"He referred to a Warlock friend of his," Rose said, shivering at the memory of the Wendigoes. "Warlocks are very specialized wizards. They make magical weapons, poisons, instruments of mass warfare. That's where they get their name. But there are hardly any of them left, aren't there? Most of them were on the side of Voldemort, back in our parents' day, and got sent to Azkaban. They were the most wicked wizards of all, because they truly believed what they were doing was right. They were unapologetic, and vowed to continue their work if they were ever released."
"Worlick!" James gasped, his eyes widening.
The others blinked at him. Ralph asked, "Who?"
"The criminal that I met at Azkaban, the one who ended up escaping with Judith's help! I told you all about it, remember? His name was Worlick! But what if that wasn't a name? What if it was just another word for Warlock?"
Rose glanced at Scorpius. They shared a strangely uncomfortable look. "It's… possible." She acknowledged.
"That's the whole reason he was in Azkaban to begin with," James went on, speaking to himself as much as the others. "He was making all sorts of dark magic weapons and poisons! He killed one of Dad's best aurors using them! He must be the one working with this Collector person! And that means that they're both involved with… with Judith!" He glanced at the others' faces in turn. "The Lady of the Lake!"
Rose bit her lips in a strange grimace. Scorpius looked away pointedly. Even Ralph shuffled a little on his feet. Only Lissa, the Muggle woman, did not blink. She watched James' face as if hypnotized.
"Did you ever see her?" he asked, taking half a step closer to her. "A tall woman? With reddish hair? Keen looking, but cold?"
Lissa still met his gaze intently. She shook her head very slowly. "There was another…" she admitted in a near whisper. "But no one ever saw who… or what… it was. They always met in secret. The Collector took orders. Sometimes they argued. He wanted to use it now. The other insisted they wait until a better time. The perfect time."
Scorpius looked sharply at Lissa. "The perfect time for what? What were they talking about using?"
Lissa still stared at James. Her eyes were wide, eerily intent. In a low, muttering voice, she said, "He knew you. He called you by name…"
James shivered. "What were they talking about, Lissa?" he pressed. "It might be important. What were they waiting for the perfect time for?"
Lissa finally tore her gaze from James' face. She glanced around at the others, as if noticing them for the first time. When she spoke, it was in a hushed whisper. "The thing they had made, the thing we had to collect all the ingredients for. It was very difficult, they said, but powerful. Terrible. They called it the… the Morrigan Web." She shuddered.
All the colour fell out of James' face.
"The Morrigan…" Rose repeated, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "I've heard of that. The Morrigan was a goddess of war. But what's a… a Morrigan Web?"
Lissa shook her head slowly. "The Collector told us…" she muttered. "He told us what it is. He told us… it was the end of our world."
James looked at her, a chill coiling down his spine. In his mind, he saw Petra's dream story, saw her handwriting scribbled all over it, blending together into a cacophony of random thoughts and ideas. And in the middle, written larger and more emphatically then the rest, each letter pressed into the parchment as if written with great force, was that same phrase: the Morrigan Web.
Petra knew about it. Petra was involved.
"You should all return this moment," Viktor called suddenly, snapping James out of his reverie. "We will protect the young lady until her possessions are returned and she can facilitate her own way back. The Muggle woman will be taken to the authorities."
Ralph shook his head. "I'm staying with Rose," he insisted, and James saw that he was still smarting from the guilt of leaving her during the attack. "If that Collector person attacked us once, he may try it again."
"You may be more right than you know," Piotre admitted darkly, swooping nearby on his broom. "As I told Mister Potter here, the Wendigoes cannot be killed, only repulsed. They have surely returned to their master, whoever or whatever he may be."
Zane returned to the group, his face serious. "I told Viktor about the Collector," he nodded.
"An opportunist," Viktor acknowledged. "The worst kind of wizard imaginable. Where some exploit disasters to loot goods, people like him delight in looting souls. We will find him and he will pay for what he has done," this he directed at Lissa, meeting her eyes gravely. Turning back to the others, he went on, "For now, however, it is all the more reason for you to return to safety. I am not asking. You have already broken numerous edicts in coming here. Do not doubt that I will see you prosecuted if you disobey me."
"Viktor," Zane said, raising his voice. "Seriously. We can't leave without--"
"You can and you will," Viktor commanded sternly. "Immediately. I do not care how or why you came to be here, but believe me, you have already caused more trouble than you know. Go now or face the consequences."
As he spoke, thankfully, two other harriers zoomed low along the street, converging on them. One of them, James saw, was carrying a pink, fluttering shape in his fist.
"The young lady's property," he called out, setting down on the street and holding up the cardigan. "It got conveniently hung up on a statue in Union Square. Everything seems to be in order."
He handed the cardigan to Rose. "Thanks," she said sheepishly.
Viktor nodded firmly. "I suppose that settles that, then. Are there any other arguments?"
James thought he sensed the slightest undertone of wry humour in the former champion's words. He shook his head emphatically.
"Excellent. Then off with you. Miss?" This, he addressed to Lissa as he held a hand out to her. "There is a Magical Integration Bureau office on the Brooklyn Bridge blockade. They will assist you."
Lissa nodded wearily.
"You first, Rose," Zane sighed, producing his green ring from his pocket. "We'll follow."
Rose nodded. She rummaged in the pocket of her cardigan, found her own green ring, and showed it to the others. "Sorry, everyone," she said, smiling wanly.
Ralph smiled back at her. "Just get back safely. We still have one more jump to make from there, back through the cabinet. It's probably the middle of the night, Hogwarts time."
"That's true," she nodded. "All right. See you all on the other side." With that, she jammed the ring onto her finger. An instant later she vanished with a sort of rushing pop.
Scorpius didn't wait. With a brisk sigh, he donned his own ring and disappeared.
"I'm sorry, Zane," James said meekly, turning to his friend. "Really."
Zane met his gaze, but his eyes remained hard. He nodded curtly. "Let's just go."
"What about Nastasia?" Ralph asked, glancing around.
"Already gone," Zane shrugged, glancing down at his green ring. "We both thought it would be best. After, you know… everything."
Without looking up, he pushed his ring onto his finger and vanished.
James drew a deep breath and let it out, feeling thoroughly miserable. Thoughts swirled around his head in a sort of storm: Petra, the Morrigan Web, Worlick, the Lady of the Lake, the Collector, even Nastasia, especially the wounded look on her face when he had accused her of caring only about herself. He dug his own ring out of his pocket, feeling the conspicuous glare of Viktor Krum watching from his broom, fifty feet away.
"Ralph," he asked quietly, pausing with his green ring poised before his finger. "When we were talking about Worlick and his escape, why did you all look so strange?"
Ralph met his eyes briefly, and then glanced away. "It isn't that," he admitted uncomfortably. "It's the other part."
"What other part?" James asked, an edge of exasperation coming into his voice.
Ralph glanced at him again and drew a deep breath. "The Lady of the Lake," he admitted. "It's all just a little… weird. You know?"
James shook his head fir
mly. "No, I don't know. What's weird about that? It makes perfect sense. She helped Worlick escape so he could help her and the Collector make some sort of ultimate magical weapon. It's horrible, but what's weird about it?"
Ralph frowned in consternation. "James," he said, lowering his voice still further. "I don't really know how to say this. I guess I sort of thought you already knew…"
"What, Ralph?" James demanded, losing his patience. "Out with it!"
Ralph lowered his ring and ran a hand through his thick hair. He glanced out over the street, seemed to see Viktor watching, and then returned his gaze to James. His face was a mask of miserable resignation. "James," he whispered harshly, leaning close. "No one else ever saw this Lady of the Lake person. Only you. Did you not know that?"
James stared at Ralph in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes. "But… that's ridiculous! You were all there in the World between the Worlds! She was there with us in the black castle! We spoke to her!"
Ralph shuffled his feet again, but shook his head insistently. "We heard a voice," he admitted. "But I never saw anyone. I just saw… the other Petra. The rest was just shadows and echoes. Zane and I sort of thought it was all a trick, that the other Petra-- the Morgan version-- was just, sort of, mad. Talking in two voices."
"Ralph," James hissed, an incredulous smile crossing his face. "You're joking, right? The Lady of the Lake…" The smile faded from his face. "Ralph, she killed Lucy. You saw it happen."
"Somebody killed her," Ralph agreed gravely. "But who? I didn't see it happen. I thought it was Morgan. Zane too."
"But what about the other times she showed up," James insisted. "On the Zephyr! You saw her shooting from the windows at all those WULF blokes, blasting them out of the air!"
"I saw a lot of people," Ralph agreed reluctantly. "There were loads of people on the train with us."
"Ralph, this is just daft!" James exclaimed, raising his voice. "What about all the other times! What about…"
He stopped as cold realization flooded over him. There were no other times. The other times he had encountered Judith, first in the halls of the Aquapolis, and then in the North Sea, when she had whisked Worlick away in the form of a living waterspout, none of his friends had been present.
"But on the Night of the Unveiling," James said, thinking hard. "She was there on the street, calling out about how my dad was guilty, about how he killed that Senator. You heard her. She was right there with Morgan, standing side by side!"
Ralph shook his head slowly but emphatically. "I did hear people screaming things. I heard stuff like that in the crowd. But I didn't see anyone. None of us did, James. That's why everyone gets a little nervous when you talk about Judith. Because most people… they don't exactly believe she exists."
"James!" Viktor barked from some distance away. "Both of you! You must go! Now!"
Ralph glanced aside nervously. "Come on, James," he said, readying his ring. "We can talk about this more later."
James was too stunned to respond. Ralph nudged him. "On three," he suggested again. "Ready?"
James nodded feebly. Ralph counted.
They both put on their rings.
Twenty minutes later, James, Ralph, Rose and Scorpius tumbled out of the vanishing cabinet into the dark stillness of the Great Hall.
"Home," Rose said fervently. "For a little while there, I felt like I'd never see this place again. Is that mad?"
"I think we all felt that way a bit," Ralph agreed.
Quietly, disconsolately, the students made their way out of the Great Hall, whispering goodnight to Ralph at the dungeon stairs. Tiptoeing so as not to arouse the attention of the always wandering Filch and Mrs. Norris, the three Gryffindors climbed the stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Scorpius muttered the password, granting them entrance to the deserted common room. Orange embers glowed in the fireplace, casting the only light.
Rose glanced at the large clock near the fireplace and yawned extravagantly. She turned to Scorpius and James in turn.
"Thanks," she said seriously. "Thanks for waiting with me tonight. You didn't have to. But I am glad you did."
James nodded. Scorpius shrugged, as if to say what else were we going to do?
"Rose," James said tiredly, stepping close to his cousin. "You don't believe in Judith, do you?"
A pained expression crossed her face. "I… James, I don't doubt what you believe. It's… "
"It's all right, Rose," James nodded. "I suppose it doesn't really matter. But will you help me with something anyway?"
"Of course," she replied, looking rather relieved. "After tonight, I feel like I owe you all a bit of an enormous favour. What is it?"
James glanced back at Scorpius, who was watching unabashedly. "Help me figure out what the Morrigan Web is."
Rose frowned slightly. "Shouldn't you just tell your father--"
"I will," James interjected, looking back at her. "But still. You're dead smart, just like your mum, and I have a feeling that dad will need all the help he can get."
Rose nodded. "I'll help. We'll start this weekend. All right?"
James agreed. A moment later, Rose turned and climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory.
"I really shouldn't mention this," Scorpius muttered as they made their way up the spiral stairs to their own dormitory. "But you remember what tonight was, don't you?"
James shook his head vaguely. "I don't know and I don't care," he said.
Scorpius nodded. "That's good. It would have been rushed in the best case, after all. Even without everything that happened in New Amsterdam."
James stopped on the stairs. His eyes widened in the darkness. "Oh no." he said slowly. "It can't be. I can't truly have missed it again…"
Scorpius glanced back at him. "I thought you said you didn't care?" he asked sardonically.
James stared at him in the darkness, his expression blank, his mouth hanging slightly open. It would've actually been funny, if it wasn't so preposterously frustrating.
"Don't worry," Scorpius said, turning and resuming his climb up the dormitory stairs. "There's always next year. After all… it's only Quidditch."
5. SUSPICIONS & SECRETS.
The next morning, James skipped breakfast for the first time in his career at Hogwarts. He simply couldn't bear the thought of the jeering he would likely receive from the rest of the Gryffindors, and the Quidditch team in particular. Hungry and unhappy, he made his way to his first class, Advanced Flight with the irrepressible Professor Cabe Ridcully, his Thunderstreak propped over his shoulder and his full knapsack clumping against his back. He sighed, knowing that what he had avoided at breakfast would surely be waiting for him on the South lawn with the rest of the fourth years.
In this, he wasn't wrong.
"James!" Graham called seriously, rushing to meet him on the dewy grass. "You're alive! It's a miracle!"
"Shut up, Graham," James grumped, stalking past him. Graham turned to follow.
"Everyone else thinks you just skived off, but I told them you had to have been attacked by skrewts or something. What was it? Come on, you can tell me."
James threw him a sceptical look. "It was Wendigoes, actually."
"It was Wendigoes!" Graham announced loudly, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Wendigoes! Terrible, terrible things, that! Er," he turned back to James. "Is that a thing or a person? Did you duel somebody named Wendy? Blimey, I hope you won."
"You should have seen the look on poor Cameron's face," Deirdre Finnegan scolded, joining them on the lawn. "He and his little Potter fan club, all of them looked fit to cry."
"Devindar had a spot all picked out for you," Graham added. "Seeker, in honour of dear old dad. Assuming you could come up with the skills, of course."
"All right, all right!" James hissed, dropping his knapsack to the grass and hefting his broom. "Don't you think I feel bad enough about it?"
Deirdre shook her head. "No, I don't. This isn't funny anymore, James."
"It's not supposed to be
funny!" James cried. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"
Graham cocked his head speculatively. "Well, you don't have much of a sense of humour under the best conditions."
James closed his eyes tightly, calming himself. After a moment, he turned to Deirdre. "So who got Seeker, then?"
Deirdre rolled her eyes. "Lance Vassar."
"Lance…" James repeated disbelievingly. "But he's no athlete. I've seen him fly. If it wasn't for that fancy top-shelf broom of his…"
"Or the fact that his parents are having a new scoreboard built for the Quidditch pitch," Graham nodded. "Complete with clockwork scorekeeping, lit numerals and firework scoring charms."
"Really?" James said, impressed despite himself. "That'll be pretty cool, actually."
"But Lance at Seeker!" Deirdre repeated pedantically. "How often do you think those fireworks will be going off for a Gryffindor win?"
James sighed deeply. "Perhaps he'll be better than we expect?"
Graham shook his head and frowned. "He'd better be. But seriously, James. Next year, just break your own leg or something. We're running out of excuses for you not showing up at try-outs."
The ribbing continued throughout the morning. Ralph, Rose and Scorpius, of course, knew the real reason why James had missed Quidditch try-outs, providing some cover for him at lunchtime. Few believed the fantastical tales about their adventure in New Amsterdam, although the story did provide a convenient distraction, and by afternoon most of the school seemed to have forgotten about James' missed opportunity.
All except for Lance Vassar, who passed James as he queued up near the Yorke vanishing cabinet.
"I don't blame you, James," he said quietly, patting James on the shoulder. "It's better this way, really. You're a good kid. I didn't want to embarrass you or anything."
He swept on, followed by his usual entourage of older Gryffindors and hangers-on.
"He's serious," Ralph said wonderingly. "He wasn't even being sarcastic. What a pompous berk!"