James shook his head, smiling at his friend's irrepressible temerity.
Shortly thereafter, Ralph, Rose, and Albus dragged their trunks out to the step as well, awaiting Hagrid's carriage to the station. James smiled in the sunlight. It was going to be a fun trip home.
"You still haven't really told us what happened on the other side of the chasm," Ralph said as the train picked up speed, leaving Hogsmeade station. "I mean, what was the real deal with Petra anyway? Was she under the Imperius Curse or something?"
James shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. She was being deceived. She had no idea that she was the Bloodline of Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy arranged for the Invisibility Cloak, my voodoo doll, and the portrait of Voldemort to be planted into the box of her father's things before it ever left Azkaban. She was blinded to the portrait and doll, tricked by the little part of Voldemort in her blood. Later, when she heard the voice of the portrait in the cave, she thought it was the voice of her dead father. It sounds mad, but I think she was feeling a little mad anyway after finding out all that stuff about her mum and dad."
"So none of the things we saw in the Pensieve were about Tabitha after all, right?" Ralph said. "All those memories were about Petra. Scorpius let us believe Tabitha was the Bloodline because that's what his grandfather told him to do, just to keep us distracted from the real thing; is that it?"
"I don't care what you all say," Albus said determinedly, "that little squid is ten kinds of trouble. He just better stay out of my way."
Rose closed the book on her lap and looked up. "I admit he started out pretty awful, what with stealing the Cloak, map, and doll, and then lying to us about the Bloodline, but all of that was on his grandfather's orders. You can't really blame him for wanting to live up to the legacy of his family; he didn't know any better. Besides, even by the time he was showing us the memories in the Pensieve, he was beginning to have doubts about his grandfather's plan. That's why he didn't actually say Tabitha's name. He was halfway hoping we'd figure out it was Petra after all."
"And he did do the right thing in the end," James added. "He never knew that hurting Lily was part of the plan. When Lily was kidnapped, he totally gave up his grandfather and Tabitha. We'd never have learned the truth about Petra if Scorpius hadn't been there with us in the bathroom."
"I think both of you have crushes on him," Albus said dourly. "I'm not falling for that 'I'm just a poor misguided bad boy' bit. Someday, he and I are going to finish what we started on the train ride here."
"I'd be careful, Albus," Zane commented, raising his eyebrows. "I saw Scorpius at the last Defence Club meeting and he's gotten pretty slick with that Artis Decerto stuff. He was waxin' on and waxin' off like a boy ninja."
Albus rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
Ralph stood up and peered out the compartment door. "Hey, that reminds me: which direction are Louis and Victoire in?" he asked, peering up and down the train corridor. "Louis has a book on Middle Eastern defensive magic he said I could borrow over the summer."
"Victoire stayed behind," Rose answered. "She's staying with George and Ted in Hogsmeade until George and Angelina's wedding. And I usually try my best not to know where Louis is."
Ralph stretched and said, "I'm going to go walk a bit and try to find him. Who's coming?"
"I'm in," James answered, standing. "I'm going to fall asleep if I stay here. We shouldn't have stayed up so late playing Winkles and Augers last night."
"I'm going to ask the cart lady about her working hours," Zane interjected, opening the compartment door.
"Louis has a book on magical martial arts?" Rose asked Ralph as the five of them filed out into the corridor.
"He's really gotten into it," Ralph nodded. "Posters all over his dormitory of the Harriers and famous wizard martial artists and stuff. He even asked his mum to order him one of those hoods with the eye slits in it so he can look all mysterious."
"Our Louis?" Albus exclaimed, stifling a grin. "I should have known there was a repressed fighter buried under all that stuffed shirt."
"Debellows said he's got some natural talent," Ralph said, shrugging. "Of course, he said the same thing about you, James."
"And I got top marks on my Wizlit essay," Rose said pointedly, steering the conversation away from Professor Debellows, for whom she still had little respect. "Professor Revalvier said my insight on the golden age of wizarding literature was—"
James suddenly stopped in the aisle, forcing everyone to pile up behind him.
"Ow! Ralph, get off my toe, you bloody dump truck!" Albus cried. "What gives?"
"Do you see it?" James whispered urgently, pointing. Everyone stopped and craned their heads, looking in the direction James was pointing.
"What are we looking for?" Zane asked after a moment.
Rose said, "I don't see anythi—"
"There!" Albus interrupted, pointing over Zane's shoulder.
Something moved inside the network of flickering shadows near the end of the corridor.
"It's like a living shadow," Ralph said.
"It's the last Borley!" Albus declared, pushing past James. "And he's mine!"
"No magic!" James commanded. "Remember? That's how it grew last time!"
The Borley capered in moving shadows as the train pushed through the forest. It teased and cartwheeled, as if begging to be hexed. Suddenly, the door at the end of the corridor slid open, letting in the noise of the rushing wind and clacking wheels. All five students cried out in warning, stumbling over each other, but the Borley took advantage of the opening and leapt through the door just as it was sliding shut again.
"How very curious," the newcomer said in a deep voice. James looked up and rolled his eyes. It was Merlin, wearing his travelling cloak, his staff at his side.
"Merli—er, Headmaster!" Rose exclaimed, pushing forward. "It just went that way!"
"The Borley!" James added hastily. "The last one! It must have been on the train this whole time!"
Merlin's face darkened slightly. "We mustn't take any chances this time, my friends. I will follow it and corral it. Mr. Potter, you know what the Darkbag looks like, do you not? It is in my compartment, two cars behind you, number six. It will allow you inside. The trunk beneath the seat will open with this key. Meet us as soon as you can." The big man produced a golden key on a long loop of chain and held it out to James. James took it, feeling rather important.
"Quickly, Mr. Potter," Merlin prodded. "We haven't a moment to spare."
James turned on his heel and ran back the way they'd come, fighting the disorienting sensation of running full out in a moving, swaying train. He passed through two connectors and came to the compartment marked number six. The windows were smoked, but the door was unlocked. James entered quickly and saw the Headmaster's trunk peeking out from beneath the left side bench. He dropped to his knees and heaved it into the light. The small golden key fit snugly in the lock and turned with a minute click. When James threw the trunk open, he was surprised to see that the Darkbag was the only thing inside it, folded neatly on the wooden floor of the trunk. Of course, he realized, this was one of those magical trunks which opened onto different contents depending on what key you unlocked it with. Considering the great importance and potential danger of the Darkbag, which imprisoned the rest of the starving Borleys inside its seamless dark, James felt particularly honored to have been asked to retrieve it. He touched it a little fearfully, remembering Merlin's warnings about it, but it felt perfectly normal. It was simply a large, heavy, black cloth bag, cinched shut with a golden cord and bearing a long shoulder strap on the top. Having assured himself that the Darkbag was relatively safe to hold, James slung it around his neck and over his shoulder, wearing it like a backpack. He slammed the trunk, hung the key around his neck on its fine chain, and ran back toward the front of the train.