Clearly, she had been struggling with this very dilemma.
And it was only in that moment that James finally understood his biggest reason for keeping Petra’s plan a secret. The weight of the realization chilled him all the way to his heels. Rose saw it on his face, as did Ralph, who blanched a little himself.
“What is it?” he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. “What do you know?”
James shook his head slowly. “It’s not what I know,” he breathed, leaning against the wall and sliding down into a weak crouch.
“It’s what I’m afraid could happen. What will happen, if we tell Merlin and our parents.”
Ralph hunkered down as well. Rose knelt and smoothed her skirt over her knees. “They’ll try to reason with her, won’t they?” she said reasonably. “If they can get her to listen, they’ll try to talk her out of her plan.”
James shook his head again. “But they won’t succeed. Petra is completely committed. She’s made a Horcrux just to assure she can carry out her plan. No way that Merlin and our parents will be able to talk her out of it. That means they won’t have any choice but to try to stop her however they can.”
Rose’s face paled now as she nodded, beginning to understand.
“And if they oppose her by force…”
Ralph’s shoulders slumped. “People will end up getting hurt.
Maybe even killed.”
“But not Petra,” James whispered. “That’s the whole point of the Horcrux. They may resort to trying to cut her down, but it won’t work. And then…”
“She will attack them,” Rose said in a small voice. “Petra will kill anyone who stands in her way.”
James felt cold to the bone as he nodded. “She’ll do it because she thinks it’s the only way to save the entire world. She’ll hate it. But she will do it. Because she believes she is strong enough to make the hardest choice of all.”
Rose added, “And because her soul is already stained with one death.”
Ralph stared down at the floor between them, apparently thinking hard, mulling over the cold truth of their words. “So,” he muttered, “if we tell Merlin or our parents, they may end up dead. And it would be partly our fault, because we set them up to oppose someone they can’t possibly defeat.”
None of them responded. After a long moment, Ralph raised his head again.
“Not even Merlin?”
James looked at Rose, then Ralph. “Merlin would be our best hope. But remember what happened when he confronted Petra at the parade in New York, on the Night of the Unveiling. He tried to stop her. He used his staff on her. And it didn’t even stun her. He was nothing to her.”
Ralph frowned, still struggling with the idea. “But the city is her element! It’s the source of her power! Sure, she was more powerful than him there. But maybe next time…”
With a deep sigh, Rose said, “If there’s a next time, Petra will make sure the odds are stacked in her favor again, just like they were in New York. She knows Merlin’s weakness. She won’t let him have any advantage over her. She will defeat him. And when she does, he won’t ever come back.”
Ralph simply scowled and stared at the floor again. He didn’t like it. James could see that. But neither could he argue with it.
Without a word, the three went their separate ways. They didn’t see each other again until nearly nine o’clock, as they congregated in the entrance hall and slipped out into the cold of the night.
Hagrid’s hut glowed with yellow light. A ribbon of grey smoke issued from its stone chimney, just like always, and yet James had never felt less welcomed by the familiar hut than he did now. He was mad with suspense about what was to come, but also trembling with trepidation that he might be about to get into the worst trouble of his life.
A noise suddenly wafted across the blue evening glow of the lawns, stopping James, Rose, and Ralph in their tracks. It was faint but unmistakable, and it was the last sound they expected to hear coming from the depths of the hut.
It was laughter. Several voices, all different timbres, were laughing in unison, forming a melody like an old song, long forgotten.
James glanced aside in alarm and met Rose’s puzzled gaze.
Ralph gulped audibly.
“Is that a good sign,” he whispered, “or a bad sign?”
Rose shrugged uncertainly, and then, more slowly, resumed her short trek across the lawn. James and Ralph followed tentatively.
The laughter came again, growing louder as the three approached the hut. Rose raised her small fist and knocked once, softly, almost as if she hoped not to be heard. The hut went immediately silent. Several seconds later, the door budged open and the shaggy bulk of Hagrid’s head peered out. His dark eyes flicked over the three students, then he nodded and stepped back, tugging the door open with him.
James followed Rose and Ralph inside and glanced around.
Seated around the huge table, their faces illuminated in the glow of a single lantern, with the dishes of a late tea scattered between them, were Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and his wife Hermione. They were dressed in dark jeans and heavy sweaters, their faces merry but quiet as they looked up at the newcomers, as if reluctantly prepared to get down to the business of the night.
Hagrid shut the hut door with a clunk and gestured toward the table. “We was just discussin’ old times,” he acknowledged. “Lot o’
memories with these three. Not all of ‘em good, but definitely more of ‘em than not.”
Hermione nodded and pointed to a small chair beneath the window. “I remember you sitting right there, Ron,” she commented, “vomiting slugs for a good quarter hour. Is that one of the good memories or the bad ones?”
James’ father tried not to grin. Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re a laugh riot, Mrs. Weasley. If you recall, that was a result of me trying to defend your prodigious honour.”
“And failing admirably,” Harry agreed. “But it’s definitely the thought that counts.”
Hermione put an arm around her husband and dipped her head to his shoulder. “I do remember,” she said warmly, “And I’ll never forget it.”
“Nice catch out there today, James,” Ron nodded, turning to James with a crooked smile.
James moved into the light of the table, looking from face to face for some sign of what was going on. His father saw the question on his face and gave a brief nod.
“We know about Norberta,” he admitted. “And before you give Hagrid any grief, no, it isn’t because he told us.”
Hagrid raised both of his slab-like hands as he settled back into his chair. “Didn’t utter nary a word. Not this time.”