The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) (43 page)

"You cannot deceive me, Slytherin," Merlin rumbled. "You wish to maintain control of the Gatekeeper upon hope of its descent. You wish to use it to exact revenge upon your enemies. You and they will be long dead by that time."

Slytherin laughed lightly. "It isn't of any consequence to you, my friend. My half of the stone will remain, regardless of my own short time upon this earth. It will be passed on. When and if you do return, signaling the descent of the Curse, the stone will find its way into the hands of my descendents. I merely wish for them to be prepared. It is only fair, don't you agree? Besides," Slytherin went on, his voice dropping, "if you do decide to abandon your course and thwart the Gatekeeper, well, are you not Merlinus the Terrible, the last of the line of Myrddred? Are you not the greatest sorcerer of all the ages? Surely, such a creature as you does not require the use of a mere 'dark trinket'."

Merlin was silent again, and James sensed him simmering. Finally, he said, "As you wish, Slytherin. Provide me my half of the stone and I will take my leave of this place."

There came the sound of a drawer opening, and then the clunk of a small box. A long silence followed.

"I could simply take both halves of the stone from you, my 'friend'," Merlin said quietly. "After all, am I not Merlinus the Terrible?"

"You forget the conditions of your lamentable bargain with Hadyn," Slytherin replied. There was the clunk of a box closing. "You are unable to touch the hair of anyone residing within this castle. Your threats are formidable, but fortunately, they are to no effect here. I do, however, appreciate the sentiment of it. You may consider it returned."

The floor creaked as Merlin stood. James saw the shadows change in the room as Merlin prepared to leave. A figure suddenly blocked the view through the opening in the double doors. It was Slytherin. He opened the doors slightly and peered in at James. A thoughtful look crossed his face. His eyes narrowed.

"And by the way, Merlinus," he said, not taking his eyes off of James, "if you do return in a future age, beware of enemies. Your disappearance will certainly be legend. Some will be looking for you, and not all will intend to welcome you."

"I am quite accustomed to dealing with enemies," Merlin's voice replied, echoing from the depths of the room beyond.

"Nevertheless, if you should come across a certain young man… brown-eyed, with short, unkempt raven hair and a look of constant insolence, beware of him. He is your enemy. I have divined it. You must dispose of him."

"I dispose of no one without just cause," Merlin growled. "Regardless of your divinations. And even those who deserve such disposal occasionally slip through my grasp."

"Whereas some who
don't
deserve it still fall under its judgment," Slytherin declared coldly, as if twisting a knife. "But suit yourself, Merlinus. Watch for the boy. Or ignore him at your peril. I care not which."

A moment later, there came a burst of warm air and a smell of dirt and growing things. Merlin was gone. Slytherin bared his teeth at James.

"You said
history
had gotten it right about me," he said, grinning viciously. "Somehow, I don't believe history will even know your name, my young friend."

W
ith a deft flourish, Slytherin threw a black cloth over the oval mirror on the easel. James cringed, fearing he'd vanish the moment his reflection was hidden. Slytherin gave him a disdainful look.

"Obviously, the mirror would be useless as a prison if the inmate could not be released by the jailor, you fool," he said. "Had you attempted it yourself, your fears would have come true, but if the mirror is covered by someone else, you are safe. You see? Even now, I am the consummate teacher, and you the reluctant pupil. Come to me, my friend."

James shook his head, pressing his lips together stubbornly.

Slytherin sighed wearily. "I'm not going to hurt you, boy. I merely require you to stand with me so that we may Disapparate together."

"You can't Disapparate inside Hogwarts," James replied. "Everybody knows that."

"I don't know who this 'everybody' is that you speak of, but I am beginning to suspect that the Hogwarts you believe you know is not the Hogwarts we currently occupy. Now come here."

James tightened his grip on the arms of the ladder-back chair. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You wish to get to the bottom of this misunderstanding, do you not?" Slytherin asked. "We both want the same thing, my young friend. Now come."

As Slytherin said the last word, he flicked his wand. The ladder-back chair leapt off the floor, taking James with it. It soared toward Slytherin, and then dumped James onto the floor in front of him. James scrambled to his feet, staring angrily up at the bald wizard.

"Why don't you just Imperio me, you big bully?" James spat.

"That is an Unforgivable Curse," Slytherin said, tilting his head in mock dismay. "I am a teacher at this fine establishment. As such, I obey the law of the land. I may not always agree with those laws, but nonetheless..."

Slytherin held out his hand.

James stared at it, frowning furiously. He knew that if he didn't obey Slytherin, the man would just force him to comply somehow. Something inside James determined that he'd rather walk into whatever awaited him than be carried to it. With that, he looked up into the wizard's cold eyes, and then took the proffered hand.

There was a sudden, dizzying sense of speed and darkness. The floor seemed to fall away from James' feet. A split second later, another surface materialized beneath him. James stumbled on it, and Slytherin let him go with a shove, driving him to his knees.

"No Disapparition," Slytherin said scornfully, stalking away. "No useful spells, no understanding of cunning or resourcefulness. I know not where you come from or who you are, my young friend, but whoever sent you must have been truly desperate."

James collected himself and stood, struggling with a sort of residual dizziness. Wherever Slytherin had taken him, it was very dark and cool. Wind blew fretfully, pushing a rafter of clouds overhead. The moon seemed unusually close. Its frosty glow illuminated the round, recessed floor of this strange place. James glanced around. The space was circular, with stone terraces leading down to a central wooden floor. On either side of this, two marble thrones faced each other. James' heart sank. He'd been here once before, in his own time.

"You seem to know much about us," Slytherin said, raising his voice over the moan of the wind. "Therefore, you must know the purpose of the Sylvven Tower. Its height, they say, places it outside the realm of the laws of men. Here, there is no such thing as an Unforgivable Curse. Here, my young friend, anything can happen."

As if to emphasize Slytherin's point, there was a sudden hiss and swirl of black smoke. It seemed to stream onto the tower, coalescing on a point to Slytherin's right. It formed the shape of a man in a black cloak. He was hoodless, with sharp features and cruel eyes. Slytherin smiled, not taking his gaze from James. More swirls appeared, hissing into shape, forming figures all around the circumference of the tower's top terrace. Every figure wore a black cloak, their heads uncovered. Each newcomer turned to look at James, their faces cold and calculating.

"Meet my Circle of Nine!" Slytherin cried, throwing his arms wide. "Fellow wizards who, like myself, recognize the inevitable future of the magical world, and who join me in fomenting it. Consider yourself honored to witness this, boy, for few alive know of us, or could guess at the counsels we keep. And now, let the summit begin! I have convened us this night because we have very important business to attend to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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