The Curse of the GateKeeper (James Potter #2) Read Free

scattered. Many are in Azkaban. More are dead. The dog, Fletcher, is in the custody of the Ministry. The Langlock Jinx silences him, and his identity is still undiscovered, but if your conspiracy crumbles, connections will be made. Potter will recognize him from his days with the Order. They will find a way to communicate with him. Sacarhina and Recreant will be incriminated first, but you will be next. After all, you were there with them in the cave of the throne. You yourself performed the curse upon them. Fletcher will betray you."
    "Fletcher has nothing that the Ministry can use against us," the silky voice soothed. "Like all weak governments, they are far too enamored with their ideals of justice to be effective against a truly wily enemy. Potter will watch us when and where he can, but that is all. Let him. He believes the battle is over. He saw the Dark Lord cut down at his own thieving hand. And shall I shock you, my friend? Perhaps that was for the best. After all, the seed must die for the flower to blossom. Perhaps it was best that our Lord was cut down by the coward, Harry Potter. He and his allies have been lured these many years into a false sense of security. They believe that we, like them, are cowards, that we will not rise up again with vengeance in our hearts, stronger than ever. And let us not forget the legend, Gregor. We may indeed be the tools in the hand of our greatest forefather. It may well be our mission to close the circle of ancient revenge, a circle that was begun over a thousand years ago. My friend, I dare to suggest that the plan that was put into motion by the death of the Dark Lord may be even greater than his original intention. Given what we have discovered, I am certain that he would agree with me."
    Gregor's shadow leaned forward. "Are you certain, my friend?"
    "Call it an educated guess. After all, I was among his closest and most loyal servants. You know as well as I the… difficulties we face. For now."
    There was a clink as Gregor reached for a wine glass. "Perhaps we shouldn't say any more in front of our guest."
    "Ah, yes," the silky voice replied. "How insufferably rude of me to speak as if he were not here. Mr. Forge, do join us, won't you?"
    Forge jumped. He'd become so transfixed by the conversation that he'd forgotten that they were waiting for him. He peeked around the door into the library. Firelight flashed along the edges of the leather chairs.
    "Yes, thank you, Mr. Forge," the silky voice said airily. The white hand beckoned. As it did, two of the three chairs began to turn. They revolved silently, as if on bearings, and Forge saw that they floated very slightly off the floor. "Tell me, my goblin friend, have you ever heard of the Transitus Nihilo?"
    "No, sir," Forge said instantly, relieved that his voice didn't betray his nervousness. "I'm just a simple trade goblin. I don't know about any of these things. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that I'll forget every word you've said by the time I'm fifty steps from this house."
    The chairs stopped turning and Forge saw the men sitting there. The one on the left had long whiteblonde hair framing a handsome, rather aged face. He was smiling disarmingly, as if inviting Forge to share a joke. The one on the right, Gregor, was fatter and red-cheeked, with the expression of long indulgence that belied a life of pureblood leisure.
    "Fear not, my friend," the pale man said. "We crave your services rather more than your blood. Allow me to enlighten you. The Transitus Nihilo is the crossing place. It is the Void between our world and the next. Tell me, you believe in the next world, don't you?"
    "I'll believe in whatever you ask me to believe if it gets me back out your door in less than two pieces, my lord."
    The man laughed. "That's what I love about goblins, Gregor. They are as candid as the day is long." He turned back to Forge. "I'll give you something else you might choose to believe in, my new friend. Our ancient forefathers