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        "Stay close and try very hard not to think about what you're doing," she said, and James shivered. She didn't sound entirely confident that it would work, but what choice did they have? James hesitated, but then he realized that, for the first time in nearly an hour, the phantom scar on his forehead didn't hurt. He sighed and moved in behind Petra, herding Lily and Albus in front of him.

        "This is completely insane," Albus commented.

        "Don't look down," Petra answered. Without a pause, she began to walk. Jerkily, Albus, Lily, and James began to follow her. Against all probability, none of them fell as they moved out over the depths of the chasm. Neither did the swinging, whooshing blades descend on them. James' footsteps landed on rough stone steps, each about the size of a dinner plate, and the moment his heels pulled away from each step, they sank away quickly, falling into darkness. Dimly, James heard the clank and rattle of machinery, and he recognized it. It was the same sound he'd heard in his dreams of this place, only now he knew what it was. Somehow, the stones were raised mechanically, operated by the sheer magic of Petra's passage. Perhaps the mechanism could only be summoned by the Bloodline, or perhaps it merely responded to anyone who knew the proper talisman, as Petra obviously did. Either way, it definitely helped not to think about what one was doing or to look down. As James placed his last footstep on the opposite ledge, collected into the waiting arms of Rose, Ralph, and Zane, he couldn't resist looking back. The last stepping stone fell away into darkness, attached to a complicated rigging of struts and coils. It squeaked and rattled as it retracted, and then it was gone, as if it'd never been there at all.

        "Petra!" Rose exclaimed, weak with relief. "Lily! Everyone's all right!"

        Zane grinned incredulously. "I thought you both were goners for sure. What happened?"

        "James crashed us," Albus griped, shaking his head. "About broke my leg off. It's a good thing Petra here is a quick one with a splint."

        "Yeah, she's a great one to have around in a medical emergency," Ralph agreed, looking at Petra a little worriedly.

        "Lily, you're soaked!" Rose exclaimed, laughing and wiping a tear from her eye. "Here, let me help you." Rose produced her wand and waved it at Lily in a complicated gesture, pronouncing the proper spell. Hot air suddenly blew from the tip, drying Lily's dress and making her giggle.

        "And what of the Gatekeeper?" Zane asked James as the group made its way toward the stone stairs and the light beyond.

        "Gone," James answered. "I felt it leave."

        "For good?"

        James shrugged. "It didn't get Petra as its host. She wouldn't kill for it, not in the end. It doesn't have a foothold here anymore. It's finished."

        Zane nodded, frowning a little. "If you say so, mate. Let's get out of here. This place creeps me out big time."

        "Yeah. There's a reason they call it the Chamber of Secrets," Albus agreed.

        James nodded, glancing back. Fervently, he said, "Let's just hope that was the last of its secrets."

        "sAnd that's the story as well as I can tell it," James said, sitting back in the single chair across from the Headmaster. It was the next day, and the bright sunlight and birdsong of late morning wafted in through the open window. "We came up through the girls' second-floor bathroom and Ted led Tabitha straight here to your office. The rest of us took Lily to the Great Hall to meet up with Mum. She called Aunt Hermione, Uncle George and Uncle Ron back from the search and everybody decided to go ahead with the wrap party after all, although it was more a celebration of Lily's return by that point."

        Merlin nodded slowly, his fingers steepled. He shared a look with Harry Potter, who stood nearby, arms folded and staring at the floor.

        "And Miss Morganstern attended the party?" Merlin asked.

        James shook his head. "No, I think she thought it'd be best for her not to be there. I mean, considering everything."

        Harry spoke without raising his head. "It wasn't her fault. She was being deceived."

        "It was not entirely her fault," Merlin corrected grimly. "She was being deceived, yes, but she was allowing the deception to occur. She has admitted so herself. The fact that she was able to throw off the deception in the end is proof that she could have done so all along, had she so chose."

        "She is cursed with the last ghost of the soul of Voldemort in her very blood," Harry said, finally raising his eyes. "He was a wily liar and a master manipulator. Far greater witches and wizards than Petra Morganstern succumbed to his deceptions."

        Merlin nodded. "And they were also responsible for the choices they made as a result."

        James sat forward in his seat. "What are you saying? You think Petra is evil just because she was unlucky enough to get chosen for that stupid Horcrux dagger?"

        "No, James," Merlin said gently. "For that, she is truly unfortunate. To the extent that Petra allows herself to be influenced by that accursed soul, however, she may still choose to do that which would make her evil indeed. She has admitted that she was the one that cursed Josephina Bartlett with the Vertigo Hex, knowing everyone would blame Miss Corsica, all just to prove to herself that she could do it. She came very close to making the ultimate evil choice last night, and nearly doomed all of mankind in the bargain. Had you not been there at exactly the right moment, revealing the mysterious portrait, all might well have been lost."

        "You don't know that," James said, but uncertainly.

        "Oh, but I do, James," Merlin said, looking James in the eye. "And for that, I owe you an apology."

        "An apology? Why?"

        Merlin sighed deeply. "I was very wrong about you, James Potter." The big man paused, as if unwilling to elaborate. He was gazing straight ahead, and James realized that he was looking past him, at something on the rear wall. James turned and looked over his shoulder. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore was meeting Merlin's gaze. He smiled slightly and nodded. Then, barely noticeable, Dumbledore winked at James. James frowned and turned back to Merlin.

        "I've been advised," Merlin said sardonically, "to avoid the temptation to keep secrets or tell halftruths. Your Albus Dumbledore and I have discussed the topic at great length, and I admit that, until recently, I did not much agree with him. Regardless, recent events have shown the validity of his argument. James Potter, in the presence of your father, I will tell you the whole of the truth." Merlin sighed again, and then stood. He moved from behind his desk, passing in front of Harry.

        "It is true," he explained. "I was well aware of the possibility that the entity called the Gatekeeper might follow me back from my long journey outside of time. Salazar Slytherin made it very clear to me. He hoped and planned for it, and my heart was in such a state that I did not much care. 'Damn the world,' I thought. 'If the Doombringer is to come, then fate will save mankind or it will not.' I washed my hands of it. Last year, when I returned to the world of men, I despised this age. I determined that if the Gatekeeper had indeed followed me, I would not even use the small power at my disposal to keep it at bay." Merlin held up a hand, displaying the glinting black ring. "And then I discovered the presence of the Borleys. Nuisances, really, the magical equivalent of cockroaches, and yet it proved to me that things had indeed followed me from the Void. If the Borleys were here, then surely the Gatekeeper was as well. I determined to capture the Borleys using the best tool for such a task: the Darkbag, which, as you know, contains the last earthly shred of pure darkness from the Void. I imprisoned the Borleys inside it, dozens of them, although at the time I could not say why I chose to do so; it seemed merely right and responsible. The truth is that I was coming to know this age, and while there was—and still is—much of it that I find wretched, I discovered I did not hate it as much as I'd thought. More important, I had come to care for some of the people in this age. Chiefly, you, Mr. Potter, and your rambunctious, irreverent friends.