as has been the whole world. Your time is near.'
Suddenly, a third figure moved out of the woods, opposite the pale man. This figure was also dressed in black but was taller than the pale man. He didn't clamber out of the woods, as had the pale man, but moved with a sort of malevolent grace, stepping out into the clearing to face the shrouded form of the Gatekeeper. James was dismayed. Something about the proud, effortless gait of the taller figure made him think of Merlin. The pale man did not seem surprised to see the third figure, although his wariness increased. He smiled thinly. The tall man and the Gatekeeper exchanged words, but a crack of thunder drowned them out. The wind grew to a steady howl, bearing the promise of a storm. Fat drops of rain began to fall, and the image started to blur. Suddenly, the pale man glanced around and then pointed, up and out, and James gasped. He'd pointed directly at James, as if seeing him through the Mirror glass. The man's pale face stared right into his eyes. The taller man turned as well, but if it was Merlin, James couldn't tell because of the shadow of his hood. Worst of all, the face of the statue had also turned. The stone representation of Tom Marvolo Riddle looked out of the Mirror at James, grinning an empty, carved grin, showing all its teeth.
James stumbled backwards, away from the Mirror, and bumped into the desk. He barely heard Ralph and Rose calling him, grabbing him, trying to pull him toward the door.
'Come on!' Rose called frantically. 'We have to get out of here! They saw us! And it looks like they're coming! They're coming!'
James' eyes widened. Suddenly he turned, looking down at the desk behind him. The Focusing Book was open. There was only one notation on the page, written in Merlin's own hand: 'GRAVE OF THE SOUGHT HOST'. Without thinking, James used both hands to slam the book shut. Instantly, thunder boomed right outside the office window. Lightning flickered and a gust of cold wind roared into the room, lifting the curtains.
'Potter!' a voice rang out stridently. James spun on his heels. The portraits were all alive again. Most of them were looking around and blinking. Parchments swirled into the air as wind shifted wildly through the room, whickering through the curtains. The portrait of Snape glared at James, its eyes wide and very black. 'What do you think you're doing? This is old magic! Magic like you have never imagined! You must leave this place. Now! Quickly!'
Ralph grabbed James and pulled, dragging him toward the door, which swung wide open of its own accord.
'Come on!' Rose called, running through the doorway and looking back. The door began to close again, cutting her off. James lunged, following Ralph. Snape's face was tense, dreadful, as James ran past, slipping through the doorway a moment before the heavy door slammed shut with a reverberating crash.
James and Ralph barreled into Rose, and all three collapsed onto the bench in the hall, hearts pounding and breathless. As one, they scrambled back up and ran toward the spiral staircase, clambered down to the corridor below. They kept running until they reached a wide balcony where they finally pounded to a clumsy halt, breathing hard and staring wild-eyed at each other.
'I hope,' Ralph wheezed, bending over with his hands on his knees, 'that one of us… at least remembered… the parchment this time.'
After a night of squalls and thunderstorms, Sunday morning dawned like a blooming flower, kindling rose- colored sparkles in the drenched grass and trees. After breakfast, James, Ralph, and Rose picked their way across the wet lawns to Hagrid's hut, where they banged on the door. When the half-giant didn't answer, the three students followed the stone path around to the back. There, they found Hagrid and his bullmastiff, Trife, moving about in the curling vines and broad leaves of the pumpkin patch. Hagrid was humming cheerfully, wet up to his knees as he rolled and weeded his pumpkins.
'Good mornin', yeh lot! Fancy seein' the three of yeh out an' about this early on a weekend!'
'Good morning, Hagrid,' Rose said, sweeping beads of water off the top of one of the huge pumpkins. Satisfied it was mostly dry, she sat on it. 'We came out to talk to you about something.'
'Blimey,' Hagrid replied, 'with yeh here, young Rose, it really is just like old times. Come now, let's go on inside. I was just tellin' Trife here that we ought to brew a mornin' tea, I was. We can talk all we want by the stove.'
They made their way inside and Hagrid hung an enormous copper teapot on a hook over the fire. James, Rose, and Ralph clambered onto the oversized chairs around the table.
'Hagrid,' Ralph began, glancing at Rose, 'we saw something when we were up in the Headmaster's office yesterday. Rose thinks maybe we should tell someone about it because it could mean trouble.'
James kicked the table leg idly and glared out the window. 'Not everybody agrees with Rose, mind you.'
'How can you say what we saw wasn't cause for alarm, James?' Rose demanded. 'Even Ralph agrees that—'
'I'm not saying that it isn't cause for alarm,' James interrupted, glaring back at Rose. 'I just don't think it means the Headmaster is in on it like you keep wanting to believe.'
'I don't want to believe it, but there's such a thing as evidence. There's seeing a man in the Mirror who looks and moves suspiciously like the Headmaster. You said so yourself! And he was consorting with… with known enemies and outright scary people. And at least one of them I don't think was even human! Not to mention the statue of You-Know-Who!'
'Whoa, now, wait just a minute, yeh three,' Hagrid said, scowling and settling himself into his old easy chair. 'I don't know what yeh saw, but let's not be dragging that old beastie out in the open. Yeh just tell me what happened, why don'yeh.'
Rose began to explain what had happened the day before, beginning with their interview with the Headmaster. As the story progressed, James and Ralph joined in, adding their own insights and corrections, so that by the time they were explaining how the portraits came back to life and the painting of Snape warned them to flee, all three of them were talking at once. Finally, they finished the account and fell silent, turning to view Hagrid's response.
The half-giant sat in his huge old chair by the fire, a distant, tense look on his face. He was looking in the direction of the three students but not directly at any of them. James had been confident that Hagrid would simply dismiss the tale as wild exaggeration. He'd tell them that what they'd seen in the Mirror had just been small-time shenanigans, engaged by men who refused to accept the fact that they'd long since lost the war. James knew from his father that while Hagrid may not always love the leaders of Hogwarts, he was loyal to the core. He'd defend Merlin, and assure them that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. That was partly why James had suggested they come out to the hut to talk to the big man. Now, as Hagrid sat in silence with that strange, tense look on his face, James wondered if it had been such a good idea after all.
Suddenly, the teapot began to shriek, causing everyone in the room to jump. Hagrid shook himself, and then reached to pull it from the hook. He carried it to the table and clanked it onto a trivet.
'Er,' James said, prodding, 'what do you think, Hagrid?'
Hagrid glanced at him, wiping his hands on a huge towel. 'Well, it's a bit difficult, innit? Who's to say? Could've been anythin', I s'pose. The Headmaster, he's got some terrible powerful devices an' all. Ol' Professor Snape's portrait was pro'lly right tellin' yeh to stay well away.'
'But Rose is saying she thinks it was Merlin that showed up by Voldemort's grave,' James clarified, gesturing at his cousin. 'Tell her she's daft if she thinks that! I mean, he's the Headmaster, Hagrid!'
China clattered as Hagrid gathered saucers and cups, returning to the table with his arms full. 'Right yeh are, James. He is the Headmaster, an' all I can say's if he did show up in that Mirror, talkin' to whoever it was yeh saw, then he musta had plenty good reason to.'
'But it couldn't have been him!' James insisted, looking to Ralph for support. 'I mean, the thing in the swirling robe was obviously ten kinds of evil, and that bloke that showed up first had to have been an old Death
