Albus lay ten feet away, dangerously near the edge of the chasm they had just traversed. He moaned and clutched his head.
"Al!" James called, stumbling over to him. "Are you all right?"
"I think we crashed," Albus replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. "That was just sick, wasn't it? Ow!"
James glanced down, "Oh no! I think we broke it!"
"My leg?" Albus asked, examining his shin critically. "Ouch! I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to bend in that direction, but it's nothing Madam Curio won't be able to fix, right?"
James blinked at Albus' crooked leg. "Oh. Ew. No, that's not what I meant. Sorry, Al. I meant that." He pointed at the broomstick, which was splintered messily into two pieces.
"Oh no! That hurts even worse than my leg! How are we going to get back now?" Albus exclaimed, picking up one of the pieces.
James shook his head. "Like you said, let's just rescue Lily, and we'll figure out the rest later."
Albus started to scramble to his feet, and then hissed in pain, falling back. "I'm no good, James. Unless you plan on carrying me, I'm stuck here."
"Come on, I can't do this by myself!" James said, feeling a sudden, helpless anger.
"Well, if you hadn't pulled us out of control back there, I wouldn't be in this condition, you stupid berk!"
"Me? Whose idea was it to ride the Broom from Hell across the pit in the first place?"
"Well, you sure weren't coming up with any brilliant ideas, were you?"
"Shh!" James suddenly hissed, half turning.
"Don't shush me, you big git!" Albus cried. "If my broken leg wasn't still attached, I'd beat you with it!"
"SHHH!" James insisted, waving one hand frantically. He cocked his head, listening. Albus stopped and listened as well, furrowing his brow.
"It's a voice," he whispered. "Sort of. That's creepy,"
"It's coming from that cave over there," James pointed. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see a greenish light flickering from the mouth of the cave.
"Go, James," Albus whispered urgently. "Go get Lily back if you still can. And if you can't, I swear I'll kill you."
James nodded. "All right. I just hope nobody else beats you to it."
He took a deep breath, still staring at the green glow of the cave mouth, and then began to walk toward it.
James' phantom scar began to sing a long, high note of pain. It rang in his ears, throbbing with the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Petra wouldn't really hurt Lily, would she? He truly wanted to believe she wouldn't, but he remembered the dreams, remembered the coaxing, lulling, infuriating words of that phantom voice. It had promised Petra she could get her parents back if only she was willing to make the hardest choice of all, to repay blood for blood. Petra was obviously not in her right mind. She was in a sort of trance, wasn't she? She was under the control of that horrible voice, and the last shred of the soul of Lord Voldemort which beat in her veins. But even as James approached the entrance to the cave, he knew that was not entirely true. Petra was being influenced, yes, but she wasn't being forced to do anything. The shred of Voldemort wasn't enough to completely control her, only to sway her, to coax and persuade her. The greatest influence inside Petra was her own broken heart, and her deep, unspoken rage, and the desperate, bottomless hunger for judgment on those who'd taken her parents from her. In the thrall of those emotions, James knew that Petra may well do almost anything if she was convinced that it would satisfy those needs.
Thinking that, James shuddered. He stepped into the mouth of the cave and saw it all.
There was the flickering green pool, lit from within, and there was Petra, still dressed in her pink costume dress. The curls had begun to fall from her hair, and her make-up had run, forming tear-streaks down her cheeks. Her eyes were dry now, however. She had her wand out, pointed at Lily, who stood before her, expressionless and limp, like a puppet. The high, horrible voice was babbling, and James could only now make out the words.
"The boy James comes!" the voice said with delight. "Look upon him, my dear! He comes, just as predicted!"
James gasped, hearing his name in that awful voice, but then Petra turned to him, and his gasp turned to a violent shiver as the pain in his forehead spiked. Petra's eyes were eerily dead. In the flicker of the greenish pool, her face looked like a mask. She held his voodoo doll in her free hand, and James could see that someone had drawn a crude green lightning bolt onto its forehead.
"James," she said blankly, still pointing her wand at Lily, "you shouldn't have come. Now it's too late."
James stumbled forward, moving into the light of the cave. "Petra, what… what are you doing?"
Petra shrugged slightly, and then turned her gaze back to Lily. "What I was made for," she answered, sounding eerily like Tabitha Corsica. She nodded at Lily and said, "You know what to do, dear."
Without blinking, Lily walked slowly around the glowing pool, her bare feet making no noise on the stone. On the far side of the pool, James saw that a series of steps led down into the water. Quite slowly, Lily began to descend the steps. With a shock of horror, James realized that his sister was under the Imperius Curse.
"I'm sorry, James," Petra said. "I know you can't possibly understand why this has to happen. It seemed awful to me at first too, but now I know it is the only way. It really is best for everyone, even Lily. You have to trust me."
"…have to trust me," the horrible, keening voice echoed. It seemed to be speaking constantly, muttering under Petra's words, almost as if it was feeding them to her.
"Lily!" James called, stepping forward. "Stop!"
Lily's eyes didn't so much as flicker. She took another step into the eerie green pool. James reached desperately for his wand, but it wasn't in his pocket. Too late, he realized he must have dropped it when he and Albus had crashed the broom. He ran forward, meaning to drag his sister bodily from the pool, but just as he was within reaching distance, something repelled him. He hurtled backwards through the air, as if pulled by a rope around his waist. He struck the mossy stone wall and fell, the breath knocked out of him.
"One at a time, James," Petra said sadly, still pointing her wand at Lily. "I'm sorry. Please don't try that again. I really don't want to hurt either of you before it's all over."
James gasped for breath, and the phantom scar on his forehead burned like a branding iron. The awful voice echoed Petra's every word, and for the first time James wondered if Petra was even aware of the voice. Was it possible that she didn't realize how it was influencing her? He glanced around, looking for the source of the voice. Just as in his dreams, it seemed to emanate from a shadowy figure in a dark corner. It stood perfectly still, apparently wearing an old bowler hat and a dusty coat. Its arms hung loosely at its sides.