James Potter and the Morrigan Web

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James Potter and the Morrigan Web Page 52

by G. Norman Lippert


  Rose glanced at James, her face tense and her eyes bright. James resisted the urge to look back at her. "Got it," he said soberly. "We'll keep our ears open, Dad. And let you know if anything changes around here."

  Harry seemed to accept this. "I need to go. Your mother says hello and that she loves you. She also says to be sure to keep up with all your studies and to eat a vegetable every now and then. And pass the same on to Albus and Lil."

  "I will, Dad," James replied, hardly listening.

  "And Rose," Harry added, turning to her. "Much love from your Mum and Dad as well. Keep your eye on James, Albus and Lil, won't you?"

  Rose brightened and sat up straight. "I will, Uncle Harry. You can trust me."

  Harry gave her a bemused half-smile. "Goodnight, you two. I'll expect you both to be in bed in five minutes. The Map will tell me if you aren't."

  James and Rose offered mumbled assurances and bid Harry goodnight. A moment later, his head vanished from the coals.

  "You know what we have to do," Rose prodded James the moment they were alone. "We have to go with Zane into the cellars at Alma Aleron and find that old witch, Crone Laosa! She's the only person who might know what the Morrigan Web really is!"

  "You're right," James nodded thoughtfully. "I guess. But there's something else I need to do first."

  "What?" Rose demanded. "You heard your dad! The Morrigan Web is our biggest concern! Until we figure that out, it's all hopeless!"

  James stared into the fire, frowning deeply. "I saw Petra the other night," he admitted quietly. "The night we found Worlick dead in the woods. I talked to her."

  Rose was silent as she stared at him, her mouth pressed into a worried line. She seemed to consider several questions but finally settled on, "What did she say?"

  "She said that we were getting too close," he said, finally raising his eyes to hers. "She warned me to let it go. To not try to stop her."

  Rose's face paled and her eyes widened. When she spoke, her voice was a harsh whisper. "So… she really is involved in all of this, then? But… why? Why would she do anything so awful?"

  "I don't know," James said emphatically. "But I've been thinking about it ever since. It's almost like… like she doesn't think there's any other way. Like, as terrible as it is going to be, it's better than the alternative."

  Rose narrowed her eyes at him seriously. "James," she said, "I know you've always had sort of a thing for her…"

  James blinked at his cousin in surprise and annoyance. "Rose, don't be--"

  "Petra is pretty," she interrupted. "But that doesn't mean she's good or right. We've discussed this."

  "I know, Rose," James rolled his eyes and slumped back against the armchair. "Don't you think I know that by now?"

  "So what are you going to do?"

  "That's what I was about to tell you," he sighed deeply. "She thinks we are getting too close. She said it after we found Worlick's body, but I don't think that's what made her appear to me, to warn us away."

  Rose shook her head impatiently. "Well? What was it, then?"

  James turned his head to look at her. "I think it's Avior," he said firmly. "Petra knew that we saw him, maybe even that he wanted us to see him. Somehow, she knows that Avior is the key to the whole thing."

  Rose considered this. "So what do we do?" "That's the easy part, I guess," James replied reluctantly. "I take him up on his offer of a visit in his office."

  "He won't just tell you all of his deepest, darkest secrets," Rose frowned. "You know," James said, raising his eyebrows consideringly. "I think… he just might."

  The plan, as it turned out, was deceptive in its simplicity, but fraught with hazards.

  "I feel like I'm going to vomit," James mumbled through a fake smile, weaving his way through intimidatingly unfamiliar Durmstrang corridors lined with imposing statues, pillars and frowning grey-clad young men.

  Next to him, smiling much more eagerly and comfortably, Nastasia shrugged. "Maybe you should just puke and get it over with, you know? It sure couldn't make us any more totally conspicuous than we already are."

  As she spoke, James sidled past a knot of Durmstrang boys in the crowded hall. One of the boys scowled at him suspiciously while the others muttered, their eyes narrowed at the scurrying interlopers.

  "We don't have anything to worry about," Nastasia proclaimed, pushing out her chin as they turned a corner. "We've been invited to Professor Avior's office. Or, at least, you have. But I'm totally his favourite student. What's your problem, Jughead?" This last was to a very stocky boy with a brick-red face and a flat crew cut who bumped her shoulder as she passed. She glared back at him challengingly. "You want to tango with me? I'm walking here!"

  "Nastasia, shut up!" James hissed, grabbing the sleeve of her Alma Aleron blazer and yanking her onward. "Are you trying to start a row?"

  "Not afraid of one, if that's what you mean," she answered loudly, still glowering back over her shoulder. "These stuffed-robes are all bark and no bite. Am I right?"

  James shook his head nervously, resisting the urge to run the rest of the way to Avior's office. "Are you sure this is the right way?"

  "How should I know?" Nastasia shrugged. "You're the one with the written invitation."

  "You were there when we planned this! Didn't you pay any attention?"

  "Oh, for hexing hinkypunks," a voice rasped behind James, "It's right there at the end of the hall. Sign's on the door. Can't either of you read?"

  James wheeled on the spot, but there was no one behind him. "Who said that?" he demanded.

  "You're already nervous," a second voice whispered out of nowhere. "You probably don't want to know."

  "Oh give it up," Nastasia sighed, glancing around the suddenly empty corridor. "Classes have started. The coast is clear." She reached out, groped in thin air for a moment, and then closed her fist and yanked. A pair of heads appeared from beneath a flutter of invisible cloth.

  "Hi, big brother," Albus grinned, his hair matted to his forehead. "Rose and I thought it would be best to tag along all invisible like. Hope you don't mind."

  James spluttered. "But--! The Invisibility Cloak!" He gestured wildly toward their still unseen bodies.

  "It was just in Filch's office," Rose said. "He may have Grudge's magical cane, but that doesn't make him any good at locking spells. We just popped in this morning and nicked it from his drawer of contraband. If we're careful, we'll get it back tonight before he even knows it's gone."

  "And we'd bloody well succeed," Albus nodded, "Because if Filch catches on that it's gone there's only one person he'll blame."

  "Yeah!" James exclaimed desperately, tapping his own chest. "That'd be me, you great git! Are you trying to get me murdered by that sadistic squib?"

  Nastasia tilted her head and said in a sing-song voice, "I told you not to tell him…"

  "I didn't say anything," Rose frowned. "It was Loudmouth here that couldn't keep quiet."

  Albus elbowed Rose under the Cloak. "You know if I hadn't spoken up we'd be stuck wandering these halls all day. James couldn't find his own bum with a beacon charm."

  "Look," James interrupted. "This is completely bloody mental! Why are you two even here?"

  Rose firmed her jaw defensively. "I'm here to snoop around Avior's quarters while you and Nastasia distract him."

  "And I'm here because I helped Rose nick the Cloak," Albus nodded.

  James pulled his own hair in exasperation. "We don't need your help! If you get caught here we're all totally doomed!"

  "We can't know that Avior will tell us anything meaningful," Nastasia sighed. "And besides, they won't get caught. Will you?"

  "Not if Loudmouth here can keep his lips sealed for more than thirty seconds," Rose said, tilting her head at Albus, who shrugged and rolled his eyes.

  "All right," James declared helplessly. "Just get back under the Cloak and don't bump anything. Even if Avior can't see you he's no idiot. If you so much as breathe wrong he'll know you're there."


  "Not to mention that he might have a Sneakoscope or Foe Glass," Rose added, her voice muffled as Albus yanked the Cloak over them again.

  "Good to know you've at least thought of all the ways this can go totally pear-shaped," James muttered, turning back toward Avior's closed door. Nastasia was already approaching it. She glanced back, assuring that Albus and Rose were sufficiently hidden, and then raised her hand and gave the brass door knocker a sharp rap.

  Several seconds ticked by with no response. Experimentally, Nastasia tried the door latch. It was locked firm.

  "Maybe he's not here," Albus said from beneath the Cloak. "Is he teaching, maybe?"

  "It's his scheduled office hours," James replied. "At least, it will be in a few minutes. We got here a little early. Still, he should be here." He reached up and rapped the door knocker himself, harder this time. The door knocker was fashioned in the shape of a brass tentacle attached to a squid-headed figure with a man's body. It was exceptionally ugly, but thankfully, unlike many such ornaments, didn't seem to be enchanted with magical personality.

  "Nobody here but us chickens," Nastasia sighed.

  "Give it a go with an unlocking charm, James," Rose muffled, unseen behind his left shoulder.

  "Those never work," James rolled his eyes. "Every time I try one it triggers some sort of counter-jinx. I tried it on the newsstand in Hogsmeade and nearly got myself caught for it."

  Rose huffed impatiently. A moment later, her fist appeared from beneath the Cloak, her wand outstretched. She tapped the latch of Avior's door with it. "Alohomora!"

  The latch flashed bright yellow and produced an audible click. The door creaked open slightly on its hinges.

  "Honestly, James," Rose said as her wand hand vanished again. "You're as bad with unlocking doors as Filch is with locking them."

  Nastasia giggled. Too nervous to be embarrassed, James leaned forward and gave the door a tentative push. It creaked ominously open, revealing a dim, circular room, lined with high, straight-backed chairs, stocked bookshelves, and an assortment of free-standing, evil-looking divining instruments. There were no Yuxa Baslatma plants here, James saw as he inched into the shadowy room, but there was a complicated telescope-like device, its lenses pointed strangely at the floor, a dark crystal ball like a gigantic black pearl on an ancient stone pedestal, and, strangest of all, a sort of ornately polished wooden box, as tall as a man, with a window set into its front. Behind the glass, encased in the box like a corpse in a coffin, was a thin man-shape wearing a turban and a pointed, black beard. Arcing above the figure's window were the words:

  Tawil aT-U'mr

  Knows All! Tells All!

  "I've seen one of these before," Nastasia commented, approaching the boxed figure. "At a Muggle carnival in New Jersey. It's a clockwork wizard. Put a coin in the slot and he's supposed to tell your future."

  "Daft, if you ask me," Albus muttered, unseen.

  "No fireplace," Rose whispered with a shiver in her voice.

  The room was, James noticed, wintry cold. "This is just the waiting area," he commented, looking around. "There's got to be a way further in."

  "I bet this guy knows it," Nastasia said, cocking her head up at the clockwork wizard in the wooden box. "Old Tawil At-U'mr. Any of you have any money?" She tapped the coin slot with her wand.

  At the touch of her wand, lights glared to life inside the box, illuminating the bearded figure. With a series of ratchets and clanks, it jerked to life, leaning back and tilting its head toward the ceiling. Its sculpted hands raised and made a clumsy, ratcheting dance before its pointed beard. James jumped backwards, bumping into the hidden shapes of Albus and Rose.

  "No coin is required for such as thee," a deep, recorded voice crackled loudly, emanating from a brass speaker on the front of the crate. "Only the unwashed need pay for their glimpse of the beyond. Ask what ye will, my masters, while the curse of life lies upon me."

  The light of the clockwork wizard illuminated Nastasia's face as she stared up at it, beaming. She glanced back at James and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you big baby. It's just a talking machine. What are you afraid of?"

  James shook his head. "Are you sure it's just a… you know… a machine?"

  "It's a bunch of gears and flywheels in a turban, you dolt," Nastasia said, looking back up at the bearded figure. "But boy is it good. Professor Cloverhoof would flip his horns if he could see it."

  Behind James' shoulder, Rose's voice was slightly higher than usual. "So ask it how to get into Avior's main quarters, already."

  "Alas," the recorded voice blared, accompanied by the halting movements of the clockwork wizard. "None but the Great Master himself may proceed thence. Seat thyselves and await his return."

  "There's got to be another way in," Albus complained. "This is getting us nowhere. Look around for a door or something."

  James shook his head, glancing around the dark, cold room. "Maybe this isn't Avior's quarters at all. Maybe it's just where he meets students and stuff."

  "You mean we tagged along with you under this smelly old Cloak for nothing?" Rose groused.

  "Nobody asked you to come along!" James countered. "I still say you're both completely mad."

  Nastasia was studying the clockwork figure in its box, a thoughtful look on her face. "Hey Tawil," she said, "You know where Professor Avior's rooms are, don't you?"

  The figure's painted eyes didn't move. After a moment, the head cocked back and forth jerkily and the hands made their complicated dance again. "Alas! None but the Great Master himself may proceed thence," the recorded voice repeated. "Seat thyselves and await his return." It shut off with an audible click and the lights fell dead. The mechanical figure slumped forward.

  Nastasia narrowed her eyes.

  "What?" Albus said from the centre of the round room. With a shuffle, he tossed off the Invisibility Cloak and ran a hand through his matted hair. "Am I missing something here?"

  Nastasia didn't take her eyes from the dormant figure in its darkened box. "Acid Pops," she said.

  James blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "What's she talking about?" Rose said in a brittle voice. "Shouldn't we just be heading back?"

  Albus turned to glance at his cousin. "What's the matter with you all of a sudden? This was your idea."

  "I've just got a bad feeling about this thing!" she declared defensively. "And… well…"

  "Cockroach Cluster," Nastasia said, taking a step closer to the wooden box. Inside, the dormant figure hunched motionless.

  "What's she on about?" Albus muttered out of the corner of his mouth, nodding toward Nastasia. "Is she, you know, quite all right?"

  "Nastasia," James said worriedly, moving to join her next to the dark box. "Maybe we should just--"

  "Fizzing Whizbee!" Nastasia interrupted, raising her voice.

  Inside the box, the dark figure remained motionless, silhouetted behind the dusty glass.

  "Why's she doing that?" Rose demanded. "Make her stop!"

  "Wait just a moment here," Albus said slowly, realization dawning on him. "Rose is afraid of clockworks! That's it, isn't it?"

  "I'm not afraid of them!" she hissed shrilly. "I just don't trust them! They're really, really dodgy! Everyone knows that! Always turning evil at the drop of a hat! Getting cursed and coming to life and developing a taste for human blood…!"

  "Rose is afraid of clockworks!" Albus sang gleefully. "I can't believe it! Brave cousin Rose! What time is it Rose? Oh, you wouldn't know! Because you'd have to consult a clock!"

  "Shut up, Al!" James demanded. "Nastasia, seriously, let's just get out of here. There's no point--"

  "Sherbet lemon!" Nastasia announced, nodding to herself with satisfaction.

  The lights popped back on inside the clockwork wizard's box. Rose clutched James' shoulders in alarm as the mechanical wizard jerked back to life, ratcheting and squeaking noisily.

  "Password accepted," the recorded voice squawked from its speaker. "Enter if you dare. And let the conseque
nces be upon thine own head."

  With a complicated clank, the front of the box pivoted aside, forming a door. Behind it, the clockwork figure of Tawil At-U'mr stood full length, its robe hanging limp around hinged, mechanical legs. Its wooden feet were carved with sandals and covered in flaking flesh-coloured paint. It stepped haltingly out of the cabinet, its joints squeaking and its head bowing obediently. Lights flickered to life deep inside the wooden box, and James saw that it was actually a doorway into a much larger room.

  He glanced from the suddenly revealed doorway to Nastasia. "How'd you know?"

  She shrugged evasively. "Lucky guess."

  "Well," Albus spoke up, "We going in or what?"

  James glanced back. Rose's face was as pale as a tombstone. She tore her gaze away from the clockwork man and met his eyes. Jerkily, she nodded.

  "Let's be quick about it," he said. "If Avior isn't here, he's bound to be back at any moment."

  He turned back to the doorway formed by the wooden box. Beyond it, a large, dark room flickered with blue light. Complicated shadows leapt on the high walls and ceilings. He braced himself, felt Rose clutch his shoulders again from behind, and stepped forward.

  15. ORIGINS UNVEILED

  The inner chamber of Professor Avior's office was circular, and much warmer than the waiting area had been. Flames roared in the maw of a monstrous fireplace. Pillars lined the room, stretching up into shadowy vaults.

  "Looks a lot like the Headmaster's office back at Hogwarts," Albus commented. "And what is that in the cage? That's not an actual Phoenix, is it?"

  James and Rose followed Albus to a very large cage standing on an ornate brass stand. The creature inside seemed to take up nearly every inch of space where it hunched on a low perch. The cage floor was littered with what appeared to be rodent bones, all charred black.

  "That's no regular Phoenix," Rose said, curling her lip. "It's a Jiskra, sometimes called a Black Phoenix. See the two heads?"

  "Cool," Albus leaned close, peering through the bars. "It looks more like a feathered lizard than a bird."

 

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