The Vault of Destinies (James Potter #3) (100 page)

James would have liked to have had more time to say goodbye to his friends, but it was an emergency situation and he understood.

"Bye Zane," he said, reaching to shake the boy's hand where they stood on the dark pier. "The ship will be here any moment, so…"

Zane threw an arm around James' shoulders and drew him into a fierce embrace. When he released his friend, Zane's face was pale and tense. "This changes everything, doesn't it?"

James shrugged and then nodded. "That's what Merlin said back when the Vault was first broken into."

"Do you think the old man's really gone for good?"

James did. He nodded.

"See you, James," Ralph sighed. "I wish I didn't have to stay behind."

"You'll be back soon enough," James assured him. "Just be careful. Things are likely to be pretty dodgy around here for the next bit."

Ralph nodded morosely. "I know it probably won't be much better back home, but still… this is where it's all beginning. I'd really love to just put the whole mess behind me for awhile."

"Sorry," James said seriously. "I know. Try to get home soon."

A foghorn echoed over the dark water of the harbor. James turned and saw the silhouette of a low ship approaching, weaving its way through the much larger ships moored nearby. Soon, the magical ship—not the
Gwyndemere
this time—would be at the dock. He and his family would climb the gangplank to its deck, leaving the rest of his traveling companions behind. His heart was low as he turned back to his friends once more.

"Take care of yourselves," he said. "We can keep up via the Shard. You have mine and I can use Dad's. Don't forget."

"We won't," Ralph assured him. "Tell Rose and the rest we said hi."

James rolled his eyes, dreading the task of explaining all of this to Rose, but he nodded anyway.

The ship swept slowly into position alongside the pier. Ropes thumped to the dock and were secured to nearby bollards. The gangplank appeared.

It took only a few minutes for the Potters and Weasleys to climb aboard. Apart from a few hastily packed bags gathered by James' mum, they had left most of their things behind, abandoned, at least for now.

Shortly, the ship was underway, gliding smoothly across the black waves beneath a cloudy night sky. James and Albus' owls, Nobby and Flynn, had flown to meet them at the pier and now circled the ship like silent kites, alighting occasionally on the ship's masts. James leaned against the stern railing and watched. The New York skyline was eerily dark, lit only by the relatively dimmer lights of New Amsterdam.

"Why do you think she did it?" James asked quietly. Next to him, also leaning on the railing, Albus shrugged.

"To save Dad and Titus. Right?"

James shook his head vaguely. "I don't know." He thought for a long moment, and then said, "She could have done it some other way. Don't you think? She could have… I don't know… battled Morgan right there on the street and broken her spell over the helicopter. Or perhaps she could have just thought all those W.U.L.F. killers to death. She can do that kind of thing, you know. She doesn't even need a wand."

Albus nodded. "Yeah," he agreed doubtfully. "But I guess she'd just had enough with death. Don't you think?"

James sighed deeply. He thought of the journey Judith had forced them to take through the Nexus Curtains—all the killings and mayhem she had made them witness, all the loved ones murdered for the sake the struggle against evil. Even that had been part of Judith's plan, pushing Petra to make her final, ultimate decision.

"She wasn't just trying to save Dad," James finally said. "She was trying to change it all. It was probably a huge mistake… and it'll probably end in even more death… but maybe she was just tired of things being the way they are. Maybe this was just her final act of rejection."

Albus frowned. "Rejection of what?"

James shook his head. "Everything," he said grimly. "Just… everything."

Albus considered this. After a minute, he stirred and dug his hand into his back pocket.

"Here," he said, holding something out to James.

"My wand," James said, taking the wooden shaft from his brother's hand. "You found it down on the Clutch field?"

Albus shrugged and leaned on the railing again. "I thought you'd want it. I went looking for it after you lot went dimension-hopping."

James shook his head slowly. "I'll never figure you out, little brother," he said appreciatively.

"Don't even try," Albus replied.

James nodded and rejoined his brother, leaning on the railing and watching the oily black waves.

Below-decks, James knew, his mum was putting Lily to bed, probably singing a nighttime song to her just as if everything was normal. Elsewhere, possibly in the captain's quarters, his father and Titus Hardcastle were discussing what was to come. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey had gone down to their berth immediately, doomed to sleep in the same ship that bore their dead daughter. Molly had already been asleep by then, held in her mother's arms. James guessed that Aunt Audrey would probably not let go of her for the entire night, but would sleep sitting upright on the bed, leaning against the headboard, taking what comfort she could from the sleeping breath of her surviving child.

Lucy was dead. It struck James as completely impossible and ridiculous. Reluctantly, he replayed the memory of her last moments, recalled the horrible helplessness of watching Judith raise her hand with murder in her eyes. Lucy had been trying to save Izzy, and had acted almost without thinking, rushing forward into the teeth of her own doom.

With a shudder and a dry sob, James realized two things: that Lucy really was gone, and that he had loved her. It hadn't been the same sort of love that he felt for Petra, but it hadn't merely been the love of a cousin either.

Could he have done something to save her? Should he have acted sooner? Or held her back somehow? Heat rushed to his cheeks as he considered this, and felt the first deep pangs of regret.

I'm sorry, Lucy
, he said in his thoughts, in the deepest depths of his heart, almost as if it were a prayer.
I should have done something. I should have stopped her from hurting you. Forgive me…

In response, he remembered Lucy on the day of the Valentine's dance, when he had almost kissed her for the first time.
I forgave you that very night
, she'd admitted shyly,
I can't stay mad at
you…

But it was only a memory. Lucy's voice was stilled forever. Tears pricked James' eyes, but he refused them. He knew that if he let them come, they wouldn't stop coming for a long time, and he was just too tired to go through that now. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, pushing the tears away. Next to him, purposely not watching, Albus sighed sadly.

Beneath them, the ship cut a smooth wake through the harbor, heading out into the ocean and leaving the half-dark twin cities behind.

James felt terribly alone. Somewhere out there, falling further and further behind them, were Petra and Izzy. And what of Judith, the Lady of the Lake? Had she retreated back into the World Between the Worlds? James thought not. This was her world now—her chaos. She wouldn't miss it, no matter what. James had a strong, sinking feeling that none of them had seen the last of her.

Eventually, the pressing darkness became too much for James and Albus. Without a word, they walked along the deck and found the doorway that led below. They followed the corridor until they discovered the berth that belonged to their parents. Harry was there now, along with Ginny, who was indeed singing to Lily as she drifted to sleep.

At least they were still all together. That counted for a lot, if not everything.

That night, the five of them stayed together in a single berth, piled like cats on the two large beds.

The next morning, James unpacked what clothes he had. They had been hastily gathered by his own mum from his dormitory room before she'd Disapparated to meet them at the pier, and she had forgotten his favorite pair of jeans. He sighed, reminding himself to ask Ralph or Zane to send them to him, and was about to toss his duffle bag beneath the bunk when he noticed something tumbling loosely in the bag's bottom. He raised it again and peered inside. In the darkness was a small bundle of parchment, closed so tightly that it didn't show the slightest seam. James recognized it immediately and his heart trip-hammered.

He touched the packet briefly, but nothing happened—no overwhelming visions or telepathic blasts. Carefully, he retrieved the packet and laid it on the small table of his room. Feeling a strange mixture of hope and trepidation, he tapped the packet with his wand, whispering the spell that would open it.

The parchments unfurled, blooming, as before, like an origami flower, but the pages were no longer covered with Petra's handwriting. Now, there was only one line, written in the center of the top page. James leaned over the parchment, his brow furrowing as he read.

She hadn't signed it, but then again, she hadn't needed to. James closed the parchment packet again and simply stared at it. Finally, after nearly a minute, he picked it up. He put his wand in his right back pocket and the parchment packet in the left.

There, he carried it from then on, until the very last time he ever saw her.

The End.

James Potter and the Vault of Destinies (the "Work") is Harry Potter series ("Series") fan fiction and was not created by Series author J.K. Rowling nor under her auspices. To the extent that trademarks of the Series (the "Proprietary Rights") are used in the Work, such use is incidental and not for purposes of source indication. Any such trademarks are and remain property of Ms. Rowling and her assigns. The author hereby disclaims any interest in said Proprietary Rights. The Work is © 2008 G. Norman Lippert.

The next day, Gabriella finally found Coalroot.

She had spent the morning (not that she could tell if it truly was morning or not) descending a long, straight shaft ever deeper into the earth. The walls of the tunnel had grown increasingly taller and narrower as she walked, so that she felt like a mouse crawling within the walls of a cottage. The air had become warmer as she progressed and was now quite hot. Sweat trickled into her eyes, and she swiped it away with the inside of her wrist.

There was light as well. Unlike every other glow that she had encountered in the caverns, however, this light was neither blue nor cold. It was a burnished red, growing gradually brighter as she progressed. The sparks of her torch streaked ahead, following the course of the tunnel as if in the teeth of a hard wind despite the perfect stillness of the air.