The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) by G. Norman Lippert
Authors: G. Norman Lippert
Tags: series
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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."
"That was a Disarming Spell," Ralph said defensively. "My wand is a little sensitive about those. The problem isn't getting them to work but keeping them from working too well."
"Hmm!" Rose said pointedly, "I wonder why that might be?"
"So you really tackled him, eh?" Ralph said to Albus, reverting to a former topic.
"Knocked him clean off his feet," James said, nudging his brother. "It was pretty good
"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."
"That was a Disarming Spell," Ralph said defensively. "My wand is a little sensitive about those. The problem isn't getting them to work but keeping them from working too well."
"Hmm!" Rose said pointedly, "I wonder why that might be?"
"So you really tackled him, eh?" Ralph said to Albus, reverting to a former topic.
"Knocked him clean off his feet," James said, nudging his brother. "It was pretty good
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