Nepenthes Chapter 4: Field Trip, and Strange Keys.
Memory and forgetfulness are as life and death to one another. To live is to remember and to remember is to live. To die is to forget and to forget is to die.
Samuel Butler (1835–1902), British author.
James and Jon were inseparable after James switched places with Andrew. James made the rugby team, meaning that they were always at practice. Somehow, they managed to keep their marks high and yet keep their sanity, regardless of the Fathers. One night after curfew, they sat in the dark, whispering.
"James?"
"Yeah, Jon?"
"I see you drawing in that book a lot. What are you doing?"
James laughed. "Oh. I told you that I have amnesia, right?" he asked, uncertain of how to explain it.
"Yeah, you mentioned it once."
"They're people that I can't remember, but I see their faces. This one that I see, just about every night, I just have to draw him, because I think if I don't, I'll forget how he looks, and how he makes me feel."
"How?"
"Like he watched over me, even when it was almost impossible. That he loved me, no matter what happened. And that he was sad about something, like he had been betrayed by a best friend. I don't know. There are also times I draw someone who is about as old as a grandfather, and then a boy, my own age, with black hair and green eyes." James sighed. "It's a bit difficult to explain. I'll show you, though." He pulled out a flashlight, and handed it and the journal to him.
"Wow, James. It's great." He paged through slowly. "I had no idea that you were this good."
"Yeah. Grace completely encourages it, 'cause she thinks that it will help cure me of my memory loss. She sort of wonders where I came from. Though mostly, she wants Liam to be able to prosecute the people that I used to live with for child abuse," James replied. "Sorry… my mum and da. It's still a bit new to me."
"Jeez. I had no idea."
"Yeah. That's the point. Could you imagine what I would go through if everyone knew?"
James stood next to Jon before their first rugby match. They wore identical blue and red jerseys, with blue shorts and white and red striped socks. "So those are the cheerleaders?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the girls in uniform on the sidelines of the pitch.
"Forget the cheerleaders. Focus on the other team, eh?" Jon said, playfully elbowing James in the ribs.
James smiled sheepishly and took his place on the field.
The game went smoothly until James went to go get a ball from out of bounds. Another player purposely tripped him, and he went rolling into the cheerleaders from behind. "Son of a…" James began, and looked to see who he had knocked into.
"James, are you okay?" Jon asked concerned.
James looked straight into a pair of brown eyes and lost his breath. "Hi."
She blushed. "Hi."
Jon pulled James to his feet. "After the game, remember?"
"Sorry about that, um…"
"Mercy. Get back out there, James," she said, pushing him away.
He moved closer, and with a goofy grin, took the ball away from her, then ran back to throw it into play.
St. Ignatius easily won the game, and James smiled at Jon. "Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought."
"We are perennial favorites to win our league. Guess you just bring good luck."
"It was James, right?" the brunette cheerleader asked, as James bent down to unlace his cleats.
"Yes. Mercy? Is that short for something?"
"Nope. Just Mercy. Like Temperance, my mum says," she said, tossing her hair to one side.
"Ah, well, I'm just going to find Jennifer. James, don't take too long, or there won't be any hot water in the showers," he winked.
"Shove off, you crazy Welsh bastard," James muttered. "So, um, I didn't hurt you when I…"
"Rolled straight into me? No, just knocked me off my feet a bit." She waved her hand. "You're new at St. Iggy's, aren't you?"
"Just started in September. How'd you guess?"
"Well, just about half of the guys your age at my school have tried to get me to go out with them at some point. And the other half are afraid to, but I still see them. But I haven't seen you before."
"Ah. Popular girl," James said, pulling the muddy socks from his feet and grabbing a pair of sandals.
"You, uh, wouldn't want to go with me to the All Saint's ball in a few days, would you?"
"Do the girls usually ask the guys?"
"No, but you would save me from your classmates," she said, laughing.
"Sure, why not. Um, I'll see if I can't give you a call the day before or so, okay?"
"Sure. Thanks, James," she said, giving him a small kiss on the cheek, then pulling some mud out of his hair. "You are a blonde, aren't you?"
He blushed. "Um, yeah. And we do have a great deal of fun." James caught up with Jon, who said, "Well?"
"Well, I have a date to the All Saint's party," James said, lifting his bag on his right shoulder, and keeping James on his left.
"You asked her out already?"
"Actually, she asked me out. Nice, huh?"
"What is it with you and women?" Jon asked, shaking his head. "And who was it? It wasn't Mercy was it?"
"Yes. And I must be just charming and good looking, I think. Oh, and modest, too," he said, getting elbowed by Jon. "You get a date with Jennifer?"
"Yes. You'll be jealous."
"Maybe not."
Christmas came and went, and James fit in nicely at St. Ignatius. John and he managed to avoid getting caught with too many contraband items, and even managed to get some people back for the way they treated the two of them. He and Mercy even managed to become something of an item.
One night in May, James had a nightmare, which was completely abnormal. Jon knew that James couldn't sleep some nights, but he had never cried out in the middle of a dream.
"Oh, God. Ron, Hermione. Please. Don't… don't hurt them. I'm the one that you want," James said, clutching his pillow as if it was guarding his very life. "No."
Jon padded over to where James was sleeping and woke him up out of the nightmare. "James, snap out of it."
James sat straight up, panting. "Shit. My book. I need my book." He grabbed his journal and a pencil and started sketching the face that had haunted his dream.
The face was pale, with red eyes, and a flat nose. No hair covered the head, and James shivered at the thought of who this man was. After he colored the shadows that the flickering flamelight had left on the man's face, he set down the pencil and considered the image.
"Who is that?"
"I don't know. But he was holding my neighbor hostage… and her friend."
"Shit. You think that was real?" Jon asked, rubbing his arms against a sudden chill.
"I don't know. But if it was, how the hell did I know?" he said thoughtfully. "Jon, go back to sleep."
"You going to be okay?" he asked, running his fingers through mussed brown hair.
"Yeah. Just fine…" he trailed off, staring at the face in the darkness of the room. The skin gleamed white, and it seemed to James that was the color that it should be.
James O'Brien hadn't been able to fall back asleep after the nightmare. Instead, he walked to his desk, and pulled out an antique key that was one of his sole original possessions. He reached out his hand, and held it firmly in his right fist. James froze as images of a large bank flooded his vision. It was gleaming in alabaster, with silvery doors. And strange creatures worked there. Gringotts. London, Diagonally. Words that seemed to make little to no sense, but James knew that he had to go somewhere, though.
James put down the key and packed a rucksack quickly with his toothbrush, some non-school clothes and his money. He got dressed in some of his Goth clothes, and put on his eyeliner and wrist-bands. Committing himself to figuring out what was going on, James grabbed the key again, and thought very hard about that Gringott's place and said, "Apparatus me."
James disappeared. A figure stepped out of the shadows. "Damn, I thought he'd never leave."
James reappeared in front of the bank that he had seen earlier in his mind. Stopping a man who was wearing what looked like a floor-length blue coat, he asked, "Sir, where am I?"
The man affected a confused expression. "You're in Diagon Alley in London. Why, where did you think you were?"
James rubbed his temples. "I don't know. I am confused out of my mind. Can you at least tell me what this is?" he asked, holding up the golden key.
"It's a key," the man replied dumbly.
"Do you have any idea to what?" James asked, getting a bit exasperated.
A slightly balding redhead appeared at James' elbow. "Is there something wrong, Amos?"
"Jeez. Will someone please tell me what the hell this is a key to?" James asked, severely aggravated.
"It's a Gringott's key. To a vault in that bank there. How did you get it?" the elder man asked.
James sighed. "Thank you. I've had it for as long as I can remember. And today I just had this urge to come here and use it. I don't know why."
"Ah. Would you care for an escort?" the second man asked.
"Okay," James said.
The man steered him into the bank and past the rows of goblins. "This man here wishes to access his vault."
A goblin took the key and examined it. "Good to have you back. Griphook will take you to your vault."
"I'll be waiting here."
James nodded and followed the tiny goblin to his cart.
Once they reached his vault, James watched as the goblin pulled out his key and opened the door, revealing an obscene amount of money and a single trunk, which sat just in front of the door.
On top of the trunk sat a bag with a note pinned to it. The note had seven numbered items on it. It read:
1. Floo Powder
2. Leaky Cauldron
3. Three Broomsticks
4. Albus Dumbledore
5. Remove Glamourie
6. Remove Vita Nova
7. Save the day
He threw some gold and silver into the bag and stepped back outside.
The goblin returned him to the lobby, where he met up with the man he had met earlier. "Got everything you need?"
"I think so. Does any of this make sense to you? Floo Powder, Leaky Cauldron, Three Broomsticks?"
"I guess so," the man said, thinking as he guided the boy back outside. "Floo Powder is a method of travel. And the other two are pubs. The Leaky Cauldron is just down the street. I'm headed to the Three Broomsticks, actually. How did you get here, though, if not by Floo Powder, or the Leaky Cauldron?"
"I don't know. I closed my eyes, thought of the bank and said, 'Apparatus me.'"
"Accidental Apparition. Not exactly unheard of, but not safe in the slightest," the man said, sighing. "I don't think you should do that again."
"Okay. So someone can tell me how to work this Floo Powder thing?"
"Yes. I have somewhere to be, so I should get going. Safe travels," he said, before disappearing.
James looked at the sign that said, "The Leaky Cauldron" and walked inside. All movement stopped, and the patrons looked at him. "Excuse me, sir, I need to Floo somewhere, I think."
"Ah, okay. Well, you can use my fireplace."
James just looked at the less than completely toothed bartender in confusion. "I've uh… never used it before, so I need a bit of explanation, if you don't mind."
"Oh. Where are you headed?" Tom asked.
"The Three Broomsticks, I think."
"Well," he said, guiding James with a hand to the middle of his back, "You just take a pinch of this, and throw it into the fire and say your destination. Be sure to enunciate or you could end up miles from where you want to be."
"Okay. Thank you, sir," he said, taking a pinch from the jar he was offered. "The Three Broomsticks."
"It's Tom," he said, as James spun away.
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So thanks to all my reviewers… I hope you keep reading.
Thanks for your reviews, and I hope you like the way I am taking this.