James Potter and the Morrigan Web

by G. Norman Lippert

  "But," James said, turning as Petra walked past him, "but you knew what we knew when you met me in your grandfather's gazebo! And just now you said you knew all about the Clock and Magnussen's cane and the Morrigan Web!"

  "Magnussen's what?" Hardcastle frowned, drifting closer, his wand at the ready but his hard face creased with confusion. "Whose gazebo?" Behind him, the rest of the dozens of government leaders, ambassadors and diplomats watched with restless agitation and bright, worried eyes. The other Aurors hung back, taking protective positions around the crowd.

  "I only know the things that I know," Petra said, turning back to James and lowering her voice, "because I hired him!" She gestured with her right hand. With a crack and a puff of pale smoke, a man appeared next to one of the abandoned tables. He was thin with an unremarkable face and wore a limp fedora hat, a bedraggled trench coat, and a loose burgundy striped tie.

  "I'm visible now, right?" he said, glancing around a little nervously. His American accent was unmistakable. "I can tell I'm visible because of all the people suddenly staring at me. Dead giveaway."

  "You're safe enough, Mr. Parris," Petra assured him. "I've already told you, the Morrigan Web won't hurt Muggles. The point is," she turned back to James. "It's all because of his detective work that I know all of this. He tracked down Nastasia Hendricks' family history. He discovered the connection between Rechtor Grudje and Professor Avior. He traced Judith's movements as she brought the plan together, with everything leading us to here, tonight."

  "Hold up a second," Hardcastle said, inching still closer to Petra and James, "So this Morrigan Web, it's really going to go off tonight?"

  "That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Rose cried, anger rising in her voice. "Our parents believed us, and you arrested them for it!"

  Hardcastle ignored her, his eyes still on Petra. "But it won't hurt any of the Muggles, right?"

  Rose rounded on him furiously. "It will once all the witches and wizards are dead and Grudje and his assassins start picking them all off one by one!"

  The crowd stirred again, growing tense.

  "Petra," James whispered, moving alongside the dark-haired girl and ignoring the sudden row between Rose and Hardcastle. "My dad's here. He and Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, they're locked up behind the dais, in the antechamber. And Lily is right here with us, not to mention Rose, Ralph… you can let them all out, can't you?"

  She shook her head slowly, not meeting his eyes. "I told you to stay away from all this, James," she muttered. "I warned you. I can't help any of you now. I wish I could, but I can't."

  "But why?" James pressed, becoming desperate. "Petra, why does this have to happen? Why can't you stop it, or at least let everyone go before it does?"

  "The Morrigan Web can't be stopped!" Petra hissed, her icy façade cracking. "Parris and me, we couldn't learn much about it, but we do know that once it's put into motion it's unstoppable!"

  "No!" James interrupted her. "It can be stopped! We just need to find something equally--"

  She overrode him, raising her voice. "And I can't let anyone go-- not a single person!-- because if I do, it won't be as tempting to her! She'll only show up if it's going to go off exactly as she planned! She won't risk appearing-- and facing me-- if her plan falls apart! She'll just start over again with a new plan, an even worse plan! She'll only come if the Morrigan Web is actually going to go off and kill every witch and wizard here! She won't miss that for the world, because she loves death! She lives for chaos! It's the only thing that will bring her to me!"

  "But that's mad!" James exclaimed, grabbing Petra's arm, making her face him. "Why, Petra? Why do you have to face her?"

  "Because I have to kill her!" Petra shouted, her voice flying up into the rafters and breaking into rolling echoes.

  The Hall fell silent in the wake of this declaration. Even Hardcastle and Rose stopped their argument. James stared at Petra, shocked and slightly horror-struck. It wasn't that he didn't believe Judith deserved to die. It was that he wasn't certain, even if it cost him and every witch and wizard in the room their lives, that Petra could truly defeat her.

  And the worst part was the look on Petra's face. It was uncomfortably clear that, despite her resolve, she doubted this as well.

  "That's why you left Izzy somewhere safe," James whispered, understanding dawning on him. "Even though you're more powerful with her at your side, you couldn't risk her life as well."

  "I'm willing to die for all this to end," Petra said, firming her jaw and standing straight.

  "And for all of us to die as well?"

  "It may not come to that," Petra sighed, seeming to shrink slightly before James' eyes. "I hope it won't. If I can defeat her fast enough… if there's still time…"

  Behind Petra, something suddenly splashed in the Fountain of the Magical Brethren. James glanced at it, his senses heightened to almost painful alertness, and saw waves slopping over the edge of the reflecting pool. Water slapped at the heels of the statues, growing choppy and rough, as if something large was heaving just beneath the surface.

  The already anxious crowd backed away further, pressing futilely against the Hall's main doors, as water began to pour over the ledge of the pool, cascading down the dais and splattering to the stone floor. Then, with a deep, wrenching screech, the statues themselves began to shudder, to tilt, to lean…

  "Behind me!" Hardcastle growled urgently, moving to get between the students and the fountain, his wand raised.

  In a sing-song voice Petra warned, "I wouldn't do that if I were you…"

  On the dais, the wizard statue toppled, tipping forward and crashing over the ledge of the pool. The centaur statue keeled over as well, knocking down a third of the headmaster portraits like a row of dominoes. The witch and house elf followed, bashing against each other, the witch statue breaking in half. Only the statue of the Muggle man remained, tilting and creaking ominously, its hands upraised in pointless rapture. Water continued to slop and cascade over the fountain ledge. The pool water itself heaved up into a sort of glittering, green bulge around the remaining statue's knees. And then, massively, the bulge burst, disgorging a tall feminine figure, seemingly completely comprised of rushing water. The pool water fell back from her and she began to solidify, even as she stepped forward, rising up out of the pool, and putting her first step onto the wet dais, coming to stand almost exactly where Petra had first appeared.

  "Good evening, everyone!" the watery woman announced, her ringing voice still gurgling slightly. "I trust everyone is having an enlightened time!"

  Hardcastle fired. His bolt of magic passed right through the glimmering figure, exploding into prisms as it did so. The woman flung out a hand lazily, almost casually, and it turned into a writhing water tentacle. It uncurled across the Hall and whalloped Hardcastle where he stood. For the second time that night, the big Auror flew through the air. This time, however, he struck a table and smashed it in half, sending its contents exploding in all directions with horrible finality. The huddled crowd cringed, screamed, and scattered away from the broken table. In the tinkling aftermath, Hardcastle made no move to get up.

  "Petra, darling," the watery woman said, dismissing the sudden violence and stepping down to the main floor. "I've missed you. And I know you've missed me. Otherwise, you wouldn't have searched so long and hard to find me. And with your cute pet Muggle to help."

  Marshall Parris recognized the reference to himself. Instead of being offended, he reached up and doffed his fedora briefly. "Happy to be of service. I'll just be on my way then."

  "You'll be fine, Parris," Petra repeated, not taking her eyes from the approaching watery figure. "I told you, the Web doesn't hurt Muggles."

  "Quite right, my sister," the watery figure agreed, finally solidifying fully into the shape James had most dreaded seeing. The Lady of the Lake stood resplendent in a long white dress, its skirts layered with form-fitting scallops and its sleeveless bodice crusted with glittering diamonds. Her thick red hair
was pulled up in a high, severe bun. "The Morrigan Web does not hurt Muggles. I do, of course."

  "Not if I stop you," Petra said, backing slightly away from Judith, moving into an open space at the centre of the Hall floor. James watched this warily, backing away, pushing Rose, Lily and Ralph behind him.

  "But why stop me?" Judith pressed, offering Petra a disarming smile. "You've come this far with me. I assumed you'd had a fortunate change of heart."

  Petra didn't reply. Instead, she stabbed out with her right hand, her fingers extended toward Judith. A lance of blue-green light streaked through the air. Judith deflected it, but was forced back a step in the process.

  "Not interested in talking?" she said, still smiling, but a bit more warily. "It's been a year, sister. But perhaps you mean to watch the fun with me and then chat afterwards, once our appetites for destruction are sated."

  "I'm not like you," Petra said calmly, her face set with grim determination. "You love death. I defend life."

  "Confusing, that," Judith said, frowning playfully. "After all, you set all of this into motion with that wonderful stunt in New Amsterdam, one year ago. And if I am not mistaken, it is your ice that locks these poor fools amongst us, sealing their doom."

  "Only to lure you to face me."

  "You alone?" Judith asked, arching her eyebrows. "No Izzabella? What kind of reunion is it if all three of us aren't here?"

  "This is between you and me," Petra breathed, still circling Judith, her body tensed and wary. She struck again, using her bare hands to launch another salvo of brilliance at her nemesis. Judith deflected it, this time with a tittering laugh. She retaliated, spinning and firing a bolt of glaring purple at Petra. Petra was prepared, ducking and conjuring a glimmering, glowing shield. Judith's bolt struck the shield and shattered it, but Petra feinted away, dodging to the left.

  "This is pointless, my sister!" Judith called, still laughing. "Keep this up much longer and you'll miss all the fun!"

  Swiftly, Petra turned on the spot, forming a graceful pirouette, and then dropping into a sudden crouch, her left arm raised, her right pointed at Judith, palm up. Above her, every floating candle in the Great Hall swirled, condensed into a tight cyclone of streaking flame and wax, and launched itself like an arrow at the white-clad woman.

  Judith crossed her bare fore-arms into an X before her face, and then flung her arms apart again. The arrow of burning candles shattered apart, sending broken candles and hot wax flying all around.

  Petra was already moving again. Gesturing with both hands, she levitated a pair abandoned tables, one on each side. Their tablecloths fluttered and their contents drifted over them, forming coronas of glittering silverware and plates. With a flick of each wrist, Petra flung the tables at Judith. They careened through the air like saw-blades, surrounded by the spinning blurs of their tableware.

  Judith clapped her hands and the tables smashed together like cymbals, breaking into dozens of pieces and littering the floor between her and Petra.

  "This is pointless, my dear!" she sang out, and yet, to James' ear, she sounded slightly breathless. It almost looked as if Judith was on the defensive.

  Petra struck again. Levitating the golden wizard statue, she pounded it down upon Judith. Judith split it in two before it could strike her, then thrust both halves apart, crashing them against the walls on either side of the Hall. The bun of her hair was becoming frayed, however, and despite her grin, her eyes were haunted, wild, dancing with growing rage. Now, it was Judith who circled, sidling around the clearing in the centre of the floor while Petra stalked her.

  "You know, my sister," Judith called, her voice splintering. "I am beginning to doubt your resolve! Why, I do not believe you mean to murder these many people after all!"

  "No, I do not!" Petra shouted, her temper breaking.

  "A shame!" Judith replied, still backing away from Petra, circling, drawing close to James once more. "For I was truly enjoying this little contest, and now you've handed it to me…"

  "I think not," Petra seethed, tensing to strike once more.

  "Oh, but you have!" With that, Judith struck first, and with lightning speed. She did not strike at Petra, however. James gasped and lurched backwards as a lance of water shot past him, thin as a blade and glittering like ice, emanating from Judith's left index finger. He turned to follow her aim and saw the finger of ice stab through Rose's shoulder, just above her heart. The force of it rammed her back against the stone wall, but did not allow her to fall. She hung from the glittering icy spear, pinned to the wall by it, even as blood began to blossom on her shirt. She looked down at it, her face a mask of pure surprise. The light blue brocade purse fell from her hands, empty.

  "No!" A voice cried out in pained rage. James was surprised that it was not his own. He turned, his senses dulled by shock, and saw Petra striding toward him, her face contorted. "Rose!" she cried, raising her hand toward the bleeding girl.

  Judith fired at Petra with her right hand, taking advantage of the diversion. Petra blocked this, but ineffectively, one-handed, still reaching toward Rose with the other, rushing to join her. Judith laughed shrilly and struck again, this time shattering Petra's defences. A third blast of white light exploded against Petra's side, knocking her off her feet and bashing her against the front of the dais.

  "Such a shame!" Judith chided, her left hand still extended toward Rose, maintaining the spear of ice that impaled her. "A battle of titans, ruined by that most boring of all weaknesses: sentimentality. I am so sincerely disappointed…"

  As she spoke, she approached Petra, who was struggling to her feet, dazed. Judith raised her right arm, extending it into another watery tentacle. It snaked toward Petra, twined around her, and lifted her bodily into the air. The slight girl struggled, but her hands went right through the watery shape. In seconds, the tentacle spun Petra into a sort of living, liquid cocoon, completely enclosing her. Judith cackled with delight, loud and glassy, watching as Petra struggled, her hair floating about her in the swirling ball of water, her cheeks bulging, holding onto whatever air she could.

  Judith jerked her arm away, breaking contact with Petra's watery prison, and simultaneously causing it to freeze solid. The enormous ball of ice crashed to the floor, solid as stone, clouded so densely that Petra herself was barely visible inside.

  "I hope you at least appreciate the irony," Judith smiled, cocking her head at the frozen sorceress across from her. "You, my sister, are not the only one who can use ice as a weapon."

  With that, Judith withdrew the icy spear from Rose's shoulder. Rose collapsed to the floor in a heap, blood running freely down her right side, her face pale and blotchy. James and Ralph ran to her, dropping to their knees beside her and taking her hands, one each.

  "Oh!" Judith said, turning toward them and placing a hand to her cheek. "I'm sorry, James Potter. Did I go and kill another of your cousins?"

  "Rose!" James cried urgently, clutching her hand. "Tell me you're not dead!"

  "I'm not dead," Rose whispered weakly.

  Surprisingly, the Muggle detective, Marshall Parris, hunkered down on James' right.

  "Pressure's what she needs," he said under his breath, whipping off his tie. "Saw enough injury reports at the old man's law office to learn a few things. Wad this up and hold it hard against the wound." He did so himself, nodding for Ralph to help.

  "We have to get her help right away," Ralph said, his voice low and furious as he pressed the wad of fabric against Rose's shoulder. "We can't let it happen this way…"

  James nodded helplessly, knowing there was very little they could do.

  "So noble!" Judith nodded. "So rich with drama. Does it pain you to know that it's hopeless? Hmm?"

  James looked over his shoulder at her. She smiled at him.

  "Your father is about to die, James," she reminded him, maintaining eye contact. "As he should have last summer. Why, it's been almost exactly a year, hasn't it? And now here we are again. And really, it's so much better this
time. The gang is all here! Your aunt and uncle. Your sister. Your friends. And, of course, so many of your marvellous leaders and protectors. But alas," she interrupted herself, looking away slightly. "We are missing one important person…"

  She snapped her fingers.

  Rechtor Grudje fell out of thin air in front of her, crashing to the floor in an untidy heap. He scrambled, eyes wild, searching his surroundings. When his eyes alit on the woman before him, they narrowed.

  "You!" he seethed. "How dare you!"

  "Oh, I know I'm naughty," Judith tittered, "But I simply couldn't let you toil away in your headmaster's office and miss all the fun, now, could I?"

  "You mean to kill me as well as these," Grudje breathed, his voice vibrating with rage. "But you forget, I have no wand…!"

  He gestured to emphasize his empty hand. The effect was ruined, however, by the wand that sat prominently on his open palm. He startled upon seeing it, and made to throw it away. It remained firm and fast, adhered to his hand as if by glue.

  Judith clucked her tongue reprovingly. "Such a silly weakness for such a marvellous weapon as the Morrigan Web," she said. "But I've taken care of that, as you can see. Not one person in this Hall will be able to divest themselves of their wand. After all, that would be like cheating, wouldn't it? What, I ask, is a witch or a wizard without their wand?"

  "I should have killed you like I killed Worlick," Grudje growled, climbing to his feet and straightening his robes.

  Judith giggled dismissively at his threat. "My dear 'Collector', if it hadn't been for me, you and your pathetic Muggle slaves would still be digging through the ruins of New Amsterdam in search of magical trinkets, hoping to concoct something powerful enough to fuel the Web. If I had not introduced you to Ms. Hendricks and her ancestor's lovely cane…"

  Sighing happily, she glanced up at the Clock.

  "But alas, still five minutes to go!" she said, adopting an air of petulant impatience. "What shall we do until then?"

  A figure huddled up next to James, squeezing between him and Marshall Parris. He glanced up and saw that it was his sister, Lily. Her face was wide-eyed and pale. The jewelled clip had come out of her hair, leaving it hanging about her face in disarray. On the floor behind her, Judith continued to cast around restlessly.