Ralph paled. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Maybe it used up all its power the first time,” James said a little doubtfully.
“You two better hope so,” Zane said, looking back and forth between them. “Because it already tried asking nice. The next time, it won’t be so polite.”
An idea struck James and he shivered.
“What?” Ralph asked, seeing James’ face change.
“Remote Physio-Apparition,” James said in a hushed voice. “That’s what Professor Franklyn called Delacroix’s power to project a wraith of herself. It’s different from regular Apparition, because she just sends out something like a ghost of herself, but the wraith can still look solid and affect things. I looked it up. The ghost makes a solid version of itself out of whatever material is handy, and then wears that like a puppet. Somehow she used it to bring the Merlin throne here and hide it on the island without being detected.”
Zane frowned. “OK. So?”
“So what if that was how Ralph and I were sent out to the Grotto Keep? Ralph, you called it an out-of-body experience. What if that’s what it really was? Maybe we were forced to have a Remote PhysioApparition! Only a wraith of ourselves went out to the grotto, but our bodies stayed in the corridors, just sort of… frozen.”
Ralph was clearly horrified by the thought. Zane looked thoughtful. “It seems to fit. Both of you said it happened when you were alone in the corridors. There’d be no one to see you both standing there on autopilot while your souls or whatever were strung out to the Grotto Keep.”
“But that’s Delacroix’s specialty,” Ralph said, shuddering. “You think she knows we got the robe somehow?”
James answered, “Maybe. She’s slippery as an eel. She might have figured it out and not even told Jackson. Maybe she wants all the glory for herself.”
“One thing is for sure, then,” Zane announced. “We can’t let you two be alone. My guess is that whoever or whatever is doing this doesn’t want the secret to get out. That’s why they waited until you two were alone for a few minutes. If we keep people around you, then maybe it won’t try again.”
Ralph was as white as a statue. “Unless it gets really, really desperate.”
“Well, yeah,” Zane agreed. “There’s always that possibility. But we can’t do anything in that case, so let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“That makes me feel loads better,” Ralph moaned.
“Come on,” James said, getting up from the breakfast table. “It’s getting late and the house-elves are giving us the eye. It’s time we got out of here before somebody notices we’re planning something.”
The three boys wandered out onto the chilly grounds and talked of other things for a while, then, having separate house-related obligations, went their separate ways for the rest of the day.
The next week was frustratingly busy. Neville Longbottom assigned one of his very unusual but painstakingly demanding essays. This led to James spending an inordinate amount of time in the library, researching the endless uses of spynuswort, an endeavor that was further complicated by the fact that every part of the spynuswort plant, from the leaves to the stem to the root and even its seeds, was used in any number of applications, from healing skin diseases to waxing broomsticks. James had just added the seventy-ninth entry to his scribbled list when Morgan Patonia sat down at the table across from him with a heavy sigh. Morgan, a first-year Hufflepuff, was also in Herbology and working on her spynuswort essay.
“You only need to list five uses,” Morgan stated when she saw James’ list. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Five?” James said weakly.
Morgan gave James a look of somehow delighted disdain. “Professor Longbottom only assigned us to write about spynuswort because it’s one of the three most useful plants in the magical world. If we were to write about every one of its uses, we’d be turning in encyclopedias, you silly boy.”
James’ face heated. “I knew that!” he said, aiming for aloof arrogance and hitting only wounded petulance. “I just forgot. Can’t blame me for being thorough, can you?”
Morgan tittered, obviously thrilled that James had wasted so much time. James packed up a few minutes later and moved to the Gryffindor common room, annoyed but simultaneously relieved. At least his essay was finished. In fact, since he’d already written about twenty-three spynuswort uses, he probably stood to get loads of extra credit. Just as long as Neville didn’t figure out that the thoroughness of James’ report simply meant James hadn’t been paying much attention in class.
Twice, James saw Professor Delacroix in the corridors and had the haunting sensation that she was watching him. He never actually saw her eyes on him, but since she was blind, that hardly mattered anyway. James remembered the way Delacroix had maneuvered the tureen of gumbo with her ugly graperoot wand at the Alma Aleron dinner, never spilling a drop. He had a suspicion that Delacroix had ways of seeing that didn’t rely at all upon her useless eyes. In fact, that could explain how she might have noticed that Jackson’s briefcase was different. The Visum-ineptio charm only worked on what people saw with their eyes, didn’t it? Still, she never said anything or even so much as paused in her stride when she passed him. James decided that he was simply being paranoid. Besides, as Zane pointed out, what difference did it make? She might be the one trying to trick Ralph and James into taking the relic robe out to the Grotto Keep, or it might be some other force entirely. Either way, they had to be on guard never to be alone, and in the end, the source of the threat didn’t really matter anyway.
James had begun to realize just how hard it was to never be alone. He would’ve thought, in a school the size of Hogwarts, it would’ve been quite rare, anyway. Now that he was paying attention, he realized he’d been on his own on the grounds or in the halls several times each day, whether crossing the grounds to get to Neville Longbottom’s Herbology class after Transfiguration or just going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Arranging to never be alone even in these circumstances was an annoying chore, but Zane, to James’ surprise, was consistently adamant about it.
“Even if we did capture that robe by a string of completely freakish lucky breaks, I’m not gonna let it slip out of our hands because we got careless,” he told James one day, walking him to the Herbology greenhouses. “It’s the Merlin conspirators’ carelessness that’s been working for us. I’m not gonna do them any favors like that.”
One day, James introduced Ralph and Zane to the Protean Charm as a means of communicating if ever an emergency chaperone was needed. James had ordered three novelty rubber ducks from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, giving one each to Zane and Ralph.
“The Protean Charm means that if I squeeze my duck, both of yours will sound as well,” James explained, giving his duck a tweak.
“Sod off!” all three ducks quacked in unison.
“Excellent,” Zane said, giving his own duck a firm squeeze, resulting in a chorus of happy insults. “So if either of you find yourselves alone or need me to take you to the bathroom, you just honk on this and I come running, eh?”
“Ugh,” Ralph said, staring at his duck with distaste. “I hate this. It’s like being three years old again.”
“Hey, if you want to go getting zapped off to meet with some unhappy tree spirit again…,” Zane said, shrugging.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Ralph replied, annoyed. “I just hate it, is all.”
Zane turned back to James. “So how will I know which one of you quacked for me?”
James produced a black marker and drew a small J on the bottom of his duck. “Take a look at yours, now. Anything we do to a single duck will show up on all of them. When you hear the quack, just check the bottom of the duck and see whose initial shows up.”
“Very tight,” Zane said approvingly. He raised his duck and tweaked it as if he was saluting with it.
“Eat doxie poo!” the ducks quacked gaily.
“All right,”
James said, putting his own duck in his backpack. “This’ll only work if we only use them in an emergency. Got it?”
“Why don’t they just squeak?” Ralph asked as he pocketed his.
“Ask a Weasley,” James answered dismissively.
At first, having to have Zane or somebody else around at all times was as annoying to James as it was to Ralph, but eventually, James got used to it and even began to like it. Zane would sit on a chair in the corner of the bathroom while James bathed, quizzing him on defensive spell pronunciations or Transfiguration terminology and restrictions. James learned that many of his Herbology classmates, including Morgan Patonia, had Charms class before Herbology. Knowing this, James was able to hurry from his Transfiguration class to the Charms classroom and then accompany Patonia and her friends to the greenhouses, thus avoiding the solitary trek across the grounds. Constantly being near people became an easy habit for James, and eventually, he nearly forgot he was doing it. In this fashion, the weeks melted past. The rawness of winter began to thaw into the fragile warmth of spring. Still, neither James, Ralph, nor Zane had come up with a plan to get Tabitha Corsica’s broomstick. Eventually, they determined, albeit reluctantly, that some group reconnaissance was required.
“I’m not liking this,” Ralph said as he led the other two to the door of the Slytherin common room. “I haven’t seen anyone other than Slytherins in here for months.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ralph,” Zane said, but his voice was less confident than usual. “We’ve got James’ magic map here. We can check it again, but according to it, most of your buddies are out watching the Slytherins practice for the tournament. Right, James?”
James had the Marauder’s Map unfolded in his hands. He studied it as he walked. “As far as I can tell, there’s only a couple of people in the Slytherin dorms, and none of them are people we need to worry about.”
“Are you sure you’re reading that thing right?” Ralph asked, plugging his ring into the eye socket of the snake sculpture on the gigantic wooden door. “Last I heard, you said you couldn’t even remember how to get it to work.”
“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” James replied testily. In truth, he was worried about the accuracy of the map. He had remembered the phrase to get the map to open and display the grounds, but as his dad had feared, the castle had changed rather a lot since the map had been created by Moony, Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail. Irregular chunks of the map were completely blank, and each blank section was marked with a notation that read redrawing required, please see Messrs. Prongs and Padfoot for assistance. James could only guess that his grandfather and Sirius Black had been the chief artists who’d plotted the map, but since both were long since dead, there would apparently be no redrawing of the map to fill in the rebuilt areas. The tiny names that marked the locations of everyone on campus could still be seen moving here and there, but as they entered one of the blank areas, their marker and name would flicker out. Fortunately, the Slytherin quarters were under the lake, and therefore had been very little damaged in the Battle of Hogwarts (Ralph had learned that only the main entry had been destroyed in the siege). James could see the entire warren of Slytherin rooms and halls on the Marauder’s Map.
The snake sculpture asked its questions. Ralph announced himself and explained who James and Zane were, and that they were friends. The glowing green snake eye examined Zane and James for a long moment, and then unlocked the complicated system of bolts and bars that secured the door.
The three boys couldn’t help skulking as they moved through the apparently deserted Slytherin common room. The brackish green sunlight, filtered by the lake water above the stained-glass ceilings, filled the room with murky shadows. The fire was a dull red glow in the gigantic fireplace, which was sculpted in marble to resemble an open snake’s mouth.
“Nothing like reading a good book in front of gaping doom,” Zane murmured, passing the fireplace. “So where do they keep their broomsticks, Ralph?”
Ralph shook his head. “I told you already, I don’t know. I just know there isn’t a common locker or anything, like the Gryffindors or Ravenclaws. Most of these guys don’t trust each other all that much. Everybody has a private closet with a special magical key. Besides, their brooms aren’t here now, anyway, are they? They’ve all got them out at the Quidditch pitch.”
“We aren’t here to grab it now,” Zane answered, peering around the common room. “We’re just here to scope out where they might hide them.”
Even in the middle of a spring day, the Slytherin rooms were a pall of shifting green dimness. “Lumos,” James said, illuminating his wand and holding it aloft. “This hall goes back to the boys’ quarters, right Ralph?”
“Yeah. The girls’ rooms are on the other side, up those stairs.”
Zane threaded through the furniture of the common room, aiming for the stairs. “Panty raid in the Slytherin girls’ quarters. I’m on it.”
“Wait,” James said sharply. “It’ll be charmed, you know. No boys are allowed in any of the girls’ quarters. You go up there, it’ll be sure to set off some sort of alarm.”
Zane stopped, glancing at James, and then turned back to the stairway. “Drat. They thought of everything, didn’t they?”
“Besides,” Ralph said from across the room, “they’re called ‘knickers’ around here.”
“You say ‘potato’, I say ‘patata’…,” Zane muttered.
“Can we get back to why we’re here, after all?” James said as loudly as he dared. “We’re supposed to be looking for ways to get to Tabitha’s broom. Even if all we can do is figure out where she keeps it.”
“Believe it or not,” Zane said primly, “that’s what I was thinking of. For all we know, she sleeps with the thing. Even if she doesn’t, you can bet she keeps it near enough to guard. That means getting into the girls’ quarters, doesn’t it?”
James shook his head. “Not possible. I’m beginning to see how helpful it was for my dad to have Aunt Hermione as part of his crew. He could’ve sent her up to check things out. We’re pretty much stuck, though.”
As James finished speaking, a noise came from the stairway. The three boys froze guiltily, looking toward the stairs. There was a shuffling of small feet, and then a tiny house-elf came down balancing a basket of rumpled clothing on its head. The elf stopped, seeing the three boys staring at it.
“Many pardons, masters,” the elf said, and James could tell by the timbre of its voice that it was a female. “Just collecting the washing, if you please.” Her bulbous eyes flicked between the three of them. She seemed disconcerted to have elicited such keen interest. James realized she was probably used to being completely ignored, if she was seen at all.
“Not a problem, Miss…” Zane said, affecting a small bow and taking a step back from the stairs. The elf didn’t move. Her eyes followed Zane’s movement with increasing consternation. “Excuse me, master?”
“Your name, Miss?” Zane replied.
“Ah. Er. Figgle, master. I apologize, master. Figgle isn’t accustomed to masters and mistresses speaking to her, master.” The elf seemed to be nearly vibrating with nervousness.
“I’m sure that is true, Figgle,” Zane said understandingly. “You see, I’m a member of an organization you may have heard of. We’re called the… uh…” Zane glanced back at James, his eyes wide. James remembered telling Zane and Ralph about Aunt Hermione’s equal rights for elves organization.
James stuttered, “Oh. Yeah, S.P.E.W. The Society for the Promotion of, uh, Elfish Welfare?”
“Yes, what he said,” Zane said, spinning back to Figgle, who flinched. “S.P.E.W. You’ve heard of us, no doubt. We help those who elf themselves.”
“Figgle hasn’t, master. Not a bit. Figgle has loads of work, master.”
“That’s exactly the point, my dear Figgle. We at S.P.E.W. are working to lessen that load. In fact, as an act of good faith, I’d like to help you now. Please, might I help you carry that?”
Fi
ggle looked positively horrified. “Oh, no, master. Figgle couldn’t! Master shouldn’t mock Figgle, sir!”
James could see where Zane was heading with this charade, but was doubtful it would get anywhere. House-elves, especially those who worked amongst the Slytherins, were often mistreated and tricked by their masters. Figgle looked as if she was about to burst into tears from fear.
Zane knelt down, bringing himself eye-level to the trembling house-elf on the second step of the stairs. “Figgle, I’m not going to hurt you or get you into trouble. I promise. I’m not even a Slytherin. I’m a Ravenclaw. You know Ravenclaws?”
“Figgle does, master. Figgle collects the Ravenclaws’ wash on Tuesdays and Fridays. Ravenclaws use less scent than Slytherins, master.” The elf was babbling, but she seemed a bit calmer.
“I’d like to help you, Figgle. Surely there is more to carry. May I carry it for you?”
Figgle pressed her lips together very hard, obviously caught on the knife edge between her fear of a mean prank and her duty to do what she was told. Her tennis ball-sized eyes studied Zane, then, finally, she nodded once, quickly.
“Excellent, Figgle. You’re a good elf,” Zane said soothingly. “There is more laundry upstairs, isn’t there? I see you’re piling it there by the door. I’ll gather the rest for you.” He made to step forward onto the stairs.
“Oh, no, master! Wait!” Figgle said, raising her hand. The basket on her head wobbled a bit and she steadied it easily. “Master will break the boundary. Figgle mustn’t let the others see she is being helped.” Figgle jumped lightly down the last two steps and turned toward the stairs. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Something changed about the doorway. James would have sworn that something like a light had been turned off, although the actual lighting in the room hadn’t changed. “Now master can go up. But please, master…” Again, Figgle seemed tortured on the edge of fear and obedience. “Please, master mustn’t touch anything but the basket. Then Figgle will take all the wash to the basements. Please?” She seemed to be pleading to get this over with and be gone as soon as possible.
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