The Vault of Destinies (James Potter #3) (59 page)

Ralph surprised.

Zane nodded eagerly. "Right there, plain as day! It was spelled a little different than I expected—R-O-E-bitz, but close enough to play Clutch, as we Zombies say. He was just some old guy from way back in the day, lived and worked here on campus, apparently. Probably he was like Magnussen's servant or gardener or something!"

"'The Nexus Curtain lies within the eyes of Roebitz,'" James quoted, nodding. "Maybe the key to the Curtain is buried with the guy!"

"OH no," Ralph raised his hands, palms out. "I'm not going and digging up any old graves."

Zane put an arm around Ralph's shoulders, standing on tiptoes to reach. "Don't worry, Ralph," he said soothingly. "We won't need to dig anybody up, all right?"

"We won't?" the bigger boy replied skeptically.

Zane shook his head. "Nah. I could tell by the etching that it was from a mausoleum. We don't need to dig at all. We just need to pry the door open with a crowbar."

"Oh," Ralph sighed sarcastically. "Well, that's loads better."

Over the following days, James, Ralph, and Zane explored the campus cemetery, which was surprisingly large, huddled in the northwest corner of the campus and surrounded by a tall wroughtiron fence. Fortunately, the main gate was almost always left open, even at night, which meant that they wouldn't have to climb the fence if they had to sneak in by moonlight. After a few attempts, the three finally found the mausoleum belonging to a wizard named Leopold Cromwel Roebitz, which sat embedded in a hill in the shadow of an ancient oak tree. The mausoleum door was made of copper, weathered to a pale green patina. Zane gripped the handle and gave it a tentative tug, but the door didn't budge.

"Well, so much for Plan A," he said, nodding. "Door's locked. Anyone want to try an Unlocking Spell? How about you, Ralphinator? You're the spellmeister of the group."

Ralph grimaced, but produced his wand. He leveled its lime green tip at the door. "
Alohomora
," he said tentatively.

There was a golden flash, but the door remained firmly closed. Zane yanked the handle once more to no avail.

"I guess that means Plan C, eh?" James said.

Ralph asked hopefully, "Can't we just try it now?"

"And risk getting hauled into the office as vandals?" Zane replied, batting Ralph on the shoulder. "Trust me, it's one thing to get caught hexing your name onto a statue. Messing around with the dead means a whole different kind of trouble. You saw how serious they took it when Magnussen was stealing bodies to dissect them."

Ralph sighed. "Fine. But if we have to do this at night,
I'm
not going inside. I'll be waiting right here next to this old tree while you two go bumping around with the skeletons. Got it?"

James agreed. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Ralph."

It was the following weekend before the three boys could summon the courage to make the nighttime trek to the cemetery. Even Zane, whose audacity normally seemed to be limitless, appeared jumpy about the endeavor. On Saturday night, James and Ralph stayed up late in the game room of Apollo Mansion, playing ping pong and enduring the constant critiques of Heckle and Jeckle. Finally, when the grandfather clock in the corner struck midnight, the boys crept up the stairs and eased open the front door. They looked at each other, standing between the coldness of the night and the warmth of the hall behind them.

"You up for this, Ralph?" James asked in a whisper.

"No," Ralph admitted. "But we're going to do it anyway, right?"

James nodded and gulped. "Remember why we're doing it. It's for a good cause. We can't let Petra take the blame for something she didn't do. We have to find the people who really broke into the Hall of Archives and attacked the Vault of Destinies."

Ralph shook his head. "But… we
saw
her, James. What makes you so sure that it wasn't really her?"

In the past, James would have felt angry about such a question, but he knew Ralph better now. He knew that Ralph was a pragmatist. Besides, Ralph didn't feel the same way about Petra that James did. He didn't know what James knew.

"Because she told me," James said simply, meeting his friend's gaze. After a moment, he added, "When we were on the ship, Dad told me that the best thing I could do for Petra was to be her friend. Friends trust one another, and that's what I am doing for her. Do you trust me?"

Ralph shrugged. "Sometimes," he answered seriously. "But mostly I just back your plays. That's the best way I know how to be a friend. That's what tonight's about. I hope that's good enough."

James smiled despite the cold and stillness of the night. Slowly, he pulled the door of Apollo Mansion closed behind them. "That's more than good enough, Ralph. Come on."

As James and Ralph stole into the darkness, they found the campus eerily quiet, covered in low, creeping tendrils of fog. The air was so cold that James immediately began to shiver. Overhead, the half moon shone brightly, covering the lawns and footpaths with its bony light.

"Over there," Ralph whispered, his breath making puffs of mist in the air. "Is that Zane hunkered down by the Octosphere?"

In answer, a poor imitation of an owl echoed across the dark lawn. James rolled his eyes.

"You didn't do the countersign," Zane rasped as James and Ralph ran to join him. "
I
hoot,
you
bray like wolves. We practiced it this afternoon."

"And I told you
then
," James whispered, looking about at the empty campus, "we're in a time bubble in the middle of major American city. There aren't any wolves for miles and centuries in every direction!"

"There would've been if you'd have done the countersign," Zane groused.

"Did you bring the Grint?" James asked, glancing at the blonde boy.

Zane hugged himself, shivering. "You mean the standard Zombie tool for magically picking locks that any self-respecting Zombie carries with him every time he goes out on an evening sneak?
That
Grint? No, I left it in your grandma's sock drawer. Silly me."

James nodded. "All right, then. Looks like the coast is clear. Let's go."

Together, the three boys ran along a line of leafless elms, hunkering low and keeping as much in shadow as possible. They skirted the front of the theater, crossed the mall in front of Administration Hall, and ducked into the warren of footpaths that ran through a block of college student apartments. Finally, his lungs raw from the cold night air, James looked up and saw the gates of the campus cemetery gaping open before him. Tentacles of mist crept like lazy ghosts between the nearest gravestones, beyond which was impenetrable darkness.

"Why's there have to be so many big willow trees and shrubberies and stuff?" Ralph whispered as they tiptoed through the gates. "I mean, it's a cemetery, not a hedge maze."

"Blame it on the old groundskeeper, Balpine Bludgeny," James replied, his teeth chattering. "He's what you call a traditionalist. Makes sure all the gates creak, all the trees are covered with Spanish moss, and the headstones lean
just so
. Gotta love a guy who takes that kind of pride in his work."

The three boys huddled unconsciously together as they followed the winding path through the hills of the cemetery. Shortly, they rounded a curve and found themselves out of sight of the main entrance. Moss-covered statues and obelisks loomed in silhouette out of the misty shadows. Not so much as a breath of wind moved the trees or the ever-present ground mist.

"I think it's over there," Ralph whispered, pointing up a nearby hill. "Can't we light our wands?"

Zane shook his head. "Somebody will see us. Your eyes will get used to the dark soon enough."

James led the way up the hill, skirting the leaning headstones. Suddenly, unbidden, he remembered his father's infrequent stories about the last days before the Battle of Hogwarts, when he and Headmaster Dumbledore had broken into a cave where Voldemort had hidden one of his many Horcruxes. Specifically, James found himself thinking of the cursed dead that occupied that cave's deep lake, flailing to the surface like beastly, gaping fish:
Inferi
. James shuddered and tried not to envision dead white hands scrabbling up out of the ground, clutching at his ankles. He actually found himself hoping for a good old-fashioned ghost, just to break the tension. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Alma Aleron apparently didn't have any ghosts. He drew a deep breath and shuddered as he let it out.

"There it is," Zane nodded, angling toward the crest of the hill. "
Roebitz
. I can just read it by the light of the moon. Come on."

James watched as Zane retrieved a small complicated tool from a pocket in the recesses of his cloak. The blonde boy examined the keyhole beneath the mausoleum's door handle and then peered down to fiddle with the Grint.

"How's it work?" Ralph asked, leaning close.

"It's got a little imp locksmith in it," Zane replied. "He sniffs out what sort of lock he's dealing with and pops out whatever tool is best to get it open."

Ralph frowned and glanced at James. "Is he making that up?"

"You never can tell, can you?" James answered, shaking his head.

Zane leaned close to the door, squinted into the keyhole, and then pressed an ear to the cold metal, listening. "Nobody moving around inside," he said, peering back at James and Ralph. "Always a good sign."

James was impatient. "Can you get it open?"

"No problem," Zane nodded. "Nothing special here. Looks like a standard Mourning Rose double-tongued turnbolt. I looked them up this afternoon at the library. It's a basic mortuary homunculus lock. The key is tears."

"Like, one of us has to cry?" James asked, blinking.

Ralph frowned. "How do you cry on command? Maybe you should try it, James. You're the actor, aren't you?"

"I've only ever been in one play," James protested. "And it didn't require any waterworks.
I
don't know how to make myself cry."

Ralph's eyes widened with inspiration. "You just think about the saddest thing that's ever happened to you! Like, when your first pet died or something! It's easy!"

I've never
had
any pets die yet," James replied. "If it's so easy,
you
do it then."

"You guys coming in or what?" Zane asked, pushing the copper door open. It creaked ponderously, revealing darkness beyond.

James boggled. "How'd you do that?"

"I just picked it," Zane shrugged, pocketing the Grint. "I figured that'd be faster than waiting for you to get all misty-eyed. I think I broke the lock a little, but we can fix it on the way out, eh? Let's go."

"I'll, er, keep watch," Ralph whispered nervously, backing away. James nodded, sighed, and then followed Zane into the musty darkness of the mausoleum.

It was very cold inside with a low ceiling and a gritty floor that scraped loudly under the boys' feet. Zane raised his wand slowly.

"
Lumos,"
he whispered harshly. The wand sprang alight, filling the tiny space with its harsh glow. The interior of the mausoleum was completely unmarked. Cobwebs filled the corners, wafting with the boys' movements. The only objects in the cramped space were an old floor brazier with one remaining candle and a low stone shelf, upon which sat the unmistakable shape of a wooden casket.

"I opened the front door," Zane said in a low voice, eyes wide. "Now that we're inside,
you
can do the honors."

James gulped and stepped forward. The casket was cold to the touch. Slowly, he curled his fingers around the metal handle of the casket's lid and began to lift it. It creaked loudly as it opened, and James wondered for a moment if Balpine Bludgeny had been in here as well, hexing the hinges of the casket so that they made the proper deep groan when opened in the dead of night. James leaned aside and peered into the narrow opening he'd created. A wash of relief flooded over him.

"It's empty," he breathed. "Just darkness. It must be a dummy grave, set up as a hiding place for the—"

James interrupted himself with a little shriek as Zane stepped forward, bringing his lit wand with him. The casket wasn't empty after all; the interior had merely been obscured by shadow. A mouldering skeleton lay inside, dressed in an old-fashioned suit with a string tie and a desiccated carnation lying flat in the buttonhole. The skeletal hands were crossed neatly over the thin chest. A gold tooth glimmered in the skull's leering grin.

"Ugh!" James said, nearly dropping the casket's lid. "Urk!"

Zane shook his head impatiently. "It's just a dead body, James. Sheesh. I thought you saw one of these come to life once in the cave of Merlin's cache?"

James gulped again. "That was different, somehow. He was just out there in the open, like. You don't think this one's going to… you know…?"

"Get lively on us?" Zane asked, grinning. "Nah. Not unless you make him really mad, anyway. Let's get on with it. Like Magnussen said, the Nexus Curtain lies within the eyes of Roebitz. Let's take a look, already."

James pushed the casket lid the rest of the way open and Zane leaned over the top of it, bringing his wand low. The skull grinned up at the light. A shock of grey hair was still matted onto the skull, combed neatly back from the temples.