James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

        Petra's face contorted in involuntary disgust. 'You're not my father… you're… you're…'

        'Finish the task!' the portrait hissed furiously. 'Kill Lily Potter first! Then James Potter! Correct my one fatal mistake! It matters not who I am! All that matters is what was stolen from you, and making those responsible for it pay! It is the only way to return those you've lost!'

        'Correct your mistake?' Petra said, her expression melting slowly into horrified revelation. 'But I thought…'

        'My single mistake!' the portrait of Voldemort shrieked urgently. 'Killing James Potter first, leaving the stronger one to protect the boy! It was old magic, but powerful magic, and I forgot it! She should've died first, leaving the man and the child to wither before my wand! It was my single, fatal mistake! I was foolish, yes, but now the circle will be closed! You, my soul's final vessel, will kill the girl, Lily Potter, and then the boy, James Potter, and then—' the voice dropped to a seething, greedy hiss, 'Harry Potter will come, and finally—finally—we… will… kill… him!'

        'Harry Potter?' Petra whispered.

        'The doll was meant to summon him,' the portrait said quickly. 'The plan seemed so simple: add a scar to the forehead, thus making it the father instead of the son. Surely, once Harry Potter's scar reawakened, he would come, and then he would be ours! But instead, we have lured the boy James, granting him the phantom scar and the ability to know our plans, and this, my dear, is even better! I might have foreseen it! My one mistake will be rectified, the order reversed! Lily Potter dies, then James, and then, finally, Harry Potter will lie dead at our feet!'

        Wonderingly, Petra said, 'But my parents… the promise of balance and perfection… you used me…' Her voice rose, became angry. 'You used me!'

        'That is because in your heart, you and I are one and the same!' the horrible portrait rasped. 'Your living soul carries the last vestige of my own, like a flame in a lantern! We wish for the same things, but from different directions. In the end, we arrive at the very same place: revenge!'

        Petra shook her head sadly. 'What have I done? I didn't want revenge,' she said. 'All I wanted was justice…' She turned away from the portrait and looked back at the woman standing on the ledge of the greenly flickering pool. Petra's mother smiled back at her sadly and nodded. Petra hitched a sob. 'Justice… and my parents back,' she said, her voice cracking. She raised her wand. 'Wingardium Leviosa!'

        'NOOO!' the portrait screamed, so loud that it seemed to shake the walls.

        Lily flew up out of the pool, limp as a rag and streaming water. The shape of Lianna Agnellis fell in on itself, reverting to water. It splashed onto the stone floor and streamed back into the pool.

        'Mum!' Petra screamed, unable to resist reaching out to the departed shape, tears shining in her eyes. 'I'm sorry, Mum! Dad! I'm so sorry! I couldn't do it!'

        James ran forward to the suspended shape of his sister. He reached and pulled her to him, hugging her. She was as limp and cold as death. Gently, he laid her on the floor, and placed his ear to her chest.

        'Her heart's still beating!' he cried.

        'You foolish girl!' the portrait roared, its face distorting grotesquely. 'It is the only way! The part of me in you rebels even now! Resist at your own peril! Kill the girl! It is not yet too late!'

        Petra shook her head slowly, approaching the portrait.

        'You can't destroy it, Petra,' James called, cradling Lily in his arms. 'Look at it; other people have tried! Portraits can only be destroyed by the painter, remember?'

        Petra was still shaking her head, tears streaking her face but her expression a mask of stern resolve. 'That's not entirely true, James,' she said quietly. With both hands, she gripped the portrait by its frame and lifted it.

        'You are the host of the Gatekeeper!' the high, cold voice of Voldemort proclaimed urgently. 'Even now it awaits you! You can feel its presence! You have been chosen since the time of Salazar Slytherin himself! Hundreds of years of prophecy lead to you! You cannot turn aside from the weight of that destiny! It will crush you! Turn back! All is not yet lost! It is not too late!'

        'There are two people that can destroy a portrait, although the second person is rarely ever available to do it,' Petra said, speaking to James and ignoring the raving voice. She held the painting out with both hands, leveling it over the rippling surface of the pool. 'A portrait can only be destroyed by its painter, or if fate allows it, a portrait can be destroyed… by its subject.'

        'NOOO!' the portrait shrieked, and James saw the canvas bulge slightly at the force of it. Petra dropped the portrait and it fell into its reflection, splashing heavily. The voice of Voldemort's painted visage continued to scream furiously, bubbling as it bobbed for a moment. Horribly, the painted face began to run and streak, as if the liquid in the pool were acid rather than water. Paint bled over the sinking canvas and mingled with the glowing waters, diluting and thinning, drawing feathery black tendrils into the depths. The voice gurgled and faded, ran out of breath, rasped desperately, and then died, leaving only its echo in the Chamber of Secrets. The portrait frame sank out of sight and was lost forever in the bottomless pool.

        'Is she breathing?' Petra asked, dropping onto her knees next to Lily.

        'I don't know!' James exclaimed, hugging her wet, slight body. 'She's so cold!'

        Petra nodded and leveled her wand at Lily's throat. 'Expelliaqua,' she said firmly.

        Several seconds went by, and James was sure the spell hadn't worked, but then Lily suddenly lurched in his arms. She coughed thickly and vomited a quantity of water. James helped her into a sitting position, pounding her gently on the back. She coughed more water and gasped a great, ragged breath. James was so preoccupied that he barely noticed the sense of the Gatekeeper fading from the Chamber. Its host had failed the final test. Petra had not killed for it. Weakened and silent, the Gatekeeper streamed away.

        'James?' Lily croaked, looking blearily at his face. 'Where am I? What happened?'

        James shook his head and laughed with relief, tears welling in his eyes. 'You're with me, Lil. That's all that matters.'

        'Hi, Petra,' Lily said weakly, glancing aside. 'You were great. I cried when you drank the Marsh Hag's sleeping poison.'

        Petra smiled wanly. 'Thanks, Lily.'

        James and Petra helped Lily to her feet and James put his arm around her, leading her back out of the cave. Petra gathered the Invisibility Cloak but left the eerie collection of her father's clothing. She looked back only once, her face flushed and sad.

        'Hey, Petra,' Albus said gamely as they approached. 'You feeling a bit more yourself, are you?'

        Petra nodded but didn't reply. Silently, she knelt next to Albus and examined his leg.

        'You're pretty good at this,' James said, watching Petra tear a strip of ribbon from her dress. Carefully, she used the ribbon and a length of the broken broom to splint Albus' leg. When she was done, she stood and pulled Albus to his feet.

        'Hey,' Albus said, surprised. 'That feels loads better. How'd you do that?'

        'It's sort of a talent,' Petra answered, averting her eyes. 'Besides, it was just a fracture. You'll be fine in a day or so, once madam Curio has a look at that leg.'

        James didn't say anything, but he had the distinct sense that Petra was lying about Albus' injury. It had certainly been far more than a fracture. James himself had seen the ugly angle below Albus' knee. Now he was standing on it with the help of a simple splint. It was as if Petra meant to repay them for what had happened, but secretly, and using a rather extraordinary kind of magic.

        Petra stood again, gathering the voodoo doll and the Invisibility Cloak. She looked at them in her hands. 'These aren't mine,' she said, and then handed them to James. 'I wasn't even aware of the doll until the portrait mentioned it. I was carrying it the whole time, but somehow I barely knew it. I'm so sorry James. I don't know