“So, what’s the key?” Rose asked.
Odin-Vann looked at James. And suddenly James knew the answer.
“Her father’s brooch,” he said in an awed voice, and shuddered.
Zane nodded, even as his mouth dropped open in revelation.
“It’s exactly like the brooch Petra lost on the back of the Gwyndemere when she fell overboard! You saved her, but it sank forever! The one Merlin captured was Morgan’s! She never went on the ship with you, because in her world Izzy died and she went mad with loss! The brooch is from that other dimension!”
Odin-Vann said, “It’s our only hope. It connects Petra to Morgan in the most fundamental way—through a love they both shared.
And it’s from Morgan’s original world, making it the perfect key. If we can get it, then it is just possible that Petra can accomplish her mission after all.”
James looked at the professor. “But, why do we need to go anywhere for it? Merlin has the brooch, doesn’t he?”
Odin-Vann’s face hardened. “Merlin is a wilier and more cunning character than any man who ever lived. It was he who somehow divined that Petra had traveled to the World Between the Worlds in search of the thread, and who confronted her there. It was he, I am willing to wager, who sabotaged the Loom to prevent us from utilizing the thread and completing our mission. He is not a man who would keep the brooch here at the school, where Petra might come and win it back from him. He has hidden it.” Here, his hard eyes glimmered with a mad light. “And I know where.”
“And how, pray tell,” Scorpius asked, arching one eyebrow, “could you possibly know that?”
Odin-Vann smiled grimly. “Merlin is powerful,” he admitted.
“But he relies far too much on that power. I, on the other hand, am not powerful. I spent my life being mocked and ridiculed for my weakness.
Which means that I came to rely most heavily on my intellect.” He tapped his bloody temple grimly, meaningfully. “The headmaster’s reliance on raw power is his greatest weakness, and with your help, we shall exploit it.”
“Well,” Ralph said with a resolute sigh, climbing back to his feet.
“I’m out.”
“What?!” James asked, surprised. “Are you serious? What do you mean, you’re out?”
“I mean I’m going back to my common room and finishing my Ancient Runes homework and going to bed,” Ralph replied, glancing around the gathering. “And the rest of you should best do the same.
This bloke is right mental. He’s opposing Merlin. You heard him say that, yeah? Merlinus Ambrosius!”
“He’s not opposing him,” James rasped, pitching his voice low.
“He’s just… Merlin doesn’t know what he’s doing this time. He doesn’t understand Petra’s mission. That she’s the world’s only hope! He would confront her instead of help her, and he would probably end up dead!”
“You think so?” Ralph said, raising his eyebrows. “Merlin’s no fool, no matter what this nutter says. We should have gone to Merlin months ago with this whole mess. He could fix it. He would have worked with Petra. And she would have been a damn sight better off partnering with the headmaster than with this… this…” He gestured at Odin-Vann where he still sat, leaning against the wheelhouse.
“Ralph,” Zane said, climbing to his feet as well. “Are you going to go tell the old man? I mean, you have every right to your opinion and all. But it’s a little late in the game to be switching coaches now, isn’t it?
If you tell on us,” he shrugged helplessly, “then it’s all over.”
Ralph heaved a huge sigh as he glared at Zane, and then James, and then Rose.
“Don’t look at me,” Scorpius said, raising a hand, palm out.
“I’m just here because it’s better than watching Warton and Finnegan snog in the common room.”
Ralph finally shook his head weakly, hopelessly. “What good would it do me to tell now? It’s too late, like you say. But I won’t be a part of this anymore. It’s not right. I should have done something about it months ago. I should have stood up to him when there was still a chance to make it right.” He turned to Odin-Vann again, his face going stony with angry disgust. Then, without looking back, he turned and stumped down the gangplank.
From his seat on the deck, Odin-Vann raised his wand, aimed it at the far off door, and tapped it. A spit of pink light flashed and, distantly, the door latches unlocked.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Odin-Vann said a little coolly. “You can leave now as well. Petra only asked for James, Rose, Zane, and Ralph.”
Scorpius shrugged. “I think I’ll stay, actually,” he said. “I can’t fill Dolohov’s shoes, of course. Mainly because they’re ten sizes bigger than mine. But I’m a curious sort. I’d like to see how this plays out.
Assuming nobody else minds.”
He glanced aside at James, Zane, and Rose. Zane nodded.
“Fine,” Odin-Vann sighed, finally pushing to his feet. “Then we leave tonight. Right now, in fact. Petra awaits our return, and we don’t have a second to spare.”
Rose glanced at James, her eyes worried. James understood. It was all happening so fast, without any chance to think about what they were about to do. And yet, really, did they have any choice? He hesitated for only a moment, and then, to Odin-Vann, asked, “Where are we heading to?”
Odin-Vann’s eyes narrowed and sparkled again with that keen, slightly hectic gleam. “Morganstern Farm,” he answered. “To the lake, and its dead, sunken gazebo.”
Zane cocked his head. “Why there?”
Odin-Vann turned to the wheelhouse and wrenched open the door. “Because it’s the very last place in the world that Merlin would expect us to look.”
Odin-Vann piloted the ship himself. The ship’s wheel was nearly as tall as he, but he held onto it with determination, turning the Gertrude toward a different tunnel entrance than they had traversed before. This one had no destination inscribed across its arch, but the professor—or the ship itself—seemed to know where to go.
“It’s not the same without Ralph,” Zane said quietly. On James’ other side, Rose nodded.
James looked at Scorpius, expecting a snide comment, but the blond boy said nothing, merely looked ahead, toward the approaching darkness as the tunnel sucked the Gertrude in, drawing her inextricably into its rushing current.
The masts folded with a heavy thump. Darkness swallowed the ship and dizzying speed replaced the gentle rocking of the moonpool.
James barely noticed it. He held onto the brass railing bolted to the back wall of the wheelhouse, watching the repaired lantern as it swung over the bow, providing the only light in the rushing maw of the tunnel.
“We must be quick,” Odin-Vann called without looking back.
“Each of you will have a role to play.”
“And what will those roles be, exactly?” Scorpius called back.
James looked at Odin-Vann, who didn’t seem prepared to answer that question just yet. Then, seeming to consider his words carefully, he said, “We shall come up in the centre of the farm lake, but it will be difficult to keep the ship from beaching on the shallow shores.
Mr. Malfoy, you will stay in the wheelhouse and keep us steady, hands on the wheel.” He glanced aside quickly, his eyes bright with the reflection of the swaying lantern ahead. It cast wild, swooping shadows in the darkness. “Rose, you and Mr. Walker will raise the gazebo from its sunken state. It will be very heavy and waterlogged, but I know that you can manage it together, as well as keep it upright while I collect the hidden brooch. And James…” He glanced back again, fleetingly meeting James’ eyes while struggling with the ship’s wheel and the rushing dark beyond. Grey water exploded around the speeding bow, throwing rafters of mist back against the windows, blattering them noisily and blurring the view beyond. “James, you shall assist me in retrieving the brooch.”
“That hardly seems like a two person job,” Scorpius observed.
“After what happened at the Archive,”
Odin-Vann replied darkly, “I won’t be taking the slightest chance.”
The journey took longer than James expected. The Gertrude rocked up one side of the tunnel, then another, barreling through seemingly endless dark. After a while, Rose covered her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she warned with a deep, gulping breath.
“Nearly there,” Odin-Vann said, steeling himself as the tunnel angled upward beneath them. James tightened his grip on the railing and planted his footing. Water welled up over the bow in waves, and then washed over it in a flood, submerging the lantern and rushing over the windows. The roar of air was swallowed up in a deep, gurgling boom as cold darkness engulfed the Gertrude. The ship angled steeply upward, still blasting forward, but now through seamless, rushing depth.
The lantern continued to glow, forming a bottle-green halo through streaming bubbles.
And then, much smoother than before, the ship burst out onto wide open surface, keeled ponderously forward, and, with a shuddering smack, buried its hull in white-capped waves.
Anxiously, James stepped toward the windows and peered out through streaming droplets. The waves were choppy and fast, dully illuminated by moon glow through rushing, scrubby clouds. No land was visible in any direction, only a dark horizon, unbroken and flat.
Zane pressed in alongside James. “This… is a pretty big woodland lake, isn’t it?”
“We’re not to Morganstern farm yet,” Odin-Vann explained, releasing the wheel and exhaling harshly. “Going to Oswestry isn’t like going to London—it’s not a straight shot. This will take some good old-fashioned sailing, I’m afraid. We’re just past the Isle of Man. When we see the lights of Liverpool we’ll submerge again and come up through the lake on Morganstern farm.
Scorpius glanced aside at the professor. “It’s a good thing you know how to operate a ship like this, isn’t it?”
Odin-Vann shrugged wearily, and then reached to pull a brass latch. With a click, a ratchet, and a whip-crack of rigging, the masts creaked upright again, shuddering into place. “The ship’s been charmed to take us where we want to go. All we have to do is wait and watch.”
“How convenient,” Scorpius nodded, turning back to the dark view beyond the window. “Morganstern did the hexing herself, did she?”
James glanced at Scorpius.
Odin-Vann frowned and blinked, then shook his head faintly.
“Petra? Oh. Yes, of course. She charmed it. I wouldn’t have any idea how to do such a thing.”
“How humble of you,” Scorpius mused, seeming to merely think aloud, “Thus, I assume that we are committed to our destination no matter what?”
Odin-Vann didn’t answer. To the assembly, he said, “I’m going to go below to wash up and try to sleep for an hour. Wake me when the coast comes into sight, eh?”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Zane said, standing rigid and giving a stiff salute.
“I really am going to be sick,” Rose moaned, and pushed toward the door. Cool night air and mist rushed in as she heaved it open and fled out onto the wet deck, angling toward the railing. Odin-Vann followed her and turned toward the stairs into the ship’s hold.
“He certainly seems to have relaxed now that we’re underway,”
Scorpius commented, gazing after the departed professor.
James tilted his head at Scorpius. “What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know what he’s getting at,” Zane said, rubbing his stomach, “but Petra nabbed me just as I was heading down for dinner, and I’m starved. Does this tub have a galley, you think? A snack bar? A vending machine, maybe?”
James glanced back at him. “Seriously? How can you eat at a time like this?”
Zane shrugged, unperturbed. “Saving the world makes me hungry.”
James determined that accompanying Zane was marginally better than simply waiting in the wheelhouse. Leaving Scorpius, they slipped out onto the dark decks and explored around. There was very little to see. Above decks, the wheelhouse, paddlewheels, and masts were the only structures. Below decks, most of the space was separated into cargo holds, divided down the centre by a narrow hall. Close to the bow was a small common area for the crew, where James had sat with Merlin and Millie on their return trip to London. Here, Professor Odin-Vann lay sprawled on the bench, one arm over his eyes, one leg kicked out onto the deck, feet akimbo. He snored fitfully.
“Here we go,” Zane whispered, wrenching open a series of small cupboards. He rummaged and withdrew a cellophane-wrapped package.
Squinting in the low light, he read the label. “‘Halberd’s Humble Hardtack’. Ever heard of it?”
James shook his head, distracted.
Zane used his teeth to strip off the wrapping, revealing a stack of biscuits that looked, both in size and color, like roofing shingles. He shrugged and bit one. Then, he bit it harder. Unable to crack a corner off the allegedly edible biscuit, he lowered it and struck it against the edge of a counter. It knocked like stone. He sighed mournfully and tossed it away.
Rose joined them a few minutes later and the threesome sat in the hold, not talking, leaning in time to the rocking rhythm of the hull.
Nearby, Odin-Vann continued to snore haltingly.
Growing stiff and frustratingly bored, James stood and headed back along the hall that divided the cargo areas. No one joined him.
Scorpius was seated against the wall at the end, his knees up and his hands dangling over them.
James plopped down next to him.
“Why did you really come along?” he asked. “It sure wasn’t out of the overflowing goodness of your heart.”
Blandly, Scorpius said, “You wound me, sir.”
“I’m serious.”
Scorpius gave a weak shrug. “You don’t really believe that cock-and-bull story Odin-Vann told about finding Morganstern’s talisman on her grandfather’s farm, do you?”
James sat up and turned to Scorpius. “The brooch? What do you mean?”
“I mean, the likelihood of him outsmarting the headmaster is about as high as you beating Dolohov at Wizard chess. In short, not at all. He’s either deluded—which is entirely possible—or he’s lying.”
“But…” James shook his head, caught between alarm and annoyance, “why would he lie? He’s helping Petra, isn’t he? Just like we all are.”
“Just like you all are,” Scorpius corrected. “I just came along to keep an eye on Rose and Walker. He’s got a thing for her. And I’m the jealous type.”
“Don’t change the subject,” James said, watching the blond boy closely. “You think Odin-Vann is lying to us? Do you agree with Ralph about him? That he’s not to be trusted?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet,” Scorpius sighed.
“It was you that wrote the note to yourself after all. Surely you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”
“You know what I’m sick of?” James suddenly declared, gesturing angrily with both hands. “People hinting at big, important revelations without ever just giving me a direct answer! Millie’s grandmother, Headmaster Merlin, and now you! Out with it, or learn to keep your dodgy suspicions to yourself!”
Scorpius allowed a small smile, clearly enjoying James’ discomfiture. Then, he nodded and grew serious again. “It’s all in your note. You remember the play, just like I do. The roles are all in place, now just as they were then.”
James slumped. “Yeah, yeah. Petra is Princess Astra,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “And I’m Treus, blind with love and all that.
What’s the point?”
“Like I said, you wrote the note,” Scorpius answered loftily. “All I’m saying is that here we are, in the final act. The two of you are on centre stage once again. And I think you wrote yourself that note for a reason.”
“I dreamed a crazy dream,” James shook his head dismissively.
“About Petra in a graveyard with Albus. I woke up with an idea in my head. It made no sense
, but apparently I wrote it down. I barely remember doing it. I was probably still dreaming.”
“It’s called ‘automatic writing’,” Scorpius said, sliding a disdainful eye toward James. “We learned it in Trelawney’s first class.
Just because she’s a daft old nutter doesn’t mean there’s no such thing as prophecy.”
James frowned. “I pay as little attention in her class as I can,” he admitted.
Scorpius rolled his eyes, and then said, “Automatic writing is what happens when your subconscious knows something that your waking mind doesn’t. It’s when the buried part of your brain takes over your body for a moment to send your waking mind a message.”
James considered this, and then shook his head again. “I don’t see what the message could be. It’s just a line from the play. Beware foul Donovan.”
“Not actually,” Scorpius said. “Nowhere in the play are those three words spoken. Treus comes close during his rallying speech. But the word ‘beware’ isn’t anywhere in the script.”
James blinked as he thought back to the play. He tried to recall his own lines. Reluctantly, he realized that Scorpius was right. Still, it was just as likely that his second-year self had gotten the line wrong in the note as it was that the three words had any prophetic significance.
He mused on it, strained and concentrated, trying to determine what the words could possibly mean in their current situation. But nothing came to him. Finally, mentally exhausted, he gave up.
A minute passed, and then he said to Scorpius, “You really should just break up with Rose.”
Scorpius glanced aside at him, his brow darkening. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed that that’s what you’re over there mooning about, or annoyed that you would actually say it.”
“Neither,” James said, staring darkly down the length of the hall.
“I just realized I don’t care what you think anymore.”
Scorpius relaxed a little. “Facing the possibility of the end of the world does that, I suppose.”
“I’m serious,” James said dully. “You don’t even know what to do with her. I swear, you deliberately lash her emotions back and forth just because you wouldn’t know how to have a normal human conversation with her.”
James Potter and the Crimson Thread Page 54
