James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

technique, and everybody knows you were a natural leader. I know you still remember it all because ghosts don't experience time the same way the living do. Come on, what do you say?'

        Cedric's ghost was flitting backwards, his face downcast as he shook his head. 'I can't, James. Part of me would really like to do it, but I can't. You wouldn't understand.'

        'Look, Ced, just try it for a week or two. It'll be great! Everyone will love you and I just know you'll be able to teach us loads of stuff. Besides…'

        James faltered, not sure if he should go on. Cedric stopped and looked back at him. James took a deep breath and continued.

        'Remember the end of last year, that night when we talked in the Gryffindor common room? You told me there was a sense of Voldemort still in the halls here, even though he was dead. Well, Rose and Ralph and me, we saw something. And… I've been sensing things. Something's up, and it has something to do with the old Death Eaters, and Voldemort's grave, and some really scary creature in a cloak that looks like it's made out of swirling smoke and ash. Rose even thinks that the Headmaster is involved, although I don't agree. What I'm trying to say is that there could be a battle coming. Debellows isn't teaching us anything worth using in a real magical fight. We just want to be prepared. We want to be ready. You're from the time when Voldemort was still alive. You know how best to fight these people. You're perfect, and we need you.'

         Cedric looked at James for a long, tense moment. He seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally, he lowered his brow and looked away. 'You're right about one thing, James. I did have experience with battle. I was killed in my first one. I lasted a total of ten seconds.'

        James was flabbergasted. 'Ced, you can't mean that. That night in the graveyard… that wasn't a battle. I've heard Dad talk about it. He was there, remember? Pettigrew shot you with no warning. You can't seriously think…'

        'Really, James,' Cedric said, looking up. The ghost's eyes were very grave. 'Don't ask me again. I have my reasons. I can't, all right?'

        James met the ghost's gaze. After a moment, he sighed deeply. 'All right, Cedric. Forget it. Sorry to bother you. See you around.'

        James turned and began to plod away. He got halfway down the corridor when Cedric's voice said, 'Does it hurt?'

        James stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder. 'Does what hurt?'

        Cedric hadn't moved. He hovered near the trophy case, looking solemnly as James. 'The mark on your forehead.'

        James' heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, he touched the place where he'd felt the itch and the strange dart of pain outside the Headmaster's office. 'You can see it?' he whispered harshly.

        Cedric nodded slowly.

        'What—' James began, but his voice failed him. He cleared his throat. 'What does it look like?'

        Cedric's expression didn't change. He knew James knew. 'It looks like a lightning bolt, James. Just like your father's. Except it's green. It glows a little.'

        James' eyes were wide and his heart pounded. The spot on his forehead felt warm. It tingled a little now that he thought about it. He looked helplessly up at Cedric again.

        'Don't worry,' Cedric said, sensing James' question. 'I don't think anyone else can see it. Apart from the other ghosts, maybe. It's only been there for a week or so. At first, it was very faint, but now… That's why I asked if it hurt.'

        James' thoughts were whirling. What could it mean? Why was it happening? 'It does hurt sometimes,' James admitted. 'But just a little. Mostly, it just itches. Except for one time, right outside the Headmaster's office. Merlin looked at me and it… it stung. But just for a second.'

        Cedric nodded once, solemnly. 'Pay attention to it, James. It must be there for a reason. But be careful. It might not be trustworthy.'

        James nodded, barely hearing. He glanced around quickly, just to make sure no one had approached and heard the conversation. The corridor was still empty. When he looked up again, Cedric's ghost had vanished.

        'Cedric?' James whispered. There was no response. James couldn't be sure whether the ghost had truly left, or just gone invisible. 'Cedric, if you're still there, and you change your mind… well, you know where to find me, right?'

        The corridor was utterly still and silent. James touched his forehead again, wonderingly and worryingly. Finally, he sighed, turned, and began to trudge back toward the staircases and the Gryffindor common room.

        As soon as James reached the common room, he told Rose about his meeting with Cedric. She was surprisingly understanding about the ghost's refusal to teach the class, remembering the conversation they'd had in the corridor a week earlier.

        'He'll probably come around,' she said, nodding. 'We'll just need to find somebody else in the meantime. It's fine, really. None of the students we talked to today knew anything about Cedric anyway.'

        'But who can we get to teach in the meantime?' James fretted. 'People will be coming tomorrow with some expectations, Rose! We can't just tell them to open their Defence textbooks and start trying out whatever spells they feel like! It'd be a complete mess!'

        Rose looked thoughtful. 'We could ask Viktor, maybe. He's going to be here until the end of next week. He certainly knows his stuff.'

        'He's too tight with Debellows,' James said. 'He'd tell him first off and we'd never hear the end of it.'

        Rose had been scanning the room idly. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She glanced back at James, a crooked smile curling her lip. 'There is one person already among us who seems to know a good bit of defensive magic.'

        'The older years don't want to do it,' James sighed. 'We've already been through it with them, Rose.'

        'Actually,' Rose said, looking askance again, 'the person I was thinking of is a year younger than you.'

        James followed the direction of his cousin's gaze. Scorpius Malfoy sat at a table across the room, idly flipping pages in a textbook. He glanced up, noticing James' gaze, and sneered slightly.

        'Not in a thousand years, Rose,' James said flatly, turning back and crossing his arms. 'Not in a million years.'

        'I'm just saying,' Rose said innocently, 'you said he was using Stunning Spells on the train against Albus. And the other second-years have been talking about what he did to your headboard, which is, you have to admit, pretty impressive. He knows levitation already, and—'

        'No, Rose!' James hissed, interrupting. 'I'll take a term of Debellows and the Gauntlet before I'll ask him to teach me anything!'

        'Are you willing to speak for the rest of the club's members too?'

        'He's not a teacher! He's a stuck-up prat! He probably wouldn't even do it if we asked him! People like him aren't exactly the sharing type.'

        Rose smoothed her robes primly. 'Well, you can't know unless you try. Really, James. Do we want a teacher or not?'

        James shook his head. 'We want a teacher, not a smug little twit who's learned a few tricks. If you want him to teach, you ask him.'

        'I might just do that,' Rose replied breezily. She collected her bag and walked away. James watched her, but she merely climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories. If she meant to ask Scorpius to teach the new Defence Club, she apparently wasn't planning on doing it tonight. After a while, James climbed the stairs on the opposite