James Potter And The Morrigan Web (45 page)

“So when he vanishes the coin to a new location,” James added, smiling despite himself, “the Protean charm sends the Alma Aleron cabinet to the same place.”

Rose squinted in concentration. “But that’s… that’s…” she shook her head in wonder. “That’s bloody brilliant. Seriously. So if he sends the silver coin to the basements beneath Admin Hall, their cabinet goes there, too. We step into this side and pop out beneath the guarded areas at ground level. But doesn’t anyone notice when their cabinet goes missing?”

“Nastasia came up with the fix for that one,” Ralph replied. “They hid an old crate behind the cabinet and put a Visum Ineptio charm on it. When the cabinet disappears, everyone sees the crate as the missing cabinet, but with a sign nailed to the door.”

James held up his hands as if framing a placard. “‘Caution: rabid nargle inside.’”

Rose clucked her tongue. “They could have done better than that. Nargles don’t get rabies. Still, that’s dead brilliant. You didn’t explore the basements yet, did you?”

“No,” James said firmly. “No time. Besides, none of us were prepared.”

“And
double
besides,” Ralph interjected, “Those weren’t like any basements I’ve ever seen. More like catacombs twenty feet high!”

“And
triple
besides,” Rose said, stopping them outside Professor Longbottom’s door. “When you do head down to find this Crone Laosa witch and learn what we can about the Morrigan Web, I am totally coming along.”

Ralph boggled at her. “You have a bit of an unhealthy thing for danger, don’t you, Rose?”

“I’ve never seen dwarf subterranean architecture before,” she sniffed. “I’m a curious sort, that’s all.”

James stepped past her and rapped loudly on the door.

“No one is going anywhere,” he whispered, “until we get word to our parents about what’s going on here at Hogwarts. Let’s hope we can get Professor Longbottom on board with us.”

There was a shuffle from beyond the door, then the rattle of a lock. A moment later the door swung open, revealing the professor in his evening clothes: a pair of loose flannel slacks and vest over a white shirt, buttoned to the collar. He smiled down at the students, but James thought there was something else on the Professor’s face. Was it worry? Nervousness?

“James,” he said jovially, “Ralph, Rose. What can I do for you three?”

“Good evening, Professor,” James greeted him. “We were hoping to talk to you. Er, in private. It’s about… well,
you
know.”

The professor laughed lightly, and again there was an uncharacteristic brittleness in it. “I’m afraid I
don’t
know, in fact. But, er, certainly. Yes, do come in. I was just… well.” He glanced back into his rooms as if expecting something to jump out at him. After a moment, he stepped stiffly aside and gestured for them to enter.

The Professor’s sitting room was comfortably furnished and rather pleasantly cluttered. A huge painting of a sunlit greenhouse tended by a skinny monk dominated the wall over the fireplace. The monk dug enthusiastically in a bathtub-sized pot, occasionally swatting away the leafy tentacles of its inhabitant.

“Tea, perhaps?” Longbottom suggested, indicating a platter steaming happily with teapot and cups. “I was just about to have myself a nice after dinner spot. Happy to brew some more.”

“No thanks, Professor,” Rose said, seating herself on the sagging sofa. “We can’t stay long. We just wanted to talk about everything that’s going on, and ask for your help with something.”

James opened his mouth to explain further, but the professor overrode him. “I can assure you, Miss Weasley,” he said rather unnecessarily loudly. “As I have told you before, your O.W.L. studies are well in hand. You have years to memorize the notes I have provided in class. Just remember, Herbology is a lifetime study. I won’t expect you to know everything after only a few short terms.”

“That’s,” James said slowly, “not really what we came here to discuss, Professor. Scorpius told us everything, but don’t worry, your secret is safe with us. Besides, Rose here says the Somnambulis isn’t really illegal as much as it’s just highly regulated.”

“No fear there,” Longbottom smiled, pouring hot water into his cup. “I’ve abandoned that particular pursuit. It was a hobby, but it ran its course. Interesting stuff, Somnambulis. It won’t be on the test, however.” He laughed lightly, unconvincingly.

“Yes,” James nodded, frowning. Well, what we really want to talk to you about is Night--”

A loud clatter interrupted James, drowning his words as the tea platter crashed to the floor, shattering its freight of cups.

“Oh dear me,” Longbottom said loudly, looking down at the broken cups, the teapot still steaming in his hand. “How clumsy of me.” He glanced up at James, met his eyes, and then, slowly, shook his head, his eyes intense and full of warning.

“Here,” Ralph said, getting out his chair and producing his oversized wand. “Let me help you with that, Professor.”

With a few quick
reparo
charms, the tea set was reassembled and settled back onto the table. By the time the task was finished, everyone was standing, wands in hand, looking around rather uncomfortably.

“Well then,” Longbottom nodded heartily. “Thank you very much for your assistance. How very clumsy of me indeed. I do hope I have addressed all of your, er, concerns. Do feel free to come by my quarters anytime. Anytime at all. Yes.”

James, Ralph and Rose found themselves pressed toward the door. A moment later, they stood in the corridor outside, looking back at the professor in confusion.

“Thank you again for stopping by,” Longbottom said, the smile fading from his face. “I will speak to you again tomorrow, I expect. At Herbology class. Perhaps you would be kind enough to stay afterward and help me re-pot some mandrakes. I know we aren’t supposed to do it until later this term, but Professor Heretofore has asked me to expedite a few. They can be quite
loud
, you know. Quite
noisy
indeed.”

He nodded meaningfully, the smile entirely gone from his face. Then, rather abruptly, he closed the door. It locked sharply.

“What,” Rose said in a low voice, “was
that
all about?”

Ralph scratched his head, staring at the closed door. “None of us have Herbology tomorrow. Do we?”

“Come on,” James sighed. “This whole place has gone nutters. Looks like we’re on our own tonight after all.”

Disgruntled and worried, the three made their way back toward the main stairs.

By midnight, the sky had finally cleared, revealing a bright sickle moon and a dusting of fine silvery stars. Early winter chill frosted the grass so that it crunched softly beneath James’ feet as he trotted across the pitch, meeting the crowd already milling on the centreline.

“What’s the trunk doing here?” he asked in a harsh whisper, gesturing at the Quidditch trunk where it bucked in the moonlight.

“You asked for the entire Night Quidditch league,” Scorpius answered tersely. “What are we going to do, play Winkles and Augers? The trunk goes wherever the league goes.”

James ran a hand over his face. “We’re not here to play Quidditch,” he exclaimed. “We’re here to send a message to my dad!”

A babble of hushed voices arose on the night air. James held up his hands, calling for attention. “Look, you’re all as unhappy about the way things are going as I am, right? Filch running around like a one-man Inquisition and Grudje shutting down all post in and out of the school!”

“He isn’t shutting it down,” Nolan Beetlebrick commented. “He’s just keeping a tight rein on it.”

“Yeah,” Herman Potsdam shot back, “by bloody reading it all!”

Another rush of babbling voices arose in response to this.

“Quiet down, all of you,” Zane called hoarsely, stepping alongside James. “Seriously, this is dictator stuff. Grudje would probably call this whole meeting a subversive plot and throw us all in the dungeon if he caught us.”

Fiera Hutchins stabbed her hand into the air. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” she said, “but I thought this league was about Quidditch. I’m not looking to get rounded up by Filch. He’s gone completely mad.”

“Come on, James,” Albus called, cupping his hands to his mouth. “What’s the deal? The rest of the teachers won’t let Filch get away with this forever. Grudje may be the headmaster, but McGonagall and Longbottom have faced worse. They can handle this better than we can.”

At this, a tall figure stepped between James and Zane, making the gathered Night Quidditch players shrink back in alarm. James glanced up and was shocked to see Professor Longbottom, his face shadowed beneath a heavy cowl.

“You all should be back in your beds,” he said firmly. “Night Quidditch has been disbanded. You have no idea what you’ve risked coming out here again.”

“This is what we wanted to talk to you about earlier, Professor,” James hissed. “I didn’t want to do this behind your back. We wanted your help!”

Longbottom glanced down at him, his face grave beneath his cowl. “James, you more than anyone should understand the gravity of this sort of thing. If Filch discovers this…”

“I need to contact my dad,” James interrupted. “I need to tell him what’s happening here. And there’s more! I can’t tell it all to you now, but when we were in New Amsterdam, we ran into this--”

Longbottom hushed him suddenly. He glanced aside at the others gathered on the pitch. Most of them were dissolving into knots of nervous conversation. Only Albus watched from a distance, his eyes narrowed.

“Boys,” Longbottom whispered, leading James and Zane a few paces away from the others. “Things are much more serious than you know. Many teachers are even more worried than you.”

“Why, Professor?” James asked quietly. “Why doesn’t anyone stop Grudje and Filch?”

“Because Filch has the backing of Grudje, and Grudje has the backing of the Ministry,” Longbottom explained quickly. “Anyone who defies them doesn’t last long. You’ll notice that Professor Revalvier is no longer teaching at Hogwarts.”

“I thought she was just on holiday?” James frowned. “That’s why that new substitute Wizlit teacher is filling in.”

“Revalvier is not on holiday. She is under questioning by the Wizengamot for subversive behaviour. She was the first to challenge Grudje on his new policies, and she did so loudly. Within a week she was relieved of her post and taken to London for questioning.”

“But,” Zane sputtered, “for what?”

“Does it matter?” Longbottom answered helplessly. “She got herself into trouble with the Ministry once before for those books she published in the Muggle world. It wouldn’t be difficult for Grudje to drum up new suspicions about her. And with her out of the way, he was free to fill her post with someone especially loyal to both him and the Ministry. Herbettina Blovius is no literature professor. She’s an undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself, albeit one with an unfortunate affection for… well,
certain kinds
of magical literature.”

James nodded dourly. “I looked over the new class reading list. She’s got us starting on Persephone Remora’s stupid vampire series next term.”

Longbottom shook his head dismissively. “The point is that Grudje gets rid of the people who challenge him. And he has
ways
of knowing who is against him. Few places seem to be safe from his ears. Not even my quarters.
That’s
why I asked you to meet me in the greenhouses tomorrow,” he added, exasperated. “The mandrakes would drown out our voices if anyone or anything was listening. I was going to tell you all of this then, when it was safer.”

“I don’t understand,” Zane whispered. “Why don’t you just contact James’ Dad yourself? Obviously he wouldn’t approve of what was happening here. Maybe he can get the Aurors involved or something, raise a stink about it until someone at the top listens.”

Longbottom shook his head slowly. “As I said, Mr. Walker, things are much more serious than you know. Even teacher correspondence is subject to Grudje’s inspection. He claims it is the edict of the Ministry, but we know better. Every teacher’s floo is monitored. Travel is restricted. Any hint of ‘subversion’ is dealt with swiftly and permanently. There is plenty of secret resistance, of course. Myself, Professors McGonagall, Debellows, Trelawney, Flitwick, a few others. But we must keep very quiet and use the utmost care. If we are discovered, we will be removed from the school completely and therefore be of help to no one.”

“You seriously believe your own quarters are being spied on?” James rasped. “Is that why you were acting so daft tonight?”

“It is a very real possibility,” Longbottom sighed. “There is no question that Grudje has ears in the most unexpected places, although none of us yet knows how. I couldn’t let you talk about Night Quidditch in my quarters lest you incriminate all of us. James, you and all of these students must go back to your dormitories immediately. This is far too dangerous for any game.”

“We’re not here to play Quidditch, Professor,” Zane said. “James has an idea.”

James nodded fervently. “I think we can contact my dad,” he explained quickly. “If we all work together, that is. We can send him a short message; get him to talk to us later by floo. Are the dormitory hearths monitored?”