patience grew
thinner and thinner. James began to worry that it would shatter altogether, and that something
awful would happen, forcing Lily to call off the deal. Fortunately, by some mysterious force that
James could only assume was magic (or Remus threatening to take away his wand), Sirius kept
his head.
Saturday morning finally arrived. Lily marched into the boy’s dormitory before the sun
was fully up, prompting Sirius to blurt out a word that would have earned him a week’s worth of
detentions from McGonagall.
“Oh stop being dramatic,” she said, throwing back the curtains of his bed. “Frank’s been
up for nearly an hour, studying with Alice downstairs. If you want this potion brewed before the
first day of exams, then it’s time to drag your lazy butts out of bed.”
Turning her back, she got a cauldron full of water bubbling over a handful of blue
flames. The four boys struggled into their clothes, and yawning, took seats on the floor around
her. She immediately put them to work, chopping, peeling, and juicing potion ingredients.
“Now, I don’t want any of you putting anything in the cauldron without me seeing it,”
she said matter-of-factly.
Sirius looked up from the fat, bloated leech he was squeezing over a jar.
“This is disgusting.”
“Too bad,” she said loftily. “If you want your Shrinking Solution, this is what you have
to do for it. Make sure the roots you’re chopping are even, James!”
“She sounds just like Slughorn,” Sirius muttered under his breath near James’s ear. Even
Remus, fumbling with the shrivelfigs he was peeling, cracked a smile at that.
“What are these, exactly?” Peter asked. His face was shining with sweat as he pulverized
a pile of what looked like bogeys.
“Those are rat spleens,” Lily said.
As the color drained from Peter’s face, she scooted closer to James, and reached across
him for a handful of daisy roots to help with.
“James, I really wish you would tell me what this potion is for,” she said quietly.
James had known this was coming.
“Lily I told you, we can’t tell you.”
* 123 *
She pursed her lips, and for a few moments, the only sounds in the still, dimly lit
dormitory were the chopping of knives on cutting boards and the squishing of rat spleens.
“I just don’t understand why it’s so important,” she said finally. “Why can’t you tell any
teachers? Are you using it to cheat on exams? Or do something illegal?”
James was taken aback, surprised by the assumptions she had jumped to first. Then, he
realized how stupid it was to think that she would immediately know they were doing something
as important as they were.
“No, Lily, I promise we’re not doing anything like that…”
He paused, thinking about telling her the truth. Sirius gave him an angry look that clearly
said ‘don’t even think about it,’ but he didn’t need it. It wasn’t that he was afraid Lily would tell
a teacher, or get them in trouble. He was afraid that it would put her in danger. It could place
her right in the middle of the target that Turnbill had trained on the four of them.
“As soon as it’s over, we’ll tell you all about it,” James said, hoping the regret in his
voice didn’t show.
Remus raised his eyebrows ever so slightly over his shrivelfigs. Lily still didn’t look
satisfied, but she dropped the subject for the rest of the morning.
By the late afternoon, they had finished all they could do for the day. They left the
cauldron to simmer overnight, telling Frank that it was a potion to help Peter relax for the
coming end of term exams. That evening, at Remus’s urging, they attempted to study, but James
couldn’t focus on his lunar chart. Part of him wished that the potion took longer to brew,
prolonging his time with Lily. On the other hand, so much time had passed since they found the
last piece of the scepter. If they didn’t find another piece soon, who knew what Turnbill would
be instructed to do to them…
James tapped his quill against the edge of the chart, seeing in his mind’s eye not planets
and stars, but terrible visions of torture and death delivered to them by their Defense Against the
Dark Arts teacher. He must have had a horrified expression on his face, because Remus mistook
it for pre-exam jitters, and suggested that they all get a good night’s sleep.
The next day, there was little to do but add the shrunken ogleroots and tarromin leaves to
the brewing potion, so Sirius, Remus, and Peter went down to the common room to study while
James and Lily finished the Shrinking Solution together. A heavy snow had started falling
overnight, and thick white snowflakes were drifting past the tower windows.
* 124 *
“Lily?” James asked tentatively.
She brushed her dark red hair out of her face before she answered.
“Yes?”
James hesitated. He almost said ‘nevermind,’ but there was something he needed to
know.
“Why did you decide to help us? Was it just so that we would leave Severus alone?”
Lily tore up a handful of tarromin leaves, considering her answer.
“Yes… and no,” she said quietly. “I said I would help you because… because… well, I
was curious to see if I could actually brew this...”
Her voice grew unnaturally high at the end of her sentence, giving James the distinct
impression that she had changed her answer at the last minute. Keeping his eyes on the base of
the cauldron, he picked up the stirring rod and twisted it between his fingers.
“Where did you meet him?”
“He grew up near me,” Lily said, dropping the tarromin leaves into the solution. They
popped and sizzled as they dissolved. “He knew that I was a witch before I understood what my
powers meant. I’m Muggle-born, so when strange things began to happen around me, I got
frightened. I didn’t understand why light bulbs blew out when I got angry, or why it started
raining inside my bedroom when I was sad. Before I met him, I thought I was everything my
sister said I was – a freak.”
“Does your sister still think you’re a freak?” James asked, “Now that she knows you’re a
witch?”
Lily looked out through the window at the drifting snowflakes.
“She thinks I’m even more of a freak now, I think.”
Her eyes swam with tears as she said it. James dropped a handful of ogleroots into the
mixture, and it turned a purplish-grey.
“I don’t think you’re a freak,” he said. “I don’t see how anyone could think that.”
Lily’s breath caught. She looked up at him, and gave him a small smile. James handed
her the stirring rod, and she took it, looking like she wanted to say something back, but then she
turned her attention back to the cauldron. She stirred it counterclockwise thirteen times, and
clockwise seven. The potion inside turned a milky white color, and she filled two small bottles
with it.
* 125 *
“All done,” she said in a voice that sounded a little too cheerful. She handed the bottles
to James. “Two doses of Shrinking Solution. If you drink one whole bottle, you’ll end up about
an inch tall. Any dose of it should last thirty minutes.”
“Thanks Lily, we really couldn’t have done it without you.”
“No problem…” she said. “You know… if you ever want to –”
Whatever she was going to say, James never got to find out, because she was interrupted
by Mary’s very nasal voice drifting up the staircase.
“Lily? Lily are you up there?”
“Yes!” Lily called, flipping her Potions book closed. “We’re in here. What is it?”
Mary appeared in the doorway, looking annoyed.
“That Slytherin boy is out in the corridor asking for you. Why on earth did you tell him
where our common room is?”
Lily’s cheeks flushed with anger.
“I didn’t!” she said, gathering up her things and running to the door. On her way out, she
called back over her shoulder, “I’m sorry James, I’ll see you later.”
Listening to their retreating footsteps, James felt a sudden urge to follow them. He knew
it was none of his business what Severus wanted to talk to Lily about, but the temptation was too
much to bear. Making his decision, he locked the two bottles of Shrinking Solution in his trunk
and hurried after them.
Luckily, because it was the last Hogsmeade weekend before the holidays, the common
room was mostly empty. When they saw him come in, Sirius, Remus, and Peter waved him over
to their place in the corner, but James shook his head and passed them by. He hoped with all his
might that they would stay right where they were – he didn’t want them to witness his mad
desperation to eavesdrop on Lily.
The portrait of the Fat Lady was slightly ajar. James sat down in the nearest armchair
and pretended to read an old copy of the Prophet. It was almost too easy. Severus and Lily were
right outside; he could hear them as plain as day. Lily sounded exasperated.
“I told you Sev! He was helping me study for my Transfiguration exam! I know you
saw how fast he turned his web to silk last week. When I left, mine was still sticky!”
“All weekend?” Severus pressed. “Look at me Lily. Look at me!”
James didn’t like the forceful way that he ordered her.
* 126 *
“You’re lying to me,” he said, after a tense stretch of silence. “I know you’re lying to
me! You’re up to something with him – why won’t you just tell me? I thought I was your best
friend. What happened to always?”
“There is nothing going on between us,” Lily said heatedly. She sighed. “You know I’m
still your best friend, always, but I have other friends now, too.”
Neither said anything for a while. Then Severus spoke again, and his voice sounded very
small and strained.
“I just… this isn’t how I pictured it. I always thought you would be a Slytherin… with
me.”
“I am who I am, Sev,” Lily said quietly, sounding a little hurt. “How could I be anything
else? I’m where I belong.”
“With Potter, in other words,” Severus muttered.
“I told you, there’s nothing –”
“He’s an arrogant toe-rag!” Severus spat, suddenly fuming. “I see him and his little
friends, especially Black, making Mudblood jokes about you all the time!”
James felt his body go numb with fury. Severus had apparently struck a nerve, because
the next time Lily spoke, her words trembled.
“He… he said that?” she whispered.
“You heard me,” Severus said, with no trace of pity in his voice.
James couldn’t take it anymore. He threw the Prophet down on the floor and swung the
Fat Lady’s painting wide open.
“You filthy liar!”
Lily was in tears. Severus was at her side, his face a mixture of surprise and loathing at
James’s sudden appearance. His hand dove for his wand.
James drew his own. He couldn’t stop himself. Hearing Lily in tears, hearing Severus
use a weapon against her that he knew she was vulnerable to… All James wanted at that
moment was to harm Severus as badly as he could, but it was Severus that managed to curse him
first.
“Vultus iniuria!”
* 127 *
James staggered backwards, as if an invisible fist had punched him directly in the
face. He tasted blood. Realizing that he didn’t know nearly as many curses as Severus did, he
did the first thing that came to him. The only thing he really could do.
Dropping his wand to the floor, James threw himself onto Severus, and began hitting him
as hard as he could. Lily’s crying turned to screaming.
“Stop it! STOP! JAMES GET OFF OF HIM!”
James threw him to the ground.
“He’s lying, Lily!”
“I know he is,” Lily said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Severus, get out of
here. Now.”
Severus, whose eye was beginning to blacken, looked bewildered.
“I said now!” Lily bawled, her emerald eyes brimming over with tears again.
Severus got to his feet. He shot one last murderous look at James, his dark eyes burning
with malice, before sweeping away down the corridor. His black robes billowed behind
him. James watched him go, and then turned back to Lily.
“I’m sorr –”
“How dare you eavesdrop on us!” Lily interrupted, rounding on him. “I should never
have helped you… I knew once I – and you… and…” She looked hurt, frustrated, confused, and
enraged all at once.
“I really don’t want to see or speak to either of you right now,” she said, her voice low
and dangerous. “Leave me alone!”
Sniffing loudly, she shoved past him and back into the common room.
For a long time, James just stood there, stunned by what had happened. Could everything
really have gone wrong so quickly? As he came back to his senses, he realized that he was still
standing out in the corridor by himself. Wiping his bleeding lip on the back of his sleeve, he
started back through the portrait hole.
“Don’t forget to pick up your wand,” the Fat Lady reminded him.
* 128 *
CHAPTER TEN
THE ASPS OF SLYTHERIN
Lily was still not speaking to James on Monday. The one thing that made this bearable
was the fact that she was still not speaking to Severus either. Sirius, on the other hand, was
delighted that Lily’s ban had been lifted. As if determined to make up for lost time, he missed
no opportunity to antagonize Severus. It gave James a grim sense of satisfaction to watch, but it
also didn’t exactly encourage Lily to give him a second chance.
When the time came, the end of term exams were not nearly as bad as James had
feared. He was very sure that he passed Herbology, Charms, and Astronomy, and had a sneaking
suspicion that he aced his Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts exams. It was
really only History of Magic and Potions that he was worried about, but the results wouldn’t be
back until the start of the next term.
After the last exam was over, everyone went to the Great Hall to enjoy one last feast
together. The train would be leaving from Hogsmeade afterward to take students home for the
holidays.
“I couldn’t remember,” Peter said, fumbling with the gravy boat, “is the Aparecium
Charm performed with a swish, a flick, or a jab?”
Remus laughed, helping himself to a generous portion of mashed potatoes.
“Peter, you do the Aparecium Charm every time we look at Petrie’s map.”
“Oh yeah…” Peter said, flushing.
James sat back, admiring the Great Hall. There was snow falling from the ceiling, but it
was the enchanted kind that never quite reached the floor before melting away into thin
air. Holly and ivy hung from all of the torch brackets, and bright red poinsettias lined the staff
table at the front of the room. Behind it, an enormous Christmas tree twinkled, its boughs
* 129 *
ornately decorated with spun glass orbs of every color and real fairy lights. Musical instruments
were perched among the boughs, playing merry Christmas carols in perfect harmony. James
recognized them from Charms class; Remus’s flatulent trumpet was near the top, next to Peter’s
lazy trombone.
As his gaze traveled across the room, James spotted a woman he had never seen before
standing in the doorway. She had mousy brown hair, and wore shabby grey robes with a tattered
shawl over top. James’s first impression was that she was a bag lady who had wandered in from
the cold. She appeared exhausted, though happy to be there, and seemed to be scanning the
crowd in search of someone. To James’s alarm, her eyes came to a stop on them, and she began
walking briskly in their direction, the brown handbag swinging on her arm. Before he could give
the others any warning, she flung her arms around Remus.
“Surprise! I’m here to bring you home!”
Remus spun around and turned whiter than the snow outside.
“Mum?!”
James’s jaw almost hit the table, and Sirius’s eyes popped until they looked like they
might fall out. Despite her shabby clothes, Mrs. Lupin didn’t look sick at all. She appeared to
be quite healthy, glowing even. She looked around at James, Sirius, and Peter’s shocked faces.
“Remus, are these the friends you always talk so fondly about in your letters?”
Remus’s pale face abruptly changed color again. This time it became a deep red flush of
embarrassment.
“Yeah… this is James, Sirius, and Peter,” he said, indicating each in turn. Mrs. Lupin
beamed around at them.
“Remus is absolutely delighted to have met you boys. He tells me in every letter! You
know, you’re his first real friends.” She lowered her voice and leaned in close to them. “People
like him have trouble making friends, of course.”
Peter leaned away from her, as if afraid to catch her supposed illness. Remus, on the
other hand, looked as though he wished the floor would eat him alive.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Mrs. Lupin,” James said, trying to change the topic
for him.
* 130 *
“Oh please, call me Jane. And feeling better? Feeling better from what?” She looked
questioningly at her son, who was now drooping so low in his seat that it did indeed look like the
floor was halfway through ingesting him.
“From your spattergroit, Mum…”
“My what?”
“You know, you got very sick with spattergroit in September?” He gave her a significant
glance, and after another few seconds, an expression of comprehension crossed her face.
“Oh, oh that’s right! How silly of me. Forgetfulness, it’s a symptom of spattergroit you
know. Remus, are your things ready?”
“They’re up in the tower.”
“Well, wish your friends a happy Christmas and go get them! I’ll meet you out in the
Entrance Hall, I just need to thank Dumbledore for having you here. It was so nice to finally
meet you boys!”
With that, Mrs. Lupin hurried away to the staff table. Remus seemed determined not to
meet anyone’s eyes as he got to his feet.
“I guess I’ll see you guys in January.”
He left the Great Hall without another word, slouching as he went.
“What was that about?” Sirius asked when he was gone.
James watched as Mrs. Lupin spoke to Dumbledore, though he couldn’t hear what they
were saying.
“I don’t know… but I don’t think I’m entirely convinced that his mother was ever sick.”
Later that evening, Peter left for Hogsmeade with the throng of other students. James and
Sirius returned to the common room to find it almost entirely deserted. The only other
Gryffindor staying behind was a freckled fifth year with flaming orange hair, who introduced
himself as Gavin Darley. James recognized him as a beater from the house Quidditch team.
With no one else around, and the extravagant feast still filling their bellies, James and
Sirius went to bed early. Curled up in his warm four-poster bed, James listened to the howling
wind just outside his window. He could almost imagine that winter’s daughter was singing to
him in the strange language she had spoken on Halloween. Deciding he would pay Eloise a visit
soon, he rolled over and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
* 131 *
Breakfast the next morning was an odd affair, because out of the entire school, only a
small handful of students had chosen to remain behind. It was so quiet that James thought he
could hear people chewing from across the room. No one wanted to start a conversation,
because it would be impossible not to be overheard. Instead, everyone sat in silence, staring
determinedly at their food as they ate.
After breakfast, James and Sirius went out to stomp around in the snow. It was fun for
the first few minutes, but got old fast, so they went back upstairs to the common room to warm
up and play a few rounds of Wizard’s Chess. Neither of them was very good at it. In the end,
the little playing pieces got so angry that they stormed back into the box and refused to come
out. Without anyone else around, there was nothing else to do. The boredom made James and
Sirius feel sleepy, so they both ended up dozing off in the empty dormitory.
James awoke many hours later with a start, and glanced down at his watch. Somehow it
was already four in the morning.
“Sirius!” he called, jumping out of bed to shake him awake.
Sirius opened his eyes sleepily.
“Huh?”
“Sirius it’s four in the morning! We need to go find Slytherin’s room!”
“Oh… I didn’t know I was so tired.”
“Neither did I,” said James, retrieving the map and the bottles of shrinking solution from
his trunk. “Let’s get going!”
Luckily, when they opened the Fat Lady’s portrait, they were greeted by the welcome
sound of her snores.
“At least we don’t have any explaining to do to her,” Sirius said, waving James forward.
As they crept along through the darkness, James’s mind raced. He had heard rumors of a
place Slytherin built before leaving the school; a place called the Chamber of Secrets. A terrible
monster was said to dwell there. What would happen if he and Sirius, two first year students
with nothing more threatening than Color-Changing Spells in their arsenal, had to face that
monster? Wiping his clammy hands on his pants, James tried to think about other, more positive
things.
* 132 *
For instance, it turned out to be an excellent choice to wait until the holidays. He and
Sirius managed to travel from the Gryffindor common room all the way down to the Entrance
Hall without seeing so much as a single teacher or prefect.
“Seems like everyone is gone,” James said as they descended the steps to the
dungeon. “Are any of the staff even still here?”
“Professor McGonagall was at breakfast,” said Sirius. “And we saw Filch after lunch,
remember?”
How could James forget? When they came in from the snow, dripping melting ice all
over the flagstone floor, Filch gave them a scolding to remember. It contained a few choice
words and unpleasant threats, like hanging them by their thumbs in the dungeons, stuffing them
into small metal boxes full of doxies, listening to Celestina Warbeck’s ‘Cauldron Full of Hot,
Strong Love’ on repeat for a week…
“Well, let’s just hope we don’t run into him.” James said. “If he was that angry over a
little bit of melted snow, imagine how mad he would be to find us wandering around down here
in the middle of the night.”
The dungeons were freezing, and darker than pitch. James and Sirius lit their wands to
see where they were going, and their breath issued like ghosts before them. When they arrived at
the small potions storeroom next to Professor Slughorn’s office, Sirius tugged on the wrought
iron handle, which was shaped like a serpent. The door did not budge.
“Locked.”
“Alohomora,” James tried, pointing his wand at the key hole. Nothing happened. Struck
by an idea, he dropped down to the floor.
“What are you doing?” Sirius hissed.
It was just as James suspected. There was a sizeable gap between the bottom of the door
and the floor.
“We can get in under the door if we just drink the Shrinking Solution out here,” he said,
straightening back up and removing the bottles from his pocket. He handed one to Sirius, and
together they uncorked them, examining the thick white potion inside. Neither seemed to want
to drink first.
“How about on three?” James suggested, smiling nervously.
“Okay,” Sirius said, smoothing his bangs out of his eyes.
* 133 *
“Right… One… Two…”
“Do you have the map?”
“Yeah, it’s in my pocket. One –”
“Is it going to shrink with us?”
“I hope so. Are we doing this or not?”
“Yeah – James, are our clothes going to shrink too?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” James said, getting exasperated. “One, two… three!”
The two of them threw back their heads and downed the Shrinking Solutions in one
go. James felt his throat constrict violently. For one terrible moment, he thought he was going
to suffocate. Then, he felt like he was plunging downwards, his body feeling lighter and
lighter. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited to hit the ground, but the sensation abruptly
vanished. Opening his eyes, he saw Sirius standing next to him in the wandlight, looking exactly
the same as he had a moment earlier.
“It didn’t work!” Sirius said angrily, smashing his bottle on the ground. “Lily tricked
us!”
James was about to smash his too, but then he noticed that the light from his wand was no
longer falling on the serpent shaped door handle.
“Sirius…”
He took a couple of steps forward, and held his wand high above his head. He could just
make out something dark above them, with enough space between it and the floor for the two of
them to pass beneath. It was the bottom of a massive wooden door.
“It worked.”
The two of them stood there in awe for a moment before James started forward.
“We need to hurry. We only have thirty minutes.”
At first, it was easy for him and Sirius to forget that they were not their normal size. It
was only when they encountered a Knut the size of a dinner table that they were reminded of
how small they really were. Other odd objects came up in their path: a newt’s eye the size of a
beach ball, an oversized eagle’s talon, and a vial bigger than a house (which they had to navigate
around carefully). When they reached the corner of the storeroom, James brought out the map.
“Aparecium. Look closer, look closer.”
* 134 *
Just like on Halloween, a sketched version of James appeared. It approached a tiny door
that had just materialized at the base of the wall. James looked up, squinting.
“I think it should be to our left… just there.”
“I see it!” Sirius said, pulling James with him. “It’s over here!”
By the tiny lights of their wands, a door, just their size, loomed out of the darkness. It
was barely visible between two of the stones in storeroom wall, and so well hidden, James
thought he’d never be able to find it again when he was his normal size.
As they got closer, they saw that the door had no handle. James pushed his shoulder
against it, and Sirius kicked it. They tried asking it all kinds of questions, but the door remained
firm, blocking the way forward. James even checked the map again, but his figure merely stood
there, glowering up at them expectantly. It was as if he was waiting for them to tell him what to
do.
“What now?” asked Sirius. James thought hard for a moment.
“Maybe we should play to our strengths,” he said eventually.
“What, motorbikes and Quidditch?”
“No, what we’re best at in school,” James said, tucking the map back into his
pocket. Sirius’s eyes gleamed with comprehension.
“Yes! But James, we’ve never transfigured something so big before!”
James smiled.
“Sirius, this door is only an inch and a half tall.”
“Right! Brilliant!” Sirius beamed back. “What shall we turn it into?”
“Let’s turn it into water. Water’s easy.”
They pointed their wands at the door together.
“Terra cambiaqua!” they both shouted, and the stone melted away into a puddle of water,
leaving a gaping hole in the wall. James led the way into the dark passage beyond.
There was a low ledge running along the left wall. Sirius shot a small spark into it from
the tip of his wand, and it lit with flame, illuminating the long tunnel before them. The warmth
was pleasant after the bone-chilling cold of the dungeon.
After a few minutes of walking, they emerged at a balcony in a vast room. The fiery
ledge from the passageway continued into this space and branched out into rows, illuminating
the jet black walls and floor. To James’s confusion, the floor beneath the balcony appeared to be
* 135 *
squirming. This made no sense at first, but after his eyes adjusted, he saw what it was: thousands
of black asps, writhing together in a massive knot that covered the floor from wall to wall.
“Merlin’s beard…” Sirius breathed.
James scanned the scene below. He spotted an altar, similar to Ravenclaw’s, far away
across the room. It rose from the rolling sea of serpants like an island. There was a small object
on top of it, bathed in a luminous golden glow.
“Well, I guess it’s obvious we’re not strolling up to it like last time,” Sirius laughed. “I
could try levitating you across.”
“No you couldn’t,” James said. “Remember when I levitated you out of bed before we
went to Flourish and Blotts? You fell to the floor because I couldn’t hold you any longer. It
must take years and years of practice to lift heavier objects like people, if that charm can even do
it at all.”
Sirius waved him off.
“I’m only an inch tall, remember?”
James shook his head.
“I still don’t want to risk it.”
“Could we transfigure the snakes?” Sirius asked hopefully.
“Every last one of them?” James glanced at his watch. “We only have fifteen minutes
left before the potion wears off!”
“Well, I don’t hear you offering up any ideas–” Sirius said more loudly, but James
quickly shushed him. A new, unfamiliar sound was drifting down from the passage behind
them. It was a sort of snuffling, accompanied by scurrying…
“D’you hear–?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, spinning to face the same way, his hand on his wand.
The sounds grew louder, and a lengthening shadow appeared on the ground. James and
Sirius held their breath, their backs against the balcony, until the source came into view. It was a
rat – a rat the size of an elephant compared to them. Its dark, glittering eyes came to rest on
Sirius. Without any warning, it lunged, its long, sharp incisors bared.
“AHHH!”
* 136 *
Sirius dove out of the way, smashing into James. The two of them crashed to the floor as
the rat slammed headlong into the railing. It reacted before they could get back up, rolling over
to face them again in an instant.
“It’s blocking the exit!” Sirius exclaimed.
“I can see that!” James said irritably, searching for another way out. The only other exit
he could see was over the railing and into the snake pit. Maybe they could somehow escape
back into the tunnel, if they could just get around the rat…
“Get on the railing!” James commanded. “Run to the other side!”
As the two of them climbed up, the rat chose that exact moment to strike again. James
ducked out of the way, but behind him, Sirius’s trainer slipped on the smooth obsidian
railing. To James’s horror, he lost his balance, and took them both over the side.
The churning knot of asps rushed up to meet James as his limbs flailed through the empty
air. Then, before he had time to scream, he landed on something hard and smooth, knocking the
wind out of him. He was lying on some kind of invisible surface. The black snakes were
swarming only a few feet below, but they did not appear to see him. They were much larger up
close.
Sirius landed right next to him, but he was hanging in an awkward position, as if halfway
off of the invisible edge. He kicked hard, trying to pull himself up. One of the giant snakes must
have seen him, because it reared back, fangs bared, ready to strike his dangling leg…
“NO!”
James dove forward on his stomach and seized the back of Sirius’s shirt, hauling him
up. The snake struck at the same time, but it missed his leg, instead leaving one fang buried deep
inside the rubber sole of his trainer. With a sizzle, it began to melt around the puncture.
“Ugh!”
Sirius yanked it off with disgust and threw it over the side. It disappeared into the tangle
of snakes. Rolling over onto his back, he closed his eyes, and to James’s surprise, began
laughing.
“What’s so funny?” James demanded, falling back on his haunches.
“Oh, nothing…” Sirius said, still chortling. “It’s just that we’ve both lost a shoe to this
scepter now…”
James laughed too, relieved that they were still alive.
* 137 *
“Hey, where did the rat go?” he asked, craning his neck to look back up at the balcony. It
seemed impossibly high up.
“Hopefully it left,” Sirius answered, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “What did we
land on?”
James looked down at his knees.
“I think it’s an invisible bridge. It probably leads to that.”
He jerked his chin at the altar across the room.
“What are we waiting for?” Sirius asked, jumping to his feet.
They followed the walkway, careful not to stray over either edge. The asps didn’t seem
to notice or care about them. Maybe the invisibility only worked from the top down, and not
from the bottom up, James thought.
At last, they reached the altar, which like the walls and railings, was hewn from dark
obsidian. Another piece of the scepter lay on its smooth black surface, glowing
brilliantly. Cautioned by the piece in Ravenclaw’s room, James took the empty potion bottle out
of his pocket and dropped it on top of the scepter. It bounced right off, in perfect condition. He
glanced questioningly at Sirius, who shrugged back.
“Nothing?”
“I guess Slytherin wasn’t as thorough as Ravenclaw was,” Sirius said, reaching out and
taking the scepter piece.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, Sirius took an odd, wobbling step backward.
James didn’t understand why, but then the floor beneath him shuddered, and he stumbled back
too. The asps began to swarm again.
“Oh no…” James said, finally understanding. “Sirius, the bridge is disappearing! RUN!”
They bolted, back in the direction they had came from. When they were halfway across
the room, James realized something frightening.
“Sirius! How are we going to get back up to the balcony?”
Sirius didn’t answer.
“Sirius?” he asked again, looking back over his shoulder. No one was there.
Gripped by panic, James spun around. Then, he breathed a sigh of relief – Sirius was still
alive, but he had fallen far behind. His bare sock was slipping and sliding on the invisible
bridge, slowing him down. The snakes were close enough to snap at his heels.
* 138 *
“Sirius!”
James was on his way to help, but then a strange new noise assaulted him, stopping him
in his tracks. It started like a buzz, a low ringing in his ears, but then it grew, hissing and spitting
into what sounded like a thousand voices, though he couldn’t make out anything they were
saying. Sirius looked terror-stricken.
“James! What are you doing!?” he shouted. “Go on! Get out of here!”
It slowly dawned on James that the strange noise was coming from the asps. As Sirius
drew closer, their hissing voices rose into a crescendo. Their words became so loud, and so
clear, that James could hear snatches of their overlapping taunts.
“…one of those closest to you will betray you, condemning you to suffer for countless
years…”
“…father and mother always loved your brother more than you…”
“…you will never find true love… you will die alone, before you are old…”
Sirius looked more defeated than James had ever seen him. He slowed even more, as if
the words themselves were dragging him back.
“Don’t listen to them!”
James closed the distance between them, threw Sirius’s arm over his shoulders, and ran
as hard as he could. He could feel the bridge melting beneath his feet with every step. Soon, the
asps were taunting him too.
“…she prefers the Slytherin over you…”
“…you and your friends will not live to see your enemy vanquished…”
“…your child will never know you…”
Every phrase cut like a knife. James gritted his teeth, fighting the overwhelming
sensation of hopelessness that was washing over him. By the time he reached the base of the
wall beneath the balcony, he was ready to give up and let the bridge vanish beneath him, ready to
accept his fate and die in that dark, terrible place… but then he spotted something that gave him
hope – footholds in the wall. They led upwards.
“Climb!”
Sirius obeyed, forcing himself up and out of the way just in time so James could grab
on. As the last of the invisible bridge melted, they scaled the wall, rising further and further
away from the snake pit. The hissing voices slowly died away.
* 139 *
When they reached the top, they hauled themselves back over the balcony railing and
collapsed to the floor with their backs against it, panting hard.
“What was that?!” Sirius wheezed.
“I don’t know,” James replied, looking down at his watch, “but we only have five
minutes left.”
“Then we’d better get out of here,” Sirius said, his knuckles tightening around the piece
of the scepter in his hand.
He stood and helped James to his feet. They started for the tunnel, but they had barely
taken two steps when a massive shape suddenly blocked their way.
“Not this again!” said Sirius, as the rat reared back on its hind legs, teeth bared.
“No!” James said angrily, pulling his wand out of his pocket. His brain sped through all
of the spells he knew, but he couldn’t come up with anything useful. It didn’t seem fair that
Severus knew so many more curses and hexes than them. Severus! What was that spell he
used?... Pinching his eyes shut, James tried to remember. Then, it came back to him so fast that
he felt like he’d been hit by it again.
“VULTUS INIURIA!”
The rat recoiled, letting loose a shrill shriek, and James seized upon the window of
opportunity.
“Come on!”
He pulled Sirius by the arm past the rat and into the passageway. They burst through the
other side and into the storeroom, splashing through the puddle of water left behind by the door.
“Is it still following us?” Sirius panted, clutching at a stitch in his side.
James stopped to listen. He could hear scurrying in the passageway behind them,
growing louder.
“Yes, go!”
They took off again in what James hoped was the right direction. They passed the vial,
the eagle’s talon, the newt’s eye, and the bronze Knut, and soon, the bottom of the door came
into view. They tumbled under it and into the corridor, where the grey morning light was
already beginning to seep in through tiny windows at the tops of the dungeon’s walls. James
looked back.
“It’s still coming!”
* 140 *
Sirius looked either way up and down the corridor.
“Which way?!”
“I don’t care!” James shouted. “If we can just keep it away from us for another two
minutes, we’ll be big enough to stomp it to death!”
In a flash of claws and teeth, the rat’s head burst out from beneath the door, but James
and Sirius were off and running again. James’s lungs ached, and his legs burned. Sirius’s breath
was coming in ragged gasps. They wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer.
Suddenly, the base of the stone steps loomed up ahead, forcing them to come to a
screeching halt. It was just too high to climb. Turning, they watched helplessly as the rat
barreled toward them like a freight train. James grabbed hold of Sirius and squeezed his eyes
shut, bracing for the impact and the pain that was sure to come with it. He hoped it would be
fleeting…
But death never came.
Instead, the two of them experienced an odd sensation, as if something enormous was
passing through the air above them, sending a breeze through their hair. Together they waited,
their mouths mashed into hard lines. Then, the rat screamed. It was a terrible, hair-raising
sound.
James opened one eye, then two. He was looking at one of the oddest things he had ever
seen. A wall had appeared out of thin air, hiding whatever happened to the rat from view. It
looked strange, like it wasn’t solid. Releasing Sirius, James reached out to feel it, and his hand
buried in a strange, thick tangle. It was hair, he realized – long, dust colored fur.
The wall moved swiftly away. James staggered backwards into a wide-eyed Sirius as the
huge face of a cat took its place, looming into view above them. Her yellow lamp-like eyes
studied them calmly. In her mouth, motionless and limp, was the rat. James gulped.
“Er, thank you… Mrs. Norris.”
Unmistakably, the cat nodded and winked. Then, she swept directly over them and back
up the stairs. Sirius sank to the floor.
“Did we actually just live through that?”
James laughed, but it came out as more of a huff of disbelief.
“Yeah, I think we just did.”
* 141 *
He tried to sit down next to Sirius, but collapsed onto his backside rather ungracefully
instead. An odd rumbling began in his stomach. Sirius was looking at his own stomach
too. Next moment, they were flying upwards, feeling heavier and heavier. It was the first time
James was ever truly aware of the mass of his body, the weight of his muscles on his bones. In
seconds, they were full sized again, sitting side by side at the base of the dungeon steps.
“We got it,” Sirius said, holding out the piece of the scepter, “Two pieces out of
four. We’re halfway there.”
James took it, scarcely able to believe it, and turned it over in his hands.
“Sirius?” he said quietly. “What do you make of those things the snakes said to us?”
Sirius stared at his laces.
“I don’t know. Did you hear what they said to me?”
“Yeah. Did you hear what they said to me?”
Sirius nodded once.
“Do you think they were telling the truth?” James asked, pretending that the question
didn’t mean as much to him as it did.
Sirius stood and helped James to his feet.
“No,” he said defiantly. “You can choose what you want to believe, but I’m not
believing it.”
James smiled, nodding.
“Yeah, you’re right. I think we should keep that part of the adventure to ourselves,
though.”
“I agree whole-heartedly,” Sirius said, returning an understanding smile. James could tell
he sincerely meant it.
As they started back up the dungeon steps, Sirius chuckled.
“Well, on the bright side, that’ll probably be the last time a rat tries to kill you.”
* 142 *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HERA
James and Sirius were very lucky not to run into any teachers or prefects on their way
back up to the common room. They were both emotionally and physically drained, and nearly
dead on their feet, despite the hours they spent napping in the dormitory. Neither mentioned the
asps from Slytherin’s room again, which suited them both just fine. James would have liked to
forget all about them, but it was almost impossible, because he and Sirius were plagued by
reoccurring nightmares.
Night after night, James was drowning in a bottomless sea of tangling, squirming snakes,
the weight of their words dragging him into darkness. The nightmares became so normal, so
expected, that when one of them sat up screaming, or fell out of bed tangled up and fighting
against the sheets, the other one wouldn’t even have to ask what happened. An unspoken bond
grew between them, likely owing to the fact that they had heard each other’s deepest and darkest
fears. While they were each fighting their own demons, they were doing it together.
Recovering from their experience in the dungeons, James and Sirius’s determination to
complete the Bolt of Ages all but disappeared. Looking for the next room was the furthest thing
from either of their minds, so the map and Slytherin’s piece of the scepter went into the hole
beneath the dormitory’s loose floorboard, alongside Ravenclaw’s. They could deal with it later,
James decided, when the horror of Slytherin’s room faded away.
* 143 *
Christmas morning arrived sooner than James expected. He woke early, and blinking,
realized that it was his first nightmare-free night since Slytherin’s Room. He drew back the
curtains of his four-poster to tell Sirius, but instead found himself staring into a pair of large,
dark, liquid eyes. It was a beautiful barred owl, whose cage was perched precariously atop a
small pile of presents.
“Sirius, wake up! It’s Christmas!” James called, sliding his feet into a pair of slippers.
He hurried around the edge of his bed to get a better look at the owl. It was flecked with soft
brown and white feathers, vaguely reminding him of salt and pepper. It clicked its beak happily,
as if to say ‘good morning!’ to the bespectacled boy grinning through the bars of its cage.
Sirius pulled back his four-poster’s curtains, yawning sleepily. He had a pile of presents
too.
“Happy Christmas, mate,” he said, stretching. He caught sight of the owl.
“Whoa! Who sent you the owl?”
There was a note perched on top of the cage.
Dear James,
Happy Christmas! We wish you could be here to celebrate with us, but
we’re happy for you that you’ve made so many new friends at Hogwarts. This
owl came all the way from America just to be with you. Take good care of her – a
wizard can share a very close, special bond with his owl. We love you and miss
you, and we’ll see you in June!
Love, Mum and Dad
“My mum and dad,” James said, stroking her through the bars of the cage. He couldn’t
wait to see the look on Bard’s face when he came home with her in the summer. Gently moving
her cage to the bed, he began to unwrap his other presents.
There was a small box of sugar quills from Peter, a handsome, dark blue candle with
flecks of silver in it from Remus, and a book all about the Holyhead Harpies from Sirius. The
book included a large fold out poster that James instantly tacked up on the wall behind his bed.
* 144 *
“What do you think?” he asked, stepping back. What he didn’t say was that it would be
nice to fall asleep watching the Harpies streak back and forth across the poster, rather than seeing
the residual images of squirming black asps dancing behind his eyelids.
Sirius didn’t answer. He was busy unwrapping a dark, austere looking gift that looked
more likely to fit in at a funeral than under a Christmas tree.
“Oh, my parents knew I would love this, didn’t they?” he said bitterly, holding up what
was inside. It was a dark green blanket with a silver serpent in the shape of an S embroidered on
it.
“Maybe they’re hoping you’ll like it enough to transfer to Slytherin,” James said, trying
to keep a straight face.
“Right,” Sirius said sarcastically, gathering up the blanket and stuffing it into the waste
bin. He opened Remus’s gift next. It was another strange, sparkling candle, but his was dark
violet.
“Does it do anything?” he asked, holding it up to the light.
“I’m not sure,” James answered, picking up his own and examining it again. “We’ll have
to ask him when he gets back.”
Putting the candle aside, Sirius opened his last present, a small package labeled ‘To
young Master Sirius, from Kreacher.’ It was a tarnished silver tin, full of moldy biscuits. Sirius
gagged, and promptly dumped the contents into the waste bin. They rolled into a lumpy pile on
top of the blanket from his parents.
“Well, at least some of it was a good haul,” he said, motioning to the small collection of
presents he decided to keep: the candle from Remus, a box of sugar quills from Peter, a small
model of a motorbike that performed stunts from James, a box of taffy from his cousin
Andromeda, and a pair of rain boots with a powerful water repelling charm from his Uncle
Alphard.
While Sirius watched his motorbike zoom around on the dormitory floor, James let his
new owl out of her cage. She hopped down onto his bed and stretched out her beautiful salt and
pepper wings, looking grateful to be free. James could tell right off that he adored her.
“What are you going to call her?” Sirius asked through a mouthful of taffy.
James hadn’t considered this yet. The owl fluttered up onto his knee, as if knowing that
it was important for her to be present for her own naming.
* 145 *
“We’re looking for the Bolt of Ages, which was made from metal sent to earth by Zeus,”
James said, stroking her neck. “Zeus’s wife was Hera. Do you like the name Hera?”
The owl hooted her approval.
“Hera it is!” James announced. Hera, as if relishing in her new name, took off and soared
around the rafters of the dormitory.
“We should probably take her up to the Owlery,” Sirius said, picking up one of her
feathers from the floor between two fingers. “Pringle and Filch wouldn’t be happy if they knew
we were letting her fly around in here.”
“Right,” James said, disappointed that she couldn’t stay in the dormitory with him. For
just a moment, he wondered if he could hide her in his four-poster all day, but then decided
against it; he could only imagine what a mess it would make.
He and Sirius got dressed and began clearing away their Christmas presents.
“Did you see where the motorbike you gave me went?” Sirius asked, kneeling to search
beneath his bed.
James got down on his hands and knees to look under his own bed. There was no sign of
Sirius’s motorbike, but he did see something else. It was half hidden in shadow, and it didn’t
look like a stray shirt or forgotten shoe.
Dropping to his stomach, James stretched his arm out under the bed as far as it would go,
until he could feel the edge of the object. He drew it out and sat up. It was a lumpy package, a
present that must have fallen off the pile. It felt like a blanket, but it was incredibly
light. Wondering what on earth it could be, James unfolded the note pinned to it.
James,
My father gave this to me on my first Christmas at Hogwarts. It has been
handed down in our family for generations and generations. Please keep it safe,
and use it well. I won’t tell you not to use it for rule-breaking, as I think that is as
much a family tradition as it is to pass it on to you. I will, however, recommend
that you try not to get caught. Happy Christmas!
Dad
* 146 *
Intrigued, James tore open the wrapping paper. A long, fluid, silvery grey cloth spilled
out of it, and flowed through his fingers like water. Hera, wanting to see what it was, landed on
his shoulder.
“It can’t be… Dad never told me he had one of these!”
Sirius’s mouth hung open.
“James, that’s an Invisibility Cloak!” he said. “You’re so lucky! Why couldn’t my
parents get me one of those?”
James threw the cloak over his arm and it vanished. Hera gave a hoot of fright and took
off, landing on top of one of the bed posts. James grinned.
“Look Hera, it’s okay, I’m fine!”
He tugged the cloak off. His arm reappeared, but she still hooted her disapproval.
“Hey, how many of us could we fit under here you think?” Sirius asked, holding up the
corners of the smooth, fluid fabric. James tossed the cloak over the both of them, and they
looked sideways at their reflection in the mirror between Peter and Frank’s beds. It was an odd
sensation not to see themselves.
“I think three of us, at most,” James said, pulling it back off. Hera immediately zoomed
back to his shoulder, as if making sure he was okay. “Hera, do you want to meet the other
Hogwarts owls?”
She gave his ear an affectionate nip.
The Owlery was located in the West Tower. It was a room with a very small, straw
covered floor, but it rose up for many stories, with hundreds of open windows. It was freezing
inside; James wished he had brought a cloak with him. Owls of every breed imaginable were
nestled there, on perches that rose right up to the top of the tower. More than a few eyes opened
and glared down at him and Sirius as they came in, as if annoyed to be disturbed so early in the
morning. James hoped they would be nice to Hera.
“All right Hera,” he said, “go make some new friends.”
Hera nudged his cheek with her soft, downy head, and then took off to seat herself next to
a sleeping barn owl. She made a chirping noise at him by way of greeting, but he pretended not
to hear her.
* 147 *
“They’re sleeping Hera,” James called up to her. “Owls are supposed to sleep during the
day, silly.”
She ruffled her feathers.
“Go to sleep!”
She obediently shut her eyes, but she didn’t look very happy about it. James forced
himself to go before he could change his mind about keeping her in his four-poster.
Unlike other meals over the holiday break, the Christmas feast was entirely
enjoyable. Dumbledore was there (though James and Sirius hadn’t seen him since the end of
term), and he insisted that they all sit together at one small table, rather than in sparse groups at
the house tables. This turned out to be a splendid idea. James and Sirius got to meet three other
first year students: two Hufflepuff girls named Georgie Johns and Maddy Perks, and a
Ravenclaw boy with tangled blonde hair named Andrew Foxfoot. It was refreshing to meet other
first years, and nice ones at that, after having to spend so much class time with the Slytherins.
Despite the small number of people present, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall did
not hold back on the Christmas festivities. Professor McGonagall bewitched the suits of armor
to put on a Christmas revue, complete with singing and dancing, and Dumbledore invited the
house elves up to join the celebration after dinner, transfiguring the table to accommodate all
one-hundred-and-fifty of them. They came at his request. A few looked thrilled to be there,
though most were timid and very reserved. By the end of the evening though (and after some
butterbeer was had), most were on their feet, dancing and singing with the suits of armor.
They didn’t get out of the Great Hall until well after one in the morning. Dumbledore
promised that as long as everyone went straight to their dormitories, they wouldn’t be in trouble
for being out of bed. As he said it, James thought he might have seen him flicker a kind but
warning glance in their direction.
Taking his advice, James and Sirius went straight back to the common room. Inside, they
found Gavin seated by the fireplace reading a book. He must have left the feast early.
“Hey you two,” he said when they entered, “Professor Turnbill came by looking for you.”
James and Sirius froze, exchanging rattled glances. Neither of them had seen Professor
Turnbill since the last day of classes.
“What did he want?” James asked.
Gavin shrugged.
* 148 *
“He just wanted to know where your room was.”
Sirius was about to say something very angry, but James pulled him away. They dashed
up the stairs to their dormitory, and as they skidded into the room, their mouths dropped open
with horror.
It was an absolute mess. Their things had been spilled out of their trunks and strewn
across the floor. Furniture was overturned, and curtains were ripped down from the
beds. Drawers were upside down on the ground, their contents haphazardly dumped
nearby. James’s heart gave an unpleasant squirm.
“My Invisibility Cloak!”
He ran to his bed, stepping on and breaking something made of glass in the process, but
he didn’t care to see what it was. He shoveled aside debris, searching for any sign of the silvery
grey fabric, but it was gone.
“It was right here, he took it!”
Sirius looked aghast.
“James, I’m so sorry…”
“I’m not sorry,” James said, balling his hands into fists. “I’m getting it back. I’m getting
it back RIGHT NOW!”
He stormed out of the dormitory before Sirius could stop him, pushing the Fat Lady’s
portrait open so forcefully that she cried out with indignation. He flew down the staircases two
steps at a time until he reached the second floor. Not caring what happened to him next, he
marched right up to Turnbill’s office and pounded on the door.
“Professor Turnbill!” he roared, “Open the door. NOW!”
There was no movement on the other side.
James seized the doorknob and twisted it violently, but it was locked. The Alohomora
charm would not work on it, and it was much too large for him to transfigure it into anything,
even though he tried. Fury boiled up inside him as he blasted it with the water transformation
spell, then fire. He tried to turn it to glass. Marshmallow. Sponge cake. At some point he gave
up on transfiguration, and instead resorted to beating upon it mercilessly with his fists, screaming
and yelling, even though he knew very well that no one was there.
“Potter, what on earth are you doing?”
* 149 *
James spun around to see Professor McGonagall nearby, looking very concerned. She
must have just come up from the Christmas feast herself, because her cheeks were still flushed,
and her tall witch’s hat had heaps garland hanging from it. James struggled to keep his voice
level.
“Where is Professor Turnbill?”
“He went home for the holidays,” Professor McGonagall said, frowning. “He’s spending
time with his daughter in Oxford. He won’t be back until January.”
James’s mind boggled.
“He’s not… are you sure?”
“Yes Potter, I’m sure,” she said sternly. “Is this urgent? Is it something I can help you
with?”
James wanted badly to tell her how Turnbill stole his Invisibility Cloak, but there were a
number of problems with that. For one thing, she would find out that he now owned an
Invisibility Cloak, and he surely did not want the staff to know about it if he and the others were
going to use it to sneak around. For another, she would want to know why Turnbill had stolen it,
and why he had gone to their dormitory in the first place. The quest for the Bolt of Ages would
come to a quick end teachers found out about it.
“No,” James said sullenly. “It’s just something for his class.”
“Then I suggest you run along.”
She walked with him back to the stairwell. Before she descended back down to her
office on the first floor, the corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile.
“It’s lucky I caught you,” she said. “Out of bed, banging on a Professor’s door like that,
any other teacher would have taken at least twenty house points.”
James attempted to return the smile, but it must have come out as more of a grimace.
“Good night, Professor.”
Back on the seventh floor, James spied two yellow lamp-like eyes gleaming in the dark.
“Hello, Mrs. Norris,” he said dejectedly.
The dust colored cat trotted out of the shadows, purring soothingly around his
ankles. James stooped to rub her behind her ears. He didn’t know why, but her presence made
him feel better.
* 150 *
“Thank you again, you really saved our skins down in the dungeons,” he said, not entirely
sure why he was speaking to a cat.
The cat nodded.
“Do… you understand me?”
She nodded again. There was no mistaking it.
“Do you understand everyone?”
She nodded a third time. James stared with wonder.
“Do many people know you understand them?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Does anyone else know?”
Yes.
“Who?”
The cat rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to James. Feeling like an idiot, he
remembered that she couldn’t actually talk, and thus wouldn’t be able to answer any question
that didn’t have yes or no for an answer. Thinking for a moment, he attacked the question from a
different angle.
“Does Filch know?”
Yes.
“Pringle?”
No.
“Is Filch the only person who knows?”
No.
There was no way that James was going to ask her about every person at Hogwarts
individually, not if he wanted to go to bed before next weekend. Stroking her fur, he smiled to
himself. Despite growing up in the wizarding world, there were still so many things he had yet
to learn existed. She purred again, and for a moment, James almost forgot about why he was so
forlorn.
“Mrs. Norris? Are you up here? There’s some left over ham from the Christmas feast
and I thought maybe we could –”
* 151 *
A tall, wiry man appeared at the other side of the corridor in a long brown coat. It was
Filch, and he had a grubby plate in one hand and a grimy looking lantern in the other. His
expression turned hostile as he took in James stooping over his cat.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
“Nothing!” James said, snapping to attention. “It’s just that I didn’t know she –”
Mrs. Norris hissed. James got the distinct feeling it was her way of telling him not to let
Filch know that he knew her secret.
“I didn’t know she had such big, yellow eyes,” he finished. It was a stupid lie, but Filch
didn’t seem to have a problem with it. He was working out something in his head, and though it
took him a while, he finally reached a conclusion.
“You’re that brat that was tracking snow into the Entrance Hall last week!”
James smiled weakly.
“Sorry, I’m just a first year, we don’t know any spells to, you know, siphon water off our
boots, or dry our –”
Filch grabbed James by the shirt, and dragged him close enough that he could count his
spots.
“If I see you harassing my cat again, you won’t live to see your second year. You can be
sure of that.”
He released James roughly, scooped Mrs. Norris into his arms (she rolled her yellow eyes
by way of apology), and stomped off down the stairs. James knew he was very lucky to avoid
punishment, but he didn’t feel relieved at all; his Invisibility Cloak was still gone. There was
nothing left to do but go back to the common room empty handed.
Gavin had gone to bed, but Sirius was waiting for him when he arrived.
“Did you find him? Did you get it back?”
“Professor McGonagall said Turnbill left Hogwarts last week,” James said. “He hasn’t
been here at all, he’s in Oxford with his daughter.”
Sirius blinked.
“He’s not here? But Gavin said he was here… Do you think he got mixed up? Maybe
he’s just taken too many bludgers to the head?”
James shook his head.
“No, I don’t think anyone else would have torn up our dormitory like that.”
* 152 *
He suddenly remembered that there was something more important than his Invisibility
Cloak in the dormitory.
“Have you checked the map and the pieces of the scepter?” he asked breathlessly.
Sirius’s face turned ashen.
“No, I haven’t looked yet!”
Together, they bounded up the stairs and threw back the loose floorboard, but they both
breathed a sigh of relief. The two fragments of the Bolt of Ages were still safely stowed, along
with the rolled up map. James sank back onto his bed as Sirius fitted the floorboard back into its
place.
“I can’t believe he took my dad’s Invisibility Cloak.”
“I can,” Sirius said, flopping down next to him, so they were lying on their backs side by
side. “They’re really rare, and worth a lot. If he doesn’t sell it, he’ll probably use it to spy on
us.”
“That’s just great,” James said gloomily.
All at once, Sirius threw himself back up into a sitting position.
“James…” he whispered, his voice full of alarm, “You don’t think he could still be here...
in this room? Right now?”
James went numb. They had just exposed everything.
There was a sudden scuffling in the corner. Before they could move, before they could
even process what was going on or what to do about it, the loose floorboard squeaked loudly,
like it did every time James and his friends entered or exited the room.
* 153 *
CHAPTER TWELVE
KREACHERS AND SNARES
There was nothing they could do. The cloaked intruder was gone, and there was no going
after him.
“What do we do now?” Sirius asked, dashing back to the floorboard to remove the
scepter pieces.
James was still frozen. How could Turnbill do this? How could he sneak into and
ransack their dormitory on Christmas, steal the cloak, spy on them in it, and then have the gall to
teach them again in January?
“James? James!”
James shook himself back to reality.
“We need to get the pieces out of here,” he said steadily.
“Where?”
“Away from Hogwarts,” James answered, taking the two pieces from Sirius. “My
parents’ place, maybe.”
“What are you going to do, post it?” Sirius asked sarcastically. “Hera would never be
able to carry it. We need to get these out of here to somewhere safe, right now!”
James tried not to look skeptical.
“How?”
Sirius paced a few steps back and forth, frowning in thought, but then something came to
him.
* 154 *
“I have an idea!”
He positioned himself in the center of the room, and called out a name in a loud,
commanding voice.
“KREACHER!”
CRACK. Someone, or something, suddenly popped into the dormitory right in front of
Sirius. It was a house elf, James realized. Even though he knew it was rude, he couldn’t help
openly staring.
Kreacher was nothing like the clean, well groomed Hogwarts house elves at the
Christmas feast earlier that evening. He was a wretched, gangly thing. Adorned in only a
stained, greasy loincloth around his middle, he had copious amounts of dark hair growing out of
his large, flappy ears. His watery, bloodshot eyes narrowed on either side of long fleshy nose as
he bowed grudgingly.
“Master has called for Kreacher?” he asked in a deep voice that reminded James strongly
of a bullfrog.
Sirius looked down at the little elf bowing in front of him with undisguised disgust.
“Yes. Kreacher, you’re to take those two things from James, and go back home to
Grimmauld Place. Hide them somewhere no one but you can find them. Oh, and wait…”
He dug through his school bag until he found Petrie’s diary, and thrust it into Kreacher’s
small, grubby hands.
“This too. You will not let anyone see them, and you will not tell anyone about them, or
that you came here and saw us. Do you understand?”
Kreacher nodded, then plodded over to James, his bare feet slapping on the hard stone of
the dormitory floor. He snatched the two pieces away, much more forcefully than was polite,
and trudged back past Sirius, muttering quietly under his breath.
“Mistress’s blood traitor son calls Kreacher all the way to Hogwarts, only to send him
straight home again…”
“And no muttering!” Sirius added for good measure.
Kreacher made a very ugly face (which was saying something, because he was ugly
enough to begin with), and after a second gangly bow and another loud CRACK, he was gone.
“Sirius, are you sure we can trust him?” James asked, still staring at the spot where he
had vanished.
* 155 *
Sirius chuckled darkly.
“With house elves, it’s not a matter of trusting, it’s a matter of giving the right
orders. The magic of their kind enslaves them to do exactly what their masters tell them to do,
word for word. They don’t have a choice.”
“So you could tell him to go hop off a cliff, and he would…?”
Sirius gave a long whistle, like the sound of something falling from a great height, and
made an ugly splatting sound, slamming the fist of one hand into the other.
“Of course, he doesn’t need such tight orders from my mother,” he said, kicking aside a
broken fragment of some kind of glassware from someone’s potion kit. “He adores her. He
likes my father and my brother too. It’s just me that he can’t stand. He’s hated me since I was
born. He goes out of his way to get me in trouble, especially if I’m going behind someone’s
back. It’s like having an incredibly small, stinky nanny.”
James chuckled at the thought, but then sobered when he remembered what a mess the
dormitory was. He stooped and began clearing up the contents of his overturned trunk. Sirius
knelt to help.
“What are we going to do?” James asked bitterly, wrapping the candle from Remus in a
pair of old socks. “Turnbill has my Invisibility Cloak now. It’s not going to be as easy for us to
sneak away to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor’s rooms with him spying on us.”
“We need Remus and Peter to come back,” Sirius mumbled.
The rest of the holidays were miserable. Dumbledore had gone away again, and so meals
were once again the quiet, awkward affairs that they were before the Christmas feast. This didn’t
matter as much as before, because James wasn’t very hungry at all, and he certainly didn’t feel
like speaking to anyone. He couldn’t help feeling that losing the Invisibility Cloak was like
letting down not only his father, but all of his ancestors, the many Potters that came before him –
not to mention all of the future Potters that would come after. He was the failure in their long
line, the weak link in the chain.
To make matters worse, he didn’t feel like he could share any of this with Sirius, even
though Sirius was the only person in the world that he felt he could share most anything
with. Sirius would not be able to relate, and it might even hurt him, because he did not have a
* 156 *
good relationship with his own family. At least Sirius was a good enough friend to see that
something was bothering James, and understood that he didn’t want to talk about it.
Without Sirius to talk to, James often retreated to the Owlery to see Hera. She still hadn’t
quite gotten the concept of being nocturnal like her companions, so she was always ready and
waiting for him when he came in, hopping from foot to foot with excitement to spend time with
her boy.
The two of them took many long walks together on the Hogwarts grounds, skirting the
lake of the Forbidden Forest in a mutual silence that both found peaceful. Sometimes, Hera flew
off for a while, only to arrive back a short while later with a gift of a dead mouse. Strangely
enough, these offerings made James smile (though Hera might have been disappointed that he
wouldn’t eat them).
The days blended together. Each felt longer than the day before, until at last, New Year’s
Day came and went, and Remus and Peter returned. The two of them were horrified to hear
about the ransacking of the dormitory and the theft of the Invisibility Cloak, but they were at
least glad to hear that the map, the diary, and the first two pieces of the scepter were safe. James
suggested checking the map to see where the next room was, but Remus insisted against it,
arguing that it was too risky with Turnbill on the loose in an Invisibility Cloak. From that
moment forward, they seemed to disagree about everything.
“I told you,” James whispered forcefully over the breakfast table on the first day of the
new term. “He was ordered to fall back and let us get the pieces. If we stop, he’s been instructed
to ‘silence us!’ We have to keep going.”
Remus’s eyes darted around the Great Hall.
“James, he could be following us and listening to us at any time now. It’s just too
dangerous. We could still go to Dumbledore, it’s not too late…”
Sirius slammed his glass down on the table.
“Remus, if you haven’t noticed, this has been dangerous since we got ourselves involved
back in September! James is right, we have to do something, or at least appear like we are.”
Just as Sirius finished his sentence, Turnbill entered the Great Hall. Clad in forest green
robes, he was smiling widely, greeting students as he made his way down the center aisle toward
the staff table. James was out of his seat before anyone could stop him.
“Professor!” he shouted, trying to keep his voice from trembling with suppressed rage.
* 157 *
Turnbill turned, but the smile on his face fell away as he was greeted by James’s
venomous expression.
“What’s wrong, James?”
“What’s wrong!?” James seethed. “I want my cloak back. I want it back now!”
Turnbill looked genuinely confused.
“Your cloak? What cloak?” he asked. He attempted to steer James away by the elbow to
a more private corner, but James yanked it back defiantly.
“The cloak you took from me on Christmas!” he bellowed, not caring that all of the
students nearby were watching, openmouthed.
“James, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Turnbill said politely, but curtly. “I
was at home with my family on Christmas, you can ask anyone. I’m sorry, I wish I could help
you, but there has been some kind of misunderstanding here. I’ll see you in class.”
He left James standing there in the middle of the aisle, dumbstruck. Students nearby
stared, shocked by his audacity, until Sirius materialized at his side to drag him back to their spot
at the Gryffindor Table.
“What were you thinking! Why did you just do that!”
“I… I don’t know…” James stammered, still watching Turnbill as he took his seat at the
staff table. “Sirius… I don’t think it was him.”
There was little evidence to base his theory on, but something in his gut told him it was
true. Turnbill had nothing to do with the ransacking of the dorm, or the theft of the Invisibility
Cloak.
Remus was frowning.
“But Gavin said it was him.”
“Gavin could be wrong,” James said, beginning to feel like something major was about to
fall into place. “Or…” He racked his brain for any way that someone could magically disguise
themselves as another person. It had to be possible. Finally, he remembered something that his
mother often told him, especially when he had to comb his hair to look presentable, or wear dress
robes for a fancy occasion.
“Some days, you look so much like your father, I have to wonder if you’ve been brewing
Polyjuice Potion in your closet.”
“Or what?” Remus asked.
* 158 *
James looked up, his eyes intense.
“Maybe someone’s making Polyjuice Potion.”
He had to say it quietly, because some faces nearby were still looking in their
direction. Sirius gasped, but Remus and Peter’s expressions were blank with incomprehension.
“Polyjuice Potion?” Peter asked timidly.
Sirius answered for James, his voice low.
“It can transform the maker to appear exactly like someone else, at least if they can get a
bit of the person they’re changing into.”
James did not know the intricacies of brewing Polyjuice Potion, because his mother never
fully explained it to him, but that part at least sounded very unpleasant. He imagined a mad
potioneer, chopping bits and pieces off of people to drop in glowing, frothing cauldrons.
“I’m related to the guy who invented it,” Sirius continued, while James pushed the rest of
his breakfast away, appetite gone. “He’s my great great great great grandfather or something
like that. Remember? Slughorn mentioned it on the first day of Potions.”
“Well, that would explain why Turnbill gets so… moody sometimes.” Peter said,
struggling to find a good way to describe the odd change in personality that he seemed to go
through between classes and free time on the grounds. “Maybe the Turnbill we see in Defense
Against the Dark Arts is the real Turnbill, and the one that spies on us is the Polyjuice Turnbill!”
All this time, Remus had been watching the staff table, deep in thought.
“No,” he finally said. “It can’t be Polyjuice Potion.”
“Why not?” demanded Sirius.
“For one thing, we see the Turnbill that spies on us all the time,” Remus replied. “If he
was stealing body parts from the real Turnbill to brew all of these Potions, don’t you think our
professor would be missing a few arms and legs?”
Sirius snorted into his pumpkin juice.
“People don’t use arms and legs to brew it, Remus. They usually use hair. Hair is easy
to steal off of somebody’s robes.”
James felt much better at hearing that.
“Well, does he look like he’s balding to you?” Remus asked, nodding in Turnbill’s
direction. Of course he didn’t look like he was balding. His thick, wavy brown hair fell all the
* 159 *
way to his shoulders. “Besides, James, you told us you heard Turnbill talking to Abraxas
Malfoy. You said that he called Turnbill by name.”
That drew James up short. He couldn’t deny overhearing that exchange, and despite
whatever potions he had been under the influence of at the time, he was certain that he heard Mr.
Malfoy say Turnbill’s name.
“There could be another explanation for that. Maybe whoever is using the Polyjuice
Potion is also fooling Voldemort and his followers into thinking he’s the real Turnbill.”
“Or maybe Turnbill is really just a Death Eater!” Remus hissed. “It doesn’t even matter
anyway. No matter who or what he is, if he’s a Death Eater, or an imposter, or just our Defense
Against the Dark Arts teacher with a really bad split personality, someone is on our tail, and now
we can’t even see him when he sneaks up on us to kill us. We had our fun, we found a couple of
pieces, but it’s time to go to Dumbledore. I’d rather spend my time worrying about my
Astronomy homework than worrying about getting murdered!”
This seemed to convince the others.
“Okay,” Sirius said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ll take the map and the pieces of
the scepter to Dumbledore today.”
James’s mouth dropped open with fury. It was betrayal. Sirius was supposed to be on
his side. He was about to say something cutting to him, but was stopped short by a sharp pain in
his right foot. Sirius had just stamped on it under the table.
“I’ll go right after Transfiguration. Want to come with me James?”
James quickly closed his mouth, to avoid arousing suspicion from Remus or Peter.
“Sure,” he said, nodding and trying his best to look disappointed, but compliant. What
on earth was Sirius planning?
Remus sighed with relief, as if he had expected a much longer and more difficult battle.
“Good. I just hope he doesn’t punish us for all of the sneaking around we’ve been
doing.”
“Oh he won’t, don’t worry,” Sirius said. “I need to go do something. I’ll see you guys in
class.”
He turned and darted out into the Entrance Hall. Only James could see the ear to ear grin
that he was suppressing.
* 160 *
Sirius arrived only just in time for Transfiguration, eliciting a hard, stern look from
McGonagall as he burst through the door to take his seat. The class seemed to drag on forever,
and no matter how many times James tried to wordlessly ask what he was doing, Sirius just
resolutely ignored him. Finally, the bell rang. Remus and Peter said goodbye, and left with the
herd to go to Charms.
“Okay, what’s going on?” James asked when they were finally alone in the corridor, but
Sirius was already taking off at a good speed. James had no choice but to follow.
Sirius led him up the staircases to the seventh floor. James assumed that they were on
their way back to the dormitory to get the map and call Kreacher, but to his surprise, Sirius took
a turn in the opposite direction, and headed up the stairs to the West Tower.
“What are you doing?” James shouted over the echoing sounds of their running
footsteps. “Is this the way to Dumbledore’s office?” Sirius didn’t answer. Instead, he ran even
faster, and James had to stop talking to keep up.
They finally crashed through the door at the top of the stairs, and into the freezing cold
Owlery. Sirius slammed the door closed behind them, and threw his weight against it, pressing
his ear up to the heavy, aged wood.
“What are you –?”
Sirius threw out his open palm, shushing him. He was listening intently. James watched,
his heart still pounding against his throat. Something heavy landed on his shoulder, and he
jumped, but then he realized that it was just Hera. He stroked her with the back of two fingers.
“I think we’re okay,” Sirius finally whispered. He opened his book bag and dug around
inside it, finally producing the map. “After breakfast I went to get this.”
“So we’re not…?” James began.
“Of course we’re not handing anything over to Dumbledore!” Sirius said
contemptuously. “It’s stupid not to at least check the map for the next room.”
“So why did we come all the way up here?” James asked, lifting his shoe to check for
owl droppings underneath.
“It was the only place I could think of that we could be sure we weren’t followed,” Sirius
said, unfolding the map. “For one thing, I would have heard him coming up after us in the
stairwell. For another, look how small it is in here. He wouldn’t be able to get around invisibly
without bumping into us. We would also see his footprints in the owl poo.”
* 161 *
James was stunned into silence. Sirius was brilliant.
“Aparecium. Where is the next room?” Sirius murmured quietly over the map. It took it
a moment to respond, but what happened drew a gasp from both of them. There were hundreds
of blinking dots labeled “Hufflepuff’s Piece.” They were all over the castle, even in the common
room. Unfortunately, there were none in the Owlery.
“What does it mean?” James asked.
“I don’t know,” Sirius replied. “Do you think every single one is a door to Hufflepuff’s
room? Or do you think only one is the real door?”
“Show us the real door to Hufflepuff’s room,” James commanded, but as far as he could
see, the map remained unchanged.
“Show us the safest door to Hufflepuff’s room,” Sirius tried, but to no avail.
“Well, I guess we could just go find one of the doors and see if the map gives us
directions, like the last couple of times,” said James.
Sirius folded the map back up, and tucked it into his bag.
“No, we can’t. I don’t think we should give up the map to Dumbledore yet, but I think
Remus is right. What if we’re followed to the next room? One wrong move, and we won’t just
lose the Bolt of Ages…”
As much as James wanted to say something defiant, he knew deep down that Sirius and
Remus were right. After everything they’d been through, it would be reckless and foolish to risk
losing what they had worked so hard to find.
“So what do we do now?” James asked, feeling the dull ache of hopelessness settle over
him.
“As far as I can see, there’s only one thing we can do,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over
his chest. “Get your cloak back.”
“How do we do that?”
“No idea.”
The four of them never saw Turnbill spying on them again. It was unsettling to say the
least, and every time James thought about it, he experienced a brief fit of paranoia, followed by
an unpleasant rush of shame for not writing home to tell his father that the cloak was stolen. The
only way he could reassure himself was to imagine that they could still somehow find all four
* 162 *
pieces of the Bolt of Ages. With the power to control time, he could get the cloak back
himself. He held onto this logic like a life raft in the following weeks, mostly to keep himself
from going mad with frustration.
One day in March, James was half-listening to Professor Dearborn’s lecture on light
fearing plants when his mind wandered, as it so often did, back to the map. What could all of the
blinking dots mean? Could every single one be a way into Hufflepuff’s room? Sirius was the
only person he could discuss the map with now. Finding time to speak to him alone was difficult
when Remus and Peter were constantly around.
In the seat next to James, Sirius looked painfully bored. With his elbow on the table, he
leaned his head absently in his hand as he scribbled a drawing of a plant strangling Severus in the
margin of his notes. James had to clamp his mouth shut not to laugh at it, because the expression
on Severus’s cartoon face looked so panicked. Across the aisle, Peter had completely fallen
asleep (he was making a nice puddle of a drool in the center of his desk). Next to him, Remus,
as if wanting to set an example for the other three, was attempting to pay attention, but his eyes
were glazing over.
“Devil’s Snare is deadly fun, but it will sulk out in the sun,” Dearborn recited as he
strolled down the center aisle. He hovered for a moment above Sirius.
“What’s this, Black?” he asked, tugging away the parchment that Sirius was drawing on
before he could shove it underneath his textbook.
“Oh… it’s… it’s…” Sirius stammered, looking quite shocked to be so abruptly shaken
from his stupor.
“This,” Dearborn said, raising Sirius’s drawing to show the rest of the class, “is a perfect
example of what Devil’s Snare will do to you, should you forget the rhyme.”
Severus, clearly recognizing himself, clenched his hands into white fists and glared
daggers over the back of his seat at Sirius. He wasn’t the only person to recognize the subject of
the drawing. Other students were giggling, even pointing at him. Lily, sitting stiffly between
Gwen and Mary on the other side of the room, didn’t even turn to look at it. Since the incident in
the corridor, she was still acting like James and his friends didn’t exist.
Professor Dearborn handed the drawing back to Sirius, clueless.
* 163 *
“This is a drawing that Helga Hufflepuff herself would have applauded. She was a great
collector of art, you know. Most of the paintings now hanging in Hogwarts were from her
personal collection.”
Sirius beamed, but James felt like a bolt of electricity had just surged through his
body. There were hundreds of blinking dots on the map, sprinkled over almost every inch of the
castle… could they be paintings? He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to envision the
configuration of dots from the surface of the map. There had been one in the Gryffindor
common room, right at the portrait hole. The Fat Lady! Could she be one of the entrances to
Helga Hufflepuff’s room?
The more James thought about it, the more he was sure he was right. The next room was
Hufflepuff’s, wasn’t it? It only made sense that she would hide her piece of the scepter inside
her own art collection. He turned in his seat, itching to tell Sirius. His eyes must have been
glowing, because Sirius mouthed the word ‘what?’ at him, but James waited until class was over
to explain.
“The dots are paintings! The paintings are all doors to Hufflepuff’s room!” he said
triumphantly, after most of the other students had cleared out.
Sirius smacked his hand to his forehead.
“Troll bogeys! You’re right! How did I not see that before?”
Remus froze in his tracks, and Peter walked right into him.
“Dots?” he asked suspiciously. “Doors?” He only looked perplexed for a moment
longer, because then his expression turned furious. “You kept it, didn’t you! You kept the
bloody map and didn’t tell us!”
James tried not to look as guilty as he felt. All that time, they were allowing Remus and
Peter to believe that Dumbledore was protecting them. Someone could have attacked them at
any time, and Remus and Peter would have been unprepared. It was unforgivable.
“Hey, you said yourself that you only wanted to worry about your Astronomy
homework!” Sirius said in a tone that suggested he had done Remus some kind of huge favor.
“That’s not what I meant!” Remus said resentfully. “I didn’t want you to lie to me! I
can’t believe you two!”
James quickly cut off Sirius before he could say anything else damaging.
* 164 *
“Even though we have the map, we weren’t planning to go to Hufflepuff’s room without
getting my Invisibility Cloak back. We just wanted to look like we were still on the trail, in case
someone is watching us.”
Remus stomped off down the path, no longer looking at or speaking to either of them.
“Honestly,” James said, running to catch up. “We weren’t.”
“But we were going to try and figure out a plan to get the cloak back,” Sirius said
cheerfully. Remus just scowled at him.
“We’re not going to get killed,” James said firmly, not dwelling on the fact that he was
trying to convince himself as well. “It’s just, Malfoy’s dad said Dumbledore would use the
scepter for his own gain. We couldn’t hand it over to him.”
“I’m not angry that you didn’t give Dumbledore the map and the pieces,” Remus said,
finally stopping and turning back around to face them. “I’m more angry that you lied about it.”
That took James off guard.
“But, I thought you said that this was getting too dangerous.”
“I did,” Remus said, nodding, “but if you two didn’t agree with me, and wanted to keep
trying to figure out how to get the cloak back, I could have dealt with that. We’ve wasted all this
time now, with you two keeping your secrets.”
Now James felt really terrible. He remembered what Remus’s mother had said, about
them being his first real friends. Some friends they were, lying to him about something that
could have cost him his life.
“I’m sorry,” James said. It was for Remus and for Peter, and he hoped it came out as
sincerely as he felt it.
Peter shrugged feebly, but Remus gave him a hard look.
“Don’t lie to us again.”
“We won’t,” James promised, even though he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that
Remus was keeping his own secrets. Whatever it was, he decided, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t
fair to compare the two, was it? Whatever Remus’s secret was, it surely wasn’t about to put their
lives in danger.
Remus exhaled a long, heavy breath.
“So you said something about dots being paintings?”
* 165 *
Once they were safely seated in the noisy Great Hall for lunch, James and Sirius caught
up Remus and Peter on what they missed. Luckily, Sirius had taken to keeping the map in the
depths of his school bag, so they were able to spend their lunch period memorizing the locations
of all of the dots on the entry level of the castle. They left a few minutes early to quietly confirm
that a painting was hanging at each.
“Well, that’s thirty-two out of thirty-two,” Sirius said as they matched up the last one, a
fresco of a small group of hippogriffs around a table playing poker. “Now what?”
“What you guys said,” Remus replied. “With Turnbill on the loose, we need to figure out
how to get James’s cloak back.”
“It’s NOT Turnbill!” James said for what felt like the thousandth time. Remus and Peter
glanced sideways at each other skeptically. James was about to go off on another tirade about
how Turnbill was innocent, but Remus must have sensed it, because he changed the subject.
“Tonight I’m planning to go to the library to do Dearborn’s essay. Maybe if you guys
come, we could do it together.”
“Homework? You’re more concerned about homework than this?” Sirius asked
accusingly.
“Well, yes,” Remus replied. “I’m sure you heard in class Sirius, because you were
paying such close attention, that our essay is due the day after tomorrow. Maybe if we get done
with it fast enough, we can look for some books with spells that might help us at least know if
Turnbi – I mean Voldemort’s spy, is hanging around. Maybe we could learn how to do that
charm that Flitwick told us about in class today. The human presence revealing
spell? Homenum Revelio?”
That at least sounded hopeful to James, even if they didn’t agree about who was hiding
underneath the cloak. Deciding to go to the library after dinner, they shouldered their bags and
headed to Potions. James watched Remus’s back ahead of him as they descended the dungeon
steps. He was afraid to break rules, quick to get discouraged, and sometimes annoyingly
reasonable, but he was a good, forgiving friend. James decided that he was very glad to have
him back in the quest, and silently, he made a vow to himself never to lie to his friends again.
There was hardly anyone else in the library that evening. After writing a short, sloppy
essay about herbs that grow only in moonlight, James pushed his work aside. With his mind so
* 166 *
distracted, it was impossible to concentrate on it any longer. Glancing sideways, he could see
that Sirius, Remus, and Peter weren’t finished yet.
Deciding to leave them to it, James picked up the book he used in his essay, Shedding
Light on Plants and Creatures Influenced by the Moon, and trudged back to the Herbology
section to replace it. He jammed it into the shelf and turned to go back, but was suddenly
distracted when he spotted another section in the same aisle, down near the ground. Invisibility.
James knelt next to it. It was a very small section, he could see; there were only four
books. One by one, he paged through their indexes, looking for any mention of Invisibility
Cloaks, but they were mostly about spells to render various objects invisible. Discouraged, he
began to wonder if what he wanted to do was even possible.
The last of the four books, Vanish Your Vittles: A Practical Guide to Invisibility Spells
for Snack Food, turned out to be even more useless than the three before it. James made to stuff
it back into its place. As he did so, he was surprised to feel an odd sensation on the back of his
hand. He drew his hand back quickly. There was nothing there.
Well, it is the invisibility section, isn’t it? James thought. Groping in the empty space, his
fingers closed around something solid. Almost automatically, he performed the only spell he
knew that could reveal hidden information.
“Aparecium.”
A small book appeared in his hand, titled The Invisible Book of Invisibility. He opened
the cover and looked inside. No students had ever borrowed it before, which was likely because
no one knew it was there. Excited, James flipped forward to the table of contents. There was an
entire chapter on Invisibility Cloaks. Heart pounding, he scanned the chapter’s section headings
until he found exactly what he was looking for.
Evading Spies with Invisibility Cloaks
Due to the rarity of true Invisibility Cloaks, it is unlikely that this is a
problem many readers will experience. In the unlikely event that the witch or
wizard fears being spied upon by an enemy with an Invisibility Cloak, there is
only one method known to the wizarding world to see through them. A blind
Japanese wizard known as Shiryoku invented a method of enchanting glass eyes
* 167 *
to see through any substance the user desires, including the Demiguise fur that is
used in Invisibility Cloaks. There are only five of these eyes in the world,
however, as Shiryoku died without passing his secret on.
Without one of the glass eyes of Shiryoku, the only known way for wizards
to protect themselves from invisible intruders is to keep a companion animal with
the ability to see through these cloaks. Of all the known beasts in the Wizarding
World, there is only one such animal.
A cat with yellow eyes can see through Invisibility Cloaks, but is unable to
speak to its master. A hybrid with yellow eyes, bred from a Kneazle and a
domestic house cat, is able to both see through Invisibility Cloaks and understand
human speech. While very useful, these cats are difficult to breed. One Kneazle
breeder, Anatelia Figg of Surrey, attempted to breed one of these hybrids for
twenty years before she experienced success.
The book slipped to the floor from James’s numb hands and vanished again.
* 168 *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE PENDANT OF BAST
James tried to read his watch as he dashed down the corridor. He still had fifteen minutes
before curfew. Dodging Peeves, who was attempting to drop a pile of lunar charts on his head,
he flew down four flights of stairs, skidding on his trainers in the Entrance Hall to turn down a
small, dimly lit passageway.
The caretaker’s office was a tiny room with a single oil lamp hanging from the crumbling
ceiling. There were many file cabinets lining the walls, their drawers bulging with years’ worth
of confiscated items and records of student wrongdoings. The strange scent of fried fish seemed
to linger in the air. Mrs. Norris sat squarely in the center of the cluttered, moldy desk, cleaning
herself.
James breathed a sigh of relief that neither Pringle nor Filch were there, because he
wouldn’t have known how to explain his sudden appearance.
“Mrs. Norris? I was wondering if I could ask you something…”
The cat nodded.
“Can you see through Invisibility Cloaks?”
Mrs. Norris did not respond right away. She sat for a moment, surveying James
carefully, as if deciding whether or not she wanted to answer the question.
“Please, Mrs. Norris… This is very important,” James pleaded, stealing a glance at his
watch. He still had ten minutes.
Mrs. Norris stood and stretched. James took this to be her polite way of dismissing him.
* 169 *
“Thanks, anyway,” he said, his heart sinking with disappointment. “I’m sorry I bothered
you.”
Just as he was turning to leave, Mrs. Norris hopped nimbly across the desk. Perhaps he
was imagining it, but it looked like she was pointing at something near the edge with her paw.
James took a few steps forward to look. It was an old copy of the Daily Prophet. Her
paw was resting on the title of an article beneath a picture of a handsome new broomstick.
Quidditch teams and broomstick enthusiasts eagerly wait for Universal
Broomsticks’ release of the new ShootingStar model.
Why Mrs. Norris thought this was important, James had no idea, because the
ShootingStar model the article was talking about came out almost a year and a half ago. He
looked up, puzzled.
“You want to show me an article about a broomstick?”
Mrs. Norris shook her head impatiently, the tip of her tail flicking from side to side. She
stamped the pad of her paw down again on top of the article, and James finally realized that she
wasn’t pointing to the whole article, she was pointing to a single word in the article’s title – wait.
“Wait?” James asked, surprised that the cat could also read.
Mrs. Norris nodded eagerly, but James still didn’t understand.
“Wait for what?”
Mrs. Norris stalked around the cluttered desk, quickly scanning the titles on the other
papers, letters, and magazines that littered its surface. Soon, she settled herself atop a magazine
called the Quibbler, and dropped the pad of her paw down on another article’s title.
The Top Ten Ways to Attract a Miffleburger.
Her paw was resting on the word Ten.
“Wait… ten…” James said slowly. “Wait ten minutes?”
Mrs. Norris mewed triumphantly.
“Wait ten minutes where? Here?”
* 170 *
Now that James understood the system, it was much easier for the cat to spell out her
message.
“Wait ten minutes… outside… common… room,” James read. “It’s curfew, Mrs.
Norris. Won’t Pringle or Filch catch me if I’m outside of the common room?”
Mrs. Norris shook her head, and nodded insistently toward the door. Not sure what to
think, James left the stuffy office. On his way back to the staircases, he glanced back over his
shoulder, wondering why she didn’t just spell out an answer right there. It would be much
harder for them to talk outside of the Gryffindor common room, where there were no Daily
Prophets or Quibblers for her to spell with.
Wump. In his moment of distraction, James walked directly into something big and
lumpy that smelled faintly of fried fish.
“You!”
Filch was towering over James, his crooked finger pointed his face. He looked
demented.
“You’re up to something with my cat! You can’t fool me, I’m on to you!”
Before James could deny it, Filch’s face twisted into something that might have
resembled a look of glee.
“It’s after hours you know.”
“No it’s not,” James said quickly, holding out his watch. “I still have five minutes.”
The cogs in Filch’s brain looked like they were working furiously, trying to come up with
some other crime to accuse him of, but James didn’t linger to hear it. He slipped away and
bolted back up to the seventh floor. Once there, he waited as patiently as he could, but soon he
was pacing back and forth with nervousness. The Fat Lady snoozed rhythmically, either
unaware of him or ignoring him.
As he paced, James tried not to think about his last conversation with Lily, which had
ended so disastrously right there almost three months ago. Of course, the more he tried to forget
it, the more vividly he remembered it. When her angry words came back to him, he tried to
focus instead on the remembered image of Severus lying on the ground, with a purple bruise
blossoming around one of his dark, ugly eyes. That made him at least feel a little bit better.
Five minutes passed. Then eight. Finally, ten minutes passed, but there was still no sign
of Mrs. Norris. James was about to give up and wake up the Fat Lady to let him inside, but then
* 171 *
he heard the barely audible sound of padding paws on stone. Mrs. Norris loomed out of the
shadows, her gleaming yellow eyes appearing a moment before the rest of her body. At first
they just stared at one another, but then she tipped her head as if to say ‘follow me,’ and took off
back the way she came.
James stumbled after her small shape as she led him down one flight of stairs and into the
western corridor of the sixth floor. He didn’t like how loud his running footfalls were, but he
trusted Mrs. Norris to keep him appraised of anyone approaching. At the end of the hall, she
careened down a dark, narrow tunnel, where there were fewer doors. Now James was forced to
light his wand, because he was struggling to keep her tiny shape in view at all.
Just when he thought he was going to lose her completely, and that he’d be left stranded
alone in an unfamiliar part of the castle after curfew, Mrs. Norris finally stopped in front of a
large statue of two identical wizards joined at the hip. The one on the left held an open book,
and the one on the right held some kind of orb. She leapt up into the lap of the wizard on the
right, and touched both of her paws to the orb. The wall next to the statue, which was hung with
a painting of a rustic field, split open like a curtain to reveal a staircase leading down into
darkness.
“Are we going down there?” James asked, unsure of how he felt about it.
Mrs. Norris nodded, and with a swish of her tail, disappeared down the steps. James
followed, his lit wand held out far in front of him in case he fell. After just a few steps they
reached the bottom. The tiny stone room was completely bare, and had no windows. Why
would Mrs. Norris have brought him here?
James was about to ask her, but he couldn’t find her.
“Mrs. Norris?”
He heard her soft replying mew, but he still couldn’t see where she was.
“Where are you?” he asked, turning around in a circle.
She mewed again, and James finally located her. She was in a small, gaping hole in the
corner. As soon as he had seen her, she twisted around and disappeared. Dropping to all fours,
James peered inside. He couldn’t see a thing. Praying that he wouldn’t get stuck, he put his
wand in his teeth and shimmied into the hole after her.
It was completely black inside. The walls scraped James’s back, stomach, and sides as he
army crawled along. He strained to hear any sound of Mrs. Norris ahead of him, but he couldn’t
* 172 *
hear a thing over the sound of his own movements and breathing. After a while, he finally
emerged into a warm, brightly lit room. Getting to his feet, he gaped at what stood before him.
The room was tremendous, and every inch of it was jammed full of treasure. There were
gold bars the size of bricks stacked up in a glittering pyramid, chests brimming with gold coins,
and gems the size of watermelons. Gleaming mail and goblin wrought weapons were stacked
into piles taller than Hagrid. Flocks of solid gold peacocks with glimmering sapphire eyes and
jeweled tails strutted between gold and silver mountains, while sparkling silver eagles soared
around the ceiling far overhead.
Mrs. Norris did not stop to wait for him. She didn’t even appear to be surprised by the
trove around them. She just hurried through the room with purpose, zigzagging around jeweled
gold goblets and diamond tiaras.
James followed as quickly as he could manage. The piles of treasure were wondrous to
look at, but if he tripped over anything, or disturbed any of the precariously placed piles, he
thought the ensuing avalanche might bury him forever. He was carefully squeezing his way
around a life-sized statue of a golden lion with ruby eyes, but then he saw something that made
him freeze in his tracks.
There was a girl standing a short distance ahead. She brushed her long, red hair out of
her eyes and beamed at him, as if she had been waiting anxiously for him to arrive.
Nonsense, James thought. What would Lily be doing down here?
Still, he approached her cautiously. As he drew nearer, James realized that she was
standing in a gigantic gold frame – like a mirror that didn’t show his reflection. Across its top
was an inscription in a language he did not understand.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
James turned his attention back to Lily. She said nothing, but she didn’t take her eyes off
of him. She put her hand up to the glass, as if trying to reach him, trying to touch him, and
James raised his hand to meet it. She smiled. For reasons unknown, a phrase broke across
James’s consciousness. It was one he had tried so hard to forget, and up until now, he thought
that he had.
Your child will never know you.
* 173 *
What did that have to do with Lily? James tried to push the thought from his mind, but
now he knew that small string of words, as terrible as it was, was unforgettable. It would be with
him forever. This knowledge should have frightened him. He should have wanted to go back to
the comfort of the Gryffindor common room at that very moment, never to return to that place,
but he felt exactly the opposite. He could have stood there before that mirror for days, for weeks
even. He would have, if it weren’t for Mrs. Norris.
The cat brushed up around his ankles, reminding him that there was a reason they were
there. Clearly, the mirror wasn’t it. Forcing himself to tear his gaze away from Lily’s face,
James followed her.
As they got further away, James’s head felt clearer. It left him with a feeling that the
framed mirror with strange markings was dangerous, so from that point forward, he decided to
push it from his mind.
They reached the far corner of the room (which might have taken any amount of time,
because James was so enthralled by the sights around him), and Mrs. Norris slowed to a stop at
the feet of a statue. It was an Egyptian goddess, tall and lean, but she had the face of a
cat. Hewn from solid gold, she had to be at least thirty feet tall.
“Is that what you brought me here for?” James asked.
Mrs. Norris nodded, looking at something high above. James followed her gaze to see a
pendant hanging around the statue’s neck.
“Do you want me to go bring that down?”
She nodded a second time. James sucked in a deep breath, and began to scale the
statue. It was a laborious climb. His arms and legs began to burn with fatigue, and his palms
became dangerously sweaty. A few times he climbed a small distance, only to slide back even
further before he managed to get some purchase with the rubber soles of his trainers. He
wondered how long it would take for help to find him if he fell and broke his neck. Never, he
guessed. Deciding that it would be very useful to learn a few spells that could heal broken
bones, he forced himself to keep moving upwards, inch by inch.
Finally, James reached the statue’s shoulder, which he straddled with relief. It gave him
a much needed chance to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. Then, edging forward, he reached
out to seize the chain of the pendant, and tugged it off over the top of the goddess’s head.
* 174 *
The pendant was larger than it had initially looked from the ground, but it could still fit
into the palm of James’s hand. It was carved from solid gold into the shape of a cat’s face, but
felt lighter than it looked. Remembering his parents’ warnings never to trust strange magical
objects, he resisted the temptation to put it on, and instead tucked it into one of his pockets.
The climb down was much faster than the climb up; James just slid most of the
way. Once he had both feet firmly back on the ground, Mrs. Norris turned on the spot and
sprang back in the direction of the hole in the wall. James couldn’t help but feel
disappointed. He wanted a little more time to explore the room. Mrs. Norris had no patience for
this. She seemed very intent on leaving, and hissed back at him, as if to say ‘hurry up.’
James followed her back through the maze of treasures and into the tunnel. Once they
were safely up the stairs and out in the corridor, Mrs. Norris stopped, pawing at his pocket. He
pulled the pendant out to show her, and was surprised to see that the chain had shrunken to his
size.
“Do you want me to put it on?”
She nodded, and James lifted the chain and dropped it over his head. He didn’t feel any
different, and was going to ask if something was supposed to happen, but suddenly a cool,
female voice startled him. It echoed through the empty corridor.
It isn’t ours to keep.
James jumped, his eyes sweeping the corridor for the owner of the voice. He was
prepared to take detention from any teacher, even Professor Turnbill, so long as it wasn’t
Voldemort’s spy coming to kill him.
It’s me, silly. Down here.
With surprise, James looked at Mrs. Norris’s bright, lamp-like eyes. Understanding
dawned on him.
“Mrs. Norris… does this pendant let me hear your thoughts?”
Yes, James.
James was awestruck.
“What is it? Where did it come from?”
It was known to the Egyptians as the Pendant of Bast. Bast is the protector and patron
goddess of cats. You saw her statue. I have known about that room since I was a kitten, and I
thought no one else knew its location. This fall I found it full of the objects you saw just moments
* 175 *
ago. You can imagine my surprise, especially when I saw Bast, and the pendant round her
neck. Any cat would have recognized it.
James examined the cat-faced pendant carefully.
“Why haven’t you given this to Filch?”
Like I said, it is not ours to keep. I decided to keep it a secret from Argus because I knew
he would have a difficult time letting it go. He loves me, and it would be painful for him in the
end. When you came to me this evening, I believed you that this was important enough to
borrow the pendant for a short time. James, you must understand, we will give this pendant back
when we are done with it.
James almost asked who the treasure in the secret room belonged to, but then a distant bit
of information from September stirred in his memory. Professor Turnbill had mentioned that
Dumbledore was allowing him to store his treasure in the castle.
“Those things… they’re Turnbill’s!”
Yes, I believe you’re right. Dumbledore must have known about the room, and offered to
let him keep his collection in it when he began teaching in the fall.
James wanted to ask so many more questions, about other secret or hidden places in the
castle, but instead he asked her what he had come to her about in the first place.
“Mrs. Norris, can you see through Invisibility Cloaks?”
I can.
James’s heart leapt, but then he found himself trying to decide how to proceed. Could he
tell her everything about the Bolt of Ages? Would she ruin everything? She was the only one
who could help them now. They needed her, and James knew it. Without her, they could do
nothing. Making his decision, James brought his voice down to a whisper.
“Mrs. Norris, have you heard of the Bolt of Ages?”
For a moment she said nothing, but then she started speaking very quickly.
No. James, you must not go back into Edrian’s treasure room to search for it. Though
we needed it, taking this pendant was stealing. We must not take anything else.
James shook his head.
“Turnbill doesn’t have it.”
He told Mrs. Norris everything. He told her about overhearing Turnbill’s secret talk with
McGonagall, the trip to the library, the journey to Flourish and Blotts, and getting the first two
* 176 *
pieces. She listened patiently, the tip of her tail occasionally twitching when she heard a detail
she found interesting.
“Please,” James finished. “Don’t tell anyone, or we’ll never find the rest of the
pieces. We need your help to make sure that Voldemort’s spy doesn’t follow us in my
Invisibility Cloak.”
Mrs. Norris remained silent for another few seconds. James got the impression she was
thinking very hard.
All right. I’ll help you. Tomorrow night, just after curfew, I’ll meet you and your friends
outside of your common room again. Keep the pendant for now.
Without giving James a chance to thank her, she scampered away.
Back in the common room, James found Sirius, Remus, and Peter waiting anxiously
around the fireplace. Sirius rose from his chair.
“Where have you been?!” he demanded. He reminded James so strongly of his mother
that he had to stifle a laugh. Remus dropped the Prophet, which featured another glittering Dark
Mark on the front page. They seemed to be a daily occurrence now.
“James, it isn’t safe for any of us to wander around alone. You know that,” he said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going,” James said, sinking down into the
unoccupied chair beside Peter. “I had to get downstairs before curfew.”
He explained The Invisible Book of Invisibility, Mrs. Norris’s ability to talk, read, and see
through Invisibility Cloaks, and Turnbill’s treasure room. Then, he passed the Pendant of Bast
around to each of them. Sirius peered down critically at it.
“I think you should keep it,” he said bitterly. “He took your cloak, you take his pendant.”
James was too exhausted to correct him by telling him that Voldemort’s spy wasn’t
Turnbill.
“James,” Remus said quietly, “Do you realize you just exposed all of our plans to Filch’s
best friend?”
“She’s going to keep it a secret,” James said, and he believed it. “Besides, without her,
it’s not like we would be getting anywhere anyway.”
No one could deny that, so the others finally (and reluctantly) agreed to let her guide
them. If Remus was still upset about it, he didn’t say anything further. After some chatter about
* 177 *
classes and a particularly long and bawdy joke from Sirius about two garden gnomes and a hag,
Peter began to nod off in his chair, so they decided to go to bed.
James lay awake long after everyone else had fallen asleep. He knew he ought to feel
exhausted; it was nearly midnight, but too many competing thoughts were keeping him
awake. One small corner of his heart still ached for his lost Invisibility Cloak, but first and
foremost in his mind was what was now becoming a familiar feeling – the fear and excitement
that accompanied finding another piece of the scepter. Before, it had been the fear that
dominated, but now it was the excitement. They had proven themselves against two rooms
already, hadn’t they? Together, they could take on whatever challenges Hufflepuff had in store
for them.
Feeling assured and confident, James finally dozed off. By that time tomorrow, they
would be three quarters of the way to becoming the masters of time.
* 178 *
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHICH WHERE
Friday’s lessons crawled. James could hardly listen to any of his teachers, and judging
by the nervous fidgets of his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were not taking in much
either. After a quiet dinner, where nobody felt much like eating, the four of them returned to the
common room to wait for everyone else to go to bed, and to debate in hushed voices over which
painting to use to get into Hufflepuff’s room.
“The Fat Lady is RIGHT here,” Remus said fiercely. “That would be the safest way to
get in, and no one would have a chance to follow us.”
Remus had finally learned to refer to Voldemort’s spy in the most general of terms,
because every time he mentioned Turnbill by name, James would inevitably lose his temper.
“Are you kidding? We can’t have her knowing!” Sirius said a bit too loudly. “She could
tell anyone! Other students, teachers, even Dumbledore!”
He stopped, realizing that a second year boy reading a book near the windowsill was
watching.
“…and we wouldn’t want Dumbledore to know what we got him for his birthday!” he
added in a voice so loud and hearty that it sent James snorting into his sleeve. The boy must
have decided that they weren’t as interesting as he first thought, because he went back to his
reading.
“Sirius is right,” James said when they were sure the boy was no longer listening.
“It’s Dumbledore’s birthday?” Peter asked, his eyes wide.
* 179 *
“No,” James said, “I mean Sirius is right that we can’t let the Fat Lady know what we’re
doing. In fact, it’s probably better not to let anyone in the paintings know. We need a painting
that can’t talk, like an object or an animal, or something.”
“Do you know any?” Remus asked.
James wracked his brain. He saw paintings every day, in the corridors, in his classrooms,
and even in the bathrooms, but the only ones he could come up with had people in
them. Perhaps that was because those were always the most memorable to him. There was the
warlock with three eyes that hung in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the rosy
cheeked witch that hung right next to him in the Charms classroom (she sometimes whispered an
answer during a difficult exam), and there was of course Eloise. Luckily, it was Peter that found
a solution.
“Have any of you been down in the dungeons past Slughorn’s classroom? Down by the
Potions storeroom?”
James caught Sirius’s eye, and they both smirked.
“I’d say James and I have,” Sirius said.
“Then you’ll know that there’s a small dead end past the last row of classrooms,” Peter
said eagerly. “There are paintings of food down there. I remember a big bowl of fruit.”
“What were you doing down there?” Sirius asked.
“Well, that’s where the kitchens are… I get hungry sometimes after Potions…”
Sirius snorted.
“Uh… Peter, Potions is right after lunch.”
“Ugh!” Remus groaned, “Can’t you think of a painting closer to the seventh floor? The
dungeons are as far away from here as you can get!”
“Well at least I thought of one!” said Peter.
“It’s okay, Remus,” James said, feeling relieved they had at least come up with one
suitable painting, no matter where it was. “We have Mrs. Norris on our side. She’ll make sure
nobody catches us, whether it’s Voldemort’s spy, a teacher, or even Filch.”
“Unless she turns traitor on us,” Remus grumbled under his breath.
“She’s not going to do that!” James said, bristling. He felt very defensive of Mrs.
Norris. She had saved his and Sirius’s lives, after all. “She’ll take us where we need to go, and
safely.”
* 180 *
That settled it. They all sat without speaking, each of them either bobbing with
excitement, or brooding over the long list of ways that their plans could go badly. Remus
wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes, rolling them up, and then down, and then
back up again. James was about to yell at him to stop it because it was driving him mad, but
then he didn’t have to, because the last couple of Gryffindors wandered sleepily up to the
dormitories, leaving the common room empty.
The four of them slipped out into the corridor as silently as they could, relying on the
darkness to creep along the wall and stay out of the Fat Lady’s sight. Remus, the last to exit, let
go of her portrait and allowed it to swing shut on its own. The bang it issued was loud enough to
set James’s heart racing beneath the Pendant of Bast.
“Who did that!” the Fat Lady exclaimed.
“Sorry,” Remus whispered to them, once they were a few steps away. “If I closed her
gently, she would have seen me. I figured Mrs. Norris was already guaranteeing that we
wouldn’t be caught out of bed, so it was the better choice.”
James nodded.
“Good thinking. I just wish she’d shut up.”
The Fat Lady was now wailing. It must have covered the approaching sounds of
Mrs. Norris’s paws on the stone, because when she appeared at James’s side, he nearly jumped
out of his skin.
“Galloping Grindylows!” he shouted, but luckily the Fat Lady’s carrying on covered that
too. Once he recovered himself, he knelt down to her level so she could hear him. “Thank you
for coming, Mrs. Norris. We need to get down to the dungeons, near the kitchens. Can you lead
us?”
Yes, she replied in his head, but we need to get moving now, because that noise won’t go
unnoticed.
“Okay. If you see anyone under an Invisibility Cloak, you know what to do.”
Indeed, she thought, motioning with her head for them to follow.
They were an odd procession. Mrs. Norris marched in front her tail erect and ears
alert. James came right behind her with Sirius trotting purposely at his side, and Remus and
Peter trailed uncertainly a few steps behind. Mrs. Norris took a complicated and unfamiliar path
down to the lower floors, likely because she knew anyone patrolling the halls would be making
* 181 *
their way up the grand staircases to check on the Fat Lady. Just as they were passing through the
Entrance Hall, Mrs. Norris’s voice suddenly cut through the silence like a knife.
Get in the alcove on the left. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.
James grabbed Sirius and Remus by the backs of their robes and hauled them roughly
into the small alcove to their left, taking refuge behind the giant hourglass that held Hufflepuff’s
house points. Even though they didn’t have the ability to hear Mrs. Norris’s thoughts, Sirius and
Remus had the good sense to stay silent. Unfortunately, Peter didn’t.
“What’s going on!?”
James hastily clapped his hand over his mouth. Now he could hear what Mrs. Norris was
worried about – there were brisk footsteps coming their way. Mrs. Norris’s voice came again,
but this time there was panic in it.
He heard your friend! Get out of there!
James’s body reacted automatically.
“Follow me!” he shouted, springing from the protection of the small alcove. Not needing
any other encouragement, the others sprang out after him. The approaching footsteps picked up
to a jog, and the terror of it spurred James on to run even faster.
“He’s following –” Peter started.
“I know!” James interrupted.
Suddenly, the pursuer called out, and to James’s surprise, the voice was not an adult’s,
but a familiar condescending drawl.
“You! Stop!”
James stopped to glance back over his shoulder. Lucius Malfoy was coming at them full
speed, his long blonde hair flying out behind him. Even from fifty feet away, he looked like
death itself coming for them.
“Malfoy!” James hissed. “It’s dark, don’t let him see who you are!”
“The common room,” Remus said between hurried breaths, “He’s a Slytherin – he can’t
follow us in there!”
They made it up the first flight of stairs before Malfoy reached the base, but his legs were
a great deal longer than theirs. He could climb much faster, taking the steps two at a time.
“He’s probably been waited on by house elves his whole life! Never had to run for
anything!” Sirius laughed between gasps for air. “I’m impressed he’s keeping up!”
* 182 *
James, who was at the moment more afraid of Malfoy than Voldemort’s spy, was not in a
laughing mood. Malfoy was getting closer by the second. He was now only a half staircase
behind them.
“Keep climbing!”
Just as James took his next step, the ground beneath him became unstable. He and the
others fell hard against the rail of the staircase, sprawling to avoid landing on each other. As if
sensing the urgency of the situation, the base of the flight they were standing on was revolving
away from the one below it, stranding Malfoy on the landing. The four of them just managed to
scramble up to the next flight before it revolved back to where Malfoy waited, his face blazing.
The staircase trick had bought them time; they managed to put another flight of steps
between themselves and him – but then the stairs moved again. This time, it was the flight above
James and the others that moved, leaving them trapped at a dead end on the sixth floor.
“No!” moaned Sirius, reaching upwards longingly. “We only had one more to go!”
Malfoy hollered something from the flight below them, and James had only an instant to
understand what it was.
“Immobulus!”
A bright streak of blue light lit up the air. James pulled Sirius out of the way quickly, and
it sliced through the air where he had been, striking a portrait on the wall behind them. Its
occupant, a sleeping witch with a bright orange hat, froze mid-snore. Seeing her suddenly
reminded James of another painting on the sixth floor – one without people.
“This way!” he ordered, waving them on. He sprinted down the nearest line of
classrooms, trying with all of his might to remember which turns Mrs. Norris had taken the night
before.
“Where are we going?” shouted Remus. “Peter won’t be able to keep it up much
longer!”
He was right. Peter was making horrible, racking coughs behind him.
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing!” James called back over his shoulder, but in truth, he
didn’t know for sure. At last, he spotted something familiar – a dark tunnel with very few doors
coming up on their left.
“Keep your wand lights off and stay quiet!”
* 183 *
He led them down into the darkness, one hand sliding against the wall to steady himself,
the other reached out in front of him in case he walked into anything. Slow footsteps announced
that Malfoy was close at hand. Seconds later, his silky voice carried down the hall, echoing as it
reached them.
“If you give up this useless chase now, I might be lenient with you. All of these turns are
dead ends.”
James didn’t like the way he emphasized the word dead. He also didn’t like being told
that all of the turns were the same. That could mean that there many tunnels just like the one he
remembered, and he could have picked the wrong one. Silently, wordlessly, James repeated the
same words over and over in his head, as if merely thinking them would will them into reality.
Please let it be here. Please let it be here.
Bump. The toe of James’s trainer bumped into something hard. Searching the air ahead
of him with his groping hands, he found the very thing he was looking for – the statue of the twin
wizards. He could feel the outstretched arm of the brother holding the orb, but he was careful
not to touch it, in case he opened the entrance to the small room beneath it. That might have
been a good place to hide, but he didn’t know how to close the door behind him, and Peter would
never fit through the crawl space that led to the treasure rom.
It was the painting on the wall that James was looking for. He reached up and felt along
the cold, slimy wall, and shivered with relief when he felt the edge of its heavy wooden
frame. Unfolding the map, he hurriedly murmured the Aparecium Charm, barely moving his
lips.
“Everyone get a hand on me,” he whispered, his eyes on the corner that he was horribly
sure Malfoy would appear around at any moment. He would only have one instant to light his
wand, look at the map, and to figure out whatever he was supposed to do.
“Lumos!”
In the faint light, he could see that his effigy was right where he expected it to be, in a
very remote corner of the sixth floor. Luckily, what he had to do was very obvious. A speech
bubble appeared next to the figure, containing an incantation.
“Ostioportum!” James read.
As soon as the word was out of his mouth, every inch of the canvas on the wall burned
with a blinding, white light. It filled the dingy tunnel, and spilled out into the corridor beyond
* 184 *
that, where Malfoy was still prowling. He would be sure to see it and come running. Their only
chance was to disappear first.
James turned his attention back to the frame and its blinding light. It was too small, too
high – but there was no time. Making sure that three hands were grasping his robes, he
lunged. To his delight, the painting met him halfway, heaving all of them up bodily into the air
and through the frame. They fell through empty space, tumbling over and over in a light too
bright to see by.
THUD. James felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs. The smell of dry grass filled
his nostrils, and all around him, he could hear the buzzing of bees. It was still absurdly bright,
but the world was beginning to come into focus. Hauling himself to his feet, he stuffed the map
back into his pocket.
They were in an open field, and judging by the temperature, it was mid-summer. Though
the heat was intense, a warm, gentle breeze rippled over the long grass and through James’s
hair. There was something odd about the scene, he thought. It was slightly fuzzy, as if his
glasses had been knocked off, but when he reached up with his hand to check, he found that they
were still sitting securely on the bridge of his nose. Then, the realization struck him. They
weren’t in a real field. They were inside the painting of the field, and the blurriness was because
of the brush stroke patterns.
To James’s left, the scene faded off into nothingness, but to the other, he could see that
the scene transitioned into a dark, candlelit room. Glancing back in the direction of the tunnel,
he was surprised to discover what seemed like a giant window, floating eerily in midair. Its
expanse was dark. Sirius, Remus, and Peter got to their feet and looked around dazedly.
“Where are we?” Sirius asked, massaging the elbow he landed on.
“We’re in the painting,” James whispered. “We need to stay quiet. Malfoy is out there,
and we don’t want him to see us in here.”
Just as he finished his sentence, Malfoy’s blonde head passed the window, his lit wand
illuminating his very confused face. They waited a while longer, holding their breath, until he
passed the window again going the other way, looking even more confused than before. Sirius
started laughing, but James hastily covered his mouth. They waited silently like that until they
were sure he was gone.
“Where is the scepter piece?” Remus asked quietly. “Where are we supposed to go?”
* 185 *
Sirius shrugged, chuckling.
“We could find a painting of Hufflepuff and ask her.”
Everyone snickered, but James recalled the day that he had spoken to Lily near the
Muggle post box. There had been a portrait of Helga Hufflepuff above it.
“There’s a portrait of her in the Entrance Hall,” he said. “We actually might be able to
ask her. Who knows, maybe that’s what we’re supposed to do. We could walk from painting to
painting until we get to hers.”
“Hang on,” Remus interrupted, “there’s no way we’re going to be able to keep this secret
if we have to walk through everyone’s paintings.”
“We’re going to have to tell everyone that we’re a new painting they hung somewhere in
the castle,” James said. “We could say it’s back here on the sixth floor. As far as I can tell,
nobody ever really comes back here. Just don’t talk to anyone long enough that they could
remember your face. Pull up the hoods on your school robes, it might help.”
The four of them pulled their hoods up over their heads, shielding their faces. Then, they
marched off in the direction of the candlelit room. The scene around them slowly changed as
they went, the waving stalks of grass seeming to melt into a dark wall of stone, which, like the
field, was slightly textured by brush strokes. Ahead, a very frail monk was leaning over a
scriptorium table. His hand trembled as he scratched a quill across a piece of parchment. He
started when he saw them approaching.
“Oh, hello, can I help you?”
“Er… yes,” James said, gazing sideways. There was a mid-air window here too, also
facing out into the dark. “Where are we?”
“Which where?” the monk asked serenely, dropping his quill back into the ink well.
James and the others exchanged confused looks.
“Which where?...” Sirius asked.
“Which where!” the monk repeated, looking surprised that they did not understand the
question. “The location in the painting or the location of the painting?”
“The location of the painting,” James said quickly, not wanting to seem like they did not
belong there.
The monk still looked wary, but he answered all the same.
“The sixth floor, in what is currently the Muggle Studies classroom.”
* 186 *
“How do we get to the Entrance Hall?” Remus asked.
The monk peered ever closer at them, a bushy eyebrow raised.
“Are you new here?”
Sirius cut in.
“Our painting was just hung in the corridor around the corner. We would really like to
get down to the Entrance Hall as quickly as possible.”
The monk’s demeanor suddenly changed.
“Ah!” he said, rising from his seat, his mouth widening into a gap toothed
smile. “Welcome to Hogwarts! A new painting, by Jove! Forgive me for not introducing
myself, I am Rulf, and this is the Divine Task. What is the name of your painting?”
He had asked Peter, but Peter clearly wasn’t ready for the question.
“It’s uh, er… well, it’s…”
“The Marauders at Midnight!” Sirius blurted out, saving him. James grinned. The name
was perfect.
“The Marauders at Midnight, a good name, may your paint never fade!” Rulf said,
clapping his hands together. “Now, I must introduce you to everyone –”
“Oh, no, no that’s okay,” James said quickly, “You look like you’re very busy here,
doing important work…”
Rulf nodded sadly.
“Yes, yes I suppose you’re right… I don’t have that many friends anyway. Not many
folk come this way, unfortunately… not with the, well, nevermind.... It’s all right though. I
have many texts to copy, much work to do, as always…”
“So… the Entrance Hall?” Sirius prompted.
“Yes, yes!” the monk said, recovering his train of thought. “The Entrance Hall is not
difficult to find. Keep going this way until you find the painting of Herpo the Foul, then take the
Snowy Meadow on the right. It will lead you down the grand staircases. Once you reach a
painting of Hogwarts Castle in fall, you’ll be in the Entrance Hall.”
“Thank you,” James said, adjusting his hood to better hide his face. “Good luck with
your copying.”
He led the way into the next painting, but was surprised to find it completely empty – a
blank stretch of grey.
* 187 *
“Don’t worry, you’re going the right way!” the monk called when he saw them
hesitate. “There used to be something in that painting, but none of us remember what it
was. Someone must have borrowed it years ago and forgotten to return it!”
They thanked the monk again, bid him farewell, and crossed the empty canvas until they
reached a dark forest. Glowing orbs of light hovered between the trees.
“Let’s not follow any of them this time,” Sirius said. James and Peter laughed with him,
but then they had to explain to Remus.
“That wasn’t very bright of you,” Remus said when they finished. “You’re lucky it was a
bog, and not the end of a cliff.”
Next, they entered a dark purple room, where an elaborate dress braided with gemstones
and gold fibers sat propped up in a chair, as if worn by an invisible person. James wasn’t sure if
this was the case or not, and it gave him a very uneasy feeling, so he was relieved when moved
on into the grey landscape ahead.
In it there was a castle on a hill that looked very much like Hogwarts, though it must have
been a few hundred years ago. The air was cold, and a cruel wind was blowing in from across
the lake, so they were quick to make their way into the painting ahead, which was colored a
sickly greenish brown. As they entered, they were assaulted by a heavy wave of stench.
“Urgh!” James said, pulling the collar of his shirt up over his nose. “What is that!?”
“It’s a swamp!” Remus yelled, but his voice was muffled by the collar of his shirt, which
he had also pulled up over his nose.
“It’s all over my shoes!” Peter complained.
“Uh, guys…” Sirius said, his voice uncharacteristically steady. “I think I know why
nobody comes back this way.”
James followed his gaze. Deeper in the painting, something was half slithering, half
crawling through the bubbling, stinking filth of the swamp toward them. It was a creature unlike
any James had ever seen, even in books. Its black body was the size of a house, with a long,
spiked tail at one end, and nine dragon-like heads at the other. Its many pairs of eyes rolled
menacingly as the mouths yawned open, breathing dark green fumes that boiled through the air
in a noxious rolling cloud.
“RUN!” Sirius yelled.
* 188 *
They sprinted into the adjoining painting, which contained a branching tree full of orange
pixies. The pixies shrieked and scattered as the monster charged in after them, splintering the
tree in half.
“What is it!?” Remus shouted over the cacophony of twittering birds in the next
scene. There were hundreds of them, and they were in a blind panic because of the pixies that
were now fleeing through their midst.
“Does it matter?” James called back, his arms thrown up over his head to protect him
from the deluge of feathers and droppings. “It’s going to eat you whether you know what it is or
not!”
On they went, trampling over a carefully manicured garden, then barreling through a
medieval study. The smell of old parchment gave way to scent of damp earth, and James
suddenly found himself clawing through a thick tangle of vines that writhed like snakes. One
managed to twist itself three times around one of his ankles, and he pulled and pulled, until it
finally snapped. It set him off balance, and he tumbled into the next painting, where he found
himself lying across the laps of six sleeping knights in full armor. One by one they grunted
awake.
“Quick!”
Sirius pulled James to his feet, and they were off, running right across the laps of the
knights, with Remus and Peter close behind. The monster roared in frustration behind them; it
seemed to be having as much trouble with the vines as they had. The knights were on their feet
now, much more concerned with the creature clawing and scratching its way toward them than
with the boys scrambling off in the other direction. They descended on it like a swarm of angry
bees, hollering and hacking at its many-eyed face with their shining swords. James stopped to
watch despite himself, but Remus grabbed him by the arm and pulled.
“What are you waiting for? We have to keep moving!”
James went along, but he didn’t take his eyes off the spectacle. The air was full of the
sounds of cracking and snapping vines, the rough throated yells of the knights, and the deafening
bellows of the creature. Remus and the others must have been watching over their shoulders too,
because when they entered the next scene, all four of them yelped with shock as they were
suddenly plunged into ice cold water.
* 189 *
James broke the surface first, gasping and sputtering for air as he kicked hard with his
legs to keep his head above the waves. To his relief, the heads of the others popped up around
him, their faces white and teeth chattering. They bobbed around like corks, tossed and thrown in
the surf beneath a black, roiling sheet of clouds. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped, and
sheets of pouring rain pelted at them from almost sideways.
“WHERE’S THE NEXT PAINTING?!” James shouted over the pounding waves and
sheeting rain.
They spun in all directions, treading water furiously as they searched, but no one could
see it through the storm. All James could see was the vague outline of something against the
horizon, barely visible through the curtains of the rain. He was just thinking that it might be a
ship, when a horrible resounding crash reached his ears above the wind, rain, and thunder.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Remus asked, his light brown hair plastered to his forehead by
the rain and waves.
The answer came just a second later, when several metal clad bodies splashed down
around them. The knights were abandoning their own painting. The one closest to James
grabbed his collar with both hands and screamed right in his face, his breath stinking of rum and
cigars.
“SWIM FOR YOUR LIFE!”
James did not need telling twice. He kicked hard, paddling after Sirius, Remus, and the
retreating knights.
“HEEELPPP!!!”
Peter was a small distance behind, fighting with all of his might to keep his round face
above the rolling waves. James swam back for him, but he didn’t have to go very far –
something enormous plunged into the sea behind Peter, sending a wall of water out from where it
landed. The wall of water carried them forward, gathering up Sirius, Remus and the knights
along with it.
It propelled all of them a long way, until the sheeting rain slowed to a drizzle, and then
stopped all together. The clouds dissipated, giving way to a gilded ceiling of gold. The wave
was now carrying them through a throne room, past a white-bearded man sleeping on a high
golden seat. It lasted just long enough to deposit them into the painting beyond, where an ugly
* 190 *
man was posing with a toad in one hand and an egg in the other. James felt the ground beneath
his feet again.
“Let’s go!”
“Which way?” Sirius asked.
There were two rooms ahead. On the left was a cobbled street that looked like one of the
shop lined alleyways of Hogsmeade. The knights scampered off in that direction, and it was
probably the smarter thing to do; the way was so narrow that the monster wouldn’t be able to
follow. James might have gone that way too, but in the painting of the right, he spied meadow
buried in deep snow.
“The Snowy Meadow!” he said, pointing. “That goes downstairs!”
Off they went, and just in time, because they weren’t the only ones that the wave
delivered to the painting of Herpo the Foul. The monster skidded into the room (sending Herpo
and his toad shrieking after the knights), and seeing that the alley was indeed too narrow, it
turned its attention to the meadow.
James shivered as he ran through the knee deep snow, his wet robes clinging to his
skin. The others around him looked equally miserable. Sirius was gritting his teeth to keep them
from chattering too violently, Remus was huddled over almost double, and the tip of Peter’s nose
was beginning to turn blue. James hoped none of them caught cold, because if they did, they
would have to find a way to explain to McGonagall how it happened. He smiled despite himself
at the notion of telling her the truth, even though he couldn’t feel his feet anymore.
When they reached the portrait beyond the meadow, they encountered a formidable
looking woman who might have been larger even than Hagrid. She was dressed in dark riding
robes, and posed with a handsome black broomstick, the biggest James ever laid eyes on. As
Sirius ran past her, he snatched it away, eliciting an angry cry from her.
“Sorry!” He yelled over his shoulder as they disappeared into the painting ahead, where a
unicorn was rearing up on its hind legs.
“Sirius, what are you –?” James began, but Sirius hefted the broomstick up into the air at
him.
“You’re the best flier, James!” he shouted.
“What?!”
“So get on with it!” Sirius said, waving at him with both hands. “And hurry!”
* 191 *
James didn’t have the luxury to ask any more questions. He just threw a leg over the
broomstick, and Sirius climbed on behind him, with Peter and Remus at the back. Then they
were in the air, sailing very close over the head of the unicorn. The back of Remus’s robes
caught on its horn, causing them to jerk violently, but then, after a loud rip, they tore free. The
monster howled in fury as it charged into the unicorn’s painting, seconds too late.
“Haha!” Sirius crowed over his shoulder. “You’d better grow a pair if you want to
follow us now!”
James glanced at him over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.
“Wings of course!” Sirius said, grinning mischeviously. “What did you think I meant?”
The monster bellowed one more time as they soared out of the unicorn’s stretch of canvas
and over the head of a sleeping witch, but the sound soon died away. They were over a lake
now, and the air was mild and smelled of water lilies. The wind played through James’s hair,
and he closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation of flying. On a broomstick was where he
belonged, he decided. He could only count the number of times he had flown one on one hand,
but he already felt at home, as if he had known how to fly for as long as he could walk.
Remus, who all the way in the back, leaned out to the side so he could speak loud enough
for James to hear over the whistling wind.
“How far do you think it is now? Down to the Entrance Hall I mean.”
“Who cares?” Sirius replied, as they left the landscape of the lake and entered a grand
ballroom. “This is great! I say we go back and drop Dungbombs on that thing’s head. I think I
have some in my pocket.”
He rummaged around and managed to produce a handful.
“Maybe on the way back, Sirius,” James said, steering to avoid a chandelier. “We need
to find the scepter piece.”
Sirius closed his hand around the Dungbombs.
“That’s okay, I was planning to leave these under Severus’s chair next week in History of
Magic anyway –”
He went to put them back into his pocket, but then something must have gone
wrong. James heard his cry of warning, and was just turning to look back around, but then there
was a small explosion. It wasn’t terribly powerful, but it was enough to throw James forward,
right over the front end of the broomstick.
* 192 *
He plummeted through the air, his arms spread wide to catch himself, and hit the ground
hard. Luckily it was blanketed in pine needles, so he didn’t break his neck, but it sloped away at
a severe angle. He started tumbling down it, bashing his arms and legs on tree roots and
rocks. At last, he slammed down hard at the bottom, flat on his back.
“James!” said an eager voice. “I had a feeling it was you. Get up! I know where you
have to go.”
Though his head was throbbing painfully, James opened his eyes. The voice sounded
familiar. Above him there were two blurry shapes, but as the throbbing in his head subsided,
they merged into one. It was a girl. A girl with chestnut brown hair and dark eyes.
* 193 *
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE COLLECTOR
James was stunned.
“Eloise?”
The girl nodded, helping him to his feet with warm hands. A chorus of yells in the
distance grew steadily louder until Sirius, Remus, and Peter came crashing to the ground around
them, followed by the splintered pieces of the shattered broomstick. Eloise wrinkled her nose at
them.
“Oh, you four smell awful!”
Sirius scowled, brushing the residue of the Dungbombs off of the front of his
robes. James had gotten most of it in the back. He tried to look over his shoulder and scrape it
off, but couldn’t reach it.
“Sorry, we don’t usually smell like this,” Remus said, trying to wipe a handful off his
face. He must have been looking around Peter when the Dungbomb expoded. Peter somehow
escaped the mess. Maybe it was because he was small enough that Sirius’s body shielded him.
“Boys…” Eloise muttered, shaking her head. “In a thousand years, nothing about them
has changed…”
“How did you know where to find us?” James asked, finally giving up on de-dungifying
his robes.
Eloise motioned for him to turn around, and answered while she cleared the dung from
his back with the broken end of the broomstick.
* 194 *
“I was visiting with the painting of the ghoul on the first floor when a pixie burst in,
angrier than a hornet. He was chittering on about some boys causing a ruckus on the sixth
floor. He said he’d never seen them before. I knew it had to be you.”
“Thanks,” James said when she was finished with his robes. He turned back around to
face her. “Eloise, you said something about knowing where we have to go. Do you know where
the next piece of the scepter is?”
“Yes, but…” she hesitated. “You might have a little bit of difficulty getting at it.”
“Why?” James asked. “Where is it?”
“It used to be out in the open, in a painting on the sixth floor,” she said. “It was right
next to The Divine Task, but then it was stolen. Only paintings as old as mine remember it. It
happened just a couple of years after Helga Hufflepuff and that short little man hid it there.”
“Who took it?” Sirius asked, the dark dung stain on his robes now completely forgotten.
“We call him the Collector,” Eloise said, and James thought he saw a shiver go through
her small body. “Once he takes a fancy to something, he claims it for himself. His portrait used
to hang in one of the deepest dungeons of the castle. He took thousands of things – jewels,
weapons, gold… but then, a few decades ago, they decided to remove him from the wall so he
wouldn’t ruin anymore paintings. He has been exiled to the place where things are hidden.”
“The place where things are hidden?” James asked.
“And forgotten,” Eloise said grimly. “I can take you to that place, but you will need to
leave our world to enter his. Because his portrait is no longer hanging on the castle’s walls, it is
separate from ours –”
An earth shattering roar cut her off. All eyes turned to the top of the hill.
“Uh-oh…” Sirius said.
“Oh no…” Eloise said, taking a step backwards. “What did you do?”
“Well, I was just getting to that…” James said apprehensively. “We kind of…
accidently… set-a-monster-loose-on-the-sixth-floor.”
He ran the second half of his sentence together, as if believing that saying it faster would
make it less bad.
“You WHAT!?” Eloise exploded. “The hydra by the pixie tree? Are you CRAZY?”
The roar filled the air once again, and the ground began to tremble beneath the beast’s
heavy footfalls.
* 195 *
“It wasn’t on purpose!” Sirius said angrily. “Whose bright idea was it anyway, hanging
something like that in the castle!”
“Helga Hufflepuff’s!” spat Eloise. “Who do you think?! She put it there on purpose, to
keep the rest of us away from the scepter piece!”
The earth shook ever more violently, and the sound of cracking tree limbs grew louder.
“I suggest we move this argument somewhere safer,” Remus said, urging them along, “or
it won’t matter whose fault this is, because we’ll all be dead.”
Eloise shot Sirius one more accusing look, and then gathered up her long gown in her
arms.
“Come on, this way!”
Like the portrait of Herpo the Foul, the painting of the hill had two exits. Eloise took the
left one, where a woman sat rocking her baby, quite content to ignore them. She led them
through another handful of paintings, sometimes exiting to the left, sometimes to the right, and
one time even doubling back to go through a third exit. The bellowing grew louder and louder,
until James felt sure that his ears would bleed. Finally, they arrived in a painting of an ancient
library.
“We’re here!” cried Eloise. She turned to look back, but then screamed.
The largest of the hydra’s dragon-like heads burst into the library behind them, its mouth
gaping wide. It reached down to scoop her up like a rag doll.
“NO!”
Sirius dove forward, both hands outstretched, and shoved Eloise out of the way. She
landed in a heap on the ground, and the hydra snapped him up instead.
“SIRIUS!”
James launched himself at the head, grasping hold of one of the beast’s traffic cone sized
teeth. He felt his feet leave the ground. The hydra was lifting up its head, clearly intending to
swallow Sirius whole.
Eloise and Peter threw armfuls of books at it, but it took no notice. Remus ran forward,
wielding a piece of the broken broomstick that he must have kept from the crash. Hollering at
the top of his lungs, he stabbed the sharp end of it into the hydra’s leg, but the skin was too
thick. The broomstick piece splintered, and Remus was thrown onto his back.
* 196 *
James kicked wildly at the head containing Sirius, but it seemed to care no more about
that than it did about the books being thrown at it. He must not have been beneath the notice of
the other heads though, because one of them snapped over, looking him square in the eye and
hissing like a cobra. It reared back and sprang, and James was forced to swing himself to the
side to avoid it. The head snaked back around, ready for a second strike, but then something
drew its attention.
The hydra’s body was making a strange convulsive movement. For a horrible moment,
James thought Sirius had been swallowed whole, but then, to his relief, he heard the muffled
sounds of Sirius’s indignant cries still coming from inside its mouth.
“What’s it doing?” Remus shouted up to him.
James turned his eyes back to the head that held Sirius captive. The eyes were bulging in
their sockets, and deep in its throat, it was making a funny noise.
“It looks like it’s going to be sick!” Eloise called up to him from her place on the ground.
The hydra retched hard, coughed, and unceremoniously dumped Sirius back out on the
floor. He was covered from head to toe in clear mucus. James let go of the tooth and landed
next to him.
“Uck!” Sirius groaned. “And I thought the Dungbomb was bad!”
The hydra’s other heads were now watching the main head uncertainly as it gagged and
spat, as if eager to get rid of a nasty taste in its mouth.
“That’s it…” James said slowly. “That’s it! You tasted bad because of the Dungbombs!”
Sirius laughed.
“You’re right! It’s lucky I had them! I guess we can thank Severus for that. I wouldn’t
have ordered them from the Zonkos catalogue if I didn’t hate him so much.”
James grinned.
“Do you think you owe him a life debt now?”
Sirius shot him a look that could kill.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
The hydra bellowed one last time, as if to convince them all that it was still a threat, but
then retreated from the painting of the library. Its lumbering footsteps grew quieter and quieter,
until they faded all together.
“You saved me!”
* 197 *
Eloise threw her arms around Sirius’s neck, not seeming to care that her beautiful gown
was soaking up hydra slime and what was left of the Dungbomb. Sirius looked more alarmed at
this than he ever did at being in the beast’s mouth.
“I did not,” he said obstinately, pushing her away. “I was trying to shove you into it.”
“You were not!” Eloise sang, and she planted a kiss on his cheek before he could stop
her. “You care about me!”
Sirius glowered at James and the others, daring them to laugh. James tightened the
corners of his mouth to hide his smile.
“What is that!”
Peter was on his tip-toes now, peeking through the dark stretch of space that looked back
out into Hogwarts. The others got to their feet and joined him.
“Wow…”
At first, James thought he was looking at mountains, but that was silly, because why
would mountains be inside Hogwarts? No, the mountains were actually things – hundreds and
hundreds of objects – books and snapped wands, broken and damaged furniture, old potion
bottles, hats, jewels, cloaks, and weapons. James imagined that even Turnbill would give
anything for a chance to explore it.
“Eloise,” James breathed, his face pressed so close to the window that his breath fogged
it up, “What is this place?”
She came forward to stand at his side.
“They call it… the Room of Requirement.”
As James’s eyes adjusted to the dim darkness of the amazing room, he saw even more
wonders. The skeleton of a three headed dog. A charred and blackened pile of rubble aside the
shattered remains of what looked like a dragon’s egg. A tank full of cloudy water, housing what
looked like the dead body of a giant slug.
“This is where you will find the Collector’s painting. It should be near the Vanishing
Cabinet, a few hundred paces that way.”
Eloise pointed straight ahead, down one of the alleyways formed between the teetering
piles of long forgotten things.
“No,” said James, turning his head to look at her.
“No?” she asked, confused.
* 198 *
“It’s where WE will find the Collector’s painting. All five of us.”
For a second Eloise looked dumbstruck, but then she shook her head.
“I already told you, James,” she said. “His painting is separate from ours. He’s not
hanging on a wall, so he’s not joined to our world. I can’t come.”
“That’s not what I mean,” James said, rummaging in his pocket. He brought out the map
and unfolded it. “This map brought us here, and it’s going to get us out again. Only, you can
come with us –”
Eloise wouldn’t let him finish.
“James, I know where you’re going with this…”
“No, listen!” James said, his voice tense with excitement. “Come with us! You could
come back to Hogwarts, you could have a second chance at what was taken from you by winter’s
daughter! You could have a second chance to learn magic!”
Sirius, Remus, and Peter shifted uncomfortably.
“I can’t go with you,” she said. “Please understand.”
“What is there to understand?” James demanded. Didn’t she know what she was
missing? Didn’t she understand what he was offering her?
Eloise’s expression softened. She looked all at once pained and pitying.
“I’m not the Eloise from your world. She’ll remain in the temple of air forever, and she’s
never going to wake up again. I’m the Eloise in this world – a reflection of the girl in yours. If I
went with you, I would have no real place. I would be as empty as my mother, the ghost of
Ravenclaw House. I cannot choose to exist like that.”
“But aren’t you tired of being a prisoner?” asked James. “Don’t you want to be free?”
“I am free,” she said. “I’m no more imprisoned in my world than you are in yours. Do
you consider yourself held prisoner by existing in your world?”
“Only in History of Magic…” Sirius muttered. James ignored him.
“It’s not fair,” he said flatly.
“No, it’s not,” said Eloise. “I may be just a reflection of the real Eloise, but I feel anger
for what happened to her. I’ve waited a thousand years for someone to come and free her
body. A thousand years I’ve waited, for you and your friends. You gave me that gift, and to me
that means more than anything.”
James felt empty, like an iron weight had been dropped in his chest.
* 199 *
“So you’re sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure. Good luck out there. When you get back out, go through the
big double doors on the far side of the room. You’ll see you’re on the seventh floor. Your
common room isn’t far away.”
James might have liked to ask a few more questions, about what to expect, about what
kinds of things might go wrong – but then he decided it would be better not knowing.
“Thank you, Eloise. For everything.”
Eloise hugged Remus and Peter, and pecked Sirius on the cheek one more time. This
time, James thought he might have seen him smile.
“I promise you, we’ll visit you again,” James said when she came to him, “and it won’t
be when we’re trying to free a daughter of winter or outrun a hydra.”
She beamed, and then pulled him into a tight hug.
“I look forward to it,” she whispered into his shoulder. Then she pulled away. “Be
careful. All of you.”
James nodded, and unfolded the map. Once everyone had a hand on him, he read the
incantation, and the blinding light engulfed them. He took one last look back at Eloise. He saw
her wide smile, her long dark hair blowing back in the wind, her calm brown eyes. Then, he
realized that she was right. She was where she was happy – where she could visit ghouls, talk to
pixies, and live forever – in her own way. The light grew brighter, until her silhouette vanished
from view.
Thud.
Their feet hit the floor of the Room of Requirement.
“Come on, I can see the Vanishing Cabinet from here,” Sirius said.
They all lit their wands, and Sirius led the way down the path, with Remus and Peter
close behind him. James hung back, throwing his light back over the painting behind them. It
was empty. Eloise had gone.
“James?”
“Coming!”
James ran to catch up, nearly tripping over a bloodstained axe.
* 200 *
“What is a Vanishing Cabinet, anyway?” he asked, studying its boxy outline
ahead. There seemed to be some sort of pale, violet light weakly glowing behind the piles of
rubble, and it made the Vanishing Cabinet stand out like a mountain peak.
“My Dad used to have one,” Sirius answered. “If somebody bad comes knocking, you
jump in and WHOOSH – off you go somewhere safer.”
“Sounds handy,” Remus said.
“Why did he get rid of it?” James asked.
“He decided it wasn’t safe to keep in the house after I shoved my brother in it,” Sirius
said, and even in the low light, James could see him grinning. “It sent him to Borneo.”
As they drew closer to the Vanishing Cabinet’s immense shape, they all fell silent for fear
that they might wake up the Collector.
“There!” whispered Remus.
In the dim light, wedged between an old desk covered in black fungus and some kind of
structure that looked like it was made out of human bones, the edge of a gilded frame was just
barely visible. They all stood still, staring. Sirius leaned close to James’s ear.
“What do we do now?”
“We have to pull it out without waking him up,” James answered in a low voice. He took
a few ginger steps toward it, his hand outstretched.
“Wait!” hissed Remus. “This might help. Muffliato!”
James froze, waiting for something to happen, but as far as he could tell nothing did.
“What did that do?”
“It’s supposed to fill someone’s ears with a buzzing sound, so they can’t hear you.”
“Will that even work on a painting?” Sirius asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Remus said. “Didn’t you see that portrait of the witch when Malfoy
sent that Immobilizing Spell at us? It worked on her.”
“All right,” James said, “Be quiet, both of you.”
He took hold of the frame and pulled, and the portrait began to slide out from between the
desk and the bone structure. There was no sound of snoring coming from it, but there was no
greeting or complaint either. James wondered if painting occupants could die, and then felt
guilty for hoping the Collector did.
* 201 *
“Do you see him?” James whispered to Sirius, who was standing at the right angle to see
inside. Sirius screwed up his eyes.
“No…”
They waited, but he did not elaborate.
“What do you see?” asked Remus, irritated.
Sirius made a face.
“It’s really dusty,” he said. “It’s hard to see anything at all.”
Feeling safe enough to let go of the painting lean it against the desk, James came around
to join him. Sirius had been telling the truth; the painting was covered in a layer of dust so thick
that whatever was underneath was hidden from view.
“Well,” James said, holding up the map. “Who’s in, and who’s out?”
“Like I’d ever let you go alone,” Sirius said. He clapped his hand down on James’s
shoulder. “I’m in.”
“I’m in too,” said Remus, placing his hand on James’s other shoulder.
Peter was hanging back, pressed against a shelf as if he hoped it might strengthen his
backbone.
“You don’t have to come, Peter,” James said. “It might be good for someone to stay on
the outside, in case something goes wrong.”
Peter nodded, his face shining with sweat. He looked relieved.
“Right,” James said, steeling himself. “No turning back now. Ostioportum!”
The white light sprang out again, whisking them down and through the layers of
dust. James held his breath as he went through it, but when he came out on the other side, he still
had to spit it out of his mouth. Remus and Sirius were also covered in it, looking like twins with
matching dust colored hair.
“That was unpalatable,” Sirius said, scraping some off of his tongue.
“Should have kept your mouth closed,” Remus said with a smug smile. The dust
covering his face also concealed his scars, and for once, he looked every bit as normal as the rest
of them. “I learned that one the hard way, after YOUR Dungbombs exploded.”
“Look,” James said, silencing them.
They were standing in some kind of long, dark hall, lit only by low burning candles in
wall brackets. The burgundy wallpaper was peeling, and gaps yawned open between the
* 202 *
floorboards. The air was musty, heavy, and smelled damp with some kind of sweetish, rotting
smell.
“Ugh, it smells like Kreacher in here,” Sirius commented under his breath. James folded
the map up and put it away.
“Hold your breath then, because we’re not going back.”
They began making their way down the hall, carefully avoiding the holes in the
floor. This painting was unlike any of the ones they had been in earlier that evening. For one
thing, aside from the stretch of dark window that looked back out on the Room of Requirement,
there were no exits. For another, it seemed to go much deeper than any of the other paintings
they had explored – and then something else strange occurred to James.
“Where is he?”
There was no sign of any occupant in the hall.
“Maybe he stepped out,” Sirius said brightly.
“He couldn’t have,” James said, now beginning to feel that something was certainly not
right. “He’s not connected to any other paintings. He can’t just leave like the rest of them. And
where’s all the stuff he collected?”
“Maybe they made him give everything back before they took him off the wall,” Remus
suggested. “LOOK OUT!”
Sirius must have been busy looking around for clues, because he didn’t see the next gap
in the floorboards. He walked right off the edge before James or Remus could stop him.
“AHHHH!”
The sound abruptly cut off as the darkness swallowed him whole.
“Sirius!”
James ran to the edge of the hole, but he couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. His
mouth went very dry.
“Sirius, are you okay?”
Sirius answered, but he sounded far away.
“Yeah!”
“How are you not dead!?” Remus called down.
“I landed on something soft! I think it’s a net! Come down!”
Remus shook his head, smiling.
* 203 *
“How many times is he going to nearly get himself killed today?”
“Hopefully that’s it for the night,” James said, straightening up. “Well, after you.”
Remus’s face was still covered by the thick layer of dust, but James could see by his
expression that the skin beneath it was probably just as white.
“Or we could go together,” James amended. “Count of three.”
“One,” said Remus.
“Two,” said James.
“THREE!” they said together.
Launching themselves out into open air, they surrendered themselves to the darkness of
whatever lay beneath the hall’s floorboards. The air howled in their ears, and they both yelled,
but while Remus’s was a cry of fear, James’s morphed into a whoop of exhilaration.
James’s bottom landed cradled in something soft. It wasn’t as solid as he expected a net
to feel – it gave way much more easily. It bucked beneath him as Remus’s body landed a couple
of feet away.
“You all right?” James asked, lighting his wand.
Remus was flat on his back, his eyes wide and glassy. All he could manage was a nod.
“Sirius, that was AMAZING!” James erupted, twisting around to look for him. “I want
to do it again!”
He paused, expecting some kind of enthusiastic agreement from Sirius. When none
came, he lifted his wand higher over his head.
“Sirius?”
“Over here!” said a voice to his left.
James threw the light in that direction, and it spilled across Sirius, who was spread eagled
in the net. He looked panicked.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t sit up,” Sirius grunted. He tried to jerk his arms free. “I’m stuck!”
“Stay there, I’ll come help you,” James said, but when he tried to stand, he found that his
bottom was stuck fast to the net, and his other hand was too. “Remus, can you move?”
Remus just shook his head.
“I think we’re in trouble,” said Sirius.
* 204 *
“Don’t worry,” James said, trying to sound cheerful. “Peter’s waiting for us. He’ll know
what to do if we don’t come back.”
“Well, when you put it that way… we’re doomed,” said Sirius gloomily.
Remus muttered something, but he sounded like he was choking on his tongue.
“Noa-neh…”
James put his wand between his teeth so he could work on freeing his other hand. As he
leaned forward, the light spilled out beyond his feet, and fell upon a large bundle tangled up in
the net nearby. There was something shiny inside.
“Ook!” he said, pointing. “Ut izzat?”
Sirius lifted his head up so he could see down the length of his body.
“I can’t tell, can you get closer to it?”
James pried his bottom and arm free and clumsily crawled over to the bulge. With some
effort, he managed to seize whatever was hidden among the sticky cords. For a second he dared
to hope that it was the third piece of the Bolt of Ages, but to his disappointment, it wasn’t.
“I think it’s some kind of crown, or tiara,” he said, holding it closer to his face to examine
it. “There’s a big blue jewel set in the front. Weird, it doesn’t look like it belongs in a
painting. It doesn’t have any brush strokes. Look, Remus.”
James turned around and held up the tiara for him to see, but all Remus could reply with
was the same garbled phrase he uttered before.
“Noa-neh…”
“What are you going on about?” Sirius asked him impatiently.
“Noa-net… nota net…” Remus choked out, his eyes still staring straight upwards.
James froze.
“What?”
“IT’S NOT A NET!” Remus suddenly shouted. He began thrashing. “IT’S A WEB!”
James followed his gaze upwards, and saw something that made his stomach clench into
a hard knot. A large, many legged shape was descending from above, silhouetted by the dim
light escaping through the gapped floorboards above.
“Stop moving! And shut up!” James hissed, quickly extinguishing his light. “Maybe it
won’t know we’re here if we stay still.”
* 205 *
He knew in his heart though that it was much too late – they had already been seen. He
waited in the dark, horribly afraid that the creature could hear his heart’s frantic beating. All was
silent, but then, an eerie sound reached him – soft, gloating laughter. The voice of a young man.
“What have we here?”
The voice didn’t sound anything like what James imagined the voice of a spider should
sound like. It was smooth, and sounded well-educated.
“It’s rude you know,” the voice continued. “You come into my home, and you don’t
even introduce yourselves.”
The voice sounded so loud now, so close, that James finally lost his self-control.
“Lumos!”
The light of his wand blossomed in the darkness. To his shock, instead of revealing an
enormous black spider, it lit the face of a distinguished looking young man. He appeared to be in
his late teens, with dark, free-flowing shoulder length hair. He wore a long black robe that was
cinched in the middle, emphasizing his tall, thin frame, and his black eyes burned like coals in
the wandlight.
“Ah, there we go, that’s better,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “What are
you doing with that, may I ask?”
He was looking at the tiara in James’s hands with greedy eyes.
“We… were just admiring your collection…” James said, turning it over.
“You have fine taste,” the man said, now walking in a wide circle around them. He
didn’t seem to have any trouble walking on the web in his bare feet. “That happens to be the
only item in my collection that I didn’t have to collect myself. It was given to me freely, about
fifteen years ago I think. He was a charming man, looked a lot like myself, though not
quite. Perhaps it was the eyes that were different… his were a bit snakelike, whereas mine…
well, mine tend to be a bit more… spiderlike.”
His eyes flashed in the darkness as if to emphasize his point.
“So, how long have you been collecting?” James asked, hoping that keeping him talking
about his collection would distract him.
“A long while,” the man said wistfully. He smiled a handsome smile. “I took my first
piece almost a thousand years ago. They told me it was just a useless hunk of shiny black rock,
but I knew better. I sensed the power in it.”
* 206 *
James noticed that his eyes betrayed the slightest flicker of movement off to the
right. Beside him, he heard a small intake of breath come from Remus.
“How many of you are there?” the man asked, a hungry look in his black eyes. “Just the
three of you? Who knows you’ve come here? How did you reach my portrait from your own?”
“Oh loads of people know we’re here,” James said as convincingly as he could. “We’re a
new painting, from the sixth foor. We told everybody we were planning to come here, and… see
how you’re doing…”
“Tell me, is that Albus Dumbledore still teaching here?” the Collector asked, spitting out
the name like it tasted terrible on his tongue.
“Y…yes,” stammered out James.
“It was that sorry excuse for a Transfiguration professor that got me banished from the
Hogwarts Gallery!” the Collector snarled, his handsome features contorting into ugly
shapes. “He thought I was ruining it! If you ask me, he was just sore that I took a locket from
the girl in the portrait on his office wall. Ariana, I think her name was…”
“He’s headmaster, now,” James said, surprised that he had never wondered before what
Dumbledore’s teaching subject was.
“Headmaster?” the Collector asked disbelievingly. “That blithering fool?”
“Yes,” James said, gathering up his courage. “We’re here because he asked us to
come. He’s meeting us at our portrait as soon as we go back.”
“Oh?” the Collector said amusedly. “And what is it he sent you in here to find? This,
perhaps?”
He reached inside a fold in his robes, and produced a silver chain upon which hung an
oval locket.
“Tell me,” he said, swinging the locket in wide circles around one of his long, thin
fingers. “Why did the celebrated Dumbledore, the greatest master of Transfiguration known to
the modern world, send three children in his stead to do his work?”
James felt the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“He… well, er, he –”
“I have a theory,” the Collector said, once again smiling. He abruptly stopped spinning
the locket, and caught it in his hand. “My theory is that you’re lying.”
He drew closer, and James tried to back away, but his feet stuck hard to the web.
* 207 *
“My theory is that nobody knows you’re here. Nobody is going to miss you. And
nobody… will know or care where you’ve gone…”
Sirius finally spoke up, his voice raw with fear.
“Are you going to eat us?”
The Collector laughed then, riotously, as if he hadn’t heard such a good joke in many
years (which, in his exile, he probably hadn’t).
“Eat you? What do you take me for? No. In my isolation, as you can imagine, I haven’t
had the opportunity to collect much of anything – except dust, and of course that diadem in your
hands, but that was freely given, so I don’t count that… but then the three of you appeared. You
wandered right here, into my web, and not just one of you, but three! A matched set!”
The greedy, half-crazed gleam was back in the Collector’s eyes. He was now looking at
them as though they were a set of prized jewels.
“No, I’m not going to eat you…” the Collector said, his smile gone and the tips of his
fingers twitching. “I’m going to collect you. And you’re never…”
His arms and legs began to lengthen.
“Ever…”
They turned dark, and coarse, black hair sprang up along his back and down his face.
“Going to escape…” he rasped.
Before James’s eyes, what was left of the Collector’s body shuddered and crumpled
inward, until at last, before him stood the monstrous body of the spider.
“James!” Sirius shouted. “My pocket!”
James backed away from the advancing spider, groping in the dark for Sirius.
“What?”
“My pocket!” Sirius repeated, trying to twist his hip higher up into the air.
James shoved the diadem into the depths of his robes and searched Sirius’s
pocket. Drawing his hand back out again, he found four more Dungbombs resting in his palm.
“How many of these did you buy!?”
“Enough to make Severus stink until next Christmas! Now use them to get us out of
this!”
* 208 *
The spider was almost crawling over James now. He spun around, kneeling down low to
avoid the pincers going for his neck, and pitched the Dungbombs in its eyes. A horrible scream
echoed around the cavern.
“The scepter piece is in that corner!” Remus shouted, apparently recovered from his
shock. He jerked his head off to the right. “Somewhere over that way!”
James tried to start running, but he nearly fell on his face when his feet stuck down to the
web.
“Use the Sliggado Spell!” Sirius barked at him.
Feeling stupid, James drew his wand.
“Sliggado!” he cried, and before him, a path of grey silk appeared. He felt the traction of
it below his trainers, and was about to run, but then remembered to turn and cast the spell again
on Sirius and then Remus.
“Sliggado! Sliggado!”
The spider shrieked shrilly as the two of them leapt to their feet. James scrambled off to
the right, while behind him Sirius and Remus loosed every spell they knew upon the
Collector. James wanted to so badly to stay, to help them, but he knew it was up to him to find
the piece of the scepter. As he ran, flashes of their spells lit the walls of the cavern, and in them
he could see their shadows, looking so small and vulnerable next to the hulking shape of the
spider…
“Come on… Come on…”
James pressed onward, every now and then having to hop over some treasure tangled up
in the folds of silk on the path he was following. He was just recasting the Sliggado Spell for the
fifth time when Sirius’s voice reached him from far away.
“James! Look out! He’s coming after you!”
Slowing down, James searched in the low light for something to defend himself
with. Not far away, he could just make out the tip of a rusty sword sticking out of a bulge in the
silk. Running over, he tugged on it until it came free. It felt very heavy in his arms.
“James!”
James dropped to his haunches, waiting. Whatever was coming for him could surely see
better than he could, and he wanted to be ready for it when it arrived. Soon, the smooth, polite
laughter reached his ears again.
* 209 *
“Oh, James,” the Collector sighed. “Oh, I really must thank you and your friends. I
haven’t had this much fun since I took that locket for myself. It wasn’t much of a challenge,
really, the act itself. The girl didn’t put up a fight at all. Never says a word that one, but then
again, her portrait always was hidden away in Dumbledore’s office… No, the true sport of it
was the reaction I got from him. There wasn’t a thing he could do to get it back, you see. He
was the one that was trapped, unable to force me to return it. I think something must have
happened to the unpainted version of the girl in his world. Something terrible. I hope it was
terrible…”
“Why couldn’t he make you return it?” James asked, unable to comprehend why
Dumbledore didn’t just come into the painting himself and take it back.
“How on earth would he? The unpainted folk, living their horrid, short little lives out
there, they can’t enter our world, as much as they wish they could.”
James inhaled sharply. He hadn’t known that they were the first wizards to find a way
into the Hogwarts gallery. Whatever magic Thackary Petrie and Helga Hufflepuff used on the
map, it was incredibly powerful.
“Well Dumbledore got the last laugh, didn’t he?” James said, shifting his weight to lift
the heavy sword higher. “You got banished, so you could never steal anything that wasn’t yours
again!”
The Collector gave a dry laugh, and even through the blackness, James could see the
eager flash reflect in eyes as he eyed James from where he crouched, ready to spring.
“Yes…or so he thought…”
James knew what was going to happen a split second before it did. The Collector
exploded back into his spider form, but James was faster – he used the rusty sword to tear a hole
through the silk beneath his feet. He slipped through, landing hard on the ground a few feet
below.
The spider squealed in rage. It tried to squeeze its enormous body through the hole after
him, but it was too big. James rolled to his feet and began running again in the direction of the
scepter piece, keeping bent low to avoid getting his hair caught in web he hadn’t yet turned to
silk.
The spider’s squeals turned to the enraged yells of a young man, and James heard a loud
thud on the ground behind him. The Collector must have turned human again to squeeze through
* 210 *
the hole. James lit up his wand to see as he traversed the uneven terrain, because it was obvious
that the dark wasn’t doing anything to help hide him.
The light spilled across the gravelly, dirt covered floor as he ran, and the bobbing light
threw dizzying shadows everywhere. The sound of many legs in pursuit grew louder and louder,
and James made to run faster, but then an enormous pile of collected treasures came into view,
blocking the way forward–
“Sliggado!”
James turned the ceiling of spider’s web above him to grey silk. He sliced it open, being
careful to keep the hole as small as possible, and scrambled up the side of the pile, stepping on
what felt like the handlebar of an old fashioned bicycle as he climbed through. Looking around
quickly, he realized why the way was blocked – he had reached the corner of the room. There
were thousands of objects, stacked up into haphazard piles almost exactly like those outside the
portrait in the Room of Requirement.
It was then that the realization finally struck James. They would never be able to find the
scepter piece on their own. It was the Collector’s first prize, and it was probably buried at the
bottom of one of the enormous piles. They would have to leave empty handed. On top of that, it
would be much more difficult to return a second time, with the Collector ready for them. Deep
down, James knew the truth. They would not get a second chance. Two pieces of the scepter
would be all they would ever find.
“RRRAAAAARGHHHHH!!!”
The Collector broke through silk tear in his human form, but he was older than James,
and bigger. He was caught, struggling to squeeze his broad shoulders through the thin hole cut
by the rusty sword.
It was time to go. James knew it. He put his hand over the map hidden in his robes. It
would take him back, no matter where he was inside the painting, but he couldn’t go
alone. Where were the others?...
That’s not entirely true, hissed a man’s voice.
James dropped the rusty sword in surprise. At first he thought it was the Collector
speaking, but then he realized that it carried the same resonance as when Mrs. Norris spoke to
him in his head. He lightly touched the amulet around his neck. Could there be a cat nearby?
* 211 *
“What do you mean it’s not true?” James whispered, not wanting the Collector to
overhear. The voice returned.
The map has the power to get you out of here, with or without them. Let’s be honest here
James, you know you don’t need them. What use are friends when they are such a burden?
Leave Sirius and Remus behind? James looked in their direction, but they were too far
away to see. What would he say to Peter when he emerged alone? The voice answered again,
and the hissing deepened into a different tone – it was richer, more seductive.
You would tell him the truth. They fell behind. They weren’t as strong, or as fast, or as
clever as you…
“No…” James said, backing away as if he thought the voice might be coming from the
Collector after all. He was still fighting his way free, his sharp teeth bared, and his dark eyes
wide and bulging.
Do it James. Just say the magic word…
“No!” James repeated, but even as he said it, he realized that he was drawing the map out
of his pocket.
Do it! commanded the voice. Sirius’s voice reached him again from across the room,
sounding so far away…
“James! James are you okay!?”
They’ll never make it in time, said the voice. If you wait any longer, the spider will wrap
all three of you up together, and keep you here forever, alongside his most treasured
possessions…
James gasped. Alongside the Collector’s most treasured possessions. That was it.
“You win! I’ll do it!”
The voice in his head laughed, high and cruel.
I knew you would make the right choice. You truly are destined for greatness, James…
James grinned.
“I’m not talking to you…” he said quietly to the voice. Then louder, he shouted, “We’ll
stay! We’re all yours.”
The Collector finally tore free from the silk in spider form, but shrank back into his
human body when he heard James’s words.
“You’ll what?”
* 212 *
“You win,” James said, just as Sirius and Remus caught up to him. Remus’s hair was
tangled up with spider webs, and Sirius’s cheek was turning purple.
“What!?” Sirius demanded.
“You can keep us,” James said.
“No!” cried Remus.
The Collector grinned, his teeth still pointed.
“I win? I win! Oh yes, I win!”
He rushed forward, his black eyes round and bright, circling them as if to admire his
prize. Sirius and Remus pressed tight against James on either side to keep a safe distance.
“The most exciting game yet!” he hissed through his teeth. “Oh we must do this
again. We must, we must! Perhaps I will pretend to let you go once every few decades, just to
play again! Now where to put you… where to put you!”
With another gleeful laugh, he morphed back into his spider shape and began binding
them together around their waists with a thick, ropey strand of web. When he was satisfied with
his work, he shuffled them onto his back with his long, hairy legs and lumbered off.
“What are you doing, James?” Sirius whispered.
“Just trust me,” James murmured back.
“Where is he taking us?” Remus asked, but James didn’t answer for fear the Collector
might be listening.
They marched along silently in the darkness for a long while. Then they must have
reached some kind of steep hill, because suddenly their heads dropped and they were almost
upside down on the spider’s back.
“Look!” whispered Remus.
Upside down, James followed his gaze. They were descending down a hill of junk, and
there was a clearing at the bottom. Right in the middle of the clearing, resting in an open patch
of dirt by itself, was the black obsidian piece of the scepter.
“James look, its –”
James pinched his arm beneath the web by way of warning, and he stopped short.
“A place of honor,” the Collector said tenderly, almost lovingly, as he changed back to a
man and dropped them heavily on their backs in the dirt. “A place of honor among my most
treasured acquisitions.”
* 213 *
James lifted his head. It was difficult to see, but the Collector now appeared to be flitting
around the clearing. He feverishly danced from item to item, as if checking to see that
everything was in place and in order.
“I must decide where to keep you,” he said breathlessly. With the jewels… no, no…
perhaps I’ll just hang you from the ceiling…”
“Now what?” asked Sirius out of the corner of his mouth.
“We just have to distract him somehow, long enough for us to get the piece of the
scepter,” James answered, watching the Collector’s frenzied, methodical movements.
“I’ve got it!” Remus hissed. “Get ready…anndd…”
BWAAAAP. BWAP BWAP BWAP.
The sound carried over the clearing. It was a horrible sort of blasting, honking
noise. The Collector stiffened.
“What is that?... What IS that!?”
At first James shared his confusion, but then he noticed the tip of Remus’s wand sticking
out from between the sticky strands of web binding them together. It was aimed
upwards. James followed its direction, and eventually spotted its target. Perched at the very top
of one of the precariously placed piles, there was a very old, beat up trumpet. It gave another
loud squawk, then a moan, and then it broke out into a very jovial, but very off key rendition of
Jingle Bells. Remus grinned.
“Plays better than the one in Charms, doesn’t it?”
The Collector must have spotted the source of the noise too, because he was now halfway
up the pile in his spider form to inspect it.
“Now!”
James performed the Sliggado Spell once more, and they slipped free from the smooth
folds of silk. The Collector wheeled around.
“Get the scepter piece and get us out of here!” Sirius directed James.
James glanced at the scepter piece just a few feet away. The Collector must have put
together what he was about to do, because he loosed a horrible, ear piercing scream and charged.
“Wingardium leviosa!”
* 214 *
Sirius levitated an armchair into the spider’s way, buying time. James sprinted and dove
for the scepter piece, but the moment his fingers touched its dark, smooth surface, the mysterious
disembodied voice was back.
It’s yours now… it purred. Use the map. Leave this place. The glory can be yours, and
yours alone.
James looked up and saw Remus and Sirius fighting off the charging spider. Their backs
were turned.
That’s right… there can be only one master and commander of time.
A terrible thought crossed James’s mind. What if the voice wasn’t coming from outside
of him… what if it was coming from within? What if they were his own thoughts? Was he
really considering leaving his friends behind?
Horrified, James looked to his right. His own reflection stared back at him from a broken
mirror sticking out of the pile. The crack distorted him, making him look as though his face was
split in two equally pale halves that didn’t quite align together.
Leave them. LEAVE THEM.
The map was in James’s hand. He didn’t remember taking it out.
“Ostio–” he began, and the light began to grow around his feet. Sirius and Remus spun
around.
“James, what are you doing?!” Sirius cried, his voice stung by betrayal.
The full weight of what James had just been about to do suddenly came crashing down on
him. He felt more sickened with himself than he could ever remember feeling before, and
reeling, the map slipped from his fingers. Seeing it, the Collector returned to his human form,
his eyes wide and ravenous. He dashed forward to snatch it up for himself.
“No!”
Sirius tackled the Collector, knocking him off his feet. The Collector retaliated by
blasting back into a spider, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Sirius as he was caught beneath the
enormous body. Remus rushed forward to help, but was knocked aside by one of the hairy,
kicking legs. James saw all of this happen, but for some reason he couldn’t understand, he just
stood stupidly rooted in place, the map lying on the ground at his feet. What was happening to
him?
* 215 *
That’s when the roaring began. It came so suddenly, and sounded so unspiderlike, that it
shook James from his stupor. Coming back to himself, he watched as something enormous fell
from the ceiling and landed nearby, tangled in the web. Standing fully upright, its many heads
roared again, their long, sharp teeth flashing. James registered with shock that it was the hydra.
It attacked the Collector first. Sirius was still caught underneath them when they clashed
in a mess of necks, heads, and hairy legs. Remus came to his aid, pulling him free, and then
helped him, limping, back to James. There was no time for explanations or apologies. Remus
seized the map from the ground, and taking James by the elbow, recited the incantation.
“Ostioportum!”
The light flashed bright, and James felt his body jerk into the air. Then they were flying
upwards through the darkness, through the gap in the floorboards, and down the moldy
hallway. Passing once again through the wall of dust, they crashed to the floor on the other side.
“They’re out!” a girl’s voice announced. “Get it off the wall!”
Dazed, James watched from the floor as a blurry shape standing on a box heaved an
enormous frame down off of the castle wall.
“Peter?”
Peter came into focus, staggering backwards off of a box labeled “DANGEROUS –
ACROMANTULA EGGS.” In his arms was the enormous frame of the Collector’s
painting. He dropped it heavily against a nearby cabinet full of shrunken heads.
“Are you guys okay? Did you get the piece of the scepter?”
Remus helped Sirius to his feet.
“I think so,” Remus said. Sirius brushed the dust off of his robes, saying
nothing. Neither of them would look James in the eye.
“We got it,” James said weakly, lifting the piece up for Peter to see.
“What happened?” Sirius asked Peter. “How did the hydra get in there?”
“I heard you were in trouble,” Peter answered, “so I ran back to the wall and called
Eloise. It was lucky she hadn’t gone far. We didn’t know what else to do, so we put the
Collector’s painting back up on the wall and Eloise lured the hydra into it. We thought if all else
failed, a distraction might help you escape – and it looks like it did.”
“Are you all right?” Eloise asked from the painting of the library.
“Yes, I think we’ll be fine,” James said, even though he was worried about Sirius’s ribs.
* 216 *
“Thanks, you two,” Remus said to Peter and Eloise.
“You should put the Collector’s painting back where you found it,” Eloise said, her nose
wrinkling. “I’ll sleep better knowing that it’s far away from the wall. Speaking of which…”
Eloise yawned wide.
“It’s late,” she said sleepily. “I should be getting back to my chair.”
“We’ll take care of it,” James promised. “Thanks for all of your help. We’ll see you
again soon.”
Eloise waved goodbye and disappeared through the side of the frame, leaving them
alone. Without saying a word, they each took a corner of the Collector’s frame and carried it
back to the Vanishing Cabinet. Slipping it back between the moldy desk and bone structure,
James thought he could still hear the sounds of high pitched screeching and deep throated
bellowing emanating from deep inside it. Backing away, he was finally forced to face the
accusing glares of Sirius and Remus.
“Are you ready to tell us what that was?” Sirius snapped. “I thought I knew who you
were, and now I feel like I don’t know you at all.”
Peter, caught in the middle, looked completely bewildered.
“I don’t know what happened to me,” James confessed. “It was like I was someone else
suddenly. Like someone else was putting thoughts in my head. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry!?” Sirius thundered. “You were going to abandon us! You were going to
let us rot down there! We trusted you!”
There was nothing James could say or do to refute it, because it was true. It was
absolutely true, and the shame of it twisted inside him like a coiled snake. It writhed painfully,
as if it were burning a hole in his side…
“Ouch!”
It wasn’t just guilt anymore. It was something physical, a scorching, white hot object,
sizzling and blistering against his skin. James wrestled it free from his robes, and smoking, it
clattered to the floor.
“What’s that?” Remus asked.
James knelt to inspect it.
* 217 *
“It’s that tiara thing we found when we first arrived in the portrait,” he answered. “I
don’t think it was ever part of any painting. I think it’s from our world. I think someone else
must have figured out how to get inside the Hogwarts Gallery and gave it to him.”
Sirius crouched next to it and tested it gingerly with a finger. It must have cooled back
down, because he picked it up to inspect it. He peered at it closely.
“Wit beyond measure is –AH!”
He dropped it as if bitten by a poisonous snake.
“It said my name!” he said in horror. “It said my name in my head! It knew who I was!”
“That thing must be teeming with dark magic,” Remus said. “Somebody must have
given it to the Collector to get rid of it. We should destroy it.”
The tiara hissed audibly at these words, stunning them into silence. Then, Sirius kicked it
hard. It skidded down the alleyway, eventually stopping next to a crate with the chipped bust of
an ugly old warlock on top of it.
“Let’s leave it there,” Sirius said. “I’m not going near that thing again.”
He threw his arm around James’s shoulders as they began making their way to the large
double doors at the other side of the room.
“I’m sorry, mate. It wasn’t your fault. It was that tiara thing.”
James nodded, but he didn’t say what was really on his mind. He felt dirty, sullied, like
something evil had permanently stained some part of him. Was that all it took to convince him
to abandon his friends? A few seductive words? He didn’t even know where the influence of
the tiara ended, and where his own began. Who was he? He wasn’t so sure anymore, and his
lack of fortitude, his lack of bravery, made him feel small.
Oblivious to his troubled thoughts, the others chattered on, jubilant about finding
Hufflepuff’s piece of the scepter. James let Sirius carry it, and his ribs must not have been hurt
too badly, because he whooped with joy, waving it over his head to Remus and Peter’s
cheers. When they got to the double doors, James had to shush them, reminding them that it was
still night time in the castle.
One by one, they slipped back out into the darkened corridor. James slipped through last,
but was stopped by Sirius’s outstretched arm at the head of the group.
“Someone’s coming!” he hissed.
“Stupefy!”
* 218 *
A red jet of light came streaming down the hall and struck Remus directly in the
chest. His entire body went limp and collapsed into James’s arms. Like a sour stench, Lucius’s
drawling voice floated down to them from the end of the hallway.
“I had a feeling I would find you loitering around the seventh floor. Gryffindor
Mudbloods and traitors tend to be the ones most inclined to break curfew rules. It’s lucky one of
the first year Slytherins is familiar with the location of your common room. Step out into the
light, you filthy brats…”
* 219 *
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
UNCLE ALPHARD
“Remus!” James cried, shaking Remus’s thin, immobilized body in a vain attempt to
rouse him. Sirius knelt beside them.
“He’s been hexed. There’s nothing we can do but the counter-curse.”
Peter danced back and forth on the tips of his toes.
“Uh, guys, what do we do now?” he whimpered. Lucius was stalking briskly down the
corridor, his lit wand casting a sickly light over his triumphant smirk. “We need to leave him
here!”
“We’re not leaving him here!” James said angrily.
“Then what do we do?” Peter asked, his voice rising higher.
Sirius gasped with a sudden realization.
“Kreacher!” he said breathlessly.
CRACK.
A hunched, bent over shape appeared in their midst. James could hardly see Kreacher in
the darkness, but the faint scent of mildew and old milk was unmistakable. Sirius immediately
began issuing hurried commands.
“Kreacher take all of us home – now! Everyone, touch his hand!”
Lucius saw what was happening. His steady approach turned to hurried steps, and then
running, but it was too late. Grasping tightly around Remus’s chest, James’s fingers made
* 220 *
contact with Kreacher’s rough knobby ones, and he felt himself wrenched from the spot, torn
into an even darker void. They were hurtling through space, their hair whipping in the wind in a
panicked frenzy of limbs and shouting.
They were thrown onto a cold, hard surface. For one horrified moment, James thought
that they hadn’t really gone anywhere at all, and that they were just lying on the floor at
Hogwarts, but after a few seconds of squinting, he began to make out new shapes. Just ahead of
him was a long rectangular table with chairs arranged around it. Beyond that, he could just make
out a tall fireplace with gleaming silver pots hanging from the hearth.
“I didn’t know house elves could do that.”
“Where are we?” Peter asked groggily. His face was still pressed down against the
ground.
“Shhh!” Sirius hissed. “We’re at my house in London, but if my parents find out we’re
here, boy am I going to get it!”
James sat up, relieved to find Remus’s body beside his.
“Kreacher,” Sirius said firmly, “You will not tell anyone that we’re here. Got it?”
The elf nodded grudgingly. Sirius was about to hand him Hufflepuff’s piece of the
scepter, but then he hesitated.
“Bring me the other two things that look like this, and that book I gave you – and don’t
tell anyone about that either!”
Kreacher scuttled off and disappeared through a door in the corner.
“Why are you having him bring you the pieces?” asked Peter when he was gone.
“We’re about to find the fourth. We should have the rest of the pieces with us when we
do,” Sirius answered. He directed the light of his wand over Remus’s scarred, slackened
face. “Let’s get Remus up to my room. Stay quiet!”
The three of them hoisted Remus’s body into the air and climbed the stairs to the ground
floor. By the light that was beginning to creep through the windows, James could see just how
grand Sirius’s home really was. Exquisite coiled silver candelabras adorned the silver and green
patterned walls, and there was lush emerald green carpet beneath their feet. Statues and busts of
Black ancestors gazed out from tall plinths in alcoves, and elaborate, delicate looking trinkets
gleamed behind glass plated cabinets.
* 221 *
Sirius led them past a row of sleeping portraits and up four flights of stairs, having to stop
only once to shush them when they yelped with shock at a wall lined with mounted house elf
heads. Sore and out of breath, they finally reached the top floor, where there were only two
doors. On the door to the left, James saw a small, sloppily scrawled sign.
REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK
NO GIRLS ALLOWED
“My little brother,” Sirius whispered, rolling his eyes. “He’s a prat.”
As if on cue, the door opened, and James found himself looking down at the small, runty
version of Sirius that he remembered from platform nine and three-quarters. Sirius hastily hid
the piece of the scepter behind his back.
“Who are you?” he croaked, rubbing his bleary eyes. He stared clumsily from James to
Peter, then to Sirius, and finally down to Remus’s motionless body.
“Whoa, is he dead?” he asked eagerly. “What did you guys do to him!”
Sirius tried to stuff him back through the door.
“He’s not dead, you little pimple. Go back to bed!”
“Does Mother know you’re here?”
“No, and if you tell her, I’ll curse you so bad you won’t know your front end from your
back end.”
“Nice try,” Regulus said, running his hand through his hair like Sirius did so often. It
didn’t work for him the way it did for his brother. “I know you’re not allowed to use magic
away from school. Now tell me what you did to him! If you let me in on it, I won’t tell
Mother.”
“You’re not telling Mother, and you’re not coming with us!” Sirius said coldly.
“Sirius,” James interjected. “Maybe we should just let him—”
“I said he’s not coming with us!” Sirius repeated angrily.
Regulus folded his arms haughtily, his beady eyes narrowed to slits.
“Fine,” he said. He opened his mouth and began to bellow, “M—”
“Wait!” James said, clapping his hand over Regulus’s mouth. “Let him come with
us. It’s not worth getting caught.”
* 222 *
Without another word, Sirius flung his bedroom door open and stormed through. James
and the others trailed behind. It was very messy inside. Books and magazines were scattered
across the floor, lost amongst the piles of discarded wrappers, dirty clothes, and objects broken
beyond recognition. The influence of Slytherin house was everywhere, and for a moment, James
felt sorry for Sirius as he took in the green and grey curtains, the twisted silver snakes that
formed the chandelier, and the S shaped carvings in the enormous bed’s mahogany
headboard. He was going to comment on it, but Sirius spoke first, his face flushing with rage.
“She took down my pictures!”
From behind the group, Regulus nodded, smiling smugly.
“As soon as you left, she had Kreacher take down all of those stupid Muggle pictures of
Maltobikes."
“Motorbikes, you idiot,” said Sirius, picking at the remaining bits of spell-o-tape on the
wall. “I need to learn how to do a Permanent Sticking Charm…”
James and Peter carefully laid Remus down on Sirius’s plush green bedspread while he
directed his wand at the various green furnishings around the room.
“Colorocambium! Colorocambium! Colorocambium!”
Soon the drapes and bed curtains were all red and gold.
“That ought to please her,” Sirius smiled, stepping back to admire his
handiwork. Regulus issued a disgusted snort.
“I’m telling Mother you performed magic outside of school.”
“I’m telling Kreacher to lock you in the potions cupboard,” Sirius replied without sparing
him a glance.
“As Master Sirius wishes,” croaked a throaty voice. James hadn’t heard the house elf
come in. Smirking, Sirius snatched the pieces of the scepter and diary from him and stuffed
them into a dirty pillowcase he found on the floor.
“Make it the big dark one in the cellar,” he instructed, “the one with the barrels of dragon
dung.”
Regulus’s eyes grew large and round.
“No! No you can’t tell him to do that!”
“I’m older than you are,” Sirius said pleasantly. “He takes my orders over yours.”
* 223 *
“Wait,” James interrupted, saving Regulus. “Why don’t we just have Kreacher take us
somewhere else? Isn’t there someone else you can think of that could help Remus?”
Sirius paused to consider it.
“Maybe... yes… yes! I’ve got it!” He turned to Kreacher. “Take the four of us to Uncle
Alphard’s house.”
“And me too!” Regulus piped in, motioning to himself.
“You’re not going,” Sirius said flatly, ushering him out of the room.
“Fine, then I’m telling M—”
“If you tell on us, then I’ll tell Mother what you’re keeping in your sock drawer.”
Regulus looked horrified.
“How did you find out about the banshee teeth?”
“I didn’t. I just guessed because it sounded like something you would do,” Sirius said,
smiling triumphantly. “Now get out.”
Looking sullenly defeated, Regulus retreated from the room. Sirius smiled brightly.
“Right, now that that’s out of the way, ready to go everyone?”
Making sure to include Remus, the three of them allowed Kreacher to whisk them off
into the void again, reappearing on a small cobblestone street bathed in the early morning
sunlight. Almost as soon as they arrived, Kreacher gave Sirius a short, contemptuous bow and
disappeared with a KRACK.
There was a stately brick building to their right. Its front steps were flanked by topiaries
trimmed into the shapes of Griffins, whose mouths yawned open handsomely as if politely
bored. The door was slate black, with a silver knocker shaped like the head of a greyhound. In
the near distance, James was surprised to see a familiar looking outline. Just to be sure, he asked
Sirius.
“Er, Sirius, where did you take us?”
“Welcome to Paris!” Sirius announced, opening his arms wide. “This is my Uncle
Alphard’s house. Right down the street from the Eiffel Tower! Don’t worry… he’s nothing like
my parents.”
“Paris?” James said wonderingly. “When I asked if you knew anyone that could help
him, I meant somebody in the same country.”
Sirius shrugged his shoulders.
* 224 *
“When you can apparate, what difference does it make?”
Still dumbfounded and reeling, James set to the task of hauling Remus’s unconscious
body up the front steps. At the top, Sirius took hold of the silver greyhound’s head and knocked
three times. There was a slight scurrying on the other side of the door, and it opened a crack
before a there was a loud, high pitched squeak.
Sirius was thrown backward as something small pummeled into him. James and Peter
were knocked to the side, but fortunately managed not to drop Remus. Regaining his balance,
James returned his attention to the missile. It was now wrapped around Sirius’s waist like an
oddly shaped belt, squealing with delight.
“Master Sirius! How we have missed you!”
The owner of the voice was another house elf, but this house elf and Kreacher couldn’t
have been more different. For one thing, she was a girl. She also looked better taken care
of. She wore a royal blue tea cozy stretched over her small pot belly, and it was not stained or
greasy, like Kreacher’s old loincloth. Tied around each of her enormous ears was a matching
royal blue bow, making her ears look like enormous, flappy pigtails. Her wide tennis ball eyes
were brimming with joyful tears.
“Master Sirius, you have brought friends with you?” she squeaked. “Master Alphard is
just sitting down to breakfast – he will be so delighted to see you!”
Sirius wrenched himself free of the adoring house elf with a lopsided, embarrassed smile.
“Er… this is Penny. She’s Uncle Alphard’s house elf.”
“How delighted I am to meet the friends of Master Sirius!” Penny declared with a low,
elegant curtsy. Her face fell when she saw James struggling with Remus. “Your friend is in
need of assistance!”
She snapped her fingers, and Remus’s body rose into the air on what looked like a small
cloud of smoke. He floated in through the open door ahead of them, and Penny motioned for the
others to follow.
Alphard’s home was pristine, and smelled of roses. The royal blue carpet and white
walls were bright and elegant in the pale light that streamed in through the tall windows. Penny
led the four of them into the sitting room and offered them seats on a silk sofa, which they gladly
accepted. Leaving Remus on his small cloud of floating smoke, she scurried from the room.
“James, the map,” Sirius said.
* 225 *
“Huh?”
James was busy staring at a pot of violet flowers on the crystal end table that hummed
like bees.
“The map. Remus has it. See if Gryffindor’s Room is there!”
James got up and went to Remus. The map was still tucked into his pocket. James
tugged it out and performed the Revealing Spell.
Sure enough, a new blinking dot labeled “Gryffindor’s Room” appeared in the miniature
schematic of Hogwarts, but it was moving about erratically. Bringing it back to the sofa, he
showed it to the others. Sirius followed it with his eyes as it turned the corner out of an empty
classroom and moved down the fourth floor corridor.
“What the?”
“I don’t know,” James said, watching its progress. Now it was weaving up and down
through the aisles of the library. “It looks like it never stops moving.”
Peter leaned across to watch too, but then Penny reappeared with Alphard, and James
stuffed the map hastily into his pocket.
“Sirius! My boy!” he exclaimed. “Come give your Uncle a hug!”
Sirius leapt from his seat and threw his arms around his Uncle. Faintly remembering
what Sirius’s mother looked like on the train platform, James could see the resemblance between
Alphard and his sister. He and she both had the same grey eyes and straight nose. His hair was
handsome and careless like his nephew’s, but he also had a rotund tummy that his velvety blue
robes could not hide.
“So what is this trouble you’ve gotten yourself and your friends into here?”
Sirius shrugged nervously.
“It’s a long story… Remus got jinxed by a… a…”
“Oh I know how it is,” Alphard said with a wink. “You’re just not a healthy boy if you
aren’t getting into at least a little bit of trouble, like I always say.”
Alphard pulled his wand from his robe pocket and pointed it at Remus.
“Rennervate.”
Remus gasped and attempted to sit up, but fell directly through the cloud of smoke that
was suspending him. He landed hard on the sitting room floor.
“Where are we? Did we get caught?”
* 226 *
“We’re in Paris, mate,” Sirius laughed, helping him to his feet.
“Paris?” Remus repeated, his eyes wide. “Paris?!”
“That’s right,” Alphard said, drawing back one of the curtains to reveal the Eiffel Tower
in the distance. Remus’s mouth hung slack in awe as Alphard patted him hard on the
back. “Now Sirius, will you please introduce me to your friends?”
Sirius introduced them each in turn, and then, while Penny served up a delicious
breakfast of baked pastries, he explained how they got there (or at least some version of it,
omitting their romp through the Hogwarts Gallery and of course the Bolt of Ages). Alphard
guffawed loudly, and James couldn’t help thinking that he sounded almost exactly like the
blasting trumpet in the Collector’s treasure pile.
“Of course,” Alphard said jovially, as Penny carried the empty pastry tray back to the
kitchen. “Not Hogwarts without a bit of sneaking around, is it?”
There was a crash from the kitchen, and a few seconds later Penny reappeared, fighting to
carry a Barn Owl that was almost as big as she was into the sitting room. There was a letter in its
beak.
“Master… a letter… has arrived,” she panted.
Alphard took the note and opened it, reading the contents with a crease in his
brow. Penny staggered from the room and disappeared around the corner. There was another
crash, but Alphard carried on as if nothing was wrong.
“Sirius, it appears that your mother is very displeased with you,” he said. “She’s banned
Kreacher from taking your orders.”
Sirius leapt from his seat, his jaw furiously agape.
“What!” he shouted angrily. “How did she find out!”
With a sinking feeling, James realized what must have happened.
“Sirius, when Kreacher brought us here to Alphard’s, you forgot to tell him to keep it a
secret.”
Sirius sank back down into his seat with his hand on his forehead.
“It’s so hard to keep all the orders straight!”
Alphard laughed his blasting trumpet laugh again.
“Sirius, maybe you shouldn’t have abused your privileges to the house elf, or used him to
lie to your parents.”
* 227 *
Sirius scowled.
“Now what are we going to do?”
Alphard rose from his seat and went to a handsome shelf in the corner of the room.
“We’ll address that in a moment, but before you go, there is something I have been
meaning to give you. Consider it an early birthday present.”
He returned with a small metal object roughly the size and shape of a galleon, but made
of an electric blue metal.
“This,” he said, holding the coin up in a dramatic flourish that caught the morning light,
“is a Downside-Upper. There are very few of these in the world – I happened to get my hands
on one at an auction in the Far East.”
“What’s it do?” Peter asked.
Alphard grinned.
“Let me show you.”
He flipped the coin into the air with his thumb and caught it, slamming it down onto the
back of his other hand. Instantly, he shot into the air and flipped upside down, landing with his
feet securely on the ceiling. James and the others watched in awe as he paced back and forth,
stepping around the crystal chandelier.
“It reverses gravity for the person wielding it,” he explained. James was grateful for that,
because it meant Alphard’s robes still hung to his feet. He had no desire to see what was
underneath.
“As you can see, this can be a rather useful tool,” Alphard continued. “You will stay like
this until you flip it again. If I may give you some advice, make sure you catch the coin when
you flip it, and never ever use this coin unless there is a ceiling above your head… using it
outdoors would be most unwise.”
He flipped the coin again, caught it, and landed nimbly back on floor before handing it
over to Sirius, who immediately tried walking around on the ceiling himself. He came back
down, hooting with excitement, and each boy got to try it in turn. Penny walked in at one point,
took one look at the dirty footprints all over the white ceiling, and immediately excused herself,
tugging her ears in distress.
“All right,” Alphard said, once everyone had taken a turn. “As I said, I have an idea of
how to get the three of you back to Hogwarts. I would have Penny take you directly to your
* 228 *
common room, but I’m afraid house elves can only take side-alongs away from Hogwarts, not
in. I will instead have her take us to Hogsmeade, where I can send you to Hogwarts through a
secret passage.”
James and Sirius exchanged surprised glances.
“A passage between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts?” Sirius asked curiously.
Remus cried out suddenly.
“No!”
All of the eyes in the room fell on him. He flushed scarlet.
“I mean, well, there’s other ways to get back to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade… I’m sure
we can figure something out, please, just… not that way.”
“I assure you Remus, it’s entirely safe,” Alphard said. “Of all places, it begins in
Honeydukes.”
Remus stared in disbelief.
“Honeydukes?”
“Yes,” Alphard nodded. “I discovered it while I was working there as a shop boy. “It
runs from the basement of the shop to the school. I suspect the Goblins built it – they used
Hogsmeade as a headquarters during their 1612 rebellion. You’re first years, Binns should have
told you all about that, right?”
Remus still just stared. Peter was starting to doze off in his seat. James and Sirius
exchanged blank looks with each other.
“Distracted by all of the sugar quills, I expect,” Alphard said, reaching for his
cane. “Let’s go!”
When they arrived in Hogsmeade, James, Sirius, and Peter had to be careful to act like it
was their first time there. Sirius was about to lead the way to Honeydukes, but James grabbed
the hood of his robe to stop him so Alphard could lead. Remus, who hadn’t been with the three
of them for the journey to Flourish and Blotts, truly was experiencing Hogsmeade for the first
time. James expected him to be excited, or at least interested, but instead he was quiet, casting
nervous glances in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. James wondered if he was afraid of it.
Outside of Honeydukes, they thanked Alphard and Penny and said goodbye. Then, once
they were inside, Alphard distracted the staff long enough for them to sneak through the door
* 229 *
behind the counter and down a small flight of wooden steps to the basement. After a short
search among the old boxes and wooden crates, Peter found a trap door that swung open to
reveal a downward sloping set of stone steps. It was right where Alphard said it would be, but it
was very well disguised. They all scrambled inside, and Sirius pulled it shut just in time,
because there were voices at the top of the stairs. A female voice was speaking.
“So you heard it yourself?”
James heard a dull thud that sounded like someone dropping a heavy crate on top of the
trap door. An awkward young male voice answered.
“Yeah, I heard it I did! The night was black as pitch, with a full moon an’ all. I got close
enough to that old shack to hear them spirits moanin’ and wailin’, throwin’ the furniture around
as if a hurricane ‘isself went an’ broke out inside! If I’d ‘a gotten any closer, I might not’a been
here to tell the tale.”
Remus tugged James’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here.”
As quietly as possible, the boys tiptoed after him down the stone steps. They seemed to
go on for ages, but finally, they reached a dirt floor in a narrow, earthy passageway. After a few
minutes of walking down it, Sirius broke the silence.
“You know, I bet there’s lots of secret passage ways like this around Hogwarts. I think
we should try and find all of them.”
“Maybe you’d find out where they all were if you actually listened in History of Magic,”
Remus suggested. James thought he saw a smile on his face.
“I’ve got better things to do,” said Sirius, “like sleeping!”
“Or picking on Severus,” James suggested, grinning.
They all sniggered. Soon, the path bottomed out into a level plane. As they continued
along, James admired the way the tunnel was hewn right through the earth – it was hard to
believe that goblins made it so many years ago. He wondered who else knew about it.
“I agree with Sirius,” he said eventually. “I think we should find every secret passage in
Hogwarts and write it all down. We could make a secret map of Hogwarts!”
“Just like Petrie’s Map for Marauders!” Peter piped up.
“We should make it so it can track teachers too,” Remus added. “If we’re out at night, it
could help us keep clear of them.”
* 230 *
“Not just teachers,” James said. “Everyone in the castle!”
“Even Severus,” Sirius said devilishly. “Just think of how much fun we could have with
him if we knew where he went and what he did. He would think we were master spies!”
Planning ways to torment Severus with the map kept them pleasantly occupied until the
path began to slope upwards again, eventually ending at the base of what looked like a very steep
stone ramp. There was a narrow crack at the top that opened behind a statue of a humpbacked,
one-eyed witch.
Peeking out around it, James saw that they had arrived on the third floor of the
castle. The Charms corridor was nearby, and judging by the light that filtered through the
windows, it looked to be mid-morning. Sirius slung the pillowcase with the pieces of the scepter
and the diary off his shoulder.
“Let’s hide these here in the tunnel, so Turnbill can’t find them.”
James had given up trying to convince the others that Turnbill was not the spy.
“But what if someone comes this way?” he said. “We don’t know for sure that we’re the
only people who have been in this tunnel.”
“Why don’t we bury them behind the base of the ramp?” Remus suggested. “It’s so dark
in here, no one would ever see it.”
Agreeing that this was a good idea, they slid back down the ramp, hastily dug a hole
behind it, and hid the pillowcase and its contents inside. Satisfied with their handiwork, they
climbed back up to the statue of the humpbacked witch.
There were no students in sight. Everyone was either finishing a late breakfast in the
Great Hall, or spending the Saturday morning sleeping in. It was easy to slip out from behind the
statue without being noticed.
“Where’s the map?” Sirius asked. “Maybe we can find Gryffindor’s Room!”
James pulled the map out of his pocket and performed the Revealing Spell. He made
sure to show it to Remus, who hadn’t gotten to see it yet. The dot was now wandering around
the second floor near Turnbill’s office. It moved surprisingly fast.
“Let’s go!” James said, dashing off in the direction of the staircase. On the second floor,
they rushed to Turnbill’s office, but there was nothing there. The dot on the map was gone,
too. Sirius groaned.
“Where in the wizarding world did it go?”
* 231 *
James frowned, scanning the map for it. Then, quite suddenly, it reappeared on the first
floor.
“There it is!”
They rushed down the next staircase to the first floor, and careened into the row of
classrooms that James was sure he saw it enter, but there was nothing there. Frustrated, he
checked the map again. Somehow, the dot must have managed to get past them, because it was
now in the Potions classroom two floors below.
“How long is this going to go?” Remus asked. “How do we know the room isn’t
supposed to just disappear every time you get close and reappear somewhere else?”
“I can’t run anymore!” gasped Peter, clutching at his sore sides. “Let’s just go
downstairs and eat breakfast!”
“James,” Sirius said, out of breath, “I don’t think we can catch it like this. I don’t know
if we can even see it. What if it’s invisible?”
James hadn’t thought of that.
“How do you catch something that you can’t see?” he asked.
No one had any answer.
* 232 *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FEET WITH NO OWNER
By the end of May, James could feel and smell the summer approaching. In class, he
often caught himself chin in hand, staring through the windows at the green grass and tree
blossoms, wondering if summer had a daughter.
His classmates weren’t doing much better, either. Professor Dearborn was not happy
about the number of late students to his class (people were taking their time walking across the
grounds to the greenhouses), and after her third time trying to rouse everyone’s attention,
Professor McGonagall insisted on shuttering the windows in her classroom and lecturing by
candlelight. James found this particularly frustrating, because when he wasn’t looking through
the windows, he liked to secretly watch the dot’s wandering movements on the map. The
darkness made it too difficult to see under his desk.
They attempted to follow the dot a few more times, but were never successful in catching
it. Before they could come up with any reasonable solutions to the problem, the end of year
exams arrived. James spent the first few days feeling like his hair was on fire, flitting between
exam periods and frenzied intervals of last minute studying. The fifth year students, who were in
the midst of their Ordinary Wizarding Levels, were even worse. Gavin Darley had to be sent to
the hospital wing after drinking a supposed brain stimulant potion that was actually made of
dried doxy droppings.
“At least the Quidditch season is over!” Izzy DeLauney had said brightly, while they
carried her teammate out through the Fat Lady’s portrait. James felt disgusted with
* 233 *
himself. With all of the excitement surrounding the Bolt of Ages, he hadn’t gone to any of the
other Quidditch matches.
On the evening before their last exam, History of Magic, it was almost impossible to find
four seats together in the jam packed library.
“Who was the Supreme Mugwump when the International Confederation of Wizards
passed the Statute of Secrecy?” Remus asked, shuffling through his History of Magic notes.
“The Statute of what?” Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the
table. Remus looked up at him, shocked.
“Kidding, kidding!” Sirius laughed, lacing his fingers together behind his head.
James, who was studying the map instead of his own notes, snorted. The Statute of
Secrecy was the law that prevented Muggles from learning about the wizarding community. It
was one of their most important and well-known laws; children learned it long before they got to
Hogwarts.
“It was Giles Gedovius Mercopudius Clagg,” Peter read from his textbook. James
certainly hoped spelling didn’t count on the exam.
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Sirius said in a fake, imperious voice. He was now casually
turning the Downside-Upper coin back and forth across the fingers of one hand. “Now, tell me,
who was the Supreme Buttmunch at the 1412 Meeting of Extraordinarily Boring Wizards in
Pajamas?”
A few first year Ravenclaw girls giggled at the next table over, but Remus shot Sirius an
irritated look.
“If you don’t want to study, go back to the common room,” he said severely.
“It’s a Saturday!” Sirius replied. “Who in their right mind studies on a Saturday?”
Turning over the Pendant of Bast in his pocket, James realized that he didn’t feel much
like studying either. He carefully folded the map back up.
“Want to go see if they left the broom locker open at the Quidditch pitch?” he asked
Sirius.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Sirius replied, letting his chair drop back down to all
fours. He gathered up things to go, but then froze. Severus was on the other side of the library,
reading his History of Magic text so closely that his greasy bangs nearly touched the yellowing
pages.
* 234 *
“Dirty git,” Sirius whispered, stuffing his Downside-Upper back into his pocket. “Watch
this.”
He pointed his wand at Severus.
“Dictumpollus.”
Suddenly, Severus rose from his chair, tucked his hands beneath his armpits, and began
flapping his arms while making chicken noises. At first every head turned in confusion, but then
the entire library began roaring with laughter. Sirius was in stitches. Severus jogged back and
forth along the rows of study tables, his head bobbing ridiculously, but then something very odd
happened.
He slammed into something invisible and fell to the ground, clucking in alarm. Nearby
on the ground, a pair of disembodied boots appeared out of nowhere, but they were alive – they
were kicking and struggling to get out of the way.
“I can’t believe it…” James began.
“He’s been spying on us!” Sirius shouted. He leapt over the study table, his class notes
forgotten. James was out of his seat too. It was chaos. The two of them clambered over tables,
treading on meticulously drawn lunar charts, scattering piles of carefully ordered notes, and
bowling over the people who owned them.
Abandoning caution, the feet took off running. James could see them flickering in and
out of sight beneath the hem of the Invisibility Cloak. Out in the corridor, he waved Sirius on.
“This way!” he called over his shoulder breathlessly. The feet turned a corner directly
ahead. “We almost have him—”
SLAM.
A pile of books crashed to the ground and parchment flew everywhere. James toppled
over, and the map parted ways with his hand.
“James Potter!”
James peered upwards. Lily Evans was towering over him, looking eerily similar to
Professor McGonagall with her arms folded in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Honestly, running around a corner like that!”
Sirius, who had managed to stop in time, hung back, grimacing. Lily knelt and began
gathering up her things. Realizing that the spy with disembodied feet was probably long gone,
James got to his knees and tried to help.
* 235 *
“I’m sorry, um, I think I dropped something of mine in here,” he said, scanning the pile
for the map.
Lily scowled.
“Well, what does it look like?”
Remus and Peter caught up stopped next to Sirius. James, realizing with a drop in the pit
of his stomach that he forgot to perform the spell that wiped the map clean, wasn’t sure how to
answer under Lily’s expectant stare.
“I… um, well… it’s kind of…”
As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, a cackling emanated from the hallway
ahead. Unable to resist making any catastrophe more chaotic, Peeves zoomed in their direction
like a moth to a flame. He began rhyming in his sing-songy cackle, raining bits of chalk down
on them from some unfortunate classroom.
“Oh Potty Potty Potter, you must be so blind! Running into Evans, smashing down on
your behind!”
“Shut up, Peeves!” James shouted, feeling his cheeks getting hot. Of course, this just
made Peeves sing louder.
“Potty wee Potter, what a pity what a pity! Messing with poor Evans ‘cause you really
think she’s pretty!”
James flushed even worse, but then he saw something that gave him hope. The corner of
the map was sticking out from beneath Lily’s Potions textbook. Trying to ignore the string of
taunts coming out of Peeves’s mouth, he picked it up and scanned it for the dot. Then, his heart
leapt to his throat. Not only was the dot clearly visible, but it was no longer moving. It was
floating, quite stationary, right above him.
“Peeves!” James breathed, hardly believing his eyes. He leapt to his feet. “It was you!”
Peeves was in the middle of turning a somersault in mid-air.
“Potty wee Potter, what a shame what a shame…”
But his voice trailed off halfway through when his eyes fell upon the map in James’s
hand. Lily saw it too.
“James… what is that?” she asked quietly, standing on tip toe to see over his shoulder.
For what might have been the first time in his life (or afterlife?), Peeves was stunned into
silence.
* 236 *
“Where does a wee first year find such an object as that?” he finally asked quietly.
“Er, Peeves,” James ventured. “Do you know what this is?”
The poltergeist nodded, the bells on his hat jingling.
“Yes, but I haven’t seen it in a thousand years.”
“How do we get in?” James asked eagerly.
Lily stared in confusion between the both of them.
“What are you talking about? Get in where?”
The poltergeist cracked a mysterious and dangerous smile. Before James could flinch
away, he zoomed forward and seized his arm in a vice like grip that burned like a hot iron. The
floor felt like it was dropping away. Lily began to scream, and Sirius might have shouted
something, but then all sound and light vanished like water down a drain.
James’s feet planted down on hard ground again immediately, but he couldn’t see
anything around him. There was nothing but darkness in every direction, and as he acclimated,
he realized that the pressure of Peeves’s grip was gone. Something scuffled in the dark distance
behind him, and he instinctively reached for his wand inside his robes.
“Peeves!” he called. “Peeves, where did you take me?”
Far off to his right, James heard a cackle. Then, a moment later, it was on his left.
“Peeves!”
The scuffling began again, this time to his right.
“Peeves, what is that!”
The poltergeist did not appear, but his jeering voice rang out through the darkness.
“Potty totty Potter always hates it when I rhyme. But can he find the scepter fragment
out of space and time?”
Not wanting to meet the source of the scuffling noise, James began to slowly back away
from it. Aside from that, the room was completely, and eerily silent, but it still gave James the
strange feeling that he was being watched – not just by Peeves, but by some dark, hidden
audience.
The scuffling abruptly stopped. James froze, facing the direction of the sound, straining
to hear over his wildly beating heart. Then, almost as if someone was urging him forward, what
felt like a cold, open hand briefly touched his back.
* 237 *
James gasped loudly and spun around, assaulted by the same urge to light his wand that
he felt in the Collector’s lair, but he forced himself to wait. The noise began again. This time, it
was disturbingly close – perhaps fifty feet or less, and it was changing. It was sounding less
shapeless, and more like something on four legs, trotting, no… padding toward him.
James finally accepted that it was probably not Peeves. What else was there with him,
out of space and time? What monster did Gryffindor have in wait in that dark, forgotten
place? James couldn’t convince his body to move. He wasn’t sure which direction to go, and on
top of that, he wasn’t sure if he needed to be able to find the same spot again to get
out. Deciding there was nothing for it, he drew his wand out of his pocket.
“Lumos!”
The spell left James standing in a bright pool of light, unable to see anything beyond. He
was now a beacon, shining for whatever lurked in the darkness. Immediately regretting his
decision, he rushed to put it out, but in his panic, he couldn’t get his lips to form the correct spell.
The trotting grew closer… closer… louder… but then, it stopped all together just a few
feet away. James could barely see it, whatever it was. It was just a vague shape, waiting
patiently beyond the sphere of light.
“Wh-who’s there?” James spoke aloud. In response, the creature stepped forward into
the outer reaches of the wandlight.
It was a lion, but unlike any he had ever seen before. It was two times as big as a normal
lion, and it was entirely black, with misted over white eyes. As it circled him silently, he waited,
half expecting it to start speaking. It did not.
What does it want? James wondered. Without really thinking about it, his hand closed
around the cool, smooth surface of something metal in his pocket. The Pendant of Bast!
James rushed to throw the pendant around his neck. The lion must not have been a real
cat, because it recoiled, but then something even more disturbing happened. Its claws grew into
knives, and its mouth fell open into an unnaturally gaping pit full of razor sharp obsidian
teeth. Its eyes almost seemed to melt, sinking into its face as it screamed a blood curdling wail
that sent shockwaves down James’s spine. Then, the light went out.
Fear’s icy fist was tight around James’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he turned
and fled into the uncertain dark. Behind him, he heard the beast pursuing him. It was so awfully
close, he could smell its musty odor – like sweat and blood. His pulse thundered in his
* 238 *
ears. There were no windows, and no doors. There was nothing at all. James’s mind raced as
fast as his legs carried him.
What could a first year do against something like this?
No windows. No doors. Nothing.
What does Gryffindor want me to do?
At first James ran with his arms out in front of him, afraid he might hit a wall, but the
darkness seemed to go on forever. The room was completely boundless. Like someone facing
death, random memories began to flash before his eyes.
Blowing out the candles on his fifth birthday cake.
No windows. No doors. Nothing.
His father bringing home Merlin, when he was only a tiny ball of fur.
No windows. No doors. Nothing.
“For the past three generations, our family have all been sorted into Gryffindor House…”
No windows. No doors. Nothing.
“…where dwell the brave at heart…”
The brave at heart.
James planted his feet. Not quite understanding why he was doing it, or how, he turned
around to face his approaching killer and shouted in the face of death,
“I AM NOT AFRAID!”
The thundering approach of the monster was suddenly replaced by a dull scraping
noise. At James’s side, the glow of his wand sparked dimly back to life, and grew until it was
once again a warm, protective sphere of light. From out of the darkness, an object coasted into
view across the smooth floor, coming to rest directly at his feet.
Finally daring to breathe, James knelt and picked up the fourth and final fragment of the
Bolt of Ages.
James took time to gather himself. Out of space and time, it could have been moments,
hours, months, or even years that he stood there, contemplating the weight of what he and his
friends had accomplished. After a long time, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that there
were people waiting for him outside. It was time to go home.
“Peeves?” he wondered aloud.
* 239 *
With a faint pop, the poltergeist appeared before him.
“Nice show, Potter.”
James smiled, turning the scepter fragment over in his hands.
“How did you end up guarding this?” he asked.
Peeves grinned ghoulishly.
“A being as ancient as me sees and hears a great many things around the castle. More
than most inhabitants are aware of, that’s for sure. Gryffindor knew I was as much a part of this
castle as any room. He entrusted me with the secret.”
James couldn’t stifle his laugh.
“Gryffindor, entrust you with a secret?”
Peeves cackled.
“A secret like Gryffindor’s, I would never proclaim, but Potter’s crush on Evans is fair
game, fair game!”
James’s cheeks reddened.
“I don’t like her like that! Come on Peeves, get me out of here!”
Still chortling over his own clever humor, Peeves rushed forward to seize James’s arm
again. It burned just as badly as the first time, but it was fleeting, because the darkness was
sucked away and light and sound poured out.
“James! James! What’s happening!” Lily was screaming.
Sirius was rushing forward, his hand outstretched.
“James, wait!”
James thought he felt his feet land back on the floor, but then he had to wonder if he had
really gone anywhere at all. The map was back in his hand, and everyone looked exactly the
same. The only thing that felt different was his head. It felt five times heavier. As the world
solidified around him, James caught a brief glimpse of Sirius’s frightened face, but then he
passed out cold.
* 240 *
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE MAN ON THE PLATFORM
SLAP.
James awoke with a gasp as pain seared across his cheek. Someone tall was leaning over
his bed.
“Where is it!?”
SLAP. Something hard pressed into his neck.
“Who are you?... Where is what?” James asked groggily. He remembered the feel of the
starchy sheets beneath his hands. He was in the hospital wing.
“Don’t act like you don’t know!” the voice hissed. Flecks of spit flew into James’s
face. He knew that voice.
“Turnbill?”
Slowly, the face above him focused—at least, as best as it could without his glasses
on. It was undeniable. As much as James hated to admit that he was wrong, Professor Turnbill
was looming over him. He looked furious, demented even, as he pressed the tip of his wand hard
into James’s neck.
“Get out of the bed. Now.”
James obediently stood. Turnbill waved his wand, causing his arms to cross and lock
behind his back.
* 241 *
“Take me to the location of the scepter, and perhaps I’ll give you a quick, painless
death.”
James opened his mouth to ask for his glasses, but Turnbill uttered a muffled spell, and a
sensation spread through James’s throat like receiving a painful shot of Novocaine. No matter
how hard he tried, he couldn’t make a sound. As he struggled to adjust his breathing to it,
Turnbill threw the Invisibility Cloak over both of them.
“Walk,” he commanded, seizing James’s locked arms and jabbing his wand harder into
his neck.
James did as he was told, leaving his glasses behind on the bedside table. Near the door,
he could just barely make out the shape of what looked like a body slumped against the wall.
Madam Pomfrey, James thought, hoping against hope that she wasn’t dead.
The corridor proved extremely hard to navigate without his glasses. In the darkness, the
shadows from the crescent moon distorted everything. Columns and statues loomed out of the
darkness like phantoms, and James, squinting, nearly walked into a few of them, prompting
strings of muttered curses and obscenities from Turnbill. By some miracle, they reached the
staircases, but then Turnbill forcibly yanked him behind a suit of armor.
James strained in the darkness to figure out what was happening. His eyes were nearly
useless, but his ears still worked. Someone was coming down the steps. As he watched, a blur
that was just barely discernible as Professor McGonagall appeared. James twisted against
Turnbill’s grip, and tried with all of his might to shout, but Turnbill pressed his wand so hard
into his neck that his eyes began to water.
Obliviously, Professor McGonagall passed right by them as she continued her evening
rounds. When she was out of earshot, Turnbill gave James a shove, indicating that he wanted
him to start moving again. James obeyed.
As they marched up the stair cases, James wondered whether Turnbill had already
attacked Sirius, Remus, and Peter. Obviously, one of them had to have taken Gryffindor’s piece
of the scepter before calling for Madam Pomfrey. Had they already united the four
pieces? James pictured the three of them laughing together as they traversed through
time. Surely they would have waited for him, wouldn’t they?
Pushing the image from his mind, James tried to figure out what floor they were on. He
wasn’t even sure where he was leading Turnbill; he was just blindly walking in the direction of
* 242 *
the common room. He hoped the others weren’t stupid enough to go back there with all four
pieces of the scepter, or even worse, with the fully formed Bolt of Ages. Whatever floor they
were on, James couldn’t tell, but from the sea of distorted shapes in the landscape around him, he
spied something that didn’t appear to belong – two bright orbs, glowing and yellow, in a shadow
beneath the banister.
What happened next happened fast. A small, furry shape leapt from the shadows, pulling
the invisibility cloak off both of them. Turnbill’s wand tumbled to the floor, and instantly, James
felt his arms release and voice return.
James, run!
Realizing that he was still wearing the Pendant of Bast, James spun around, only to see
Turnbill yelling and writhing on the floor as a blurry Mrs. Norris attacked his chest and face.
GO!
James fled, tripping and stumbling up the staircase in his blindness. He heard the yowl of
a wounded cat, followed by Turnbill’s triumphant laugh, and then the fast, heavy footfalls of
someone coming up the stairs behind him.
Knowing that he didn’t stand a chance without his glasses, James veered off onto the
landing of whatever floor he was on. Maybe if he could just find somewhere to hide until
morning—
WHAM.
Stars erupted in front of James’s eyes. The dark splotch in front of him wasn’t a shadow,
like he thought it was. It was a statue.
“What was that?”
“Shhh! You’ll give us away!”
At first, James thought he hit his head a little too hard, because familiar voices were
coming out of it. Then, his heart leapt as he put together what it was. It was the statue of the
humpbacked witch.
“Peter?” he asked as loudly as he dared. “Remus?”
Sirius’s voice answered.
“James! It’s James! Let him in!”
The statue opened to reveal the path to Honeydukes below. Three pairs of hands reached
out to pull him inside.
* 243 *
“James! What happened?” Sirius asked, looking him over critically. “Where are your
glasses?”
“They’re downstairs in the hospital wing, I—”
He suddenly remembered everything that happened, and it all came flooding out of his
mouth in a rush.
“Turnbill! It’s Turnbill! He was in the hospital wing, muffled my voice, Madam
Pomfrey, Mrs. Norris, I ran—”
“Slow down James,” Remus said, helping him sit down on the stone
ramp. “Turnbill. Where is he?”
James swallowed hard, feeling the sore spot in his neck from Turnbill’s wand.
“Mrs. Norris attacked him. She saw us coming up the stairs under my dad’s Invisibility
Cloak. He knows we have all four pieces, he’s going to kill us.”
Peter squeaked with fright, and it echoed off the hollow walls.
“What about the scepter?” James asked them eagerly. “Did you put the pieces
together? Does it work?”
Sirius held the pillowcase out for James to see. All four pieces of the scepter clunked
around loosely inside.
“We tried,” he said disappointedly. “Nothing happens when you just hold them all
together.”
James frowned. Could it be that after being separated for so long, the pieces no longer
worked?
“Well, what do we do now?” Sirius asked.
James tightened his hands around the pillowcase, closing it up.
“We need to take these to Dumbledore.”
“But you said that Dumbledore—”
“I know what I said!” James said impatiently, “but we can’t fight Turnbill on our own.”
Remus nodded.
“I agree, but where’s Dumbledore’s office?”
They all stared at each other. Nobody had any idea.
“I saw McGonagall down by her office,” James said. “If we can just find her, or
someone else, maybe we can get help.”
* 244 *
“Then let’s get out of here,” Sirius said, helping James to his feet. “This place gives me
the creeps, anyway.”
Peter had to be coaxed, but as quietly as possible, the four of them slipped out from
behind the humpbacked witch and into the corridor.
“I don’t see anyone,” Sirius whispered. “I think it’s safe.”
Slowly, quietly, they began tiptoeing back in the direction of the stairwell.
“Guys,” Peter whispered timidly. “Don’t you think we should each carry a piece?”
“Why would we want to do that?” Sirius hissed. “That would just make each of us an
obvious target, and it would be that much easier for him to get one of the pieces!”
Remus slowed down, looking at him significantly.
“What if he caught the one of us that had all four?”
They ducked into the trophy room. James reached into the bag and began handing out
pieces of the scepter. To Sirius had passed Slytherin’s, to Remus he passed Ravenclaw’s, to
Peter he passed Hufflepuff’s, and for himself, he kept Gryffindor’s.
“All right, if we get attacked, we need to make sure we separate, and—”
James stopped midsentence, because he realized that the bag was not yet empty.
“There’s something still in here,” he said, reaching in for whatever it was. At the very
bottom of the bag, he found Petrie’s diary.
“The diary,” he said, flipping it open to the poem he had almost forgotten about.
“Just leave it James, we don’t need it anymore,” Sirius said, throwing a nervous glance in
the direction of the door, which was hanging ajar.
James shook his head.
“It may be wise to start your searching right here where you are, for some things that
seem miles away may really not be far.”
“Huh?” Peter asked.
“The poem. That’s the last line of the poem,” Remus said. “James we don’t need the
poem anymore, we have all four pieces already.”
James wasn’t listening. He was looking closely at the scripted letters. They seemed to be
rumbling, humming with energy. It had to have something to do with being so near to all four
pieces of the scepter. He knew it.
“Maybe it’s like the map. Maybe we just have to talk to it…”
* 245 *
He held the diary up, close to his mouth.
“We have the four pieces. Tell us what to do!”
Before his eyes, the letters began moving. They shifted, they twirled, they rearranged,
and seconds later, an entirely new poem was in its place. The four of them put their heads in,
and read aloud together.
If you're reading this then you have found the scepter’s parts.
To come this far you truly must be one of noble heart.
The time has come for separation now to be undone,
And the pieces you have toiled to find now finally fuse to one.
To fair Ravenclaw you proved your spirit and your will,
To Slytherin your cunning, strength, agility and skill.
To Hufflepuff you found your way through secret worlds and lairs,
And to Gryffindor your bravery in the face of all despair.
I call upon the power of time itself to take control
Of these weak divided pieces now to form a mighty whole.
As they spoke the last word, a bright, clean light began to issue from the pages of the
diary. It crept outward, dancing across James’s fragment of the scepter. It grew stronger,
stretching across Sirius and Remus’s pieces beside him, finally reaching Peter’s on the far
side. All around them, it built in intensity, pulsating as if alive. Suddenly, as if magnetized, the
fragments of the scepter tugged away from their fingertips, and fused midair with another
brilliant burst of golden light. The scepter was whole again, and for a few seconds, it hovered
and spun in space above the diary that led to it. Then the light faded, and the diary fell to the
ground with the Bolt of Ages on top it.
“Blimey,” Sirius breathed.
A shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Blimey is right.”
* 246 *
All four of them whirled around, their wands at the ready. Turnbill strode into the
moonlight, wide-eyed.
“Easy, easy boys. I can’t believe it… is that what I think it is?”
Remus’s mouth hung open in confusion. Peter shook like a leaf. Sirius stepped out
defiantly.
“You’ll have to kill us if you want to take it.”
“Kill you?” laughed Turnbill. “Dock Gryffindor a couple points for being out of bed
maybe, but why on earth would I want to kill you, Sirius?”
James’s wand dropped limply to his side.
“But… but the hospital wing. The corridor… you said…”
“I said what?” Turnbill asked, looking genuinely confused. “James, I don’t think I
understand—”
He was interrupted as an explosion blasted the door aside in a shower of black
sparks. Through the smoldering wreckage, another Turnbill strode into the small trophy room,
scratched and bleeding. His wide, angry eyes darted from Sirius to Remus, from James to Peter,
and then finally came to rest on the first Turnbill.
“Eben,” Turnbill number one said calmly. “What are you doing here? What have you
done?”
“They’re twins,” Remus said quietly. “Of course…Frank said he had a brother…”
“Hello, Edrian,” the new Turnbill said, seemingly unsurprised to see his brother
there. “So sorry to hear about that Muggle wife of yours. You and your Mudblood daughter
must be distraught. How is she doing, by the way?”
The first Turnbill’s face became closed off. Eben laughed low, under his breath.
“I’ll take that to mean she’s doing well. I hope someone’s been feeding her while you’ve
been away. You keep her as a pet, don’t you? That’s all Mudbloods are good for. I thought pets
needed someone to look after them, make sure they don’t soil the carpet.”
“Leave Juniette out of it,” Professor Turnbill finally said.
“But how can I?” Eben answered innocently. “She’s part of a bigger issue. How can any
of us forget about the Muggle problem? It’s everywhere now. No magic here, no magic
there. Must act ‘normal,’ must wear Muggle clothes. Now they’re poisoning our bloodlines, as
evidenced by your Juniette. Where does it end, Edrian? Where does it end?”
* 247 *
Professor Turnbill said nothing, his face stony.
“Well, I suppose it won’t be an issue much longer,” Eben said, now pacing the room,
“Things will be changing soon. Finally, someone has the right idea.”
This got Professor Turnbill’s attention.
“You haven’t… you didn’t…”
Eben laughed maniacally, and the reflections of the moonlight on the trophies reflected a
sickly green light onto his bleeding face.
“Edrian, Edrian…” He slowly began rolling back the sleeve of his left forearm. “You
always were the weaker of us two. There’s one in every set of twins. I wouldn’t expect you to
understand. Let me make it plain to you. In whose hand do you think our future
lies? Dumbledore’s time is ending. Those who stand by him are going to regret their choice of
allegiance all too soon. It’s time for us to put our faith in a new master…”
He held up his forearm for all of them to see. A newly inked Dark Mark stretched across
it.
“The Dark Lord is rising.”
As the two exchanged, James became aware of Sirius covertly trying to catch his eye.
“What?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Sirius directed his eyes significantly at the Bolt of Ages on the floor. Eben hadn’t seen it
yet. Understanding, James quietly, slowly slid his foot behind him, feeling for it.
“I’m afraid I don’t have all night for this,” Eben was saying. He inspected his wand
lazily. “I have important business to attend to, you see. I suppose I won’t waste my breath
trying to convince you to join us. It’s a shame really, you could have been such an asset to our
little team.”
He pointed his wand directly between Profesor Turnbill’s eyes.
“Give my regards to your Muggle wife.”
James felt his foot catch on the scepter, and began dragging it forwards. Eben must have
seen it, because he turned his wand on James.
“STUPEFY!”
“NO!” Professor Turnbill shouted, throwing himself into his brother. The spell whizzed
past James’s left ear, rustling his untidy dark hair, and struck Peter in the forehead.
“Peter!” Remus cried, catching him as he crumpled unconscious to the ground.
* 248 *
James wanted to run to him, but Eben and Professor Turnill were rolling across the floor,
blocking his way. Professor Turnbill was calling out spells, but Eben had his hand locked
around the wrist of his wand arm. Jets of light bounced crazily off of cabinets. Glass was
smashing, and trophies were flying.
“James,” Remus called across to him, pointing, “get the scepter!”
Professor Turnbill turned his head to look, and Eben took advantage of the distraction.
“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”
Professor Turnbill froze and went rigid as a board. Eben stepped over him and turned his
dark, crazed eyes on James. He raised his wand.
“Hand it over. Now.”
Remus suddenly sprang.
“James, Sirius, RUN!” he roared, and launched himself on top of Eben. They crashed
backwards into a trophy chase, sending even more shards of glass flying. James knelt to grab the
scepter, and then he and Sirius fled the room, hearing only shouts and smashing glass behind
them.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
James’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
“NO!” he screamed, turning back. Sirius stopped him.
“Come on James, we have to get the scepter as far away from here as we can!”
“What if he…” James began, but couldn’t finish the sentence. His stomach was twisting
itself into painful knots.
“He did it for us. We have to go!”
Eben burst from the trophy room.
“STOP!” he bellowed, raising his wand.
Various colored jets of light ricocheted off the walls. James and Sirius dodged them,
weaving their way back to the staircases. They nearly mowed over a very worried looking
Professor McGonagall when they got there, and she just had time to sputter out,
“Potter! Black! What on earth–?,” but then a jet of red light hit her in the side, throwing her
backward down the stairs. Unable to stop and help her, James and Sirius climbed furiously,
taking the steps two at a time.
* 249 *
“Where are we going?” James yelled up to Sirius, when they reached the seventh floor
landing.
“I don’t know!” Sirius replied, throwing his hands in the air. “Up!”
A jet of green light struck the banister beneath James’s hand.
“We have to keep moving,” he said, pulling Sirius away.
“This isn’t like when we were in the dungeons!” Sirius said, once they were running
again. “We’re not going to get big enough to stomp him to death, and I’m pretty sure Mrs.
Norris isn’t going to eat him!”
James didn’t know what to tell him, so instead they just ran on, passing the Fat Lady’s
portrait, and the suits of armor that once held Mrs. Norris captive. As blew flew past Flitwick’s
office, a girl in a portrait leapt to her feet.
“James, what’s wrong?”
“Eloise!” James shouted over his shoulder, “Get help, send Dumbledore. Get
somebody!”
She didn’t need telling twice. Eloise disappeared through the side of her frame just as a
jet of light hit it, sending it crashing to the ground in a pile of broken wood and splinters. Eben
swore loudly from a few yards away.
Dodging more curses, James and Sirius careened into the West Tower and mounted the
winding stair that led up to the Owlery. At the top, they burst into the straw laden room, their
trainers skidding on the dropping covered floor.
“There’s nowhere else to go!” James said stupidly.
“CLIMB!” Sirius commanded, grabbing the first ledge of owl perches. James followed,
and the two made their way upward laboriously, smearing their hands and robes with owl
droppings.
With a soft hoot, something light with salt and pepper colored wings landed on James’s
shoulder.
“Hera, take the scepter! Get it out of here!”
The young owl tried her best to grip the heavy block of obsidian, but she couldn’t lift it.
“Ha!”
Eben appeared in the doorway, breathing hard. He looked more crazed than ever, with
his mouth frothing, eyes bulging, and robes torn to ribbons from cat claws and glass. Hera
* 250 *
hooted with alarm, and as if by some protective instinct, dove at him with her little talons spread
wide.
“Depulso,” he said, almost lazily. As if struck by an invisible Quidditch beater, Hera
flew backwards in a stream of feathers and out through one of the windows.
“HERA!” James screamed.
Eben only laughed a cold, uncaring laugh, and began climbing after them.
“Where do you think you’re going? Unless you sprout wings and fly, you’re just
prolonging the inevitable.”
Sirius looked down at James, his face full of terror.
“The roof is the only place we have left to go!”
He shimmied through one of the open windows near the ceiling, and James followed,
ducking past another jet of red light.
Without his glasses it was hard to tell, but it looked to James like the wide expanse of the
lake was all around them, reflecting the bright crescent moon. A pleasant summer breeze rippled
through his hair.
We’ll have to come up here again sometime, he thought. That is, if we don’t die.
Sirius spun around, almost in a full circle.
“This way,” he said, but then he turned and looked the other way. “No, maybe this
way…”
BOOM.
James watched as the shape of Eben’s body emerged from the gaping, smoldering ruin of
what used to be one of the Owlery windows.
“Please decide quickly,” he urged, trying not to sound like Peter.
“This way!” Sirius finally said, dashing off to the left. James clambered across the
uneven shingles after him, but then a great plume of light in front of them lit up the night, and
they stopped short. Eben had blasted an enormous hole through the roof at their feet, blocking
the way forward. He strode over casually, his wand aimed at their faces.
“Give me the scepter,” he said, outstretching the palm of his free hand. “You have
nowhere else to run. We’re done with this little game, and I win.”
James glanced over at Sirius, who returned a small, sad smile, as if to say, ‘we tried our
hardest.’
* 251 *
“Perhaps you’d like to see your friend taste the Killing Curse?” Eben mused, turning his
wand on Sirius, whose eyes widened. “Stupid boy… give it to me now, or I’ll torture him first.”
Sirius spat in his face.
“That’s all you’re getting from us,” he snarled.
James looked from Eben’s outstretched hand back to the scepter in his own dirty
hands. A strange feeling began in his toes, an almost palpable hum that rose through his body to
the top of his head. The scepter was reminding him that it was alive, awake – ready.
“Take us away from here, somewhere… anywhere,” he whispered to his reflection in its
smooth, black surface.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!” yelled Eben, but as the spell escaped his lips, time slowed
down. Sirius’s eyes fell closed, just as the burst of green light gathered at the top of Eben’s
wand and froze.
With a deep, vibrating hum, the scepter tore James away from the scene into a whirling
vortex of light. He could see flashes of places and people, hear snatches of words, shouts,
conversations; he could even feel the hours, years, and decades thunder by as the scepter
whisked him away to whichever place and time it had decided to show him.
“See you at Christmas.”
James felt concrete beneath his hands and knees. With a plummeting feeling in his heart,
he realized that Sirius had been left behind. It was probably because he hadn’t been touching the
scepter. James hoped he was all right, but then a train whistle blared, startling him to his
feet. He gasped when he realized where he was. It was obvious, even without his glasses on.
It was King’s Cross Station. The Hogwarts Express was there, looking just like it had in
the fall, with great billows of black smoke issuing from its chimney. There were crowds of
people around it, loading up trunks, hugging family members and saying goodbye, but that’s
where the similarities ended. Everything else looked different. There were new benches along a
wall he didn’t remember, and the columns and ceiling struts had been painted a different
color. Even the great round signs bearing the 9 ¾ label were different. It was surely King’s
Cross Station, but it wasn’t the King’s Cross he knew. It was King’s Cross in the future.
“What if I’m in Slytherin?”
Two figures stood not far off, a father and his young son, whose small, thin face looked
terrified.
* 252 *
James gasped, his heart pounding. He didn’t have his glasses, but it was obvious. The
father was him. A much older version of him, who was now crouching down so that the little
boy’s face was slightly above his own. He was saying something back, but it was too low for
James to hear.
James fought his way closer, attempting to maneuever around the carts and trolleys, the
sea of parents saying their last parting words to their children. No one seemed to pay him any
mind, even if he was bleeding and smeared in owl droppings.
“—but if it matters to you, you’ll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin,” his older
self was saying. “The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.”
James swelled with pride. Here it was right in front of him. The asps that had whispered
such horrible secrets to him and Sirius last winter were wrong. He would know his child after
all, and he would live on to pass his own father’s advice to his son.
“Really?” the boy said, his face full of wonder.
“It did for me,” the older James said.
Now the doors were slamming all along the scarlet train, and the parents were swarming
forward for final kisses, last-minute reminders. James wanted to run up to the older version of
himself, to ask him so many questions… he was about to close the last few feet between them,
but then the small boy jumped into the carriage and a woman closed the door behind him. She
had red hair.
“Lily…” young James whispered, stopping in his tracks. She was too far away for him to
see her face, but he knew from the red hair that it had to be her. As the train began to move, the
older James walked alongside it, watching his son’s thin face, already ablaze with excitement.
Young James held back. It was a moment he couldn’t interrupt. It must have felt like a
bereavement, watching his own son glide away from him. Smiling to himself, a strange thought
came to him. Someday, when he was grown, and that moment really came, would he think to
turn around and see his eleven year old self hesitating just a few feet away?
The last trace of steam evaporated into the autumn air. The train rounded a corner, and
the older James’s hand was still raised in farewell as Lily walked back to his side and whispered
something to him. It sounded like, ‘he’ll be all right.’
* 253 *
James felt emotions unlike any he’d ever felt before. A twisting of
happiness. Longing. Maybe even a little bit of sadness, though he couldn’t say why. The
scepter wouldn’t show something that was not truly destined to be... would it?
As if deciding James had seen enough, the deep, vibrating hum returned. James saw one
last thing, the older version of himself touching something on his forehead, but then the scepter
tore him away from the scene, and the flashes of places and people began to fly backwards.
James kept his eyes squeezed shut, savoring the last bits of it, until he found himself
standing once again on the Owlery roof, with Sirius next to him. Eben’s wand was still raised,
his other hand outstretched for the piece of the scepter.
“Stupid boy…” he said. “Give it to me now, or I’ll torture him first.”
James watched again as Sirius spat in his face.
“That’s all you’re getting from us,” he snarled.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Eben shouted, and the green bolt of light erupted from his
wand.
“FREEZE!” cried James, and quite suddenly, everything stopped. James waited, but
nothing moved. Sirius was like a statue next to him, his eyes tightly closed, the green jet of light
only inches away from his chest.
Daring to breathe again, James realized that he could move freely without disrupting the
stillness of the scene. It was a strange sensation, one that once again left him with the feeling
that he was being watched by some invisible audience. Trying to ignore it, he looked closely at
Sirius’s face. It was a rare, frozen glimpse at someone preparing for their own death.
Not just anyone, James thought. My best friend.
He took Sirius by the arm and began pulling him to the side. As he did it, a weight that
he didn’t know he was still carrying lifted from his shoulders, and it was so startling, and so
wonderful, that he actually laughed out loud. He had been so disturbed by the Collector’s tiara,
by the way it seduced him – but now he knew who he was. He was so sure about it, that even if
the tiara was back in his hands, he knew it wouldn’t be able to hurt him. Whoever or whatever
the tiara was, it didn’t know love, or friendship. It never would, and James felt sorry for it.
When he had pulled Sirius far enough away that the Killing Curse would miss, James let
go. It was then that he noticed Sirius’s hand, frozen in the act of reaching for his
* 254 *
pocket. Curious, James pulled out what was inside. It was the electric blue DownsideUpper. Uncle Alphard’s words came back to him.
“—never ever use this coin unless there is a ceiling above your head… using it outdoors
would be most unwise…”
The corner of James’s mouth twitched up into a smile as he flipped the coin into the air,
not into his own hand, but over Eben’s outstretched palm. It hovered above it, turning over and
over, as if waiting for James’s command.
“Unfreeze.”
The green jet of light went sailing harmlessly into the distance, and Sirius, safely out of
the way, gasped hard. James had just enough time to catch the look of confusion, consternation,
and surprise on Eben’s face before the coin landed on his open palm, and he was launched up
into the dark sky, screaming. The coin fell to the ground where he had been standing, spinning
to a stop before squarely landing on tails.
Sirius picked up the coin, laughing.
“He didn’t call it.”
James grinned, but then a shouted word reached his ears from very, very high above him.
“REDUCTO!”
From out of the heavens, the last curse of Eben Turnbill came soaring back to earth.
“Look out!” James cried, pushing Sirius back toward the Owlery window, but it was too
late. What was left of the roof exploded as the spell hit its mark, and James felt his body get
thrown into the air with the blast. Then the wind was whistling in his ears – he was accelerating
towards the lake below – but then, impossibly, he felt his body slowing down.
Maybe this is what dying feels like… James thought, and then the world was gone.
* 255 *
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE MARK REVEALED
James became vaguely aware of a bright light streaming directly into his eyes.
Heaven? he thought. No, that can’t be. What about what the scepter showed me? I
can’t be dead. I can’t be dead!
“I can’t be dead!” James shouted, sitting upright.
“No. You most certainly are not dead, James,” a voice answered him.
James blinked a few times. He wasn’t sure who was speaking to him. Everything was
still blurry, and his intense headache didn’t make it any better.
“Here,” the same voice said, and James felt his glasses being passed into his hand. James
put them back on, and the face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view. He was seated pleasantly
in a chair drawn up next to his bedside.
“Professor Dumbledore?”
“Yes, James. It seems you have had some very interesting adventures during your first
year here at Hogwarts.”
James nodded dumbly. Then, as if a flood gate had been opened, everything came
rushing back to him at once.
“Where is Sirius? And Peter? Remus! Is Remus okay? What happened to him? Mrs.
Norris, and… and Hera, Madam Pomfrey!”
Dumbledore smiled serenely.
“They are all fine, James.”
* 256 *
James flooded with relief.
“Professor Dumbledore, we found it! We found the Bolt of Ages! Where is it? I had it
when I fell – what happened when I fell?”
Dumbledore waited patiently for James to get all of his questions out before answering.
“Before I answer your questions, let me tell you how proud I am that you, Sirius, Remus,
and Peter were able to finish the quest that neither I, nor other wizards much more skilled than
myself could.”
James flushed with pride.
“Perhaps,” Dumbledore continued, “those of us who are older and much more
experienced should be reminded to always listen to and appreciate the ideas of our younger,
more creative pupils.”
“Where is the Bolt of Ages?”
Dumbledore folded his hands over his lap.
“I was able to stop you during your fall, but the scepter, I could not. It disappeared into
the lake, and James, as you, Sirius, and I are the only three people alive who know its current
whereabouts, I suggest we leave it there.”
“Why?” James asked. His hopes were dashed, but for reasons he could not quite
understand.
Dumbledore’s blue eyes softened.
“James, I do not know the extent to which you tried the Bolt of Ages for yourself, but if I
may speak from experience, as a boy I too sought great and powerful things, perhaps not out of
the best place in my heart. I only looked only forward. I never looked around me, and as a
result, I missed out on some of the greatest gifts of my life.”
James was about to ask what, but then something told him not to. It was a sense that he
would somehow be intruding on something private, something that still carried a great deal of
grief for Dumbledore. Then, the portrait of the girl that the Collector mentioned suddenly came
back to him, and it left him with a sneaking suspicion that she had something to do with
it. Seeming grateful for James’s silence, Dumbledore smiled softly.
“So many wizards... So many looking for the ability to change the past, or learn the
future. Of the three, I think the present just might be the most magical. It is the most momentary
– the most fleeting. It is the hardest to capture, but the easiest to change.”
* 257 *
“Sir,” James asked, drawing his knees up to his chest, “What will Voldemort do now that
Eben Turnbill is dead?”
He did not flinch at the name, but Dumbledore looked slightly surprised, and maybe even
a little bit admiring to hear James say it.
“James, I will not lie to you,” he said. “Voldemort knows your name now, and because
you have defied him, you, along with your family and friends, may no longer be safe.”
James sat bolt upright.
“My mum and dad, Merlin—”
“James, please relax,” Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly to a very concerned looking
Madam Pomfrey, who had just come bustling in at James’s raised voice. “I assure you, the staff
of the school and I have your family and friends well protected.”
Madam Pomfrey gave Dumbledore a disapproving look, but retreated all the same.
“How?” asked James.
Dumbledore leaned close.
“I will share this with you because it concerns you, but I must ask you to exercise caution
in sharing this information with others. I believe the time has come for us to respond to the
growing threat of Voldemort and his followers. We are organizing a defensive order to watch
his movements, and when necessary, protect those we feel will become targets.”
James’s eyes grew wide.
“I want to help! I want to join!”
Dumbledore shook his head.
“I am afraid at this time in your life you are not yet prepared.”
“When will I be?”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with amusement – or could it be pride?
“If any luck is on our side, James, by the time you are old enough, there will be no need
for the order to exist at all.”
Disappointment spread through James as he slumped miserably back on the pillows.
“If it is any consolation,” Dumbledore said, gathering his robes and rising from his chair,
“I had the same conversation with Mr. Black earlier this morning. He wanted to join too, but I
gave him the same answer I gave you.”
James remembered with a jolt what day it was.
* 258 *
“My History of Magic Exam! I’ve missed it!”
Dumbledore chuckled.
“You and your friends will not need to worry about that. I daresay you’ve had plenty of
independent study in History of Magic this year. After all, we have no way of knowing if you
used the scepter to learn the answers before sitting the exam, do we?”
With a wink, he turned to leave the ward.
“Sir?” James asked.
Dumbledore paused to look back.
“Would the scepter ever show something that might not happen?”
A small, understanding smile crept across Dumbledore’s old features.
“No, James. It shows what was, and what will be. The real trick, however, is
understanding what you have seen.”
Before he turned to go, Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled once more, but for reasons he could
not understand, James sensed a small amount of sadness behind his smile. Before he had any
more time to think about it, Dumbledore was gone.
By the time Madam Pomfrey let James leave the hospital wing, the exam period was
over, and almost everyone had gone outside to enjoy what was left of the late summer afternoon
before the train ride home in the morning. James walked alone out onto the front steps of the
castle, scanning the grounds for any hint of his friends. He finally spotted them beneath an old
beech tree near the lake.
“Hey guys,” he said, walking up behind them. The bright orange sun was just beginning
to sink low on the hazy horizon.
“Good to see you in one piece, James,” Remus said, his back against the trunk of the
tree. “I rescued your invisibility cloak for you – it’s in your trunk upstairs. Sirius filled us in on
what happened… at least what he could remember…”
Sirius shrugged.
“When the Reductor Curse hit the roof, I was blasted backwards into a turret. Broke my
arm, but Madam Pomfrey patched it up right away.”
James turned to Remus.
“What about you? I thought for sure he used the Killing Curse on you!”
* 259 *
Remus laughed.
“I heard him beginning to say it, so I reacted the first way I could, and grabbed the
nearest trophy to block it. The spell bounced off and hit the wall, but I got knocked out. Poor T.
M. Riddle’s award has a nice big burn on it though. Good luck to whoever has to polish that
one.”
“Remus, you really didn’t have to help us escape like that,” James said. “You could have
been killed.”
Remus shrugged.
“Someone had to do something. You three really are my first real friends. Like my
mother said before Christmas...”
Sirius perked up. Remus hadn’t acknowledged the encounter with his mother since it
happened.
“She’s right,” he continued. “It’s hard for people like me…”
For a moment, it looked as if he was fighting a very hard internal struggle over whether
or not to share more with them.
“…you know, I can be shy when I don’t know someone,” he finished, deflating like an
old balloon. He obviously wasn’t telling the entire truth, but after what he did the night before,
no one wanted to press the issue.
James sank down in the warm grass next to Sirius.
“Dumbledore came to see me,” Sirius said. “He said he was going to see you, too, when
you woke up.”
“He did,” James said quietly. “I think he lost someone when he was younger, and I think
I know who it was.”
“I do too,” Sirius said, and then, to James’s astonishment, he pulled an oval object on a
chain from his pocket. It was the silver locket that the Collector had showed them – the one that
belonged to the portrait of the girl in Dumbledore’s office.
“You got it out,” James said wonderingly. “How?”
“When you dropped the map, the Collector saw it, and he was about to make a go for it. I
tackled him, remember? The locket fell out on the ground while we were fighting. He didn’t
notice that I nicked it.”
* 260 *
James took the locket and turned it over in his hands. It was solid, but still looked
strange, as if textured by brush strokes.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“A lot happened that night,” Sirius said. “I forgot about it until Dumbledore reminded
me.”
“We need to give it back,” James said, handing it to him.
“And we will,” Sirius said, pocketing it. “At the right time.”
James gazed out upon the brilliant red and gold reflections on the surface of the lake.
“The scepter is out there somewhere.”
Sirius smiled.
“Maybe the squid is time surfing.”
Everyone laughed. In the years to come, James would always fondly remember that quiet
moment at the very end of their first adventure. In later years, he never could recall exactly what
it was they talked about that afternoon, or what their eleven year old plans for the gloriously
unknown future were, but he would always remember the relief and the contentment he felt to be
with his closest friends talking into the late dusk, until the very last scarlet hues of the summer
sun vanished beneath the dark horizon.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry!” Sirius called out, swerving the Hogsmeade trolley with his school trunk at top
speed around an extremely annoyed Lucius Malfoy. James was gaining on him.
“Hold on Hera!” James laughed. He swerved around Lucius’ other side, nearly neck in
neck with Sirius. Hera, with her left wing bandaged from Eben’s attack, somehow managed to
hang on, but not without casting a few pleading glances back at James to slow down. A few
seconds later, Peter came puffing along with his trolley.
“Wait up guys!” he panted.
Remus brought up the rear at a brisk walk, apologizing to everyone for his friends’
antics. It was hardly necessary, though. A rumor had been born at dinner the night before. A
rumor that James Potter and Sirius Black had blown up part of the Owlery roof as a practical
joke. The rumor rippled through all four houses overnight, and now, everyone wanted to get a
closer look at them.
* 261 *
James was about to put on a particularly good burst of speed, but then he spied Professor
Turnbill wading among the students, saying his goodbyes. Much to Hera’s relief, he slowed
down.
“Professor? I’m sorry about everything that happened this year, and about your brother.”
Turnbill smiled warmly, putting a heavy hand on James’s shoulder.
“I’ll be all right, James. You and your friends truly are incredible wizards, having
accomplished what you have. Eben made bad choices, and he faced the consequences.”
James nodded, looking down at his feet.
“Hopefully we can have a better year next year.”
The smile on Turnbill’s face faded.
“James, I won’t be coming back next year.”
“Why!” asked James, aghast.
Turnbill laughed.
“As you’ve probably guessed by my collection, being a teacher isn’t my primary
profession. I’ve been asked to retrieve an artifact this fall, so I’m afraid I won’t be in the
country.”
At the mention of his collection, James remembered the Pendant of Bast. Pulling it from
his pocket, he held it out for Turnbill.
“This is yours, and you should have it back. Mrs. Norris and I borrowed it from you.”
Turnbill turned the pendant over in his palm, looking slightly taken aback, but then
handed it back to James.
“While I have no idea how you managed to find this, I want you to keep it. After all of
your hard work this year, you deserve it.”
James’s heart leapt.
“Really?”
Turnbill nodded.
“Have a good summer holiday, James. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
James grinned and turned to go, but then a small question in the back of his mind
resurfaced.
“Professor?” he asked hesitantly, “do you have a tattoo on your left arm?”
Turnbill nodded.
* 262 *
“Yes I do, James. I would show you, but Headmaster Dumbledore has kindly asked me
not to draw attention to it.”
“What is it of?” James asked, hoping he would at least tell him.
Turnbill took a deep breath, and surveyed James closely. After a moment’s
consideration, he took a furtive look to the left and right, and leaned close.
“It is the sign of the legendary Deathly Hallows,” he answered softly. “I, along with
many others, have searched for them all my life. We use the symbol to reveal ourselves to other
believers, in the hope that we may help one another in the Quest.”
James was about to ask exactly what the Deathly Hallows were, but the train whistle
sounded behind him, signaling for all students to get on board.
“Thanks Professor,” he said instead, waving as he hurried to get his cart on the train. “I’ll
see you again, I hope!”
Turnbill smiled, and as he lifted his arm to wave back, he let his sleeve fall down to
reveal a strange mark on his left forearm – an eye enclosed in a triangle. As soon as he was sure
James had seen it, he quickly lowered his arm and rolled the sleeve back down with a wink.
The return journey on the train was much too fast for James. One moment they were
looking out the windows onto Hogsmeade Station, then, just a few Chocolate Frogs later, they
were looking out at King’s Cross.
“See you soon, guys!” Peter called over his shoulder, making his through the crowd to his
mother and sister’s outstretched arms.
“Take care of that owl, James,” Remus said, bending to look at Hera through the
bars. “You’ll need her so all of us can keep in touch this summer.”
With a sincere smile, he waved to James and Sirius before leaving to find his
family. James watched Remus’s retreating back, but then noticed another family nearby –
Lily’s.
“—besides,” an older, snobby girl was saying, “at MY school we learned how to do
algebra, and how to make volcanoes out of baking soda…”
Lily, who was attempting to at least appear slightly interested in what her sister was
saying, saw James watching and managed a small smile and wave. James waved back.
* 263 *
“Sirius,” he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable, “do you remember everything the asps
said to us in Slytherin’s room?”
Sirius nodded.
“I told you, I refu—”
“I know now that none of it was true,” James said plainly.
Sirius’s handsome brow creased.
“How?”
James told him about the scepter’s flash forward, but as he came to it, he made a decision
to omit Lily from the story.
“Wow,” Sirius breathed. “See, I told you. Where was I? Was I there? Did I have any
kids?”
James frowned. Now that he thought about it, Sirius had been mysteriously absent from
the scene. Peter and Remus had been, too. Seeing Sirius’s hopeful stare though, he couldn’t
bear to tell him the truth.
“Yeah, you were there too. You looked good.”
Sirius chuckled.
“Well, if I’m alive then, at least I can be as reckless as I want now.”
Just then, something brown and furry planted its front paws on James’s shirt. Hera
hooted in fright.
“Merlin!” James laughed, scratching the German Shepard behind the ears.
Sirius dropped to his knees to pet the big dog.
“I wish I was you, Merlin. I don’t want to spend another summer with my
parents. Chasing my tail around in James’s backyard sounds like a lot more fun.”
James smiled.
“Well maybe next summer, you can just come home with me. I’m sure my parents would
take you in in a heartbeat.”
“Really?” Sirius beamed.
“Yeah,” James grinned. “And we can go on more exciting and dangerous quests.”
“For what this time?” laughed Sirius.
“The Deathly Hallows.” James said matter of factly.
“The what?..” Sirius asked.
* 264 *
“I don’t know what they are,” said James, “but I’m sure we can find out.”
And so they crossed the barrier back to the outside world, with one journey behind them,
and many more ahead.
* 265 *
About the Author
Lisa Marie Wilt has been an avid fan of the Harry Potter series
since she read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in
2001. This is her first attempt at writing a full length novel, but
she hopes to write many more, including some that are entirely
her own.
Lisa Marie lives in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. She is a marine
biologist, but loves to quilt, knit, and of course, write in her
spare time. She also makes Disney music videos, which can be
found online at www.youtube.com/celebratingdisney.
Visit www.jamespotterproject.com or email [email protected] with the subject line
“subscribe” for exclusive updates on future book releases!
* 266 *