James Potter And The Morrigan Web (94 page)

The last days of the term trickled by with infuriating lethargy. As final exams gradually finished, the overall school mood lightened, looking forward to the final Quidditch tournament and the beginning of summer break with increasing boisterousness.

“Finally,” Deirdre Finnegan shook her head at breakfast on the day of the tournament. “We can get out of this prison. Unless Grudje finds some way to send rules home with us over break!”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try!” Aloysius Arnst declared, his eyes bulging beneath his furrowed brow. “The more things seem to fall apart out in the world, the more he tries to fill in the gaps! If he could follow us all home he totally would.”

Devindar stabbed a piece of sausage fiercely with his fork. “Don’t give him any ideas. He’ll figure out a way.”

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Heth Thomas said in a low voice, “but I’m thinking about skipping next year.”

Rose looked aghast. “But… you’re a
prefect!
”

“And you can’t just skip school,” Graham rolled his eyes. “There’s laws about that.”

“Bugger the law,” Heth said darkly. “And bugger being prefect, too. My dad grew up in Provence. My grandparents still live there. If I go live with them I can transfer to Beauxbatons.”

“
Now
you’re talking!” Graham announced, straightening in his seat. “Matter of fact, I’m coming to live with
you
!”

From further down the table, Lily set down her fork primly. “I don’t know what you lot are being so grumpy about. I think this year has been perfectly lovely.”

“Got Stockholm Syndrome, that one,” Deirdre muttered, cocking a thumb toward Lily. “Fallen in love with her tormenters.”

“I’m not in love with headmaster Grudje,” Lily bristled. “And I totally hate Filch. But still.
I
had a good year, mostly, and can’t wait to come back.”

“That’s because
you
don’t know what it
used
to be like,” Graham sighed. “And you’re all googly-eyed about being an ‘emissary of the magical world’ at the Summit.”

Lily sniffed as she climbed from her bench. “I’m proud to represent us all, if that’s what you mean. And I’ll do my best to gloss over
certain
bad-tempered people who insist on only seeing the negative.”

“Yeah!” Chance Jackson agreed firmly, joining Lily. Together with Marcus Cobb and Stanton Ollivander, the group of first-and second-years threaded toward the double doors.

“Ah to be young and idealistic again,” Heth commented wistfully. “We were never that naïve, were we?”

Aloysius scoffed. “You spent your whole first year leading the common room in the Hogwarts tribute every night before bed.”

“Yeah, well things were different then, weren’t they? McGonagall was headmistress, Gryffindor had a winning Quidditch team…”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” Devindar interrupted, waving his hands in agitation. “I can’t stand it! Have you seen that new trophy! Lance’s parents and a pile of guards arrived with it last night! The thing’s three feet tall if it’s an inch, and glows like a rainbow in Antarctica!” He sighed sorrowfully. “It’s so bloody beautiful it makes me want to totally punch someone!”

Heth leaned away from his friend. “Save it for Vassar,” he suggested, nodding toward the head of the table. “He’s so full of himself about that new trophy that his head’s twice as big as normal. And that’s saying something.”

“He’ll be out there on the pitch presenting it alongside his parents,” Graham mourned, pushing away his half-eaten porridge.

James, who hadn’t been able to eat a thing for the giant knot of anxiety worming in his stomach, followed Graham’s annoyed gaze. At the head of the table, directly beneath the dais, Lance Vassar sat with his usual entourage of sixth-and seventh-years, all laughing breezily, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Lance’s perfectly coiffed hair caught the sunbeams from the high rose window, forming a fine halo of pinkish morning light.

“I could bring myself to absolutely hate him if he wasn’t so ridiculously dreamy,” Willow Wisteria commented with an angry sigh.

Devindar could bear no more. He tossed his fork to the table with a clatter, stood up and stalked away.

A reverberating gong rang overhead, emanating from the monstrous clock. James glanced up at it and saw that all but the centre face had shut down. The Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Alma Aleron and Yorke faces all pointed stiffly to noon. There would be few more trips through the vanishing cabinets now that the term was virtually over. James wondered if the clock would be gone next year. He fervently hoped it would. Of course, he reminded himself, there may not even
be
a next year. If his father, uncle, and aunt failed to stop the Morrigan Web…

But he couldn’t think beyond that. It was too dreadful, and there was too much to do.

“Last exam of the term,” Rose sighed briskly to no one in particular, getting to her feet. “Transfiguration with Professor Tofty. Shouldn’t last long.” She shot James a sidelong glance. “I’ll see you all later this morning, then.”

James gave a subtle nod. He knew what he had to do.

His first stop was the Gryffindor common room. Sunlight streamed from the high windows, suffusing the space with a golden haze and transforming the old sagging chairs and scarred tables into glowing tableaux. Unlike a typical mid-morning, the room was crowded with students, lounging and talking loudly or playing Winkles and Augers, biding their time until the tournament that evening.

Scorpius met James near the portrait hole, unslinging his book bag from his back.

“Got about half,” he sighed, showing James the collection of wands hidden in his bag. “Everyone’s too ruddy cheerful to think anything bad could happen.”

“Half?” James repeated, dismayed. “That’s all? We have to do better than that!”

“
You
try telling everyone that they’re about to get killed at the Quidditch tournament,” Scorpius whispered, challenging James with his eyes. “They think it’s either a joke or you’re mad. Soon enough one of them is going to run to Grudje with it. He already thinks you’re one to spread stories for attention. He’ll have us all locked up in the old dungeons.”

James stared at the handful of wands in Scorpius’ bag, fuming helplessly. “Fine,” he shook his head. “Hand them over.”

A minute later, accompanied by the skeletal sound of wands clinking in his bag, James made his way down the stairs to the Hufflepuff common room, marked by a large round door with an oversized copper handle. Julian Jackson was standing before the door, already wearing her Quidditch goggles and bobbing on the balls of her feet with impatience. A laundry sack, depressingly thin, was slung over her shoulder

“Here,” she said tersely, shoving the bag into James’ hands. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but my sister says you’re going to keep these safe for some reason.”

“Thanks,” James nodded, unslinging his book bag and stuffing the Hufflepuff wands into it.

“Don’t thank me,” Julian said. “I think you’re daft. And as soon as we win we’re going to want those back straightaway.”

James agreed to this and was quickly on his way again. Five minutes later, Herman Potsdam and Ashley Doone met him outside Ravenclaw tower.

“What’s all this about, James?” Ashley asked as Herman handed over an old hat stuffed with wands.

“I already told you,” James replied. “Something bad is going to happen, maybe. I can’t say more, except that if it does it’s going to be super dangerous to have a wand on you.”

Ashley narrowed her eyes. “It has to do with the Summit, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does,” Herman said, rolling his eyes. “It’s the perfect target if somebody wanted to attack. Just like when that Muggle vice president got killed over the holiday.”

“James?” Ashley prodded, ignoring Herman. “What do you know about this?”

James shook his head. “If I say more, no one will believe me. Scorpius is right. Most people already think I make stuff up just to hog attention. Grudje especially.”

“I’m not one of those people,” Ashley said impatiently. “Gennifer Tellus is my big sister’s best friend and she says you’re honest, even if you were a lousy Gremlin.”

James frowned, taken aback. “Gennifer said I was a lousy Gremlin?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “You’re no Marauder, James. That was your grandfather. You’re just a bit too responsible for your own good. Now Zane Walker…” She sighed and looked wistful.

“Good Beater,” Herman agreed. “Could have used him this year. A shame those Yanks got him. They don’t know beans about Quidditch.”

Ashley shook her head, coming back to the point. “You can tell me, James. I know you’re no liar.”

James felt grudgingly gratified by Ashley’s words. “Look,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “There
is
an attack planned on the Summit. If it happens, lots of people are going to be killed. It won’t be wand-to-wand combat, either. More like a magical bomb. People are trying to stop it. But if they can’t…” He shook his head, unwilling to elaborate.

“Wait a minute,” Herman frowned, blinking. “
That’s
why we’re hiding our wands? I thought it was because Grudje was going to confiscate them?”

James rolled his eyes. “That’s just a rumour. But who knows? Maybe it’s even true. Either way, this is the best thing for all of us to do.”

“Oh,” Ashley countered, backing away. “My wand isn’t in there.”

James blinked at her. “What? Why not?”

“Like I said, James,” she replied soberly. “I trust you. If you say there’s going to be an attack, I’m inclined to think you’re right. And no way am I going into a fight without my wand, magical bomb or not.”

“But,” James protested, shaking his head, “But that’s the point! Your wand will be the thing that kills you!”

Ashley cocked her head. “I trust you, James,” she said thoughtfully, “But that doesn’t mean you’re always right. I’ll be keeping my wand handy. And who knows? Perhaps you’ll thank me later.”

“Maybe Ashley’s right,” Herman nodded, squinting into the old hat in James’ hands. Before James’ could stop him, the big boy stuffed his hand inside and retrieved a long, warped wand. “There she is. Sorry, James.”

James protested further, but Ashley and Herman seemed to have made up their minds. Together they ascended Ravenclaw tower, leaving James nearly sick with frustration below.

Albus and Ralph had even less encouraging news outside the Slytherin dungeons.

“There,” Albus said, dropping four wands into James’ bag. “That’s mine, Ralph’s, Trenton’s and Minch’s. She’s a first year and has a thing for ol’ Ralph here.”

“Four wands?” James declared angrily. “That’s all?”

“Slytherins aren’t in the habit of handing their wands over to Gryffindors,” Ralph said, hushing James and steering him away from the dungeon door. “Besides, if your dad and his mates do their job, it won’t be a problem, right?”

“And what if they don’t?” James demanded.

“Come on, James,” Albus replied, “It’s dad we’re talking about! He and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are unstoppable! Didn’t you read Revalvier’s books?”

It was a joke, but James couldn’t share his brother’s confidence. A pall of deep dread was settling in his heart, turning his stomach into a bag of stones and filling his thoughts with nightmare visions. After all, it was more than the Collector they were facing. The Collector was just a mask worn by Avior Dorchascathan, and Avior himself was merely a twisted man, haunted and driven by a past that wasn’t even his own. The real threat was Judith and her Sister Fates, Petra and Izzy. James had no idea how they would play into the plot, except that, together, they represented a force of destiny that was exactly as powerful as it was unpredictable. And worst of all was the fact that, even now, virtually no one fully believed him, or understood the threat they faced.

Harry Potter, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione may well be able to foil the Collector. But could they thwart the combined, chaotic might of Petra, Izzy and Judith?

As the three boys exited the Entrance Hall and darted into the brilliant morning sunlight with their clattering bag of wands, James warred with himself at every step.

Petra would not--
could
not-- allow Judith to kill. That had been her primary motive on the Night of the Unveiling.

And yet Petra seemed to believe,
somehow
, that allowing the attack was the only way she could break the chain of destiny, to shatter the bonds that made her and Izzy Sister Fates with Judith.

And worst of all, what if she was right? What if the Morrigan Web was simply the price that had to be paid for an even greater salvation? What if it was necessary somehow?

For the greater good?

In the blazing morning sunlight, as the Quidditch pitch loomed ahead, its banners fluttering gaily in the soft breeze, a cold shudder wracked James’ shoulders. “No,” he muttered to himself, unheard as Ralph and Albus ran ahead, aiming for the hidden trunk behind the Gryffindor grandstand. “No. There’s a better way… There has got to be.”

Even to his own ears, however, he sounded much more confident than he felt.