JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

being on deck for a storm if he didn't have to be.

       Even if it would probably be rather exciting.

       'Make sure all of your things are well-secured,' Barstow said, stopping momentarily in the doorway. 'Including yourselves. Find something solid to hold onto, and do so. Also, keep a bucket handy. Believe it or not, you're much more prone to seasickness below-decks, where you can't see the waves. There'll be enough of a mess to clean up topside afterwards without having to worry about any messes down here, if you take my meaning.'

       James sat next to Molly and Lucy on a small bench in the captain's quarters, near the bank of curving stern windows. 'Well, at least we can watch it from here,' he said somberly. 'If we want to.'

Ralph shook his head. 'I've never seen the sky look that colour. That can't be natural.'

       'So much for calm seas,' Lucy agreed, leaning into the purplish-grey window light. 'Those look less like waves and more like the Scottish Highlands.'

       James peered out the window next to her and saw that it was true. Unbroken by any shoreline, the waves swelled to nearly geological heights. At one moment, the view beyond the window seemed to look down from a high peak, overlooking a valley of sloshing, white-capped foothills. At the next moment, the ship would fall into the shadow of that very valley, buried in a trough of steely water and surrounded by marching oceanic mountains. James' stomach rolled with the motion of the waves and he looked away again, back to the comforting confines of the captain's quarters. Lanterns swung from the ceiling and tools rolled back and forth on the desk, striking the low railings that surrounded its surface.

       'James,' his mum said from across the room. Lily sat on her lap, leaning comfortably back against her mother's shoulder. Ginny glanced sharply at her son. 'Did you close my trunk and batten it down when you were done getting the sweaters out?'

       James sighed wearily. 'I don't know, Mum. Yeah, sure, I guess so.'

''Guess so' isn't good enough, James,' Ginny said sternly. She was nervous, James knew, and nervousness made her strident. 'I have a whole collection of shampoo and perfume and hand cream vials in there, not to mention your father's travel potions bag. If that gets knocked over, it'll cause no end of mess, and if those potions of your father's break…'

       'It'll be fine, Mum, quit worrying,' James replied.

       'Go on, James,' his father said from where he stood next to Merlinus by the captain's desk. 'Run along before the waves get any worse. And bring me back that apple on the bedside table, if you would.'

       'Ugh,' Audrey commented, clinging to Percy where they sat at a dark corner table. 'How can you eat at a time like this?'

'I'm hungry,' Harry shrugged as James passed him. 'And James…'

       James stopped in the doorway, holding onto the frame to keep his balance on the swaying floor. 'Yeah, Dad?'

       'Leave my Invisibiliy Cloak in the trunk when you close it, eh?' Harry said, nodding and smiling a little crookedly.

       James shook his head wearily but Albus crowed laughter from across the room.

       The narrow corridor seemed to lean from side to side as James maneuvered through it. The stairs at the end of the passage were lit with swaying light from the window in the door above. James stumbled into his parents' stateroom and saw that he had, in fact, left the trunk open and unsecured on the low table at the end of the bed. He clunked the lid closed and pulled the leather straps over it, looping them through a pair of brass hooks attached to the table, which was itself bolted to the floor. He glanced around and saw the apple his dad had asked for. It rolled back and forth in a bowl on the bedside table. Grabbing it, James turned and lurched back toward the stateroom door. He felt like he was walking uphill. A moment later, he stumbled through the door and caught himself against the corridor wall as the hill inverted, rolling beneath him. He looked at the apple in his hand and groaned, seeing that he had bruised it quite severely against the paneled wall.

       A gust of air whistled through the corridor, bringing sea mist and the roar of the waves with it. James glanced to the side, up the corridor stairs, and saw that the door above had been pushed open, showing low, heaving storm clouds. A figure was silhouetted against the light, and James saw, with some surprise, that it was Petra. As he watched, she stepped out, letting the door blow shut behind her with a slam. Quickly, and without thinking, he followed her.

       Wind pulled the door open the moment he thumbed the latch, nearly wrenching it from his hand. Sailors' voices called thinly beneath the roar of the waves, the whoosh of the wind, and the creaking groans of the ship. Mist blew over the deck-like sand, scouring it and making James squint as he looked around, scanning the narrow mid-ship walkway for Petra. He finally saw her, moving serenely up onto the stern, her dress whipping about her legs and a cloak flapping from her shoulders.

James stepped around the door and the wind changed, sucking it shut behind him so hard that he thought the glass window embedded in it might break. It didn't, fortunately. James hunched his shoulders and moved as quickly as he could along the walkway toward the stern stairway, following Petra.

       Amazingly, he found her leaning on the high, stern railing, her forearms crossed in front of her, as if she was deep in thought. He approached her, calling out her name.

       She looked at him over her shoulder, and smiled wanly. Her dark hair whipped and flailed about her face. 'Hi James,' she called back, raising her voice against the wind. She turned back to the ocean beyond.

       'What are you doing up here, Petra?' James asked, moving alongside her and gripping the railing for support. 'You should be below, with the rest of us.'

       'Did you read it?' Petra responded, ignoring James' question.

       James nodded. 'Yeah! I read it, already. I did it last night, but I couldn't find you when I was done. I wanted to talk to you about it, but…'

       'I'm glad you read it,' she said, still studying the monstrous waves beyond the railing. 'It's important that someone else know the truth.'

       James looked aside at her. He knew he should get her below-decks, but he couldn't stop himself from asking the one question that he was most curious about, now that she had brought it up.

       'What is the truth, Petra?' he asked, leaning forward. Something glimmered faintly on Petra's cloak and James saw that it was an opal brooch. She had only recently begun to wear it, and James could only guess that it had some special meaning for her. 'What part of your dream story really happened? What part of it is true?'

       Petra looked at him, her eyebrows raised slightly. 'Why, all of it, James. All of it is true.'

       James shook his head, frowning into the misty wind. 'That doesn't even begin to make any sense! I mean, in the story, Izzy dies! She's downstairs right now, alive as can be. We should be there too. Come on!'

       Petra didn't move. 'Oh, Izzy died all right. I killed her. Just because it didn't happen in this life, doesn't mean it didn't happen. You see, I'm sick, James.'

       James glanced back toward the heaving, rolling ship. Waves towered around it, casting it into their massive shadows. Men clung to the riggings, securing the sails. Far ahead, barely visible in the rushing mist, Barstow sat hunkered in the brass chair, wrestling with the steering pole, turning Henrietta into the waves. 'I know,' James said. 'Mum told us you were seasick. Being up here won't help.'

'I'm not seasick, James,' Petra replied mildly. 'It has nothing to do with the sea. Or maybe it has everything to do with the sea. It's just so… dead out here. Dead in the middle of everything, so very far away from home; from