The Vault of Destinies (James Potter #3) (72 page)

"Hey Lu," he said quietly, and she finally looked up at him. He took a quick breath and went on. "Sorry about the other day. I was a total berk. I should have just asked you straight up for what I needed. Can you forgive me?"

She studied his eyes for a moment and then slumped slightly. "I forgave you that very night," she admitted shyly. "I can't stay mad at you, no matter how hard I want to. And I really
did
want to."

James glanced around the room to make sure no one was watching and then leaned close to the shorter girl. "I
wasn't
trying to trick you when I asked you to go to the Halloween Dance with me, Lu," he said earnestly. "I asked you because I knew I'd have fun with you, and I
did
. You had fun too, right? I didn't mean for it to be… er… confusing."

Lucy shook her head and dropped her eyes. "Don't say any more, James. I'm already mortified. Just let me sneak off to the girls' bathroom and see if I can soak this stupid heart off of me."

James smiled sheepishly. "I was going to do the same thing," he admitted. "I mean, not in the girls' bathroom, though, of course. I was going to… um…" He paused, looking down at her as a completely unexpected idea occurred to him. It was probably stupid, but suddenly that didn't seem to matter very much.

"Er," he began, and she glanced up at him. Her eyes were huge and very dark, cautiously inquisitive. "Er," he said again, and swallowed. "I mean, I know we're cousins and all, but we're not really blood or anything, like. We could maybe just…"

But suddenly Lucy was pulled away, caught up in a mass of students who pushed past, screaming and laughing.

"You lost your chance with
this
little Vampire, Potter," Gobbins grinned, taking Lucy by the shoulder. "You snooze, you lose!"

With a quick messy
smack
, he kissed Lucy on the corner of her mouth. Immediately, the paper heart flitted up from her shoulder and darted out over the cafeteria. Lucy touched the corner of her mouth, simultaneously peeved and amused.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Lucy!" Gobbins called with a grin as he backed away. Lucy blushed and smiled, a little flustered.

James sighed deeply, his face heating. "Yeah," he agreed somberly. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Before Lucy could reply, he ducked into the boys' bathroom, tugging at the cupid that still clung to his neck.

 "I
told
you you couldn't just rip it off," Zane whispered some hours later as the three boys stole through the darkness toward the Warping Willow.

"Don't remind me!" James rasped. "Let's just forget the whole thing ever happened, all right?"

"It's a good thing for you that Mother Newt saw you in the hall and knew how to summon a paper heart for herself," Zane said, shaking his head. "Otherwise, you'd probably be spear bald by now. So, was she a good kisser, then?"

James fumed silently.

"I hear she was quite a looker back in the day," Ralph mused.

Zane considered this. "
Waaay
back in the day, maybe."

"
Would you both shut up about it
?" James exclaimed in a loud hiss. "We're nearly there. You got the note?"

"Right here," Zane acknowledged, producing a folded scrap of parchment from his pocket. "Here's hoping it works."

Silently, the boys crept underneath the low-hanging limbs of the Warping Willow. All around, the campus was dark and quiet, overhung by a huge moon and a sprinkle of glittering stars.

"I think you're supposed to read it first," Ralph said, nudging Zane. "And then you drop it in the knothole in the trunk."

"I know, I know," Zane mumbled. "All right, here goes."

The blonde boy unfolded the note and peered at it by the dim light of the moon. He took a deep breath and read aloud: "Warping Willow, take we three… to a date that's nifty-fine… in the nineteenth century… eighth October, fifty-nine."

Rolling his eyes, Zane crumpled the note and dropped it into the hole in the Willow's trunk.

"'Nifty-fine?'" Ralph repeated quizzically.

"Hey, you try to find a rhyme for fifty-nine," Zane replied tersely. "See what
you
come up with."

"Do you think it'll work?" James asked, looking around.

As if in answer, the Tree's limbs began to sway and whisper all around. Very slowly, the stars beyond the Tree's canopy began to move like painted dots on a monstrous black dome.

"We're going
somewhere,
at least," Zane said. "Let's hope we got everything right and don't end up in the Stone Age or something."

"You're joking, right?" Ralph asked nervously. Neither Zane nor James replied.

Accompanied by the shushing movement of the Willow's limbs, time began to unravel all around. Night crept backwards into day only to be followed swiftly by night once again. The sun and moon chased each other faster and faster through the sky, becoming streaks as the days grew into a flickering blur. Winter came and went again and then the leaves sprang up onto the trees all around, changing from autumn orange to vibrant summer green. Seasons melted together as years sped into decades, spiraling steadily backwards. Finally, the whip-like branches of the Warping Willow began to relax. The whicker of the leaves settled to a whisper as the sun resolved into an individual orb again, dropping past the horizon, descending into a single chilly night. The moon crept up into the sky, a thin sickle shape now, and stopped.

"Well," Zane said, his voice unconsciously hushed, "we're here. I hope."

"How do we know what year it is?" James asked as they skulked out from beneath the Tree into the weedy walled yard that formed the entrance to Muggle Philadelphia. "Do we just wait and hope for the best?"

Ralph nodded. "I don't think we have much of a choice. Are you sure about the incantation that takes us back to the school?"

"That one's easy," Zane whispered. "I've heard it about a thousand times and it never really changes, so long as you know the timeframe that the Aleron is occupying on any given day. Warrington worked it out with me, so that's no problem."

"Shh!" James rasped suddenly, pushing Ralph and Zane backwards behind him. He nodded toward the gate and whispered, "Look!"

Both boys looked and saw the hunkered shape of Flintlock. He was in his resting form, looking like nothing more than a pile of great mossy boulders near the closed gate. As they watched, a clatter of hooves on cobbles could be heard beyond the gate. A shadow passed by on the street outside followed by a rattle of wheels.

"Well," Ralph whispered, "horses and carriages. That's a good sign, I guess."

James nodded. Together, the three boys hunkered down into the weeds near the yard's furthest corner.

As they waited, the sounds of the Muggle city filled the small yard, echoing off the stone walls. James heard indistinct voices and laughter as well as the more distant bellows of working men, probably down by the river. Clangs and whistles marked the passage of ships on the dark waterway. The crisp breeze carried the scent of smoke, horse manure, and rotting fish. After a few minutes, a bell began to toll the hour, ringing clearly in the darkness. Eight chimes pealed out, diminishing slowly into the silence.

"Any moment now," Zane whispered, watching the Warping Willow carefully.

"I hope he comes quick-like," Ralph replied quietly. "My bum's going to sleep."

Several more minutes crept by, each one seeming as long as an hour. James began to worry that they had missed their target date somehow. He opened his mouth to say so when the Tree began to rustle faintly in front of them.

"This is it," Zane rasped, his eyes bulging with anticipation. "Keep low so he doesn't see us!"

James hunkered down in the weeds, hoping the darkness and the overgrowth would be enough to hide them. Shortly, the motion of the Tree increased, hiding the space beneath it. James held his breath, watching. With a shudder and a sort of sigh, the limbs relaxed, and a figure stepped purposely out from beneath the Willow.

There was no question of who the figure was. Even in the darkness, the fringe of short grey hair and the chiseled features of Ignatius Magnussen were clearly visible. Further dispelling any doubt, the man thumped the ground with his cane and James saw moonlight glinting off the hooked iron face of its handle.

"Awake, my friend," Magnussen announced in his unmistakable British accent, speaking to Flintlock. "I have one final duty to perform this evening and then you will know me no more."

Slowly, Flintlock stirred, his movements like a miniature landslide in reverse. "Professor," the troll said, spying the man before him, "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to pass. I have orders directly from Chancellor Franklyn himself."

Magnussen lowered his head and stepped forward in a friendly fashion. "I am quite certain that you do, my friend," he said. "But look here…"

With that, Magnussen raised his cane, holding the iron head aloft, nearly at the troll's eyelevel. A green flash lit the troll's face, sparkling in his diamond chip eyes, and Flintlock stopped moving.

"Open the gate," Magnussen ordered, and all the friendliness had dropped out of his voice. "Or I will unmake you and return you to the guts of the earth, a million pebbles without memory of the shape they once comprised."

Jerkily, almost as if he were being operated by a careless puppet-master, Flintlock reached for the gate. He wrenched it open in one swift motion, ripping the vines that had grown up through the bars.

"Thank you, my friend," Magnussen said easily, lowering his cane. With a sweep of his cloak, he strode through the entrance and disappeared into the dark street beyond.

"That was an Imperius Curse," Zane breathed worriedly. "He
Imperioed
Flintlock!"

"Come on!" James whispered, scrambling to his feet.

"But what about Flintlock?" Ralph asked. "What if he tries to stop us?"

Zane approached the great stony troll carefully and then patted him on the knee. "I don't think he's going to notice anything for awhile," he said with a shudder.

James looked up at the troll as he passed. Flintlock's eyes stared straight ahead, glinting dully in the moonlight. More than anything, he looked like a machine that had been temporarily switched off.

"Come on," Zane nodded soberly. "Mags went to the right. We have to hurry up or we'll lose sight of him."

With a renewed sense of urgency, the three boys darted through the open doorway out into the streets of nineteenth century Muggle Philadelphia.

To James' eye, Muggle Philadelphia didn't look immediately very different despite the change of nearly two centuries.

The streets were narrower and cobbled rather than paved and the footpaths were made of uneven slabs of stone, leaning somewhat drunkenly toward the brick-lined gutters. What streetlamps there were flickered with gas flames instead of the bright incandescence of the modern lights. The houses that lined the streets, however, seemed nearly unchanged, apart from the lack of any televisions flashing behind the windows. Occasionally, a black carriage or hansom cab would trundle past in the tow of large horses, their eyes hidden behind black blinders, their harnesses creaking and jingling.

"This would be a lot easier if there were more people on the street," Ralph whispered as they trailed Magnussen. "If he turns around, he'll see us straight away."

"Just walk casual," Zane muttered, "and try to keep in the shadows."

Magnussen strode briskly, his cape billowing behind him like bat wings in the chilly breeze. The three boys had to occasionally trot to keep him in sight as he zigzagged through the narrow residential streets. Obviously, Magnussen knew exactly where he was going and was sparing no time in getting there. Shortly, the boys trailed the big man into a neighborhood of much larger houses, most surrounded by low stone walls and wrought-iron gates. The gas lampposts were more prominent here and the windows of the houses glowed brightly, making it harder for the three boys to stay hidden in shadows. Magnussen never once looked back, however, even as he turned sharply and descended into a narrow alley.

"We're heading down toward the river," Zane whispered as they ducked into the alley. "Wrong-side-of-the-tracks-city."