“Mr. Malfoy,” Odin-Vann said a little coolly. “You can leave now as well. Petra only asked for James, Rose, Zane, and Ralph.”
Scorpius shrugged. “I think I’ll stay, actually,” he said. “I can’t fill Dolohov’s shoes, of course. Mainly because they’re ten sizes bigger than mine. But I’m a curious sort. I’d like to see how this plays out.
Assuming nobody else minds.”
He glanced aside at James, Zane, and Rose. Zane nodded.
“Fine,” Odin-Vann sighed, finally pushing to his feet. “Then we leave tonight. Right now, in fact. Petra awaits our return, and we don’t have a second to spare.”
Rose glanced at James, her eyes worried. James understood. It was all happening so fast, without any chance to think about what they were about to do. And yet, really, did they have any choice? He hesitated for only a moment, and then, to Odin-Vann, asked, “Where are we heading to?”
Odin-Vann’s eyes narrowed and sparkled again with that keen, slightly hectic gleam. “Morganstern Farm,” he answered. “To the lake, and its dead, sunken gazebo.”
Zane cocked his head. “Why there?”
Odin-Vann turned to the wheelhouse and wrenched open the door. “Because it’s the very last place in the world that Merlin would expect us to look.”
Odin-Vann piloted the ship himself. The ship’s wheel was nearly as tall as he, but he held onto it with determination, turning the Gertrude toward a different tunnel entrance than they had traversed before. This one had no destination inscribed across its arch, but the professor—or the ship itself—seemed to know where to go.
“It’s not the same without Ralph,” Zane said quietly. On James’ other side, Rose nodded.
James looked at Scorpius, expecting a snide comment, but the blond boy said nothing, merely looked ahead, toward the approaching darkness as the tunnel sucked the Gertrude in, drawing her inextricably into its rushing current.
The masts folded with a heavy thump. Darkness swallowed the ship and dizzying speed replaced the gentle rocking of the moonpool.
James barely noticed it. He held onto the brass railing bolted to the back wall of the wheelhouse, watching the repaired lantern as it swung over the bow, providing the only light in the rushing maw of the tunnel.
“We must be quick,” Odin-Vann called without looking back.
“Each of you will have a role to play.”
“And what will those roles be, exactly?” Scorpius called back.
James looked at Odin-Vann, who didn’t seem prepared to answer that question just yet. Then, seeming to consider his words carefully, he said, “We shall come up in the centre of the farm lake, but it will be difficult to keep the ship from beaching on the shallow shores.
Mr. Malfoy, you will stay in the wheelhouse and keep us steady, hands on the wheel.” He glanced aside quickly, his eyes bright with the reflection of the swaying lantern ahead. It cast wild, swooping shadows in the darkness. “Rose, you and Mr. Walker will raise the gazebo from its sunken state. It will be very heavy and waterlogged, but I know that you can manage it together, as well as keep it upright while I collect the hidden brooch. And James…” He glanced back again, fleetingly meeting James’ eyes while struggling with the ship’s wheel and the rushing dark beyond. Grey water exploded around the speeding bow, throwing rafters of mist back against the windows, blattering them noisily and blurring the view beyond. “James, you shall assist me in retrieving the brooch.”
“That hardly seems like a two person job,” Scorpius observed.
“After what happened at the Archive,” Odin-Vann replied darkly, “I won’t be taking the slightest chance.”
The journey took longer than James expected. The Gertrude rocked up one side of the tunnel, then another, barreling through seemingly endless dark. After a while, Rose covered her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she warned with a deep, gulping breath.
“Nearly there,” Odin-Vann said, steeling himself as the tunnel angled upward beneath them. James tightened his grip on the railing and planted his footing. Water welled up over the bow in waves, and then washed over it in a flood, submerging the lantern and rushing over the windows. The roar of air was swallowed up in a deep, gurgling boom as cold darkness engulfed the Gertrude. The ship angled steeply upward, still blasting forward, but now through seamless, rushing depth.
The lantern continued to glow, forming a bottle-green halo through streaming bubbles.
And then, much smoother than before, the ship burst out onto wide open surface, keeled ponderously forward, and, with a shuddering smack, buried its hull in white-capped waves.
Anxiously, James stepped toward the windows and peered out through streaming droplets. The waves were choppy and fast, dully illuminated by moon glow through rushing, scrubby clouds. No land was visible in any direction, only a dark horizon, unbroken and flat.
Zane pressed in alongside James. “This… is a pretty big woodland lake, isn’t it?”
“We’re not to Morganstern farm yet,” Odin-Vann explained, releasing the wheel and exhaling harshly. “Going to Oswestry isn’t like going to London—it’s not a straight shot. This will take some good old-fashioned sailing, I’m afraid. We’re just past the Isle of Man. When we see the lights of Liverpool we’ll submerge again and come up through the lake on Morganstern farm.
Scorpius glanced aside at the professor. “It’s a good thing you know how to operate a ship like this, isn’t it?”
Odin-Vann shrugged wearily, and then reached to pull a brass latch. With a click, a ratchet, and a whip-crack of rigging, the masts creaked upright again, shuddering into place. “The ship’s been charmed to take us where we want to go. All we have to do is wait and watch.”
“How convenient,” Scorpius nodded, turning back to the dark view beyond the window. “Morganstern did the hexing herself, did she?”
James glanced at Scorpius.
Odin-Vann frowned and blinked, then shook his head faintly.
“Petra? Oh. Yes, of course. She charmed it. I wouldn’t have any idea how to do such a thing.”
“How humble of you,” Scorpius mused, seeming to merely think aloud, “Thus, I assume that we are committed to our destination no matter what?”
Odin-Vann didn’t answer. To the assembly, he said, “I’m going to go below to wash up and try to sleep for an hour. Wake me when the coast comes into sight, eh?”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Zane said, standing rigid and giving a stiff salute.
“I really am going to be sick,” Rose moaned, and pushed toward the door. Cool night air and mist rushed in as she heaved it open and fled out onto the wet deck, angling toward the railing. Odin-Vann followed her and turned toward the stairs into the ship’s hold.
“He certainly seems to have relaxed now that we’re underway,”
Scorpius commented, gazing after the departed professor.