James Potter and the Hall of Elders' Crossing

by G. Norman Lippert

  As he evaluated the plan, however, he had his doubts. It was certainly a rather convoluted scheme, with loads of variables. Much of it would depend entirely on dumb luck. One minute, James was certain it would work flawlessly, the next, he was sure it would be a ridiculous failure and he, Ralph, and Zane would be caught. What would they say? Jackson would know they were aware of his plan. Would that be enough to stop the plot? James was, after all, the son of the Head Auror. James thought not. If James and his friends were caught trying to steal the relic, Jackson would know they hadn’t yet told Harry Potter anything. Would Jackson and his co-conspirators stoop to murder to keep their plans a secret? He could hardly believe it, but then again, he had been amazed to discover Jackson’s involvement in such a terrible plan to begin with. No matter what, James was sure, probably more than either Zane or Ralph, that the three of them might be in great danger if their scheme failed.

  For the first time, he considered telling his dad everything. He could send Nobby with a letter, explaining everything they’d worked out so far. If the three of them succeeded in their plan to capture the relic robe, then he’d have proof to back up the letter. If they failed and were caught, at least someone else would know about the Merlin plot. It was too late to write the letter that night, but he felt reassured that it would be a good idea, and he determined to do it first thing in the morning. Thinking that, he fell asleep. The next morning, however, as he ran down the steps to breakfast, he forgot all about it. In the light of a new day and a new week, he felt perfectly confident that their plan would work. Failure was inconceivable. He was in such high spirits about it that he barely noticed the pale wizard in the painting of the Assumption of Saint Mungo watching him intently, frowning and stone-faced.

  12. VisumIneptio

  The first hurdle James, Ralph, and Zane faced in capturing Jackson’s briefcase was simply finding a case similar enough to make the switch. It was, as Zane had suggested, a fairly basic black leather case, rather more like a doctor’s bag than a briefcase. They studied it carefully at dinner Monday evening, as it sat between the professor’s black boots beneath the faculty table. It had two wooden handles on the top, a hinged brass catch, and was, indeed, rather beaten and scuffed. They were dismayed to discover that it had a small, tarnished brass plate riveted to one side with ‘T. H. Jackson’ engraved on it. While it was, in most respects, an almost entirely unremarkable bit of luggage, the boys soon discovered that there was not, in fact, one exactly like it to be easily found. Plenty of students and faculty had leather cases and portfolios, but they were all either too narrow, or the wrong color, or of a rather different size or shape. By Tuesday night, they had still not found a case they could use to perform the switch. Ralph suggested that they might have to wait until the next week to perform the switch, but James was insistent that they keep trying.

  “We don’t know when they’re planning to bring all the relics together,” he explained. “If we wait too long, they’ll try it and then we won’t have access to any of the relics at all. They’ll figure out they don’t work, and then hide them or destroy them.”

  Ralph and Zane agreed, although it didn’t get them any closer to finding an appropriate case to use for the switch. Then, Wednesday morning, the day of Technomancy class, Ralph came to the breakfast table with a manic glint in his eye. He plopped down across from Zane and James and stared at them.

  “What?” James asked.

  “I think I’ve found a case we can use.”

  James’ mouth dropped open and Zane audibly gulped the coffee he’d been sipping.

  “What? Where?” James asked in a harsh whisper. He had decided they were going to have to wait after all, and had been simultaneously worried and relieved. Now adrenaline shot through him. The rather wide-eyed paleness of Ralph’s face indicated he was feeling the same thing.

  “You know my friend, Rufus Burton?”

  James nodded. “Yeah, another first-year Slytherin. Greasy-haired kid, right?”

  “Yeah. Well, he collects rocks and stuff. Calls himself a ‘rock-hound’. Has a whole bunch of polished little stones arranged on a shelf by his bed: crystals and quartzes and moon-sapphires and all that. I listened to him talking about it last night for almost an hour. Well, he brought all his rock hunting tools along with him to school, of course. He’s got a little hammer that’s a pick on one side, and a bunch of little scrapers and brushes and loads of these little cloths and polishing solutions.”

  “All right, all right,” Zane said. “We get the picture. Guy’s a geek with tools. I’m spellbound. What’s the point?”

  “Well,” Ralph said, unperturbed, “he carries all his tools and gear around in a case. He had it out on his bed last night…”

  “And it’s the right size and shape?” James prompted.

  Ralph nodded, still wide-eyed. “It’s almost perfect. Even has a little plaque on the side! It has the name of the manufacturer on it, but it’s in the same place as the little plate on Jackson’s case. The color’s different, and the handles are ivory, but other than that…”

  “So how do we get it?” James asked breathlessly.

  “I’ve already got it,” Ralph answered, seeming rather amazed at himself. “I told him I wanted a bag to carry my books and parchments in. Told him my backpack didn’t feel very, you know, Slytherin. He said he knew just what I meant. He said he’d gotten a new toolcase for Christmas, so I could have his old one. That’s why he had it out: he was taking everything out of the old one to put into his new case, which is bigger and has a hard dragonskin cover. Watertight, he told me.” Ralph was beginning to ramble.

  “He just said you could have it?” Zane asked incredulously. “Yeah! I’ve got to tell you, it wigged me out a bit. I mean, isn’t that just a little too… I don’t know…”

  “A little too much of a coincidence,” Zane nodded.

  James grew thoughtfully determined. “Where’s the case now?”

  Ralph looked a little startled. “I brought it down with me, but I hid it in one of the cubbyholes under the stairs. I didn’t want anyone to see me with it in here. Just in case.”

  “Good thinking. Come on,” James said, getting up.

  “You still want to go through with it?” Ralph asked, following reluctantly. “I mean, we were going to wait until next week anyway…”

  “That was only because we didn’t have a choice.”

  “Well,” Ralph muttered, “there’s always a choice. I mean, we don’t have to do it this way, do we? Couldn’t one of us just hide under the Invisibility Cloak and make the switch when Jackson’s not looking?”

  Zane shook his head. “No way. There’s too little room in there. Jackson would run you over doing one of his laps. If we’re going to do it, this is the only way.”

  “Look, I think we’re meant to do this,” James said, turning to face Ralph and Zane when they got to the doorway. “If there is such a thing as destiny, then that’s what put that case in your hands last night, Ralph. We can’t miss this opportunity. It’d be like… like spitting in destiny’s face.”

  Ralph blinked, trying to envision that. Zane scowled thoughtfully. “Sounds serious.”

  “You two still with me?” James asked. Both other boys nodded.

  The case was still in the cubbyhole beneath the main staircase, and it was as similar to Jackson’s as Ralph had described. It was a ruddy red color, and much more scuffed from having been dragged through the dirt and rocks, but it was exactly the same size and shape, with a matching brass catch in the center. Ralph had already stuffed his dress cloak into it, and when James opened it to check, it looked almost exactly the way the cloth inside Jackson’s case had looked when it had come open that day in Franklyn’s classroom.

  “Let’s take it to the boys’ bathroom in the upper cellars,” James said, preceding the other two down the staircase. “It’s just down the hall from Technomancy. Do you need anything special, Zane?”

  “Just my wand and my notes,” Zane ans
wered. Horace Birch had been more than happy to explain the Visum-ineptio charm to Zane, but there’d been no opportunity for him to practice. Further, the charm would only work--if it worked at all--on anyone who didn’t know the charm was in place. The result was that neither James, Ralph, nor Zane would know if the charm was working. They’d just have to trust Zane’s spellwork until the switch had been accomplished and Jackson picked up the fake case. Only then, one way or another, would the effectiveness of the charm be shown.

  In the boys’ bathroom, James plopped the case on the edge of the sink. Zane dug in his backpack for his wand and the bit of parchment he’d scribbled the Visum-ineptio incantation on. He handed the parchment to Ralph.

  “Hold it up so I can see it,” he instructed nervously. His hand was shaking visibly as he pointed his wand at the case. After a moment, he dropped his arm again. “This is all screwy. Ralph’s the wand master. Can’t he try it?”

  “Horace taught it to you,” James said impatiently. “It’s too late to show Ralph the wand motions. Class is in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yeah,” Zane protested, “but what if I can’t get it to work? If Ralph gets it right, you know it’d be good enough to fool anybody.”

  “And if he gets it wrong,” James insisted, “we’ll be picking bits of leather off the walls for the next hour.”

  “I’m standing right here, remember?” Ralph said.

  James ignored him. “You have to, Zane. You can do it. Just give it a go.”

  Zane took a deep breath, and then raised his wand again, pointing it at the bag. He looked at the parchment as Ralph held it up. Then, in a low, singsong voice he spoke.

  “Light immortal speeds the eye, for understanding’s vanity. Discordia, the fool’s ally, make expectation’s guarantee.”

  Zane flicked his wand in three small circles, and then tapped the top of the case with it. There was a popping sound and a very faint ring of light appeared, emanating from the wand’s tip. The ring grew, slipping down over the case. It grew fainter until it vanished. Zane let out his breath.

  “Did it work?” Ralph asked.

  “It must have,” James said. “It looks the same to us, of course, but something happened, didn’t it? The charm must be in place.”

  “I hope so,” Zane said. “Come on, we have to get to the classroom before anybody else gets there.”

  They ran through the corridor, Zane and James watching for Professor Jackson and Ralph carrying the fake case with his winter coat draped over it.

  “This looks stupid,” Ralph rasped. “I look about as casual as Grawp in a tutu.” James shushed him. “It doesn’t matter, we’re almost there.”

  They stopped outside the door to the Technomancy classroom. Zane peered in, then turned back to James and Ralph.

  “Plan B,” he said under his breath. “There’s somebody in there. A Hufflepuff. Can’t remember his name.”

  James leaned around the corner of the door. It was a boy he vaguely recognized from Muggle Studies class. His name was Terrence and he glanced up as James was looking.

  “Hey, Terrence,” James called, grinning. He sauntered into the room. Behind him, he heard Ralph and Zane whispering. He tried to drown out their voices. “So how was your holiday? Travel much?”

  “I guess,” Terrence mumbled.

  This is going to be harder than expected, James thought. “So where did you go? I took the train to London. Saw the family and everybody. Had loads of fun. You go anywhere fun?”

  Terrence turned in his seat. “Went down to Cork with my mum. It rained most of the trip. Saw a flute concert.”

  James nodded encouragingly. Fortunately, Terrence was seated halfway from the front, turned around toward James. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Zane near Jackson’s desk, positioning the fake case. Terrence started to turn back toward the front of the room.

  “A flute concert!” James blurted loudly. “Cool!”

  Terrence turned back. “No,” he said, “it wasn’t.”

  Zane stood up, giving James the all-clear signal. James saw him and sighed with relief. “Oh. Well, sorry to hear it,” he said, backing away from Terrence. “Anyway. See you around.”

  Zane and James took their planned seats in the front row. It was a small classroom and Jackson’s desk was only a couple of feet away. James scanned the front of the room, pleased to see that nothing seemed disturbed. He waited until a few more students came in, laughing and talking, and then whispered to Zane. “Where is it?”

  “It’s in that little corner by the chalkboard. I left the cloak folded a little so it doesn’t drape onto the floor. I just hope old Stonewall doesn’t trip over it when he goes behind his desk.”

  James looked into the corner that Zane indicated. It was just a shallow alcove formed where the closet next door butted into the room. It was unlikely that Jackson would venture there, but not impossible.

  “Sometimes, he doesn’t even go behind his desk all class,” James whispered. Zane gave a little lift and drop of the shoulders, as if to say here’s hoping.

  A few minutes later, Professor Jackson strode into the room, carrying his ever-present leather bag. James and Zane couldn’t help watching intently as he draped his cloak over the desk and settled his briefcase into its accustomed space on the floor next to his desk.

  “Greetings, class,” Jackson said briskly. “I trust you all had an instructive holiday. One can only hope you haven’t forgotten everything we worked so hard to instill in your heads prior to the break. Which reminds me. Please hand your essays to the left and then to the front. Mr. Walker, I will collect them from you once you have them all.”

  Zane nodded, his eyes bulging a bit. Both James and Zane had their wands slipped up their sleeves. If Jackson noticed, they’d just say they were carrying them that way in honor of their favorite Technomancy teacher, since Jackson himself carried his in a small sheath sewn into his sleeve. Thankfully, Jackson seemed a bit preoccupied.

  “I will be grading your essays tonight, as usual. Until then, let us take a sneak peek, as it were, into your cumulative understanding of the subject. Mr. Hollis, please favor us with a short definition of Hechtor’s Law of Displaced Inertia, if you please.”

  Hollis, a red-cheeked first-year Ravenclaw, cleared his throat and began to offer his explanation. James barely heard him. He looked down at Jackson’s case, sitting tantalizingly only a few feet away. James thought he could probably kick it if he wished to. His heart pounded and he was filled with a horrible, icy certainty that the plan couldn’t possibly work. It had been ridiculously foolhardy to think they could pull such a caper under the prow-nose of Professor Jackson. And yet he knew they had to try. He felt vaguely sick with anxiety. Jackson began to pace.

  “Unnecessarily verbose, Mr. Hollis, but relatively accurate. Miss Morganstern, can you elaborate a bit regarding the transference of inertia between objects of different densities?”

  “Well, different densities respond to inertia differently, based on the proximity of their atoms,” Petra answered. “A ball of lead will be launched in a single direction. A ball of, say, marshmallow will merely explode.”

  Jackson nodded. “Is there a technomancic workaround for this? Anyone? Miss Goyle?”

  Philia Goyle lowered her hand. “A Binding Spell coupled with the Inertia-Transference Spell will keep even low-density substances intact, sir. This has the added benefit that low-density projectiles will travel much farther and faster on a given factor of inertia than a higher-density projectile, such as Miss Morganstern’s lead ball.”

  “True, Miss Goyle, but not necessarily beneficial,” Jackson smiled humorlessly. “A feather shot out of a cannon still won’t hurt.”

  The class laughed a little at that. Jackson was just beginning his second circuit of the room. Then, suddenly, Ralph was at the door.

  “Excuse be,” he said in a strangely gurgly voice. Everyone in the class turned except James and Ralph. “I’b sorry. I dseem to have a dosebleed.” Ralph’s n
ose was, indeed, bubbling blood at an alarming rate. He held his finger beneath it, and it was coated and slimy with blood. There was a chorus of oohs and ahhs from the class, some amused and some disgusted.

  Zane wasted no time. As soon as he heard Ralph and saw that Jackson was turned away, heading up the right side of the classroom, he whipped his wand from his sleeve.

  “ Wingardium Leviosa!” he whispered as quietly but as forcefully as he could. The Invisibility Cloak became visible the moment it whipped up, floating off the fake briefcase in the corner. Zane held it there as James fumbled his own wand out. Behind them, they heard Jackson speaking to Ralph.

  “Good heavens, boy, hold still.”

  “I’b sorry,” Ralph stammered. “I meant to get a cough lozenge and I ate one of thode Weadely Dosebleed Dougats instead. I have to get to the hodpital wing, I thingk.”

  James pointed his wand at the fake briefcase and whispered the Levitation Charm. The case was much heavier than anything James had levitated before, and he wasn’t very good at it under the best of circumstances. The case scuttled on the floor, dragging by a corner. He moved it as close to the real case as possible, knocking the real case aside and partially under the desk. He gasped, and then caught his breath. Behind him, the students were laughing and making disgusted noises.

  “Good grief, you don’t need the hospital wing,” Jackson said, becoming annoyed. “Just stand still and move your finger.”