James Potter and the Morrigan Web

by G. Norman Lippert

"And what's that?" Rose inquired, clutching the pale blue purse with both hands as Ralph turned the castle below them, heaving the Great Hall into view.

  James shrugged helplessly. "We figure it out as we go," he answered.

  It was snowing harder now. Great, fat flakes skirled and billowed in the wind, streaking past the golden windows of the Great Hall as Ralph drew it closer, teasing it into position before them. It was a deeply unsettling feeling-- the bizarre summer snowstorm; the sensation of manipulating the entire universe around them; the knowledge that this last moment of relative calm and serenity would soon succumb to tense action as they attempted to stop the Morrigan Web…

  The windows grew larger, larger as Ralph drew them closer, flicking his wand deftly. James could see the ripples in the ancient glass as one window drifted to fill his vision. Shapes moved beyond it, moving like things glimpsed underwater. Then, with a thump and a shudder, the window swept past them and they were inside the Great Hall. A constellation of floating candles surrounded them, flickering benignly beneath the enchanted ceiling (which showed hulking storm clouds and silently blowing snowflakes). James looked down from his curious perspective. The long house tables had been transformed into a dozen large round tables, each covered in immaculate white cloth and decked with golden plates, crystal goblets, and massive floral arrangements from the greenhouses. Around the tables were dozens of people, all chattering noisily, nodding with excitement, presiding over the dregs of what appeared to have been a singularly sumptuous banquet. As James watched, the Russian President (identified by the notecard and flag positioned in front of his place setting) raised his empty goblet, watching with cautious wonder as it refilled itself in mid-air.

  "The Clock!" Rose exclaimed in a hushed voice, pointing. "Put us down over there beneath it, behind all the headmaster portraits… perhaps no one will notice us right away."

  Ralph nodded and twisted his wand, tilting the universe gently to the left, wheeling it around so that the clock swam closer. Beneath them, the replica of the Fountain of Magical Brethren glimmered, sending its geysers of water up, around, and through them. James could smell the crispness of the water but felt nothing of it as it passed.

  "Lily and the rest of the student ambassadors seem to be taking a break," James said, spying his sister sitting amidst a collection of classmates on a small terraced pedestal to the right of the dais. They were chattering to themselves in hushed voices, smiling and pointing discreetly at the various world leaders. "We have to get them out of here!"

  "If we can just disenchant the Clock," Rose insisted tensely. "Then everything will be fine!"

  Ralph nudged his wand up in gentle flourishes, almost as if he was painting with it, and the dais rose beneath them. The portraits of the headmasters, seen from the back, drifted upwards to block the view of the rest of the Hall.

  "Now!" Rose whispered.

  "How do we stop all this Collective Constant stuff, then?" Ralph asked, bringing his wand to a trembling halt. "Comstock forgot to tell us that bit!"

  "Try the incantation again," James suggested. "With a downward flick this time."

  Ralph shrugged gamely, still keeping his wand as steady as possible. In a hushed voice, he said, "Divellere!" and flicked the wand straight down.

  James stumbled as his feet struck the floor of the dais. For a moment there was a sense of extreme disorientation, as if the universe had somehow just remembered he was there and had forcibly reclaimed him, then all the axes of reality seemed to realign again.

  "That was a good guess, James," Rose gasped, putting a hand to her throat.

  Ralph took half a step forward, his shoulders stooped, and peeked between two of the headmaster portraits and the fountain beyond. "I don't think anyone's noticed us," he whispered.

  James joined Ralph, peering out at the chattering crowd. Titus could be seen roaming carefully around the perimeter of the hall. Lucinda Lyon seemed to be stationed by the door.

  James glanced down. Rose was on her hands and knees next to him, reaching through the brass legs of one of the portrait easels.

  "Rose!" he nudged her with his foot. "What are you doing?"

  "Quit it!" she rasped up, still straining to reach through the easel. "This isn't as easy as it looks!"

  "It looks like you're about to get us caught!"

  "Fine," she proclaimed, dropping back onto her haunches and wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow. "So what do we do now?"

  James glanced up. From this angle, the enormous five-faced Clock was a gilded monstrosity, its gears, flywheels and pendulums clearly visible behind the complicated scrollwork and ivory faces. Only the central face continued to mark the time, ticking audibly with a noise like spider legs dancing on sheet-ice.

  "We need to get inside it," James whispered, nodding up to the Clock. "We have to get Magnussen's cane out of it if we can."

  "But that's not how it works!" Rose whispered back, grabbing his shoulder. "If we just remove it, the Morrigan Web will trigger early!"

  "Well, that was your parents plan, wasn't it?" Ralph said, huddling down behind them.

  "They didn't know it was a mistake," Rose rolled her eyes, "because you two forgot to tell them! Lucky for all of us the Chalice wasn't the trigger. The cane is. If we just yank it out, it'll release all of its energy right then and there!"

  "So how do we stop it, then?" James asked fearfully, glancing from Ralph to Rose.

  Rose bunched her fists in frustration. "How should I know? It was your bloody idea to make it up as we go!"

  "Wait a minute," Ralph interjected, narrowing his eyes. "Crone Laosa said that the relic could be replaced. But it had to be replaced with something equally as powerful…"

  "And something belonging to the same person," Rose nodded impatiently. "But what good would that do?"

  "No!" James said, struggling to keep his voice hushed. "She said it had to be replaced with something related to the same person! It doesn't have to have belonged to them. It just has to be connected to them somehow."

  "That'd have to be one ruddy strong connection," Ralph breathed, shaking his head. "Either way, where are we going to find such a thing? We've only got about eighteen minutes left!"

  "What ho," a deep voice interrupted, not whispering in the least. "How'd I know I might encounter you lot here?"

  Ralph startled so violently that he fell over, very nearly taking the row of headmaster portraits with him. James slumped, recognizing the voice. He turned and glanced behind him.

  "Hi Titus," Rose sighed. "Nothing much gets past you, does it?"

  "In this case," Titus Hardcastle rumbled, his wand held lazily in one ham-sized hand, "It's less professional vigilance and more long-time familiarity. After what your parents did, I had a feeling I'd be seeing you tonight. Up with you both. Deedle, too. And hand over your wands."

  "We don't have our wands," Rose replied, giving Ralph a brief warning glance. "Headmaster Grudje confiscated them all."

  Hardcastle nodded. "Heard about that, actually. Thank heaven for small favours."

  "Titus," James said quickly, rising to his feet. "You have to listen to us. We're not here to pull a prank or anything stupid like that. We're here because something horrible is about to happen in a few minutes and we have to stop it! If you help--"

  "Oh, I already know all about it," Titus nodded, prodding the students ahead of him, taking them off the dais and toward the student ambassador's pedestal. "Your father explained it in great detail on the way back to the castle. The Morrigan Web, he said. Worst weapon in the whole wizarding world. Going to kill us all with an interconnected blast of concentrated magic."

  "Yes!" James nodded, a small surge of hope welling in his chest. "Except it wasn't the Crystal Chalice, like we first thought! It's the Clock! Right there! You can help us get it down! You can--"

  "I can place you in temporary custody right here in the Great Hall," Titus interrupted tersely, "and thank you not to make a scene. I've already briefed the Minister on the fals
e alarm your father raised. The last thing we need is for you lot screaming bloody murder in front of the whole world, wizarding and Muggle alike. You'll sit here with the student ambassadors and not say a single word. Understand?"

  "But Titus!" Rose insisted. "It's not a false alarm! It's--"

  "Not… Another… Word!" Titus growled dangerously, showing them his wand. "I don't want to have to Langlock you, but I will to keep you quiet if that's what it takes."

  He placed a hand each on Ralph's and James' shoulders, shoving them firmly into a seat on the bottom terrace of the small podium. Rose remained standing next to them, a look of wild alarm on her face. She dared not speak lest Titus perform the Langlock curse on her, silencing her completely. But she dared not remain silent either.

  "James!" Lily hissed from above and behind him. "What are you doing here?"

  James could not bring himself even to look back at his sister. Thus far, his plan-- such as it was-- was failing miserably. All around, the world leaders, Muggle and wizarding alike, chattered on obliviously. Chamber music lilted from an enchanted violin, bass and harpsichord, the instruments playing cheerily by themselves to James' left.

  And the Clock over the dais ticked onward, the minute hand resting just before the nine. If Avior's threat had been accurate, they had barely sixteen minutes left. Satisfied that the students were subdued, Hardcastle turned away, lowering his wand to his side.

  Suddenly, Ralph stirred next to James. He leapt to his feet, brandishing his wand and levelling it at Titus' back.

  "Stupef--"

  Hardcastle turned so quickly he was nearly a blur. His wand flicked up at the hip, unleashing a thin bolt of white. Ralph slammed back into his seat so hard that the entire row of students above him collapsed backwards, their feet poking into the air and their muffled voices crying out in confusion.

  A murmur of alarm rippled through the round tables. Several people leapt to their feet. The Magical Integration Bureau agents around the American President perked up in postures of wary vigilance.

  Hardcastle took a swift step forward, grabbed Ralph's wrist with one hand, and wrenched the wand out of it with the other.

  "Foolish," he growled furiously. "Very foolish."

  "Titus," Rose squeaked, wringing her hands before her chest. "Seriously! This is a huge, huge mistake!"

  "Quiet!" Hardcastle seethed, "Or I swear you'll be next, and I don't give a hardboiled hippogriff egg who your mum is. Everyone!" he called, turning around, raising Ralph's wand in his meaty fist and putting a grim smile on his face. "Some good-natured school hijinx. Nothing to be concerned with. Everything's under control. Go back to your dinners."

  "No!" James exclaimed, leaping to his feet, his voice echoing up into the enchanted rafters. "Everything's definitely not under control! Something awful is about to--"

  Hardcastle spun on James, his wand flashing upright again, his face red with fury. He was going to hit James with a Langlock curse, silencing him before he could finish his sentence. Instinctively, before James even knew what he was doing, he struck out with his right hand, forgetting for a moment that it did not bear a wand.

  Magic sprang from his fingers in cold blue arcs. The bolts struck Hardcastle, flinging him right off his feet. He flew through the air and crashed onto the nearest table, sending goblets, tureens, and golden plates scattering like tenpins. The diners gathered around the table recoiled in fear and shock, scrambling to their feet. Half ducked in terror. The other half groped for their wands. The rest of the Hall erupted in a roar of mingled surprise, panic and anger.

  "Stop!" James cried out, sweeping his arm before him, palm outwards in a placating gesture, but magic continued to crackle from his fingers like lightning, electric blue and cold as ice, drawing flashing arcs as it swept the air. The crowd recoiled in fear. Even the other Aurors, James noticed, kept a distance, although their wands were raised, trained on him with unwavering accuracy.

  "Stun him!" Hardcastle roared, scrambling to climb off the table, the tablecloth tangled in his belt and dragging after him. "Put him down!"

  Red bolts sliced through the air from five different directions, converging on James. Each one, however, snuffed harmlessly mere inches from his body, as if an invisible force swirled around him, deflecting the Auror's spells.

  James stared in shock at his own outstretched hand. Tendrils of icy power curled around his fingers, lancing and crackling like a dynamo. He glanced behind him, his eyes wild. Rose merely stared at him, both of her hands clamped over her mouth. Ralph was still half collapsed on the lowest tier of the student ambassador's pedestal, frozen in the act of struggling up, his eyes wide, lit with the flashing magic of James' hand.

  "I…" James began haltingly, feeling that the room was suddenly waiting to hear from him, "er…we, I mean… are here to help! Everyone, to the doors! We have to get out of here immediately! And as far away as possible!"

  This was met with a long moment of complete, bewildered silence. The only person to move was Hardcastle, who had regained his feet and disentangled himself from the table cloth. He glanced around at the stunned crowd. Then, seeming to realize he had lost control of the situation, pointed at the closed double doors at the rear of the hall.

  "You heard the boy," he shouted. "Everyone out, before he does anything else!"

  The room was suddenly filled with the squeaking of chairs and the clatter of alarmed feet. Voices arose, first in confused alarm, then in increasing layers of rising panic. James was deeply gratified to see people piling up behind the double doors, clambering to make their exit. This relief, however, quickly soured into sinking dismay as the double doors remained firmly closed, despite the clamouring crowd.

  "It's locked!" Someone shouted.

  "Where's the key!"

  "Titus!" This cry came from Lucinda Lyon, from her station by the door. James could just see her craning to look back over the milling, agitated crowd. "Titus! The doors won't budge! They're sealed right shut!"

  "Stand back!" Hardcastle called, raising his wand and striding forward. The crowd parted before him anxiously, giving him a clear shot at the high double doors.

  "James," Lily said in his ear, her voice small and afraid. "What's happening? How are you doing that with your hand?"

  He shook his head, turning to glance back at her, his hand still raised at arm's length, crackling with icy blue magic. "I don't know, Lil. But it's going to be all right. Just… stay back a bit."

  "EXPULSO!" Hardcastle roared, flashing his wand forward with a long, powerful flourish. A bolt of deep blue light shot into the doors, exploding vividly and shaking the very marble floor beneath James' feet. When the sparks cleared, however, the doors remained, closed and untouched.

  The crowd began to scatter, to drift toward the windows in rising anxiety, apparently in the hopes of breaking them.

  Hardcastle was ahead of them, however. He levelled his wand again, aiming at the furthest of the Hall's tall windows. Another blast of blue flashed, accompanied by a massive shudder and explosion of sparks. The window remained whole and completely untouched.

  "They're all frosted over," Lily said wonderingly. "Look at the glass! It's covered in ice! Maybe that's why Titus can't break through!"

  Amazingly, inexplicably, Lily was right. Every window, including the enormous rose window over the dais, was clouded with fronds of ice, coated to the point of opaqueness.

  "James," Hardcastle demanded, stalking back across the floor, his wand now lowered. "Forget how. Why are you doing this?"

  "I'm not!" James exclaimed, shaking his crackling, lightning-filled hand. "That's what I've been trying to tell you! Something terrible is about to happen, but I'm not the one doing it!"

  "No," a young woman's voice interjected coolly. "I am."

  Every eye in the room turned, following the sound of the woman's voice. She stood on the dais, directly in front of the sparkling, showering fountain and its golden statues.

  It was Petra.

  To James' ey
e, she looked exactly as she had the last time he had seen her. A drab calico dress swung about her legs beneath a pale blue sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. As he looked at her, she turned her eyes to meet his. They were cold, but not completely devoid of feeling. She cocked her head slightly and raised one hand to him, not in a wave, but in a sort of catching motion, as if she was snatching an invisible ball out of thin air.

  The crackling ice-magic vanished from James' hand. He glanced down at it in surprise.

  "And I'll thank you, James," Petra said with a small, affectionate smile, "not to borrow anymore of my magic."

  24. THE MOST VEXING QUESTION

  Leaving Titus standing speechless in the middle of the Great Hall floor, James dashed to meet Petra where she stood before the glittering fountain.

  "Petra!" he gasped. "It's the Clock! You can help us shut it down!"

  For some reason, he expected her to show alarm, or to ask what he meant, or to jump down from the dais and join him. Instead-- as he should have known-- she simply nodded at him sadly. "I know it's the Clock, James. I know what's inside it. And I know exactly what's going to happen in fifteen minutes, when the clock strikes eight."

  James looked up at her in dismay. "So, you're here to help us, right?" he asked, knowing even as he asked that this could not be the case. The ice covering the windows and sealing the door made that all too clear.

  "No," she answered with a deep sigh. "I'm here to watch. And wait."

  Rose joined James, along with Ralph and Lily.

  "Hi Petra," Lily said, giving the older girl a little wave. "Where's Izzy?"

  "She's home," Petra smiled wanly. "Good to see you, Lil. Sorry about all this."

  "But if you know everything that's going to happen," Rose declared, "why aren't you stopping it?"

  Petra pressed her lips together in pained irritation. "Look," she said, finally stepping down from the dais to join James and the others. "I don't know everything that's going to happen. Why does everyone keep thinking I'm all-knowing somehow? I'm a sorceress, not a prophetess."