James Potter and the Morrigan Web

by G. Norman Lippert

  "It zaps back to where it's supposed to be," James explained, smacking his forehead in irritation. "That's the whole point!"

  Rose planted both fists on her hips. "And what about us?"

  "Then we just hop into the vanishing cabinet and…" James stopped, blinking as he realized the fatal flaw in the plan. After a moment he clamped his mouth shut.

  "All right, then,"Zane said, raising both hands. "So we almost just cut off our only means of getting home again. Lesson learned. No more rash decisions, right? We need to be extra careful."

  "She's the one what said there had to be a tunnel to the surface!" James declared, flapping a hand at Rose.

  "I wasn't planning to stake my life on it!" Rose exclaimed shrilly.

  "Belt up, both of you," Scorpius sighed. "Zane is right. No more bodging around. If we're going to get out of here, looks like we're going to have to do it the hard way."

  Rose relaxed slightly at this and handed the Drummel back to Zane. "Don't do anything stupid with it," she muttered.

  Zane pocketed the coin. "All right, then!" he announced cheerfully. "This way for the grand tour!" He lit his own wand and struck off. More sombrely, Scorpius and Nastasia followed.

  "Hold up a moment," James said. Quickly, he turned to the cabinet and tapped it with his wand. "Circumnecto." In response, a golden spark shot from the end of the wand toward the cabinet, connecting them with a brief, shimmering beam. Nodding in satisfaction, he pocketed his wand, then noticed Ralph and Rose staring at him.

  "What?" he asked. "It's a basic compass charm. Sends a spark back to the cabinet so we can find it again. You think Rose is the only smart one in the family?"

  Rose cocked her head suspiciously.

  "All right," James declared. "My mum taught it to me so I wouldn't keep losing my glasses. Happy?"

  Rose nodded, satisfied, and turned to follow the glow of Zane's bobbing wandlight.

  "I'm impressed, either way," Ralph admitted as they hurried to catch up. "Dead useful, that is."

  James gave his friend a wry smile. "Thanks, Ralph."

  As they walked, the true scale of the cavern became apparent. The floor sloped steadily upward, eventually breaking into broad steps and then to uneven terraces, forcing the students to clamber up higher and higher sharp edges. As they progressed, James noticed the distant ceiling lowering to meet them. Soon enough, the stalactites were directly overhead, hanging down in glistening, dripping points, threatening to drop like stone spears at the slightest provocation. The ascent narrowed as stalagmites crowded the path, reaching up toward their counterparts on the ceiling. Zane led the group onward, occasionally clutching his wand in his teeth as he climbed.

  "Is it just me," Ralph panted, "or is it getting a bit cooler?"

  "This is no accidental path," Rose agreed. "It's a natural fissure, widened by foot traffic who knows how long ago. I told you the dwarves would have found this cavern and connected to it somehow."

  "Bully for Big Brains Weasley," Scorpius groused, clambering over yet another sharp, black ledge. "You'd have thought they could have put in some stairs, at least."

  "There's some light ahead," Zane called back. "Torchlight, looks like."

  James peered ahead, squinting to see past the lit wands. Sure enough, a dim orange glow suffused the air above, glimmering on the sloping edges of the stalactites and stalagmites. With renewed purpose, the troupe continued their climb, following the elusive orange glow until the floor levelled, becoming a path between hewn stone walls. The ceiling dipped down to meet them, forcing the students to hunker low.

  "It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic," Ralph muttered faintly.

  "That's for sure," Zane called back, inching ahead and trying not to hit his head on the rough ceiling. "This place is tighter than a Goblin's wallet."

  Ralph groaned behind James. "I was being sarcastic. I'm totally claustrophobic. Stupid, short dwarves."

  "Buck up, Ralph," Rose soothed. "I think we're almost out."

  In this, James suspected, Rose was being rather optimistic. Still, after ten more minutes of cramped walking, all angling steadily upwards, the ceiling finally raised, joining a much broader, human-sized corridor. Flames flickered from an iron sconce hung from the ceiling by black chains.

  "Goblinfire," Rose said, wiping her brow. "Burns on nothing and never goes out. Probably been there for centuries."

  "What's with all the rubbish all over the floor?" James frowned, pointing toward a litter of pickaxes, pails and helmets some distance away.

  "Ooo!" Rose exclaimed happily, trotting forward for a closer look. "Dwarf-made tools! They're supposed to be some of the best made in the world!" She stooped and plucked a small spade from the floor, pulling it from a bed of ancient cobwebs. "Light as a spanner, but strong as a manticore! And look!" She held up another implement, a short-handled axe, "Just my size, too!"

  "This, I believe", Scorpius said, joining Rose near the strew of tools, "is what's known as looting."

  "Oh, tosh. They've been here for ages. The dwarves are long gone from these tunnels."

  James drifted closer and held up his wand, examining the rough stone wall. "Just out of curiosity, what do you suppose did that?"

  Zane and Nastasia leaned close, peering at the wall. A series of irregular, deep scratches scarred the stone. Ralph frowned nervously. "That must have been some pickaxe."

  "They look more like… like…" James swallowed, reluctant to continue.

  "Claw marks," Nastasia nodded, running a finger along one of the deep scratches.

  "Er," Rose's voice echoed tentatively from some distance away. "Er, chaps? Is this… what it looks like?"

  James and Scorpius stepped over the strew of castoff tools and turned a sharp corner. Rose glanced back at them where she stood, pointing. Another pile of debris ranged further along the corridor, dancing in the orange glow of another goblinfire sconce.

  "Those aren't dwarf tools," Ralph squeaked, stopping behind James. "Those are… er… dwarfs."

  Unfortunately, Ralph was correct. Tossed hither and thither against the walls and over the rough floor were small, heavy-browed skulls, broken ribs, and various bits of skeletal arms and legs. Glinting mellowly among the bones were complex metal shapes, broken, scattered and covered with dust.

  "Armour," James gulped. "Look. There's a shield. And some sort of chain mail, all ripped to bits. And there's a sword, with a… er… hand. Still attached to it."

  "Now that's a battle I'd have liked to see," Zane announced fervently. "Dwarves are tough cusses. And their armour is the strongest stuff going." He plucked the sword from the floor and shook off the skeletal hand clinging to the hilt. It fell back with a dry clatter that made James wince. "See? Not a nick on it. Not even a speck of rust." He examined the sword closely, turning it in the firelight. "A little blood though, by the looks of it. This guy got in a few slashes before kicking the ol' bucket."

  "Zane's right," Rose frowned. "Dwarves are famous for their toughness in battle. What could do this to them?"

  "Same thing that clawed up the walls back there, I'd bet," Nastasia commented.

  "Either way," James said, raising his voice, "like Rose said, this stuff's been here for ages. Whatever caused it all is long dead."

  As if in answer, a low, warbling noise lifted out of the depths. It was an eerily inhuman sound, a ululating moan, rising in pitch until it echoed all around, becoming a warbling, shrill yodel. James felt his hair stand up. Zane dropped the dwarven sword. Rose clutched Ralph's arm with both of her hands, her eyes going wide. Even Scorpius' face paled to that of a grey sheet. Slowly, the horrible noise died away, chasing its echoes into unseen tunnels and corridors.

  "Or not," Nastasia squeaked.

  Rose looked around wildly. "Which way did it come from?"

  "Who can tell?" James replied. "Come on, let's leg it out of here. There has to be a way further up."

  Zane retrieved the dropped sword and held it shakily ahead of him. In his fist, the weap
on looked ridiculously diminutive, despite its glinting, sharp blade. In a tight knot, the group clambered forward, stepping clumsily over skulls and broken armour. A hundred feet past the scatter of bones, the corridor ended at a barricade of criss-crossed iron bars, each as thick as James' arm, festooned with bolts the size of door knobs. Set in the middle of the barricade was an iron door with a heavy lock. Painted on the rough stone wall on either side of the barricade were large white skulls and crossbones. Above these, rather worrying, was a single word: GOWROW.

  "Oh man," Zane commented worriedly.

  Rose frowned at the cracked white paint. "What's it mean? What's a Gowrow?"

  Scorpius shrugged. "Sounds like some kind of sweet you'd buy at Honeydukes."

  Zane shook his head fervently. "It's no sweet."

  "A Gowrow is a legendary American monster," Nastasia explained. "The good news is that no one's seen any for hundreds of years." She frowned thoughtfully. "The bad news is that they love caves and tunnels."

  Ralph's voice was thin with worry. "So… what's it look like?"

  "Cross a basilisk with an alligator," Zane said, "Then give it tusks, eyes the size of hubcaps, and claws like a hippogriff."

  "But," Nastasia added, holding her hands about two feet apart, "You know… bigger."

  Scorpius pushed to the front of the group and gripped the iron barricade with both hands. He peered through the bars at the dark corridor beyond. "Looks like they penned it in good, though. So long as it stays on the other side of these bars, I expect we'll be all right."

  Closer this time, the eerie warbling cry came again, echoing all around.

  "Are you sure," James asked, joining Scorpius in front of the ancient barricade, "that it's on that side

  of the bars?"

  In answer, the tunnel behind them rumbled. Dust sifted from the ceiling. On the heels of this came the unmistakable sound of claws scraping on stone, approaching swiftly.

  "I think I need a bigger sword," Zane said breathlessly, spinning toward the sound.

  "Rose?" James called, grabbing his cousin by the arm. "Unlocking spells are your specialty, right?" He pushed her toward the iron door. "So make with the unlocking!"

  "I can't!" she protested. "I haven't calibrated my new wand for unlocking spells yet!"

  "What!?"

  "I'm just as likely to make it sprout fur as to unlock it!" she cried, both frightened and angry. "Somebody else has to do it!"

  The Gowrow screamed again, blotting out every other sound. It seemed terribly close. The floor vibrated with its approach.

  "Bloody hell," Scorpius exclaimed. "Ralph? Time to go to work."

  Ralph nodded, his face slick with sweat. He stood back and levelled his wand at the ancient door. "Alohomora!"

  A brilliant golden bolt struck the lock, illuminating its ancient keyhole. The door rattled violently in its frame. James grabbed one of the bars and tugged.

  "Still locked!" he said, stepping back again. "Try another one!"

  Ralph firmed his jaw and planted his feet, wand still pointing at the iron lock. "Reserare!"

  This time, an orange bolt struck the lock, exploding into sparks. The door rattled again, but remained firmly closed.

  "Try universale clavem!" Rose cried, hopping fearfully from foot to foot. "It's a universal key charm!"

  Ralph nodded, repeating the spell in his head, then pointed his wand once more. Lime green lightning leapt from his wand, filling the keyhole and making it glow. There was a loud, ratcheting click.

  James leapt forward and rattled the door again. "I think you actually locked it harder that time," he declared, shaking his head.

  Behind him, Rose screamed. James turned, throwing himself back against the unyielding iron bars and pulling his cousin with him. Nastasia hunkered low, her wand extended toward the depths of the corridor. There, heaving out of the darkness, a heavy, slithering shape appeared. A pair of enormous, perfectly round orange eyes glinted, reflecting the light of the goblinfire sconce. A moment later, the creature lunged forward, bashing the sconce from the ceiling and snuffing it beneath its scaly belly. The flash of light allowed only a brief glimpse of muscular, reptilian arms tipped with black claws, curving yellow tusks, and a long, grinning, scaly head.

  Desperately, Zane threw the dwarven sword. It glinted as it spun out of the light, clattering against the creature's scaly hide.

  "My hero," Nastasia said, pulling the blonde boy back.

  The Gowrow slithered forward with horrible speed, its scaly body rasping against the stone walls, its glinting orange eyes bobbing hypnotically. It screamed again, sending a gust of cold breath along the tunnel.

  Green light flashed. Nastasia, James saw, was firing killing curses at the behemoth, to no avail. Rose turned away from the scene, burying her face against James' shoulder. He couldn't blame her. Dimly, almost clinically, he realized he had never been more primally terrified in his life.

  Scorpius jumped forward, blocking James' view of the approaching monster. He grabbed Ralph by the shoulder, spun the bigger boy around, and wrestled his arm upwards so that his wand pointed once again at the iron door. Against the shrieking approach of the Gowrow, Scorpius' voice was barely audible.

  "Convulsis!" he cried gripping Ralph's wrist with both hands.

  A bolt of blue shot from Ralph's wand. It struck the door just above James' shoulder, igniting a blast of purple sparks. The door exploded backwards, tearing from its hinges and clattering violently to the floor. James fell backward through the sudden opening, dragging Rose with him.

  "Come on!" Scorpius shouted, grabbing Nastasia and Zane, one in each hand. Stumbling and dazed, they bowled through the iron door frame, pushing Ralph ahead of them and falling atop James in a heap, knocking the wind from his lungs.

  The Gowrow slammed against the iron barricade, wrenching it out of true but hopelessly wedging in its broken door frame. The monster screamed again and gnashed its jaws. Its teeth clacked and its tusks slashed mere inches from the scrambling students.

  "Run!" James cried, pushing Zane ahead of him.

  "No!" Scorpius countered, pointing back toward the iron barricade. "Reparo the door!"

  James glanced back over his shoulder. As he did, the Gowrow strained forward, wrenching the barricade further out of true. Metal screeched as the bars slowly bent.

  "Ralph!" James called. "He's right! Repair the door! Quick!"

  Dazed, Ralph glanced from James to the broken door where it lay, bent almost double, on the stone floor. His face cleared and hardened. "Everybody stand back," he shouted, raising his wand again. Its lime green tip seemed to glow in the darkness.

  James pressed back against the stone wall of the tunnel, joining Rose and Scorpius. Nastasia and Zane huddled across from them, their faces pale and worried.

  A loud, wrenching screech echoed through the tunnel. The Gowrow had forced its head and left shoulder through the deteriorating gate. It screamed, filling the tunnel with its cold breath and chilling, ululating shriek.

  "Reparo!" Ralph shouted, raising his voice-- somehow-- over the noise of the Gowrow.

  With a sudden metallic screech, the door straightened, flipped into the air, and spun back toward the iron barricade. It slammed back into its frame, punching the Gowrow backwards, head over slithering tail, so that it crashed against the floor and slid, arms flailing and slashing at the stone walls. When it came to a stop, it fell back limply, its tail forming a question mark on the gritty floor.

  "Is…" Rose quavered, "is it… dead?"

  Zane shook his head. "No chance. Just knocked out."

  "You sure that repair job of yours will hold, Ralph?" James asked faintly.

  Ralph nodded with grim confidence. "Good as new, I'd wager." He turned to Scorpius and frowned. "That thing you did, grabbing my wand hand… I didn't think that was possible."

  "Neither did I," Scorpius shrugged shakily. "But I remembered something my grandfather taught me."

  James joined him in the centre of th
e tunnel, unable to take his eyes from the repaired barricade and the horrible prone creature behind it. "And what was that?"

  Scorpius gestured at Ralph's wand. "Subtlety is a dead man's last mistake."

  Nastasia nodded. "Well that sure wasn't subtle. I guess we all owe you one, don't we?"

  "Let's not start clapping each other on the back just yet," Scorpius replied, firming his voice. "We still have to find this Crone Laosa and get the truth out of her about the Morrigan Web."

  "Assuming she's a real person," James added wearily.

  "And has any secrets to share," Rose agreed.

  "And doesn't just feed us to that thing," Ralph concluded, hitching a thumb back at the Gowrow.

  "What a bunch of sour-pusses you bunch are," Zane chided. "Come on! The worst has to be behind us now, right?"

  Much more slowly and tentatively, the group resumed their journey, inching their way further into the darkening depths of Alma Aleron's ancient catacombs, wands held high against the shadows. James didn't want to admit it aloud, but he had a foreboding feeling that Zane's assumption couldn't be more wrong.

  18. THE MORRIGAN WEB

  Soon enough, the tunnel began to angle up again, turning into a stone stairway, punctuated by landings, cross corridors, and great, empty halls. Goblinfire sconces and torches lit the way, despite the obvious disuse of the tunnels themselves. Dust and cobwebs clung to every surface, wafting as the troupe passed. Finally, they reached a monstrous wooden door, fortunately unlocked. It creaked open as Zane pushed it, revealing a more brightly lit corridor lined with arches and tapestries, muted with age and a thick layer of dust.

  "Cool," Zane muttered, his voice unconsciously hushed. "These show the construction of Alma Aleron." He pointed. "There's Roberts and Pepperpock at the ground-breaking. And there are the dwarves digging the foundation of Admin Hall."

  "Wait," Rose said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. "Whose footprints are those?"

  James glanced down. Leading away from his own feet, clearly defined on the dusty floor, was a set of fresh footprints, somewhat smaller than his own.