"Talkin' back, too," Hagrid frowned, his beard bristling. "Double detention then. Report back here tonight at dusk and not another word from any o' yeh."
James could scarcely believe his own ears. He turned to Ralph and Scorpius incredulously. Ralph shrugged while Scorpius merely rolled his eyes. James didn't know if he was more surprised or hurt by Hagrid's sudden antagonism. All he knew was that it contributed to what was already a thoroughly miserable day. This carried into the dinner hour as Lily displayed an official-looking parchment emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest.
"I've been chosen as a student ambassador!" she trilled happily, waving the parchment. "I get to attend the big dinner after the tournament! We'll be singing the Hogwarts salute from the head table and answering questions about the school. I'll get to meet presidents and queens and all sorts of important people!"
"Quit showing off," Graham muttered. "And don't remind us of the stupid Quidditch tournament. No collection of Muggle stuffed shirts is going to distract us from the fact that we aren't even competing this year. Stupid Lance Vassar. The gall of his parents, donating some stupid Chalice on a year there's no chance Gryffindor can win it. And it's all his bloody fault!"
"You can't lay all the blame at Lance's feet," Deirdre commented, frowning at Lance and his cronies further down the table. "James deserves a lot of the credit. If he'd shown up for try-outs--"
"We all know the story by now," James interrupted tersely. "Give it a rest already!"
James spent the rest of the evening in the Gryffindor common room, trying unsuccessfully to focus on his homework and studies. It was utterly useless.
At a nearby table, Rose sat with Shivani Yadev and Willow Wisteria, shooting him worried glances but unwilling to risk joining him for a chat. As the sun set outside the tall windows, James finally gave up and shut his books. He glared out the window, lost in feverish thoughts and mounting worry.
Finally, thankfully, Scorpius interrupted him.
"Detention," he said briskly. "With Hagrid, remember?"
James nodded, glad of the distraction, despite the worrisome mystery of Hagrid's behaviour.
Ralph met them on the landing, standing in the light of the Heracles window as the lowering sun shone through it, brilliantly illuminating the colourful stained glass. Silently, shoulders slumped, the three stepped out into the evening heat and deepening shadows. Crickets chirred from the depths of the Forbidden Forest as they made their way, as slowly as possible, toward Hagrid's hut.
"What do you suppose he has planned for us?" Ralph asked.
Scorpius muttered, "Probably scooping up dragon poo in the barn."
"Or worse," James agreed. "What do you think's gotten into him? He's never given us detention before."
"Maybe he decided he's still cross at you for dropping through his roof," Scorpius suggested idly.
James didn't think that was it, but had no better ideas.
A thin stream of white smoke issued from the hut as they entered its shadow. Scorpius knocked while Ralph and James waited in the garden.
When the door opened, Hagrid leaned out into evening air, regarding the three students sternly.
"Here yeh are, then!" he proclaimed, far louder than necessary. "And 'bout time, too! Here!"
James frowned as Hagrid collected three large metal pails, pushing one each into his, Ralph's and Scorpius' hands.
"What's this for, then?" Scorpius asked, his voice echoing in the huge bucket.
"Mushroom collecting fer Professor Heretofore," Hagrid boomed, straightening. "Bursting mushrooms, that is. Sense motion, they do, and get agitated if threatened. Fair to cut their stems quick enough an' they'll explode with enough force to take off yer fingers."
Ralph blinked at the half giant. "Seriously?"
"Never been more serious in m' life," Hagrid agreed. He produced three stubby knives from a pouch on his belt and clattered one each into the buckets. "Bursting mushrooms are red with white spots. You'll recognize 'em when they start a-swellin'. Use those blades to cut 'em right at the stem, and like I said, be right quick about it."
Scorpius peered worriedly into his pail. "Or else?"
"Or else yer detentions will end in the hospital wing," Hagrid answered, his voice ringing over the garden. "Trife! Here boy!"
At the call of his name, Hagrid's bullmastiff dog bounded noisily out of the forest.
"Atta boy," Hagrid said, covering the dog's head with his meaty hand and offering him a rough pat. "Been sniffing out some mushrooms, 'ave you? But keepin' a safe distance, I see! At's my smart boy. Lead on, then."
With that, Trife spun and bolted back toward the Forest again, turning impatiently as the others began to follow.
"No dawdlin' now," Hagrid announced, louder than ever, glancing back over his shoulder. "Sooner begun, sooner done."
Accompanied by the clink and clank of the knives in their buckets, James, Ralph and Scorpius followed Hagrid into the descending gloom. Elephantine tree trunks spread out ahead of them, interspersed with waving ferns, lush vines, and the occasional fallen log and hillock. Trife bounded ahead, tracing a meandering trail deeper and deeper into the depths of the Forest.
"When do you think we might start seeing these mushrooms, then," Scorpius asked, peering around the shadows.
"Oh, soon enough, I expect," Hagrid called back, his voice much lower than before.
James followed along nervously. He had been this deep into the Forbidden Forest on a few other occasions, but that did not diminish the general creepiness of it. The Forest was still home to the Centaurs, after all, as well as the scattered descendants of Arogog the Acromantula. Darkness lowered gradually, blotting out the leafy canopy overhead until shadows seemed to surround them, thick and worrisome. Hagrid, James realized, did not carry a lantern.
"How are we supposed to see these mushrooms, then, Hagrid?" he asked, trying to keep the shudder out of his voice.
"Hush now," Hagrid replied, his own voice low. "We're almost there."
James was about to ask what in the world Hagrid meant when a flicker of firelight illuminated a circle of tree trunks ahead. Trife angled toward this, leaping happily through the underbrush. Hagrid followed the big dog approaching a line of tall bushes that surrounded a small clearing. Beyond the bushes, firelight crackled faintly, casting its yellow light up onto the leaves above.
Hagrid paused. Raising a hand to the side of his mouth, he produced an extremely unexpected, but very convincing, twitter of birdsong.
James frowned up at the big man.
Then, even more surprisingly, a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the brush.
"If this monstrous dog of yours wasn't clue enough of your identity, Hagrid, the clanking of those buckets certainly was. All of you, come inside and join us."
Hagrid harrumphed happily and turned back to James, Ralph and Scorpius. "Guess I could'a had you leave those buckets a mile or so back. Didn' occur to me. I was so wrapped up in convincin' anybody who might'a been listenin' that I was givin' yeh detentions. Sorry 'bout that, by the way."
James dropped his bucket with a clank and followed Hagrid around the edge of the nearest bush.
Seated before a small, tidy fire were Professors Flitwick, Debellows, and Revalvier. Completing the circle, smiling gravely at the newcomers, was Professor McGonagall, her face pale in the firelight and a long scratch still healing on her cheek, alongside James' Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, and completing the scene, his glasses glinting in the firelight, James' own father.
Harry Potter stood, welcoming Hagrid, Scorpius and Ralph. James ran to him, gratefully accepting the arm his father threw around his shoulders, giving him a hard, comforting squeeze.
"Welcome, gentlemen," he announced in a low, clear voice, "to the new Order of the Phoenix."
20. TYRANNY OF FINAL DAYS
The sense of relief James felt at the sight of his father, uncle and aunt, along with the other members of the new Order, was nearly overwhelming.
A c
ollection of heavy logs and smooth boulders had been levitated into position around the fire, forming a circle of benches. As Harry resumed his seat, James squeezed in next to him. Ralph plopped gratefully next to tiny Professor Flitwick, who was dressed in a traveling cloak and comically enormous leather boots, a floppy, wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his brow. Scorpius, however, remained standing, his arms crossed at the edge of the flickering firelight, since Hagrid's bulk occupied the entirety of the remaining boulder.
"Shall I summon you a log, Mr. Malfoy?" Flitwick offered cheerfully, producing his wand.
Scorpius shook his head. "I'll stand if you don't mind, until I know a bit more about what this is all about."
"Oh, he looks so much like his father at that age," Hermione smiled wistfully, nudging her husband.
"I can see it," Ron muttered. "It's not exactly a halcyon memory, if you recall."
Ralph peered carefully across the firelight at Professor McGonagall. "Are you all right, Professor? We read about what happened to you in the Quibbler."
McGonagall straightened and raised her chin. "Despite what you may have read, I am not intimidated by a gaggle of hired brutes. I held my own quite well, if I do say so myself."
"They attacked her in her garden," Revalvier spoke up disgustedly, glaring into the fire, her golden hair shadowed by a deep red hood. "Five of them set upon a defenceless woman."
"Not exactly 'defenceless'," Debellows grinned mirthlessly. "She sent three of the five to St. Mungo's with injuries far worse than her own. The other two fled back to their masters, no doubt with tall tales of being attacked by a she giant with ten arms."
"Still," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "The monstrosity of it. Poor Minerva spent weeks recovering from those curses. To attack a woman of her stature and experience…"
"If by that you mean a woman of my age," McGonagall said stiffly, "You are quite right. One does not bounce back quite so easily after their eighth decade, but I daresay it looked worse than it was."
Harry turned to his son. "The Professor told us everything as soon as she could. We know about the Durmstrang Professor, Avior, and his connection to that wizard you encountered in New Amsterdam. Everything you said checks out with what we already know. Something is going to happen at the Summit next week. We don't know exactly what, but now, thanks to you and your friends," he nodded toward Ralph and Scorpius, smiling thinly, "we know who will be responsible."
"You're welcome and all," Scorpius said, still standing at the edge of the firelight, "but why didn't you also summon Rose Weasley and James' brother? They were in on all of this as well."
"Oh, Rosie," Hermione said to herself, both worried and angry. "Getting involved in all of this! That incorrigible girl!"
"Hush," Ron said, stifling a grin. "She's her parents' daughter. What do you expect?"
"It's simple, really," Hagrid said, peering askance at Scorpius. "Rose and Albus aren't in your Care of Magical Creatures lesson. I could'a gave 'em detentions in their own lesson, jus' like I gave you, could'a brought all yeh out here together, but that'd be right suspicious to anyone payin' the slightest attention, wouldn' it?"
Flitwick's high voice rose over the crackle of the fire. "What we discuss tonight, we trust you to pass onto Ms. Weasley and young Mr. Potter however you can. We know you have means at your disposal." He gave James a knowing smile.
Ron nodded. "But we have to make this quick. Grudje is gone at the moment, off on whatever errands keep him busy these days, but he could come back at any time. If he notices that Flitwick and Debellows are both gone, he'll get suspicious."
"He needs very little excuse for that," Revalvier commented.
James nodded fervently. "He's a paranoid maniac. He's completely banned any of us from talking to each other, even in our personal time. Filch is watching around the clock. And then there's all those portraits of Snape!"
James realized by the blank looks on the faces of the adults that none of them knew about Snape's pervasive collection of self-portraits. With a sigh, he decided that there was no point in keeping the potion master's secret any longer. He explained how he, Zane and Ralph had discovered the disguised portraits scattered all over Hogwarts, and how Grudje had commissioned Snape to use them for covert purposes.
Flitwick was impressed despite himself. "Dozens of portraits you say! Are you quite certain?"
"At least," Ralph nodded. "And not just in the halls and classrooms. He's the monk in Professor Longbottom's sitting room. He's one of the painted knights in your office, Professor McGonagall."
McGonagall rolled her eyes in weary exasperation. "He supposedly borrowed that painting to exorcise it of Boggarts! I told him I was perfectly capable of managing it myself, but he was insistent. Good grief, I thought I was shut of that man's constant duplicity when he died. To think he's been watching us all this time, reporting everything he sees." Despite McGonagall's stern demeanour, James could see that there was more disappointment than anger in her words.
Hermione frowned. "He can't help it, can he? He's bound to help the current headmaster."
"He didn't offer such services to me when I was headmistress," McGonagall said archly.
Revalvier made a disgusted noise. "Perhaps Grudje was simply cunning enough to ask the right questions. Once he learned of Headmaster Snape's many portraits, he was bound to put them to use, and Snape was bound to oblige."
"It isn't quite that simple," Flitwick suggested. "Magical portraiture does not negate free will. Still, it would be difficult to resist. Especially if one finds that their orders coincide with their own subconscious instincts."
Harry nodded. "Professor Snape was never what anyone might call strictly ethical. And yet, I cannot help but think that even he would not contribute to Grudje's iron rule without knowing his true goals."
"Well," Scorpius admitted, "he did tell us the Room of Requirement was safe from Grudje's view."
"Did he?" Hermione brightened. "Well, that is something, then."
"Time's wasting," Debellows announced briskly, clapping his meaty hands and rubbing them together. "As good as it is to know how we've been observed-- and how to avoid it from this point onward!-- we have a disaster to avert."
"Quite right," McGonagall observed.
James looked up at his father. "But how? What's the plan?"
"That's why we summoned you here tonight," Harry answered, shifting his gaze from James to Ralph and Scorpius. "As much as I wish it were not the case-- and believe me, your mother will barely speak of it-- you lot are integral to our plan."
A second wave of relief flooded James where he sat. "I was worried we were on our own," he confessed. "And we're all totally out of ideas."
Harry nodded understandingly. "First thing's first, then. Can you tell us anything we don't already know? What's happened since you last spoke to Professor McGonagall on the Sylvven Tower?"
James drew a deep breath, but it was Ralph who spoke first. "We learned about the Morrigan Web," he announced firmly. "Well, mostly. There's a missing piece. We don't know how important it is, but here's what we do know."
He proceeded to describe their misadventure in the cellars beneath Alma Aleron. James and Scorpius helped, contributing details about the overheard conversation between Crone Laosa and Tabitha Corsica.
At the mention of Corsica's name, however, Harry interrupted. "You're certain that Tabitha Corsica was the one interviewing this Crone Laosa?"
"Absolutely," James nodded emphatically. "She cornered us afterward and dragged us all back to Hogwarts."
Harry studied his son's face seriously. "And then what happened?"
James shook his head. "Days went by. We knew she'd told on us. But then when Grudje called us all to his office it seemed like he didn't really know everything. He thought we'd snuck off to Alma Aleron to discuss night Quidditch."
"Well," Ralph clarified, "Scorpius here helped with that."
"And I'm not entirely positive that Grudje bought it," Scorpius admitte
d. "But he definitely didn't seem to know what we were really there for."
Harry nodded slowly. "All right, then. Go on."
James looked up at his father suspiciously. There was something he wasn't saying-- something about Tabitha Corsica. Scorpius, however, continued the story before James could ask.
When the three boys had completed their somewhat rambling tale, Revalvier finally spoke again.
"So we know two of the three markers to identify the Morrigan Web, if indeed that is the method that our enemies will use…"
"An assumption we are forced to make in the absence of any other theories," Debellows interjected.
Hermione agreed reluctantly. "It's too terrible to consider. All those innocent people!" She glanced at James, her eyes shining in the firelight. "You can't be there, James! None of you! Victoire, Louis, my Rosie…!"
"Hermione," Ron began, but James interrupted him.
"We have a plan for saving ourselves, and at least some of the others," he said as soothingly as he could. "We're hiding our wands during the tournament. If the Web works by unleashing some sort of super killing curse, not having our wands with us will keep us safe. We think."
"Brilliant in its simplicity," Debellows agreed, impressed.
"Well," James shrugged, "We can't take credit for that. It was Rose's idea."
"That's my girl," Ron sighed deeply, putting an arm around his wife's shoulder.
"So, then," Flitwick said, bringing the conversation back on point. "The Morrigan Web must be fuelled by something that once belonged to a very powerful dark witch or wizard, now dead. It will be a very personal item, I'd wager. Something that would have absorbed the subject's strength and purpose over many years."
Revalvier pushed back her hood and nodded. "And the second marker is proximity. It will be right in the centre of the gathering. A focal point."
Debellows narrowed his eyes. "Since the event is a Quidditch match," he suggested. "Perhaps the cursed object will be one of the game balls."
"Possible," Harry agreed. "Although Hogwarts Quidditch equipment does not often belong to only one person."
James Potter and the Morrigan Web Page 66