James Potter And The Morrigan Web (103 page)

“Only I expected it to be… neater, somehow,” James added.

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’ll just be a moment.”

“This better be important,” James sighed tersely.

Rose stepped carefully away from Ralph. As she did, she seemed to pass out of a sort of invisible boundary. She stumbled for a moment, as if the orientation of the universe was slightly different from that of Ralph’s conjured bubble. Recovering quickly, however, she dashed to one of the beds (it was neatly made, James noticed) and knelt before the trunk at its footboard. She opened it, rummaged in it briefly, then straightened and hurried back toward James and Ralph. When she neared them, she stopped and blinked vaguely.

“Where are you?” she whispered, waving her left hand through the air as if feeling for something. In her right hand was a small, powder blue brocade purse.

“We’re right here!” James rasped back. She did not respond to his voice, any more than Comstock had when James had called to him earlier. Apparently, the same magic that disengaged them from the universe and allowed them to fly through walls like ghosts also made them undetectable to anyone outside the spell’s influence.

James reached forward, careful to keep the rest of his body in the sphere cast by Ralph’s wand, and grasped Rose’s groping hand. She recoiled instinctively, and then allowed him to tug her inside. She stumbled again, reorienting to the spell’s unique gravity.

“What’s that, then?” James demanded, pointing at the purse in Rose’s hand.

“Never you mind,” she hissed impatiently. “Ralph, take us down to the Great Hall! We’ve got less than twenty minutes, if Grudje-- or the Collector, or Avior or whoever he was-- wasn’t lying about when the Morrigan Web was to go off.”

James heaved a quick sigh and nodded at Ralph. “Let’s go,” he concurred.

“What we going to do when we get there, then?” Ralph asked, sweeping his wand gently forward again, nudging back the universe. The girls’ dormitory swept away, replaced with the stone walls of Gryffindor Tower and its many nested turrets.

“I don’t know,” James replied honestly. “I guess we’ll do what we always do.”

“And what’s that?” Rose inquired, clutching the pale blue purse with both hands as Ralph turned the castle below them, heaving the Great Hall into view.

James shrugged helplessly. “We figure it out as we go,” he answered.

It was snowing harder now. Great, fat flakes skirled and billowed in the wind, streaking past the golden windows of the Great Hall as Ralph drew it closer, teasing it into position before them. It was a deeply unsettling feeling-- the bizarre summer snowstorm; the sensation of manipulating the entire universe around them; the knowledge that this last moment of relative calm and serenity would soon succumb to tense action as they attempted to stop the Morrigan Web…

The windows grew larger, larger as Ralph drew them closer, flicking his wand deftly. James could see the ripples in the ancient glass as one window drifted to fill his vision. Shapes moved beyond it, moving like things glimpsed underwater. Then, with a thump and a shudder, the window swept past them and they were inside the Great Hall. A constellation of floating candles surrounded them, flickering benignly beneath the enchanted ceiling (which showed hulking storm clouds and silently blowing snowflakes). James looked down from his curious perspective. The long house tables had been transformed into a dozen large round tables, each covered in immaculate white cloth and decked with golden plates, crystal goblets, and massive floral arrangements from the greenhouses. Around the tables were dozens of people, all chattering noisily, nodding with excitement, presiding over the dregs of what appeared to have been a singularly sumptuous banquet. As James watched, the Russian President (identified by the notecard and flag positioned in front of his place setting) raised his empty goblet, watching with cautious wonder as it refilled itself in mid-air.

“The Clock!” Rose exclaimed in a hushed voice, pointing. “Put us down over there beneath it, behind all the headmaster portraits… perhaps no one will notice us right away.”

Ralph nodded and twisted his wand, tilting the universe gently to the left, wheeling it around so that the clock swam closer. Beneath them, the replica of the Fountain of Magical Brethren glimmered, sending its geysers of water up, around, and through them. James could smell the crispness of the water but felt nothing of it as it passed.

“Lily and the rest of the student ambassadors seem to be taking a break,” James said, spying his sister sitting amidst a collection of classmates on a small terraced pedestal to the right of the dais. They were chattering to themselves in hushed voices, smiling and pointing discreetly at the various world leaders. “We have to get them out of here!”

“If we can just disenchant the Clock,” Rose insisted tensely. “Then everything will be fine!”

Ralph nudged his wand up in gentle flourishes, almost as if he was painting with it, and the dais rose beneath them. The portraits of the headmasters, seen from the back, drifted upwards to block the view of the rest of the Hall.

“Now!” Rose whispered.

“How do we stop all this Collective Constant stuff, then?” Ralph asked, bringing his wand to a trembling halt. “Comstock forgot to tell us that bit!”

“Try the incantation again,” James suggested. “With a downward flick this time.”

Ralph shrugged gamely, still keeping his wand as steady as possible. In a hushed voice, he said, “
Divellere
!” and flicked the wand straight down.

James stumbled as his feet struck the floor of the dais. For a moment there was a sense of extreme disorientation, as if the universe had somehow just remembered he was there and had forcibly reclaimed him, then all the axes of reality seemed to realign again.

“That was a good guess, James,” Rose gasped, putting a hand to her throat.

Ralph took half a step forward, his shoulders stooped, and peeked between two of the headmaster portraits and the fountain beyond. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed us,” he whispered.

James joined Ralph, peering out at the chattering crowd. Titus could be seen roaming carefully around the perimeter of the hall. Lucinda Lyon seemed to be stationed by the door.

James glanced down. Rose was on her hands and knees next to him, reaching through the brass legs of one of the portrait easels toward the pattering fountain beyond.

“Rose!” he nudged her with his foot. “What are you doing?”

“Quit it!” she rasped up, still straining toward the fountain. “This isn’t as easy as it looks!”

“It
looks
like you’re about to get us caught!”

“Fine,” she proclaimed, dropping back onto her haunches and wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow. “So what do we do now?”

James glanced up. From this angle, the enormous five-faced Clock was a gilded monstrosity, its gears, flywheels and pendulums clearly visible behind the complicated scrollwork and ivory faces. Only the central face continued to mark the time, ticking audibly with a noise like spider legs dancing on sheet-ice.

“We need to get inside it,” James whispered, nodding up to the Clock. “We have to get Magnussen’s cane out of it if we can.”

“But that’s not how it works!” Rose whispered back, grabbing his shoulder. “If we just remove it, the Morrigan Web will trigger early!”

“Well, that was your parents plan, wasn’t it?” Ralph said, huddling down behind them.

“
They
didn’t know it was a mistake,” Rose rolled her eyes, “because
you two
forgot to tell them! Lucky for all of us the Chalice wasn’t the trigger. The cane
is
. If we just yank it out, it’ll release all of its energy right then and there!”

“So how do we stop it, then?” James asked fearfully, glancing from Ralph to Rose.

Rose bunched her fists in frustration. “How should I know? It was your bloody idea to make it up as we go!”

“Wait a minute,” Ralph interjected, narrowing his eyes. “Crone Laosa said that the relic could be
replaced
. But it had to be replaced with something equally as powerful…”

“And something belonging to the same person,” Rose nodded impatiently. “But what good would that do?”

“No!” James said, struggling to keep his voice hushed. “She said it had to be replaced with something
related
to the same person! It doesn’t have to have belonged to them. It just has to be connected to them somehow.”

“That’d have to be one ruddy strong connection,” Ralph breathed, shaking his head. “Either way, where are we going to find such a thing? We’ve only got about eighteen minutes left!”

“What ho,” a deep voice interrupted, not whispering in the least. “How’d I know I might encounter you lot here?”

Ralph startled so violently that he fell over, very nearly taking the row of headmaster portraits with him. James slumped, recognizing the voice. He turned and glanced behind him.

“Hi Titus,” Rose sighed. “Nothing much gets past you, does it?”

“In this case,” Titus Hardcastle rumbled, his wand held lazily in one ham-sized hand, “It’s less professional vigilance and more long-time familiarity. After what your parents did, I had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight. Up with you both. Deedle, too. And hand over your wands.”

“We don’t have our wands,” Rose replied, giving Ralph a brief warning glance. “Headmaster Grudje confiscated them all.”

Hardcastle nodded. “Heard about that, actually. Thank heaven for small favours.”

“Titus,” James said quickly, rising to his feet. “You have to listen to us. We’re not here to pull a prank or anything stupid like that. We’re here because something horrible is about to happen in a few minutes and we have to stop it! If you help--”

“Oh, I already know all about it,” Titus nodded, prodding the students ahead of him, taking them off the dais and toward the student ambassador’s pedestal. “Your father explained it in great detail on the way back to the castle. The Morrigan Web, he said. Worst weapon in the whole wizarding world. Going to kill us all with an interconnected blast of concentrated magic.”

“Yes!” James nodded, a small surge of hope welling in his chest. “Except it wasn’t the Crystal Chalice, like we first thought! It’s the Clock! Right there! You can help us get it down! You can--”

“I can place you in temporary custody right here in the Great Hall,” Titus interrupted tersely, “and thank you not to make a scene. I’ve already briefed the Minister on the false alarm your father raised. The last thing we need is for you lot screaming bloody murder in front of the whole world, wizarding and Muggle alike. You’ll sit here with the student ambassadors and not say a single word. Understand?”

“But Titus!” Rose insisted. “It’s not a false alarm! It’s--”

“Not… Another… Word!” Titus growled dangerously, showing them his wand. “I don’t want to have to Langlock you, but I will to keep you quiet if that’s what it takes.”

He placed a hand each on Ralph’s and James’ shoulders, shoving them firmly into a seat on the bottom terrace of the small podium. Rose remained standing next to them, a look of wild alarm on her face. She dared not speak lest Titus perform the Langlock curse on her, silencing her completely. But she dared not remain silent either.

“James!” Lily hissed from above and behind him. “What are you
doing
here?”

James could not bring himself even to look back at his sister. Thus far, his plan-- such as it was-- was failing miserably. All around, the world leaders, Muggle and wizarding alike, chattered on obliviously. Chamber music lilted from an enchanted violin, bass and harpsichord, the instruments playing cheerily by themselves to James’ left.

And the Clock over the dais ticked onward, the minute hand resting just before the nine. If Avior’s threat had been accurate, they had barely sixteen minutes left. Satisfied that the students were subdued, Hardcastle turned away, lowering his wand to his side.

Suddenly, Ralph stirred next to James. He leapt to his feet, brandishing his wand and levelling it at Titus’ back.

“
Stupef
--”

Hardcastle turned so quickly he was nearly a blur. His wand flicked up at the hip, unleashing a thin bolt of white. Ralph slammed back into his seat so hard that the entire row of students above him collapsed backwards, their feet poking into the air and their muffled voices crying out in confusion.

A murmur of alarm rippled through the round tables. Several people leapt to their feet. The Magical Integration Bureau agents around the American President perked up in postures of wary vigilance.

Hardcastle took a swift step forward, grabbed Ralph’s wrist with one hand, and wrenched the wand out of it with the other.

“Foolish,” he growled furiously. “Very foolish.”

“Titus,” Rose squeaked, wringing her hands before her chest. “Seriously! This is a huge,
huge
mistake!”

“Quiet!” Hardcastle seethed, “Or I swear you’ll be next, and I don’t give a hardboiled hippogriff egg who your mum is. Everyone!” he called, turning around, raising Ralph’s wand in his meaty fist and putting a grim smile on his face. “Some good-natured school hijinx. Nothing to be concerned with. Everything’s under control. Go back to your dinners.”