JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

holding him back. Distantly, he was aware that he had produced his wand from his robes, was raising it as if he meant to attack Albert Keynes and his troop of court officials. It was preposterous, of course, but for the moment, he was beyond such practicalities. They had taken her, had Stunned her unconscious like some sort of wild animal, and were dragging her away for imprisonment.

       The doors of the Medical College swung slowly shut, cutting off the view of the pathetically hovering young woman and her cadre of guards. Keynes watched James through the gently closing doors, his expression sadly patronizing. Did you really think I wouldn't learn the truth? His gaze seemed to say. And then, with a soft click, the doors closed.

       'No,' James groaned. 'It's not supposed to happen this way. They weren't supposed to convict her yet! We're so close!'

       'It's not over yet,' Zane said quietly, seriously, finally releasing James' shoulder. 'We can still set things to rights.'

       Ralph nodded. 'Yeah, it isn't over yet.'

       James barely heard them, however. He could feel the invisible silver thread that connected him to Petra. It was cold, flowing down the center of his arm like a vein of ice, filling his head with murky visions and shreds of dreams, broadcast directly from Petra's sleeping mind. She was dreaming of her capture, replaying it over and over. James caught phantom glimpses of his own parents on the street outside their flat, helpless and angry. Lily was there, standing on the footpath next to Izzy. They were holding hands. Both of them looked shocked, disbelieving. In the center of the street, Keynes and his crew called Petra out, surrounding her, raising their wands toward her. He heard Petra's own voice in her memory, confused and dismayed, claiming that she would come quietly, that it was all a mistake…

       It isn't a mistake, Keynes had said blandly, his own wand trained unflinchingly on her. And you certainly will come quietly.

       There were flashes then, coming from many directions at once. Petra had tried to fight their force, but she hadn't been prepared. It was too sudden, and there'd been too many of them. Blackness had overtaken her then, and in her unconscious mind, the scene began to play over again, like a needle skipping on an old record.

       Anger swelled in James' chest, overwhelming him. Before he knew it, he was running, darting toward the Medical Center, his wand still in his hand, gripped hard enough to emit red sparks from its tip. He heard Zane and Ralph call out to him again followed by the alarmed cries of both Albus and Lucy, but those things didn't matter. He followed the invisible silvery thread, chasing it like a beacon.

       He burst through the doors of the Medical College and bolted through the lobby, his footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor. He made it only a few paces before a burst of light startled him. His wand sprang from his hand and clattered to the floor, spinning off into the hall.

       'Leave it,' a voice commanded quickly, even as James scrambled after it. James stopped and spun around, panting. Albert Keynes was standing in a corner just inside the main doors, his own wand raised comfortably, as if he had merely been waiting for James.

       'Good choice,' Keynes said, unsmiling. 'I don't blame you for being upset, young man, but I would hate to see you do anything rash. You really must learn to control your emotions.'

       'She's not guilty!' James said, almost shouting in rage and frustration. 'You must know that!'

       Keynes cocked his head pityingly. 'I'd advise you to leave now, Mr. Potter. I will turn your wand over to the Chancellor, from whom you may collect it at a later time, once you have calmed yourself.'

       'She didn't do it!' James repeated, advancing on Keynes, his hands opening and closing at his sides, helplessly empty.

       'Ms. Morganstern is guilty, Mr. Potter,' Keynes said calmly, his voice almost infuriatingly bland and quiet. 'I have exhausted every possibility of her innocence. It is my job. Justice must be served.'

       'Who'd you talk to?' James demanded, shaking his head in fury. 'Whoever they are, they lied!'

       Keynes raised his chin slightly, his pale face growing stony. 'Beware what questions you ask, my young friend,' he said coolly. 'You may get answers you do not wish to hear.'

       'You don't know anything!' James spat, stopping in the center of the foyer. Tears of frustration pricked the corners of his eyes, but he willed them back. 'You can't know anything. Whatever you've heard, it's all lies!'

       'I fear,' Keynes said, his voice so low and quiet that James had to strain to hear him, 'that it is you who have been lied to, Mr. Potter. Lied to by Ms. Morganstern herself.'

       James' face heated in an angry blush, almost as if he knew that Keynes was right. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said, dropping his own voice.

        'I know what happened at Morganstern Farm,' Keynes said slowly, his eyes boring into James. 'Do you?'

       'I know enough,' James said, his cheeks still burning. 'I know that she escaped from an awful life with her stepmother. Her sister too.'

       Keynes was shaking his head gravely. 'You know what Ms. Morganstern wishes you to know. But she has kept the worst of it from you.'

       'And what's the worst of it—' James demanded, but Keynes was answering already, interrupting him, his words calculated to cut like a razor.

       'Ms. Morganstern killed her stepmother,' Keynes said carefully, making certain that James heard every word. James stared at him dumbly, and Keynes went on, drawing a sad little sigh. 'She was a Muggle woman, powerless and helpless to fight back against such ferocity. Ms. Morganstern killed the woman using magic that was both stunning and inexplicable. She used a tree to do it. It sounds rather incredible, doesn't it? Apparently, Ms. Morganstern brought the tree to life, forced it to collect her stepmother, and then commanded it to drown her in a nearby lake. Worse, she did it within sight of the woman's own daughter, Izabella Morganstern. I scarcely believed it myself, but the evidence of the scene of the crime corroborates the story quite convincingly. The crater where the tree once stood is still there. And, of course, the witness is very persuasive.'

       When James tried to speak, his voice came out in a dry croak. 'What witness?'

       Keynes pressed his lips together thoughtfully, and James assumed he wouldn't answer, but then Keynes met his gaze again. 'A witch,' he replied very quietly. 'You couldn't possibly know her. She lived in the area at the time, and was given to morning walks around the lake in question. She is a lover of nature, you see, and water in particular. She strove to remain hidden during her morning strolls out of fear of being arrested for trespassing since the lake was a part of Morganstern Farm. Still, her conscience bade her to tell me what she witnessed. She sought me out, in fact. Had it not been for her, and for the veracity of her story, Ms. Morganstern might well have gotten away with the murder she committed that morning. And as you can imagine, this charge only further convinced me of the truth of Mr. Henredon's allegations about what happened in the Hall of Archives. Why, without this woman's noble testimony, Ms. Morganstern might have gone scot-free.'

       James felt rooted to the floor, cold and solid as a statue. 'Who was she?' he asked, again not expecting an answer, and yet fearing that he knew the answer nonetheless. Of course he did. He could picture her even now in his memory; long red hair, mostly hidden beneath a dark hood, glittering green eyes, unnaturally perfect, pale skin. People tend not to notice me, she had said on the night James first met her in the halls of the Aquapolis. Unless they want to. Or unless I make them.

       'You do not know her,' Keynes said, smiling condescendingly at James. 'She is rather a secretive woman, perhaps even reclusive, although quite fetching, in her own way.'

       'She didn't even give you her name, did she?' James whispered, shaking his head. 'She was that 'secretive', wasn't she? She was lying to you. She had to be.'

       'She was not lying,' Keynes stated coldly, his eyes narrowing. 'And she most certainly did give me her