James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

was. This was Voldemort himself, in the flesh. 'I was not to be disturbed for anything other than Harry Potter. Bellatrix here assures me I was, indeed, rather specific about that requirement. And yet she herself is the one responsible for interrupting my work without any Harry Potter to present me upon my return.'

        Bellatrix sobbed and rolled off the sofa, throwing herself onto the floor at Voldemort's feet. 'He was here, my Lord! I tell you: he was my prisoner when I summoned you; otherwise, I would never have dared! Lucius and Narcissa can attest to the fact! But we were betrayed at the last minute—' Bellatrix flung an arm toward a man James hadn't noticed yet. The man stood in the shadows, his face deathly pale and blank. His hair was long and white. 'Tell him, Lucius!' Bellatrix implored. 'Tell the Dark Lord that we had Potter in our grasp!' When the man didn't respond, Bellatrix's face contorted into desperate rage. 'Then perhaps you should tell him how you were bested by the boy Potter! Tell him, Lucius, how you were Stunned unconscious mere moments after they burst upon us! Tell him!'

        'Severus,' Voldemort said, ignoring the woman's raving, sobbing protests, 'this unfortunate occasion has pressed me to consider an option that I had hoped would be unnecessary.'

        James turned and saw Snape standing in front of the closed door of the drawing room. He knew neither Snape nor Voldemort could see him; nevertheless, he felt very uncomfortable standing between them as they spoke. He moved into a nearby corner opposite the staring figure of Lucius Malfoy. Snape merely stood and waited, looking unflinchingly at the awful, snakelike face.

        'I have summoned you from your post for the same reason I have dismissed Narcissa, Greyback, and Lucius' son. No one else need know of the duty I am placing upon you. Lucius himself will have his own role if he chooses to accept it; I have every expectation that he will be eager to prove his worth after recent events. But you, Severus, will perform a very important duty in this arrangement.'

        'Whatever you wish, my Lord,' Snape said evenly.

        Voldemort went on, stepping away from the hearth. 'As you know, Severus, I have prepared Horcruxes, creating an unbroken chain of immortality for my ascendance…'

        As Voldemort slowly crossed the room, the broken chandelier rose silently from the floor, allowing him to pass beneath it. The shattered bits of crystal rose with it, turning and glinting in the air like water droplets.

        'I am quite confident that these Horcruxes will serve me well; however, in the extremely unlikely event that any of them should be destroyed—'

        'Never, my Lord!' Bellatrix cried, still groveling on the floor. 'It is impossible!'

        '—I have prepared one final Horcrux,' Voldemort went on, completely ignoring Bellatrix's outburst. 'It is rather unique. In fact, I am quite confident that such a thing has never before been created.'

        Voldemort reached the center of the room and stopped. As the broken chandelier hovered over him, he reached slowly into his cloak and produced a long, narrow dagger. It was singularly ugly, made of silver with a jewel-encrusted handle. The blade was tarnished to a dark glint, as if it had been rubbed with soot.

        'This dagger,' Voldemort went on, turning it slowly in the firelight, 'is rather special to me. It has travelled with me long and served me on many occasions. You may be interested to know that it once belonged to my father. I took it as an inheritance from his dead hand. Thus, it is quite fitting that this dagger, Severus, is the final and perhaps most important of my Horcruxes. I am entrusting you to safeguard it within the protection of Hogwarts until the time comes for its use.'

        'I will guard it with my life, my Lord,' Snape said, inclining his head. 'I am honored to be entrusted with a task that will only add to your long life.'

        'Alas, Severus,' Voldemort said, pulling the dagger away, as if reluctant to give it up. 'This is not that sort of Horcrux. With this relic, I am thinking only of future generations. Never let it be said that your Lord is not gracious, for this Horcrux is not to be used for myself. As I have already told you, this Horcrux is special. The part of my soul that it contains is shut off from me forever. I cannot reclaim it. Thus, if, in the remarkable and unimaginable event that every Horcrux but this were destroyed, this dagger would not assure my survival.'

        Bellatrix gasped, but her eyes were huge and avid as she watched Voldemort. Her gaze never left the dagger as it flitted and glinted in his pale hand.

        'The part of my soul locked within this dagger is a gift, my friends. It is meant to be passed on. Lucius, my loyal servant, I have asked you to remain because I know your desperate—and justifiable—desire to prove yourself to me. It shall be your duty and honor to bestow the gift of the dagger should that day ever come.'

        For the first time, Lucius Malfoy's face flickered with life. He blinked at Voldemort, and then stumbled forward, not quite daring to touch his master.

        'Thank you, my Lord! It is my honor! I will not fail you!'

        'I am certain of that, Lucius,' Voldemort said smoothly, almost kindly. 'For if, for some reason, you fail the dagger, it will find you. I have bound it to you, and your family. In the event that something unfortunate befalls Headmaster Snape, you must retrieve the dagger from him. It will be waiting for you. And in the event that the time passes for its use and you have not fulfilled your role, it will seek you with its own intent. It will come for you, and your family. I do trust that you understand.'

        'I do, my Lord,' Lucius rasped, nodding. 'I will perform whatever duty you entrust to me. I vow my oath, Master!'

        Voldemort nodded slowly. 'Then your work begins this day, Lucius. Find for me a worthy vessel. Find a family whose blood is pure but whose loyalties will never be suspect. When the time comes, go to the woman in that family who is with child. She must take the dagger unto herself, and by her own hand, use the dagger to trace my symbol—the first initial of my name—upon the swell of her unborn son, drawing it in her own blood. Let her willingness infuse the life of the dagger into that mother's blood, taking it to the child. Thus, this relic of my soul will be passed on. The boy will carry my essence, made anew, ready to serve yet another generation. This is your duty and your oath to me, Lucius. Swear it.'

        'I swear, my Lord!' Lucius rasped, falling to one knee.

        'My Lord!' Bellatrix cried breathlessly, crawling to her knees and imploring with one hand. 'Choose me! Let me be the vessel of your gift to future generations! I will raise the boy to be your perfect image! I am willing! I am eager!'

        'Yes, loyal Bellatrix,' Voldemort said softly, not turning to her. Bits of the floating crystal chandelier revolved in the air between them. 'But your loyalties are your most damning quality for this task. No one must guess in whose womb my soul is to be reborn. Despite your greatest wish, this duty cannot fall to you.'

        Bellatrix sobbed. 'Then why have you kept me here, my Lord?' she wailed desperately. 'Why have you retained me only to see my greatest desire plucked from my grasp?'

        Voldemort sighed indulgently. 'Your very question contains the answer, dear Bellatrix. But do try to look on the bright side: I had considered simply killing you for allowing Harry Potter to slip through your grasp this night. Instead, I have merely killed your greatest dream.'

        'Nooooo!' Bellatrix shrieked, crumpling, and James' hair stood up. He'd never heard a more despairing, hopeless cry.

        Voldemort strode forward, smiling as if Bellatrix's wail of agony was the sweetest music. He held the dagger out to Snape. As Snape took the dagger, the suspended chandelier fell again. It crashed noisily to the floor behind Voldemort, shattering like a bomb and drowning out the pitiful wail of Bellatrix Lestrange.

        The memory shattered as well.

        There was a flash of swirling smoke, and then one more scene materialized, swimming out of the mists like a fever dream. In this memory, James saw Severus Snape again. He was pacing in the Headmaster's office, which was his own office by this time.

        'You seem to misunderstand, Albus,' Snape said, speaking apparently to the portrait of Dumbledore on the office wall. 'It will not be a request. Slughorn is the man responsible for the Dark Lord's ability to create Horcruxes