James Potter And The Morrigan Web (96 page)

“She’s going after them!” James exclaimed. “Somehow she knows! She’s going after dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione!”

Rose shook her head incredulously. “But, how
could
she know? Unless…!”

“Unless she’s part of Avior’s plan.” Scorpius suggested.

James was on his feet even before he knew it.

“Wait!” Rose exclaimed urgently, pitching her voice low.

“Don’t try to stop me,” James hissed, sidling clumsily along the bench, much to the irritation of Willow Wisteria and Mei Isis.

“I’m not trying to
stop
you,” Rose called angrily. “I’m coming
with
you!”

“Whatever you’re doing, hurry it up!” Devindar called. “Some of us want to watch the blooming match.”

James reached the stairs along the edge of the grandstand and was gratified to see both Rose and Scorpius clambering after him. Without waiting for them, he began to clump down the wooden steps, pushing through the trickle of students still making their way up.

“Calm down, Potter,” Scorpius said, grabbing James’ shoulder as they reached the first landing. “If we’re seen rushing down to the pitch during the opening ceremony it’ll attract all the wrong kinds of attention.”

James knew Scorpius was right but could not restrain himself. He pounded down the wooden stairs, rounding landing after landing, even as Ashley Doone’s voice boomed overhead.

“And now, to offer a short invocation before the unveiling of the new Quidditch winner’s cup, Mrs. Lyddia Vassar!”

This was met with a much more tepid round of applause from the surrounding grandstands. James emerged at ground level just as it began to peter out. He stopped in the shadow of the Gryffindor grandstand, the enormous crimson lion banner flapping gently overhead, and took a moment to scan the pitch for any sign of Titus Hardcastle and his Aurors.

“There!” Rose said, pointing over his shoulder.

Sure enough, on the far side of the pitch, Titus stood alert beneath the Slytherin grandstand, his black eyes flicking ceaselessly over the crowd. Lucinda Lyon stood several feet to his left, wand in hand, pointed at the ground in a posture of professional vigilance. She was watching the pitch carefully, marking the movements of the teams and the gathering along the centre line. Professors Heretofore and Shert had lowered the fabric-draped Chalice to the ground, but remained on either side in preparation for the unveiling. From his own vantage point at ground level, James could just see Lyddia Vassar through the shoulders of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. The blonde woman raised her wand to her throat.

“Welcome, visiting dignitaries, and especially our Muggle brothers and sisters from the world over,” she said comfortably, her voice echoing broadly up into the grandstands. “Let this be the first of many such occasions as we progress into a new era of cooperation and mutual friendship…”

The Quidditch players shuffled impatiently before Lyddia Vassar as she launched into a somewhat droning, albeit flowery speech, taking full advantage of her coveted moment in the spotlight.

“Come on,” James muttered, ducking as casually as he could out of the shadows and crossing toward the Ravenclaw grandstand. Fortunately, a large number of students were still milling along the edge of the pitch, offering James, Rose and Scorpius a modicum of cover. When they reached the giants seated beneath the Ravenclaw banner, James was once again amazed at their sheer size. Even seated, Prechka looked like a vaguely person-shaped mountain draped with inexpertly sewn hunks of burlap. The coloured fringes of her smock fluttered in the breeze. All the alertness had fallen from her face, however, as Lyddia Vassar’s speech blared on. The she-giant glanced down at James as he crept next to her. Before she could speak, he shushed her with a finger to his lips. She looked quizzical for a moment, cocking her head curiously. Giants, James knew from experience, were not exactly the smartest creatures in the wizarding world. Thankfully, however, an expression of exaggerated comprehension washed slowly over Prechka’s features. She nodded and pressed a trunk-sized finger to her own slab-like lips.

With that, James, Rose and Scorpius slipped into her shadow, angling toward the darkness of the Ravenclaw locker room doors. A moment later, they trotted along the short tunnel beneath the grandstand, casting around for any sign of Tabitha Corsica or the trio of adults that had preceded her.

“Drat, I wish I had my wand,” Scorpius muttered as the shadows grew thick around them. The Ravenclaw locker area was unlit and empty, echoing with the dull thunder of footsteps high above, and beyond that, the unintelligible drone of Lyddia Vassar’s speech.

“Which way could she have gone?” Rose whispered, casting left to right at the intersection which marked the tunnels to the other grandstands. On either side, stairs led down into lantern-lit passageways.

“We’ll have to split up,” James said reluctantly. “You two try the Gryffindor tunnel. If you see dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, warn them that Tabitha’s prowling around for them. And if you find Tabitha…”

“Tackle her,” Scorpius shrugged irritably. “Without wands, it’s the best we can do.”

James nodded. “She can’t be allowed to interfere, no matter what.”

“What about you?” Rose demanded, hopping nervously from foot to foot. “You’ll be by yourself!”

“I do wish Ralph was along,” James admitted. “But we don’t have any choice. Go! They’ll unveil the Chalice at any moment!”

Obviously unsatisfied but sensing there were no other options, Rose and Scorpius ducked into the left tunnel. James watched their shadows scuttle along the stone wall until they were gone. He gulped, turned toward the right tunnel, and realized just how ardently he wished he had his own wand with him, Morrigan Web or not. Steeling himself, he ran down the steps and into the tunnel.

The passage curved slightly to the right, obstructing the view so that James felt sure he would encounter Tabitha at any second, her wand pointed at him and a triumphant grin on her face. He forced himself to run on regardless, eventually spying the stone steps and faint daylight of the Hufflepuff locker area. He scampered up and threw himself against the inside wall of the stairway, breathing hard and feeling horribly defenceless. Furtively, he glanced around the corner, first into the brightly lit but apparently empty Hufflepuff locker room, then along the short passage leading to the pitch.

Framed by the open doors, James could see the grassy pitch stretching away, crowded with the Hufflepuff and Slytherin players, their brooms held upright at their sides. Lyddia Vassar was facing away from him, her wand still raised to her throat, her voice still casting flat echoes up into the grandstands. At her heels, the Crystal Chalice still stood covered in black cloth, flanked by Professors Heretofore and Shert, their wands at the ready.

And crouched just inside the double doors, her own wand protruding from her fist, was Tabitha Corsica.

James’ breath caught in his chest, amplifying the thunderous pounding of his heart. Corsica seemed to be watching the ceremony avidly, her gaze sweeping the pitch as if searching for something.

“And that is why,” Lyddia Vassar’s voice rang out, “we are proud to present this, our latest and perhaps most important discovery, the fabled Crystal Chalice of Timor Roon, the last king of the united wizarding world, nineteenth in line from the elder King Kreagle, and last to witness an age of Muggle and magical coexistence. Some say his was a rule of despotism and tyranny, but that is all the more reason that this, his most famous relic, should herald an age of mutual tolerance and respect…”

James crept forward as these words filled his ears, approaching Corsica as quickly and carefully as he could. She did not move, but continued to crouch just inside the open door, her wand brandished at the ready. James’ breath grew stale in his chest but he refused to breathe, refused to make the slightest noise as he skulked closer… closer…

Somehow, even over the noise of Vassar’s echoing speech, Corsica heard him. She turned, glancing back over her shoulder and spying James with one bright, dark eye.

James threw himself upon her, reaching for her wand. Amazingly, he grasped it and succeeded in wrenching it from her hand. She pivoted, throwing him from her shoulders into the corner between the tunnel wall and the doorway. James clambered around, however, and pointed Corsica’s wand back at her, stopping her in her tracks.

“What are you doing, you complete idiot!” she demanded, her voice a hard rasp.

“I’m stopping you!” James replied, his own voice hushed desperately. “Now get back away from the door!”

“James,” Corsica seethed, refusing to budge. “Give me back my wand. Now!”

James shook his head fervently, knowing that the Morrigan Web might be unleashed at any second. If it was, he would be killed. “Get back, Tabitha! I don’t know what you’re about, but this stops now! You’re not going to interfere!”

“If I don’t interfere, you perfect fool,” she said urgently, “your father will go to Azkaban!”

James blinked at the tall witch, baffled and shocked by her words but refusing to lower her wand. He circled her, putting his back to the locker room. “How do you know my dad’s here?”

“Because,” she rolled her eyes impatiently. “He’s
Harry Potter
. He’s here to save the day, as I knew he would be. You told him your daft suspicions about the Morrigan Web and he and his friends were stupid enough to believe you. I was watching for them and witnessed them slipping beneath the Ravenclaw grandstand. I followed, meaning to find them before it’s too late. My intention is to warn them that the day doesn’t
need
to be saved.”

“You’re a liar,” James exclaimed, renewing his grip on her wand. “You’re in on it! You have to be!”

“If I was,” Corsica answered immediately, taking a step toward James, “would I be hiding here with a wand in my hand?”

James shook his head in angry confusion. “You’re crazy! Just like the night of the Triumvirate when you thought you were the bloodline of Voldemort! You couldn’t possibly want to help my dad! You hate him!”

Corsica took another step toward James, forcing him to back further away. “Think back to when I first confronted you at Yorke,” she demanded, speaking very quickly. “Do you recall when I told you that a certain mysterious benefactor had intervened on my behalf, recommending me for that post? Few members of the Wizengamot were inclined to listen to him, but he was very insistent, recommending-- and obtaining-- the dissolution of my probation in Australia.”

James was barely listening, his mind reeling. Beyond Corsica, Lyddia Vassar seemed to be concluding her speech. A smattering of applause began to build in the grandstands overhead.

“Stay back, Tabitha,” James insisted, the wand trembling in his hand. Despite this, she continued to close in on him,

“My mysterious benefactor,” she said, her eyes locked onto his, “was none other than Harry Potter. Your father risked his own reputation to recommend me, despite everything that had happened.
That’s
why I didn’t tell Headmaster Grudje enough to get you expelled, even though you surely deserved it. And that’s why I came here to watch for him, to prevent him from dashing out onto the pitch in the mistaken conviction that he is saving the world. All he will do is get himself and his friends arrested in the middle of the highest security event in wizarding history. He will go to prison, James, and be ruined for life. We have only seconds to prevent that.”

“But…” James stammered, his resolve weakening as he attempted to absorb Tabitha’s revelations. “But the Morrigan Web! It’s the Crystal Chalice! It has to be!”

“It is
not
,” Corsica declared urgently. “There are three markers for identifying the Morrigan Web.”

James nodded, still backing away from Corsica, her wand still raised in his fist. “I know! It has to belong to a powerful dead witch or wizard, and it has to be the centrepiece! It fits perfectly!”

“You missed the third requirement, James,” Corsica exclaimed, holding her hand out for her wand. “The third requirement is
time!
It takes months for the enchanted object to steep in its destined location, to build its power, to reach the proper culmination of strength. The Chalice only arrived last night! It couldn’t spawn a single magical spark, much less the Morrigan Web!”

“Time…” James repeated, stunned. Could Tabitha Corsica, his long-time nemesis, be telling the truth? Was the Crystal Chalice actually harmless, nothing more than a curious relic passed off as a sporting trophy? If it was, then his dad was indeed charging into capture and imprisonment at the hands of his own partner, Titus Hardcastle. He glared at Corsica, trapped in a hopeless, crippling web of indecision.

“How can I trust you?” he demanded, nearly shouting as the applause rose to deafening levels outside.

“Because I have nothing to gain by lying!” she yelled in answer, raising her own voice.

James’ heart was slamming against his ribs, his mind reeling. Finally, as the roar of the crowd reached its zenith, he threw down Corsica’s wand and pelted past her, aiming for the daylight of the pitch.

As he emerged, the crowd cheered seamlessly, filled with stamping feet and waving banners. James bolted onto the pitch, threading clumsily through the standing players, trying to look in all directions at once for any sign of his dad, uncle or aunt. He shoved past Albus, knocking aside his broom

In the centre of the pitch, Professors Heretofore and Shert were levitating the draped Crystal Chalice again, raising it high into the air. With an additional, practiced flick of her wand, Heretofore jerked the draping fabric from the Chalice, whipping it off with a sweeping flourish. Sunlight glinted prisms from the great crystal cup as it floated overhead, turning gently and casting refractions down onto the grass of the pitch.

“Dad! No!” James called, but it was a moment too late. A dark flying shape rocketed out of the shadow of the Slytherin grandstand, angling straight for the Crystal Chalice. Two more shapes joined it, erupting from the shadows around the pitch. James recognized the dark-robed shapes immediately-- his dad, uncle and aunt on brooms they had found stowed in the team locker rooms. They surrounded the floating Chalice, spinning in tightening spirals, their wands extended. Overwhelming Heretofore’s and Shert’s levitation spells, they captured the Chalice and carried it between them, shooting up into the deep blue sky.