“So,” Ralph said, still scanning the news article, “somebody hires these three goons to break in and make a mess of things, while the real thieves make off with the throne of Merlin. Then the real thieves curse these guys not to be able to talk, and set them up to take the fall. Right? Pretty sneaky. But still, where do you hide something like Merlin’s throne? Don’t powerful magical objects, especially dark ones, make a pretty noticeable imprint? I mean, your dad and his Aurors would’ve picked up on it somehow, wouldn’t they?”
“Yeah,” James agreed doubtfully, “they’d have to put it someplace either really far away from civilization or hide it under loads of Disillusionment Charms and Secrecy Spells. More than just any old witch or wizard could whip up. They’d need a place totally protected and absolutely secret, like���” He stopped, realization dawning on him. His mouth hung open and his eyes grew wider and wider.
“What?” Ralph finally asked. James glanced at him, and then grabbed the newspaper from him. He turned it around, examining the front page.
“That’s it!” he said in a breathless whisper. “Look! The breakin happened the night before we arrived at school! Remember when we were on the boats crossing the lake for the first time? I saw somebody in a boat over by the lake’s edge!”
“Yeah,” Ralph said slowly, narrowing his eyes, “I guess. The next day, when the Americans arrived, you saw old Madame Delacroix and thought it’d been her. I thought you were being a bit of a nutter.”
James ignored him and went on, “I decided it couldn’t have been her, because the woman I’d seen on the lake had been a lot younger. Still, the resemblance had been pretty scary. You know where I saw that boat, though? It was over by where Zane and I found the island! The Grotto Keep! I think that was Madame Delacroix, after all!”
“How?” Ralph asked simply. “She didn’t arrive until the next day.”
James explained to Ralph what Professor Franklyn had revealed about Madame Delacroix at the dinner in the Alma Aleron’s quarters. “It was her wraith,” he concluded. “She projected herself to the lake, to that place on the island, using the ability Franklyn told us about. No wonder she was so mad when he explained that she could project a younger version of herself anywhere she wanted!”
Ralph seemed doubtful. “But why? What’d she want to be doing floating around in a boat on the lake?”
“Don’t you see?” James exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low. “Whoever stole the Merlin throne would need to hide it in a place so secure and secret that nobody would ever sense it. What better place to hide it than right on the grounds of Hogwarts? Why create an ultra-powerful hiding place when one already exists and you’re going to be there anyway? Madame Delacroix sent her wraith to the island that night to deliver the stolen throne. She’s hiding it right on the Hogwarts grounds, there on the island. The Forbidden Forest is already so full of magic that the throne is probably just lost in the background noise to the wizards at the school. The Grotto Keep must be the hiding place!”
Ralph stared at James, biting his lips and wide-eyed. Finally he said, “Wow, that’s so creepy it makes sense. So you think she’s working with Jackson, then?”
“One way or another, they’re in it together,” James nodded.
“That stinks,” Ralph said flatly. “I was really starting to like Professor Jackson. But still, what’s the big deal, really? I mean, Luna said that it’s impossible to bring Merlin back. She pretty much made it sound like anyone who thinks they can do it is right loony. Once dead, always dead. Why not let Delacroix and Jackson have their fantasies?”
James couldn’t let it go. He shook his head. “I don’t know about Delacroix, but Professor Jackson’s smarter than that. He teaches Technomancy, doesn’t he? He wouldn’t fall for some crackpot scheme if he didn’t think it’d work. Besides, everybody keeps talking about it as if Merlin had died. But Austramaddux doesn’t say he died, does he? He just left the world of men.”
Ralph shrugged. “Whatever. Seems pretty dodgy to me.” He flopped backwards onto the cot.
“Come on, Ralph!” James said, tossing the old newspaper onto him. “They’re trying to bring Merlin back so they can start a war with the Muggles! It’s up to us to stop it!”
Ralph rolled onto his side and furrowed his brow at James. “What do you mean? Your dad’s Head Auror. If you’re really worried about it, tell him about it. It’s his job to stop things like this, isn’t it? What’re we going to do, anyway?”
James was exasperated. “We can try to stop them! Nobody will believe us if we tell them now. We can try to capture the relics ourselves. If we do that, then we’ll at least have proof!”
Ralph continued to stare at James. After a minute he spoke. “Don’t you think you might be making a bit much of this? I mean, I understand wanting to follow in your dad’s footsteps and all, trying to save the world and be the hero���”
“Shut up, Ralph,” James said, suddenly angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ralph rolled onto his back. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” James knew that, after their earlier fight, Ralph was sensitive not to say anything too argumentative.
“All right,” James admitted, “I know why you’re saying that. But this is different. I’m really not just trying to be like Dad, all right? Maybe there isn’t any way to bring back Merlin. But still, these Progressive Element types are up to no good. If we can prove that they’re trying to start a war, we can at least shut them down, can’t we? If we can do that, I think we should. Are you with me?”
Ralph grinned at James. “Of course. What’s the fun of being a wizard if we aren’t on a quest to save the world?”
James rolled his eyes. “Shut up and go to sleep, Ralphinator.”
But James couldn’t sleep, not for a long time. He thought and thought about everything he’d learned that night, the connections he and Ralph had made. It made too much sense. It had to be true. And as much as he trusted Luna, he couldn’t quite accept that it would be impossible to bring Merlin into the world somehow. He’d been the greatest wizard ever, hadn’t he? He was sure to have been capable of things that even the most powerful wizards since would find impossible. James felt a strong unwillingness to let it go. Still, part of him had been pricked by Ralph’s suggestion that James was simply looking for a way to be a hero, like his dad. Not because he knew it wasn’t true, but because he was afraid it might be. Finally, several hours after the house had fallen silent, feeling confused and exhausted, James drifted to sleep.
The day before the trip back to school, James was wandering the upper rooms of Grimmauld Place, bored and restless. The last of the guests had left the previous day, and Ralph had gone with Ted and Victoire to see Harry’s offices at the Ministry. James had been there loads of times, but his primary reason for not accompanying them was that he wanted time to think. After half an hour of lying on his bed and scribbling meaningless notes and drawings on sheets of parchment, he’d given up and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. The top floors were silent and sleepy, with motes of dust swimming lazily in the sunbeams that streamed through the frosted windows. All the beds were made, the trunks mostly packed. Everyone would be leaving Grimmauld Place in the next few days, reducing it once again to temporary emptiness. Even Kreacher had been induced to accompany the family back to the main house in Marble Arch for a couple of months. The age and quiet of the house seemed to fill the rooms, fog-like. James felt like a ghost.
He was passing the door to his parents’ bedroom when he stopped. He took a step backwards and peered in. The curtains were thrown wide open and a hard beam of sunlight speared the air, laying a window-shaped spotlight on Harry Potter’s trunk. James glanced toward the hall stairs to be sure no one was coming, and then tiptoed into the room. The trunk wasn’t completely closed. It didn’t even have a lock. James lifted the lid slowly, peering in. There, in the same place it was last time, was his dad’s Invisibility Cloak. It was folded tightly, packed into a cor
ner, almost covered by a pile of socks. James glanced again at the doorway, already feeling guilty. He shouldn’t do it, of course. Absolutely not. When his dad found out, there’d be trouble. But then again, maybe his dad wouldn’t notice. Harry Potter seemed to carry the legendary cloak with him merely by force of habit. James couldn’t remember the last time his dad had actually used it. It seemed wrong, somehow, that such a useful treasure was not being put to use by someone. James reached in and touched it, then, without allowing himself to think about it, he pulled the cloak out. He was about to turn and flee back to his bedroom, when something else inside the trunk captured his eye. He caught his breath as he looked, barely allowing himself to believe what he was seeing. It had been packed beneath the Invisibility Cloak, only revealed when James pulled it out. Few people would even recognize what it was. At first glance, it was merely an old parchment, folded many times. Like a map. James considered it. What finally decided him was the thought of what Ted Lupin might say if he knew that James had turned down such a golden opportunity.
James grabbed the Marauder’s Map, clutching it and the Invisibility Cloak to his chest, then carefully closed his dad’s trunk. He ran down the steps and back into his bedroom. By the time he’d hidden his contraband in the bottom of his own trunk, he was feeling both excited and frightened in equal measures. There was sure to be a row when he was found out, and there was no question that he would be found out. Still, he knew that his dad wouldn’t be able to deny that he himself would have done the same thing if he’d been in James’ shoes. He was counting on that to temper things when the time came. Until then, he’d put both items to great use. He didn’t know exactly how, yet, but there was no question that, with the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map in his possession, he felt much better equipped to tackle whatever adventures were sure to come.
The return trip to school was, like all post-holiday journeys, melancholy and quiet. Back at Hogwarts the next week, James and Ralph relayed to Zane everything Luna had told them and the connections they had subsequently made. James was gratified that Zane immediately grasped the implications.
“Maybe Madame Delacroix’s put the Imperius Curse on Jackson?” he asked in a low tone as the three boys huddled around a table in the corner of the library.
“Yeah,” Ralph agreed. “That’d make sense. She could just be using him as a tool.”
James shook his head. “Dad says the Imperius Curse is pretty easy to cast, but it takes a lot of willpower to maintain it over a long period of time. The whole school year is a long time. Also, a strong enough wizard can learn to throw it off or resist it altogether. Jackson’s too sharp to be an easy target for something like that.”
Ralph shrugged, and then leaned in, lowering his voice as a group of students walked past. “Either way, I still think the whole thing’s a wash. I mean, wizards have been trying to get Merlin back for centuries, haven’t they? And the best wizards alive today believe that the whole thing is just a sort of fairy tale. Professor Franklyn said in D.A.D.A. that the best records show that Merlin ended up getting involved with something called ‘the Lady of the Lake’ who took his powers and imprisoned him. Could just be part of the legend, but still, supposedly he died around twelve hundred and was buried just like anyone else.”
Zane, who was always prone to the morbid imagination, widened his eyes. “What if the plan is to bring him back as an Inferius? Maybe they’re just going to raise his body like some kind of zombie or something!”
James rolled his eyes. “Inferi are just animated corpses. Nobody would say somebody had been brought back to life if they’d just been turned into an Inferius. It’d be the same thing as just grabbing Merlin’s skull and working it like a puppet.”
Zane held up his hand and mimed a mouth with his fingers, “Hey, dudes. I’m Merlin. I just flew back from the dead, and boy, are my arms tired?”
James stifled a laugh. “All right, so seriously, maybe the whole Merlin’s return thing is just some crazy legend. Jackson and Delacroix and whoever they’re working with in the Progressive Element believe in it, and as long as they do, they’ll keep at it. Even if the plan to bring back Merlin doesn’t work, they’ll just figure something else out. If we can prove what they are trying to do, though���”
“We can at least shut them down,” Ralph nodded. “Right? Discredit them with the wizarding world?”
“Yeah. And if we can do that, we take away a lot of their ability to accomplish their goal.”
Zane laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “So looks like we need to get our hands on those relics. The throne is too protected for us to get to, if it’s on that island. We don’t yet know who has the Merlin staff or if anybody even knows where it is. That leaves the robe. At least we know where it is, and as far as we know, Jackson’s case won’t try to bite our legs off if we open it.”
Ralph looked grim. “As far as we know.”
“We need to be able to get it without Jackson knowing it’s gone. If he catches on, they’ll have time to back off and cover their tracks,” James said, thinking hard. “I just wish we knew when they were planning on bringing all the relics together. We have to get them before they try it.”
“And where’s this Hall of Elder’s Crossing?” Ralph added.
“I figured it’s got to be the island itself,” James answered, raising his eyebrows.
It was Zane’s turn to shake his head. “Nah. Can’t be. The sign on the gate said that it was the Grotto Keep. At the bottom, it said something about the Hall of Elder’s Crossing, as if it was someplace else.”
James dug in his backpack, finding the sheet of parchment he and Zane had recreated the gate poem on. He spread it between them. In the light of what Luna had told them about the relics, the poem made a lot more sense. They read it, along with their scribbled notes, once again.
When by the light of Sulva bright — sulva = moon
I found the Grotto Keep; — means can only find the Keep by moonlight
Before the night of time requite — time requite? A certain date?
Did wake his languid sleep. — Merlinus; sleeping? Rip Van Winkle
Upon return the fretted dawn — happens at nighttime?
With not a relic lossing; — the three relics! Brought back together
Bygone a life, a new eon, — a life from the past in a new time; the legend’s origin?
The Hall of Elder’s Crossing. — here? where?
“Yeah,” James agreed reluctantly. “It makes it sound like the Hall of Elder’s Crossing is a different place entirely. Maybe the Grotto Keep becomes the Hall of Elder’s Crossing, somehow?”
Zane shrugged, unconvinced, “Meh.”
“Doesn’t make any difference, really,” Ralph said after a minute’s thought. “It’s just some old poem. Part of the legend.”
“You didn’t see the island,” Zane said with feeling, then, turning to James, “You think that whole Grotto Keep grew up there on the island in response to the throne being there?”
“Could be,” James nodded. “Whether the legend’s true or not, that thing’s got to have some serious magic in it. Probably, Madame Delacroix has added her own protective hexes and charms as well.”
“Either way,” Ralph insisted, “we need to get the robe from Jackson’s briefcase. Any ideas?”
All three boys merely looked at one another. Finally, James said, “I’ll work on a plan. We’re going to need something to replace the robe with, though.”
“It was just a hunk of black fabric, you say?” Ralph said. “We can use my dress cloak. My dad got me the entire wizard wardrobe when we were in Diagon Alley before school started, and unless I have to go to somebody’s wedding or funeral, I can’t imagine I’ll need that thing. It’s bigger than my bedspread.”
James considered it. “Sure, I guess it’ll work as well as anything. Although,” he added, looking seriously at Ralph, “if they trace it back to you���”
Ralph was silent for
a moment, and then shrugged. “Ah, well. I’ve got no shortage of enemies already. One or two more can’t hurt much.”
Considering the caliber of enemy Ralph might make with such a plot, James thought it might hurt indeed, but he decided not to say so. He was proud of Ralph for volunteering, and he felt that it showed that Ralph had a great deal of confidence in James. James hoped he was worthy of it.
For the rest of the week, James had very little time to think about Jackson’s briefcase and the relic robe. As if he knew what they were up to, Professor Jackson had piled on more homework than usual, assigning nearly five chapters and a five hundred-word essay on Hechtor’s Law of Displaced Inertia. At the same time, Professor Franklyn had planned a practical examination for late Friday afternoon, leaving only one day for James, Zane, and Ralph to practice Disarming and Blocking Spells. Ralph was forced to practice on a fencing dummy. After two hours, he finally succeeded in casting an Expelliarmus spell without burning a crater in the clothbound mannequin. Fortunately, Franklyn himself deigned to act as Ralph’s dueling partner during the practical. Ralph, slightly more confident that Franklyn could deflect any errant spells than any of his classmates, was able to concentrate a bit more on his wandwork. To no one’s greater surprise than his own, his Expelliarmus spell actually succeeded in blasting Franklyn’s wand from his hand. It vibrated in the ceiling like an arrow.
“Well done, Mr. Deedle,” Franklyn said, a bit faintly, gazing up at his wand. “Mr. Potter, would you be so kind as to retrieve my wand for me? There’s a ladder by the supply closet. That’s a lad.”
As James and Ralph were leaving the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, James noticed that he was once again being watched closely by the mustachioed man in the painting of wizards gathered around the large globe. For the past week, he had begun noticing similar looks from paintings throughout the halls. Not all the paintings, by any means, but enough to nag at his attention. The fat wizard in the corner of the table at the painting of the poisoning of Peracles had seemed to listen intently as he, Ralph, and Zane had discussed Jackson’s briefcase in the library. A cavalry rider in the painting of the Battle of Bourgenoigne had cantered his horse to the corner of the painting to watch James out of sight as he’d walked to Muggle Studies. Perhaps strangest of all, a portrait of a portrait in the painting of the crowning of King Cyciphus had studied James unabashedly from the wall of the Great Hall as he and Zane were eating breakfast.
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