James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

you tell me in which direction it went?'

3. THE SORTING

'Y ou can't take ten points from Gryffindor before we even get to school!' James insisted, trotting to keep up with Merlin's massive stride. Albus followed, glancing back angrily.

                      'Deducting points from the offender's house is the preferred method of discipline at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter,' Merlin said distractedly. 'I asked you to guard the Borley. And not to allow any magic to be used in its presence. Failing that, you were to at least point me in the direction of its escape. I'd not be fulfilling my duties as Headmaster if I didn't mete out some form of discipline for your complete disregard of my direction.'

        'But Scorpius did the magic!' James insisted, jumping in front of the Headmaster and forcing him to stop. 'It's not my fault he's a hotheaded git! I did everything I could to stop him!'

        Merlin was scanning the corridor slowly. 'Did you truly do everything you could, Mr. Potter?'

        James threw up his hands. 'Well, I suppose I could have sat on Albus to prevent him from attacking the bloody loudmouth!'

        Merlin nodded, and then looked down at James, giving him his full attention for the first time. 'It is true, what they say, Mr. Potter: I come from a much different age. When I give instruction, I do not do so lightly. It will behoove you to remember that a lack of effort in carrying out those instructions goes much poorer with me than an excess of effort. Do you understand?'

        James worked through the sentence in his head, nodding slightly. He glanced up at the Headmaster and shook his head.

        'It means,' Merlin replied slowly, 'that I expect you to do everything within your power to carry out my requests. If sitting on your brother might have helped, then next time, I expect you to do exactly that. The Borley has escaped, and more importantly, your negligence has allowed it to gain power. It will not be as easy to transfix next time. And you should be aware that, up until a few minutes ago, it was relatively harmless.'

        Merlin's lowered brow and glittering eyes made the point very clearly. James still felt unjustly accused, but he nodded his understanding.

        'What is it?' Albus asked. 'This Borley thing.'

        Merlin turned away, half dismissing the boys. 'They are a form of Shade: shadow creatures. They are purely magical beings, and as such, they feed on magic. They'll taunt young or foolish wizards into using magic on them so that they might feed and grow. When they are tiny, they are harmless. As they grow…'

        James looked around the compartment, following Merlin. 'What do they grow into?'

        'I believe,' Merlin said gravely, 'that you call them 'Dementors'.'

        Both James and Albus knew about Dementors. James shuddered.

        'I think I saw this same Borley a week ago, back at my grandparents' house,' James commented. 'And then later, at the eye doctor's. It made a horrible mess, but a few minutes later, when the doctor came into the room, the mess had vanished. Everything was back to normal. I thought I'd imagined it.'

        'You didn't imagine it,' Merlin said, stopping at the end of the corridor and turning. 'The Borleys come from a realm outside of history. They can manipulate tiny pockets of time, bunching minutes together like a wrinkle in a rug and then poking directly through them. You saw its actions, so you remembered them even after it leapt back in time and undid them.'

        Albus screwed up his face in concentration. He shook his head. 'But why would it do that?'

        'It's a defensive reflex,' Merlin said curtly. 'They use it to cover their tracks. It's somewhat akin to a squid squirting ink to confuse its enemy.'

        'Confused me all right,' James nodded.

        'So if you can't catch them using magic,' Albus asked, 'how do you catch them? What do you do with them after you, er, transfix them? You said you needed to go get something. Is it in that bag?'

        'Please return to your compartment, boys,' Merlin ordered, turning and opening his own compartment. He shouldered the large, black bag. 'We will be arriving at the station soon. You should get into your robes.'

        'Yeah, but—' Albus began but was silenced by the closing of the compartment door. The windows were smoked, blocking any view of the interior.

        'Well, that was educational,' Albus commented as they retraced their steps back along the train's corridors.

        James said nothing. He felt rankled by the way he'd been held responsible for the escape of the Borley. How could Merlin have blamed him and allowed Scorpius to get away without even a stern look? James had been looking forward to the start of the school year partly because he had a sort of rapport with Merlin, the new Headmaster. After all, James had been inadvertently responsible for the famous wizard's return from the distant past. Also, they had worked together at the end of the last term to thwart a cunning plot to cause a war between the Muggle and magical worlds. And yet, even before their arrival at Hogwarts, James seemed to have gotten on Merlin's bad side.

        As he and Albus returned to their compartment, James remembered the words Rose had said at the beginning of their trip: a wizard as powerful as Merlin could be all the scarier because he's not evil but just selfish.

        But of course that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Merlin wasn't selfish, just different. James knew Merlin as well as anyone did. He'd even been consulted about whether or not the famous wizard would be a good Headmaster. He wasn't dangerous. He was just from a much different time. Merlin had said so himself. He came from a much more serious, grave age. Not only was it important for James to remember that fact, it was important for him to help the rest of the students understand it as well.

        By the time Albus yanked the door to their compartment open, it had begun to rain in earnest. The windows of the train were streaked and spattered with huge drops. Ralph was asleep on his seat with his tabloid open on his chest. Rose was buried in her book, barely noticing the brothers' return. And James was becoming rather certain that this year might not be quite as fun as he'd first thought.

        As the light began to fade from the day and the rain finally abated, James, Albus, and Ralph dug their robes out of their satchels. Both James and Albus' robes were rather sadly wrinkled. Rose looked up from her book and clucked her tongue at them.

        'Haven't you two ever learned how to fold your clothes?'

        'Boys don't learn things like that,' Albus said, trying to smooth out the front of his robe with his hands. 'We learn cool things. Secret boy things that I'm not even allowed to tell you about. Girls get stuck learning how to pack clothes so their husbands look good when they go out to their jobs.'

        'I'm not even going to respond to that,' Rose said, shaking her head sadly. 'I only hope your sister is learning her lessons better than you did. The son of a famous woman Quidditch player should know better.'

        Ralph raised his eyebrows. 'I think I know an Anti-Wrinkling Spell. You want me to try it out?'

        'No thanks, Ralph,' James said quickly, 'no offense, but I still remember you burning a bald stripe on Victoire's head last year.'