James Potter And The Morrigan Web (79 page)

James refused to let go of the Jiskra’s struggling, scaly legs, even as it drug him backwards, screeching and flailing back into the air. It pulled him with it, tumbling him right over the ledge of the balcony. James feet swung down wildly over the classroom tables, weighing the great bird down. It flapped frantically, fighting to stay in the air, but finally failed, bashing against the opposite balcony and flinging James off. He fell between the desks, knocking chairs in every direction. Miraculously unhurt, he lunged aside, hiding under a table as the bird landed atop it with a heavy thump, breathing a gout of furious, boiling fire.

Shoving chairs aside, James crawled frantically beneath the tables, angling toward the classroom’s open doors. Ahead of him, he saw Albus, Rose and Nastasia running, entering the torchlight of the corridor. Rose skidded to a halt and looked back, her eyes wild, her hair trailing smoke. After only a moment’s terrified hesitation, she lunged back, reaching for James as he scrambled from beneath the last table.

“Rose, no!” he cried, trying to bat her away. “Run!”

“Shut up, you great idiot!” she shouted. “I’m trying to save you!”

“I don’t
need
saving!”

“You sure could have fooled me!”

Stumbling to his feet, James hurtled toward the open doors, pulled along by Rose. A shape blew over them, covering them with flying grit and hot breath. They slid to a halt as the Jiskra slammed down in front of them, blocking both doors with its spread wings. Its beaks gnashed and screeched, snapping forward.

James grabbed Rose, tried to shove her behind him, but it was too late. The Jiskra reared, filling its chest to spray one final blast of flame.

Something struck it from behind, hard enough to knock it forward. Both heads bashed against the stone floor, exhaling violently but harmlessly in two directions. Great leathery wings clapped down, spreading on the floor like enormous, dirty fans.

Behind the stunned Jiskra, framed in the open doorway, were both Albus and Nastasia, wands raised.

“This isn’t even my wand!” Albus suddenly exclaimed, raising the wand and examining it critically. “This is Rose’s! Bloody hell, I just used a girl’s wand.”

“It won’t stay down long,” James said, pulling Rose forward. “Come on!”

Together, they leapt over the Jiskra, barely missing the feathery plume of its tail. It was already stirring, beginning to push itself upright.

Pelting as fast as they could, the four students navigated the corridors, threading their way back to the tower roof and the waiting Vanishing Cabinet. Durmstrang students clambered out of the way, cursing back at them angrily, but only for a moment, since the Jiskra was still chasing them, hurtling along through the corridors like a great red kite, bouncing off the walls, screeching and shredding tapestries with its talons.

As one, James, Rose, Albus and Nastasia hurled themselves into the Cabinet, nearly knocking it over entirely. The door clapped shut behind them, sealing them gratefully, if uncomfortably, in its cramped confines.

A flash and a thump later, the four tumbled out onto the floor before the Slytherin table in the Hogwarts Great Hall.

“Ow!” Albus complained. “James, get off my head, you big bampot!”

Clumsily, Rose, Nastasia and James extricated themselves from the heap, pulling Albus upright with them. James looked up to see the Great Hall filled with students, all staring blankly at them, interrupted in the midst of the evening meal. In the rear of the hall, Filch raised his chin and fingered his cane, obviously trying to stifle a mean grimace. Next to James, Rose’s hair was still smoking. Vines were twisted around her sleeves. Albus’ face was smeared with Jiskra soot. All of them bore scratches and torn clothing from the Jiskra’s slashing talons.

“May I ask,” a strident female voice spoke up behind James, “just
what
you four are up to?”

James turned guiltily on the spot, spying Professor McGonagall. She had arisen to her feet at the head table. Next to her, the headmaster’s chair was empty.

“We--” James began, but was interrupted as the Durmstrang Vanishing Cabinet exploded next to him.

The green polished door shattered, spraying planks in every direction as a monstrous red shape rocketed through it, screeching and crashing extravagantly onto the Slytherin table. Screams filled the air as panicked Slytherins lurched backwards, climbing over each other to escape the smashing crockery, flying silverware, and in the midst of it all, the rearing, thrashing shape of the Jiskra.

“Oh bugger it all to hell and back!” Albus cried helplessly, brandishing the wand in his hand once again.
“Stupefy!”

The red spell missed the great bird, exploding instead against a window and shattering it.

The Great Hall erupted into chaos. Half of the assembly fled toward the main doors while the other half milled confusedly in their way, unsure of what was happening. Obviously overwhelmed and frantic, the Jiskra scrabbled along the Slytherin table, smashing more crockery and flailing its wings, finally hurling itself into the air over the heads of terrified, scrambling students.

James grabbed his wand back from Nastasia and joined Albus in attempting to Stun the great bird as it soared toward the enchanted ceiling, spraying fire and screaming terribly. Hundreds of the Great Hall’s floating candles bashed and broke before the Jiskra as it circled, swooping low and setting the tablecloths aflame.

More spells joined James’ and Albus’, streaking overhead in jets of red, green and yellow, striking the rafters and spraying magical sparks like fireworks. The Jiskra’s flight path, however, was too crazed and random to allow accurate aiming. It streaked low again, swooping over the head table. Professor Flitwick leapt atop the table and ran after the great red beast, peppering it with freezing charms. Behind him, Professors McGonagall and Debellows fired their own wands, sending protective spells over the fleeing, rioting students and putting out the many fires.

Amidst it all, the ghost of the Bloody Baron chased the Jiskra, swooping wildly and thrashing his phantasmic sword.

“I’ve got it!” Albus cried, leaping atop the detritus of the Slytherin table and waving his wand. “I’ve got it! One more shot!”

A shadow hurtled over him and a great red claw snatched the wand from his hand. With a sharp CRACK the Jiskra broke the wand in two, tossing the pieces across the Great Hall. With a vicious screech, it circled back, aiming for Albus with its twin snaking heads.

“It’s got me!” Albus exclaimed, his eyes widening. “It’s got me! Get out of the way!”

He made to leap off the table, but the crowd was too thick, milling and screaming and firing random spells into the air.

James made to grasp at his brother’s robes, to pull him down and out of the Jiskra’s reach, but a huge, dark figure suddenly moved in front of him, completely blocking his path. The figure smelled vaguely of barn and wet leather.

“Gotcha!” the figure bellowed jovially, grunting with sudden effort. A wash of gritty air and flying debris blasted over James as the Jiskra thrashed its wings, suddenly held in place by a pair of enormous, ham-like hands.

It was Hagrid, of course, smiling despite everything, his beetle-black eyes filled with twinkling joy. “Wellnow, who might yeh be my little pet?” he said, as if he had just caught a kitten by the paws rather than a monstrous firebeast by its thrashing wings. The Jiskra reared and spat a blast of flame at Hagrid’s face, but Hagrid ducked, raising the bird overhead so that its torch billowed over the tables, melting more of the floating candles into a rain of wax.

“Yer a lively one, aincha?” Hagrid chided, laughing.

“Hagrid!” Professor McGonagall called, her voice cracked and shaking with rage. “Please take that creature out of the Great Hall immediately!”

“Yes ma’am, Professor,” Hagrid agreed, still obviously beside himself with happiness. “I’ve got jus’ the place for yeh, don’t I then? I bet yeh’d like a nice hot bowl o’ turpentine, wouldn’t yeh? Why, yer prob’ly plum tapped out by now, aincha?”

The Jiskra screeched again, coughing a weak blast of flame and thrashing its wings in Hagrid’s meaty fists. Hagrid seemed to take this as friendly enthusiasm. He was still chuckling and coddling the beast as he ducked through the Great Hall’s entrance.

In the ringing silence that followed, James took in the state of the Hall. Night breeze blew merrily through several shattered windows, playing in the crackling fires that dotted the tables. Smashed crockery and scattered silverware littered the tables and floor. Broken candles spun and drifted in all directions. All around, muttering and swearing and cursing, students were getting to their feet and climbing from beneath tables. In the centre of it all, his eyes flaming with rage and his sallow cheeks pale as chalk, Argus Filch stood speechless, his cane gripped in a hard, white-knuckled fist.

Albus was still atop the Slytherin table, crouched with both hands over his head. Slowly he relaxed.

“Shame about your wand,” Nastasia commented as he clambered down.

“Oh, well that’s the least of our problems,” he muttered shakily and offered a weak smile. “Besides,” he added, “I was still using Rose’s.”

“Students,” Professor McGonagall announced sternly. “All of you, the excitement is over. If any of you are hurt, please assist one another to the hospital wing. If you cannot, please speak up for yourselves and those around you.”

James glanced around. Amazingly, despite the wreckage, no one seemed particularly hurt.

“In that case,” McGonagall went on, “please return to your common rooms and go about your business. We have quite a mess to attend to, it seems.” This last she said with a pronounced frown, glaring down at James, Albus, Rose and Nastasia. “The four of you, in my office. Now.”

“Professor,” Filch wheezed, approaching the head table at a shambling run. “Leave them to me, if you please. I’ll handle the appropriate punishments.”

“Yes you shall, I am quite sure,” McGonagall concurred. “But not until after I have interviewed them and ascertained precisely how this fiasco managed to occur. Please, step aside, Mr. Filch.”

“Discipline is my responsibility, Professor,” Filch insisted, nearly vibrating with rage. “And never in all my years have I witnessed students more in need of discipline!”

“Oh, I daresay your enthusiasm has gotten the better of you, Argus,” McGonagall said, lowering her voice wearily. “I recall a certain swamp that occupied an entire corridor for many months, conjured by a pair of rather inspired young Weasleys. As remarkable as this is, it does bear the hallmark of an accident rather than a deliberate act.”

“Carelessness is its own crime, Professor!” Filch exclaimed, spitting with vehemence. “Allow me to perform my duty!”

“Mr. Filch, your
duty
is to see that this Hall is restored to functioning condition by morning,” McGonagall declared, rising to her full height. “Or have your forgotten what it is this school actually pays you for?”

Filch was undeterred, steady in his furious conviction. “But the Headmaster has--”

“The Headmaster is not currently here, as you can see, which leaves me quite capably in charge. You’ve had a long and storied career with this school, Mr. Filch. I would hate to be the one responsible for sacking you.”

Filch gasped and took a step backward, his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t dare. The Headmaster--”

“Would surely hire you back,” she nodded tersely. “But you and I both know that headmasters do not always last long in this day and age. You would do well to remember who your
long-term
allies are, Argus. Some of us have very long memories indeed.”

Filch glared at the Professor, his eyes still narrowed menacingly. Finally, he lowered his black cane, letting it clack to the floor. “As you wish, Professor,” he growled. “But I will be awaiting these three, at least, when you are through with them.” He eyed James, Rose and Albus beadily. “You daresn’t deny me my duty. In the meantime… I shall attend to my
other
duties.”

He nodded and backed away, letting his gaze sweep over the ruined hall.

McGonagall drew a great, deep breath, as if forcibly calming herself. “Whatever you four have to say for yourselves,” she muttered darkly, “it had better be
exceptionally
impressive.”

Students were still milling about in front of the staircase by the time Professor McGonagall led James, Albus and Rose out of the Great Hall, having sent Nastasia back to Alma Aleron with a curt warning that she would be speaking by Floo to Chancellor Franklyn within the hour. James was significantly disgruntled by this-- after what had happened at Durmstrang, he did not feel that Nastasia could be trusted at all, and was eager to demand some immediate answers from her-- but the look on Professor McGonagall’s face brooked no argument. Thus, for now, James resigned himself to simply following her and, once they reached her office, telling her everything that had happened. McGonagall stalked past a snoring suit of armour and into the narrow corridor which led to the staff offices, maintaining her usual long, swift gait and leaving the students trotting to keep pace. As she reached a bend in the corridor, however, she stopped abruptly and looked back over her shoulder.