James Potter and the Morrigan Web

by G. Norman Lippert

  Fuming, James watched as Lily retreated up the girls' dormitory stairs. She was right: he didn't really need the invisibility cloak to sneak around. Still, it galled him that she had successfully extorted it from him. Clearly, the Potter propensity for shenanigans didn't stop with the boys. Shaking his head with irritation, James turned toward the portrait hole and slipped out.

  Outside the corridor windows, the rain continued to fall in a steady curtain, blotting out the moonlight and reducing the halls to near-total darkness. James felt his way toward the staircase, knowing he could not afford to light his wand for risk of alerting the skulking Scorpius. His only hope was to spy the boy out without being noticed.

  Lightning flickered silently beyond the Heracles window, throwing the staircase into stark contrast for one brief second. James crept down to the entrance hall, and then paused, listening as hard as he could through the steady thrum of the rain and the occasional creak of the dark castle and the shifting staircases. He could neither hear nor see any sign of the wandering Scorpius. He looked around impatiently. If only he had the Marauder's Map! For a moment he considered trying to summon his dad by Floo network and asking him if he would locate Scorpius for him, but that would mean going back to the common room and hoping his father was still awake, not to mention willing to help James on his personal errand of suspicion. More likely, his dad would simply tell him to let Filch handle it and to get himself back into bed. Frustrated and annoyed, James sighed harshly.

  A shadow suddenly moved in the archway at the end of the entrance hall. A light appeared, held aloft by a shadowy hand.

  "Indeed you are right, my sweet," a grating old voice muttered. "Someone has been careless. Quite careless indeed."

  James' heart suddenly pounded in his ears. It was Filch, accompanied by his ancient cat, Mrs. Norris. As quietly as he could, James clambered backwards onto the stairs and hid behind the balustrade. He could see the light from Filch's lantern growing brighter on the stone floor as the man approached, his boots knocking hollowly. A shadow elongated in the lantern-light, and then was punctuated by the shape of Mrs. Norris herself, her head lowered, the fur on her back standing up in rough hackles. James shrank back against the steps, trying to press into the ever diminishing shadow of the balustrade.

  Suddenly, to James' relief, the cat turned away, darting toward the doors of the Great Hall. James glanced up at them and saw that they were cracked open slightly, showing a narrow band of darkness.

  "We can't have this, can we, my sweet?" Filch growled, following the cat, leaning heavily on an old, gnarled cane. "Not with all those dodgy cabinets lined up like pretty maids in a row, just begging for mischief. The headmaster would not be pleased, would he? No, methinks he would not. Someone's head will surely roll."

  James shuddered. Something about the black assurance in Filch's voice implied that his words were not mere idle jest. As Filch heaved the doors closed and locked them, James crab-walked backwards up the steps and around the corner of the lower landing. Another flash of lightning painted the stairs in bright colours from the stained glass window, this time accompanied by a crack of thunder.

  Mrs. Norris spun her bullet head toward the stairs, her eyes narrowed, her ears pressed back against her skull. James gasped, pulling his feet back just in time. Beneath the sound of the rain, he fancied he could hear the high purr of the cat's growl.

  "Don't you fret, my sweet," Filch sang, his voice unsettlingly cheerful. "It's a new day, it is. Even your old master has a few tricks up his sleeve now, doesn't he?" He chuckled to himself, making a sound like gravel in a rusty cauldron. James' hair stood up at the base of his neck.

  Then, for a long, disconcerting minute, Filch was quiet. James could only see a narrow corner of the entrance hall floor from his hiding place. It was still lit with the yellow light of Filch's lantern, bobbing slightly as the man seemed to prowl around, shuffling and tapping his cane. Every shuffle and tap seemed to grow teasingly closer.

  And then, with a long creak and grunt, Filch began to climb the stairs.

  There was nowhere else for James to go; the stairs behind him were too high to clamber up before Filch found him. He pressed backwards, felt the steps dig into his back as the lantern light grew brighter before, him, spreading across the floor of the landing. The shadow of Mrs. Norris trotted into view. She was still growling, deep and high in her feline throat.

  Suddenly, a curtain of cool fabric dropped over James from behind, momentarily blocking his view, he startled but thankfully didn't cry out. The fabric was all too familiar, after all, even if he couldn't explain its sudden appearance. The invisibility cloak fell over his knees as a small figure clambered close behind him, clutching him tightly around the shoulders.

  Mrs. Norris appeared on the landing in front of James, freezing in place just as the cloak settled over him. Filch climbed slowly into view behind her, clacking his cane on each stair and wheezing to himself.

  "Let's just take a peek along the second floor corridors, shall we, my dear?" he suggested. "The headmaster will be more pleased if we can bring him the responsible party. Of course, it may well have been a careless house elf. But we can hope, can't we?"

  Again, the subtle, black glee in Filch's voice chilled James. He hoped his toes were fully covered by the cloak. Behind him, the small figure breathed in his ear in short, shallow bursts, clutching him in a death grip.

  Mrs. Norris sniffed the air, seeming to peer right through the invisibility cloak. Then, as Filch reached her on the landing and nudged her impatiently with his cane, she trotted up the stairs, passing close enough to James and his benefactor to nearly brush them with her tail. Filch followed, staying thankfully in the centre of the stairs, his gnarled cane knocking close enough to James' shoe that it pinched a fold of the invisibility cloak.

  James held his breath, as did the small figure behind him. He knew who it was, of course, and his relief at her appearance was only slightly greater than his annoyance at her duplicity. A minute later, as the light of Filch's lantern and the knock of his boots receded into the second floor corridor, he threw off the cloak and turned on the spot.

  "You hopeless little sneak!" he hissed.

  "You owe me big for that one, Big Brother," Lily whispered, her face exceedingly pale in the dimness. She was clearly shaken by their close call, but also obviously exhilarated by it. Her face broke into a wild grin. "That was crazy intense, wasn't it?"

  "It's not funny!" James rasped. "That was seriously too close for comfort. What are you doing here?"

  "You mean besides saving your skinny bum?" she answered, still grinning nervously. "Seeing what you're up to, of course. I followed you out almost as soon as you left."

  "But," James shook his head in exasperation. "I promised I would tell you tomorrow!"

  "I figured you'd just make something up. I followed you to keep you honest."

  James sighed and slumped on the stairs. "So I don't suppose there's any way I can send you back to bed now, is there?"

  "I doubt it," she answered cheerfully. "Besides, seems like you need the invisibility cloak after all. Really, I thought you'd be better at this by now. This thing's made you careless."

  "Sod off," James muttered, climbing to his feet. "Just stay close and keep up. I'm not telling you anything. Just don't get us caught, understand?"

  Lily giggled manically as she clambered up after James, tossing the cloak over her shoulders but leaving her head out, seeming to float in the air behind him.

  "So what happens if we do get caught by Mr. Filch?" she whispered as they descended into the entrance hall. "I hear that he likes to torture late night wanderers with thumb screws and the, er, Iron Maiden. Or something."

  "Those are just First Years' stories," James answered curtly. "If you get caught, you get Detention. It's usually something tedious and disgusting. But it is true that if Filch had his way, it would be loads worse."

  "So what are we doing?" she pressed, following so closely behind him that sh
e bumped him as they turned a corner. "Is it dangerous? Are there bad Slytherins involved? Does Albus know about them? Maybe we should get him to come along as well, eh? I hear their dormitory is right under the lake, with windows that look up into it. Ooh! Can we go look?"

  "Lil, shut it, will you?" James hissed back at her. "This isn't a bloody pleasure cruise! I can't hear anything with you yammering away at me!"

  "What are we listening for?" She breathed, unperturbed. "Are we following somebody? That's it, isn't it!"

  "Shhh!"

  They stopped as they neared the old rotunda. Torches flickered there, filling the round room with orange light. From the corridor, James could see the broken remains of the ancient founders' statue. Shadows seemed to move on the wall.

  "Someone's in there!" Lily whispered shrilly in James' ear, clutching his shoulder again.

  He shook his head. "It's just the torchlight flickering. There's nobody--"

  The words caught in his throat as a pair of dark figures darted past the broken statue. The figures were robed from head to toe, hiding their shape and size. A moment later, a push of cool, misty air ruffled the tapestries in the corridor. Unseen, the rotunda door creaked slightly, then clunked shut.

  "You were saying?" Lily whispered.

  James shook his head. "Stay close, and stay under the cloak," he instructed. "If there's trouble, you come straight back and try to raise Dad by Floo. If we're lucky, he's watching all of this on the Marauder's Map anyway."

  Lily nodded. "Hi dad," she whispered with giddy nervousness.

  Together, they crept toward the rotunda. James realized he had his wand in his hand, having instinctively reached for it the moment he saw the mysterious figures. That was probably overkill, of course. It was probably just Scorpius and another student; a Slytherin, perhaps. Still, James couldn't quite bring himself to pocket his wand again, or even to lower it from the alert, defensive position, held out before him, pointed low.

  The rotunda was ruddy orange with torchlight. The broken statue, showing only the feet and lower legs of the founders, cast a dancing shadow high up onto the walls. Across from it, the huge, ancient double doors looked a hundred feet high.

  James stopped, suddenly feeling cold to his toes.

  "Lil," he whispered without turning. "You need to go back. You shouldn't be here."

  I can't," Lily answered stubbornly, pressing up against James again, peeking over his shoulder.

  "I'm serious," James insisted, turning to look back at her. "This is no place for you. You're too young. You barely know which end of your wand points out, much less how to use it. It isn't safe."

  "I'm serious, too, James!" she whispered, and James saw that his sister's face had gone very pale. "I can't go back by myself unless you come with me."

  James understood. She was frightened. With the appearance of the mysterious robed figures, the adventure had turned from a harmless midnight romp into an all-too-real danger. Lily was frightened to retreat back through the huge castle all alone on a stormy night. Remembering what had happened to him on first night, James could not blame her.

  "All right, Lil," he said, taking his sister by the shoulders. "Stay right behind me, and keep the invisibility cloak over you the whole time. Don't take it off for any reason. All right? We're just going to peek outside and see what's what. It's probably nothing. It's probably just Scorpius Malfoy getting up to no good with some Slytherin mate of his."

  "I knew it!" Lily suddenly grinned, covering her mouth with her hands. "Sneaky Slytherins, just like in Dad's time! And a Malfoy in the middle of it! Ooo! This is so exciting!"

  James sighed. He gestured impatiently and Lily pulled the cloak up over her head, vanishing completely.

  With a nod, James turned and crept toward the rotunda entrance. A smaller, human-sized door was set into the much larger door on the right. James unlatched it and a gust of wind pushed it open against him, bringing with it a rainy mist and the sounds of the stormy night. Lily clutched James from behind, hard.

  Again, a sense of cold dread fell over James. He swallowed it, and then stepped through the door into the dark, Lily on his heels.

  The rain had diminished to a heavy patter. Shimmering curtains fell from the ramparts and roofs all around, but once the two stepped out into the courtyard the drops were fat and sparse. Wind pushed across the walled yard, ruffling the weeds and moaning in the unseen trees of the Forbidden Forest. James looked around, straining his eyes against the dark. There, far off to the right, a flicker of wand-light bobbed and vanished, as if hooded in the bearer's sleeve.

  "This way," James muttered, tugging Lily along behind him. She stayed close as they wended their way toward the low stone wall and through the open gate. A flash of lightning lit the clouds, turning the black landscape into a pale photograph. In the distance, Hagrid's barn stood stark against the night, framed against a tableau of dripping trees. A split second later, darkness engulfed it again, even thicker than before.

  "Where are we going?" Lily whispered, her feet squelching in the grass.

  James shook his head, straining to see through the darkness without his glasses. There were no more flickers of wand light in the distance but the occasional flash of lightning showed that they were nearing the Quidditch pitch.

  Lily should not have come with him. The certainty of this sank into James like an icicle. It was too dangerous for her. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. It was his job to protect her. That's what his father had said. And yet, here they were, out after dark on a stormy night, following a pair of mysterious figures into the unknown.

  "You shouldn't have come along," James muttered. "It's too dangerous. You should have stayed back where it was safe." He shook his head dourly. "I should have stopped you, Lucy."

  Lily suddenly stopped walking. There was a shuffle as she tugged the cloak from over her head, revealing her blond hair and pale face in the darkness. "What did you just say?" she asked, her voice hushed.

  "I said you should've stayed where it was safe!" James repeated impatiently, turning back. "It's too dangerous. I shouldn't have let you come along."

  Lily merely looked at him in the darkness, and James knew why. He just didn't want to admit it.

  He had called her Lucy.

  He stepped back toward his sister and raised the cloak back up over her head. "Stay hidden," he said brusquely. "We'll just go back. Together, all right? This was… a mistake. Besides, it's probably nothing."

  As if to counter this statement, behind James, a loud clunk echoed out of the darkness. There was a sudden babble of low voices in the near distance, indistinguishable against the wind and moaning trees.

  "There are more of them!" Lily gasped, battening onto James' arm in fear. "There're over there! On the Quidditch pitch!"

  James nodded, turning, his eyes wide. He wished for another flash of lightning to illuminate the pitch and reveal its secrets, but the storm was abating and the night was seamlessly black. Unconsciously, he began to inch forward again, bringing Lily with him. He sensed the house grandstands looming over him now, heard the snapping flutter of their banners high above.

  From the centre of the pitch, more voices came on the wind, hushed and strangely excited. There seemed to be several of them, almost a small crowd. James crept close to the nearest grandstand and strained his eyes, fancying he could see a dark blot of robed figures milling in the grass of the centre line. Another dull clunk sounded. A hushed laugh. A rustle and flap of fabric.

  A sudden green light lit the robed crowd. It rocketed upwards like a firework, or like a spell shot from a wand. Its light spread dimly over the pitch, illuminating no less than twenty robed figures, most carrying brooms, all craning their heads back to watch. Icy dread settled over James as the greenish light fired higher into the air. He reached instinctively for Lily, gathered breath to tell her to run, to run as fast as she could back to the castle.

  Before he could speak, however, something poked him in the back, a wand, held fi
rm and steady.

  James spun around, knocking the wand away with his elbow. He brandished his own wand wildly, pushing the invisible shape of Lily aside and tripping backwards onto the mushy field. Lightning flickered once more, bathing the pitch with its bony light, and James found himself wand to wand with one of the robed figures, James on his backside on the grass, his right arm pointed up and out, ramrod straight, wand in fist. The robed figure's head was uncovered, showing a length of wavy blond hair and an unexpectedly familiar face.

  James boggled up at him as the lightning flickered, not sure if he believed what he was seeing. "Zane?" he barked.

  The blond boy rolled his eyes and pocketed his wand. "It's about time you found us," he said. "I was beginning to think you'd never catch on. And your guys really need some fresh blood. It's stopped being any challenge at all."

  "Keep talking, Walker," a female voice called from the pitch. "If only you were as good on a broom as you are with your mouth."

  "Is that Willow?" James asked, confusion slowly replacing dread as he climbed back to his feet.

  "Is that James?" Willow Wisteria called, approaching out of the darkness. "About time you showed up. I was beginning to think we'd need to leave you an engraved note and a trail of breadcrumbs."

  "I don't…" James stammered, looking around as more students gathered around him, shaking their heads with wry amusement. "I thought… the green light! I thought it was…! What are you…?"

  Scorpius Malfoy approached James, his head cocked to one side and a sardonic grin curling his lip. "You thought we were old school Deatheaters, perhaps? Firing off the dreaded Dark Mark for kicks and grins?"

  There was a scattering of hushed laughter. Above the heads of the gathered students, the greenish light bobbed and zoomed, trailing a faint tail of sparks. James looked up at it and finally saw it for what it really was. It was a Golden Snitch, its tiny wings enchanted with green light, glowing like a hyperactive lightning bug against the dark clouds.