James Potter and the Crimson Thread (James Potter #5)

“Maybe,” Zane agreed doubtfully. “But maybe not. Sounds to me like none of what you saw last night was technically a dream. You have to ask Odin-Vann to be sure. He might be your best bet to help Petra, if help is still possible.”

James nodded reluctantly. Zane was probably right, although he, James, would look a fool—perhaps even a dangerous fool—if he confronted the new Charms teacher about meeting Petra Morganstern and Odin-Van had no idea what he was talking about.

“I have to go,” Zane said soberly. “Time and Professor Wimrinkle wait for no man, especially not Zombie students who are already barely passing his class by the skin of their teeth. But keep me informed. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.

Experimental Communications has some cool new techniques, so I can always find a way to be there if you need me.”

“As long as it’s not make-out o’clock,” James smiled wanly.

Zane nodded. “Precisely.”

A moment later, the Shard filled again with silvery waves of smoke. James sighed and tossed the glass aside onto a cushion, contemplating what he had to do.

It was hard enough to consider asking Professor Odin-Van about Petra.

Much harder still was the prospect of somehow, someway, abandoning his love for her.





James waited until the following weekend to share his latest secret, although by then Rose and Ralph knew that something was up just by looking at him, since he had never been especially good at hiding his thoughts. When Saturday afternoon came, he accompanied Rose to the Room of Requirement once more, knowing that it was the one place they could speak of such things without even the slightest chance of being overheard. Now more than ever, secrecy seemed absolutely imperative, not only for Petra’s security, but their own.

“Why couldn’t we have met down by the Lake?” Rose groused.

“It’s too nice outside to be stuck in the musty old Room of Requirement. And we don’t have many warm days left, you know.”

“The Lake makes me nervous now that we know there’s a big hole at the bottom that drops down into some underground harbor.

Anyone could be down there. You said yourself that sound travels clearly through water if you know how to listen.”

“The portal is very small compared to the bottom of the whole Lake” Rose said, not exactly disagreeing with James. “Otherwise where would the Merpeople live?”

“Them, too,” James said. “I don’t trust those creepy water-dwellers much, either.”

“That’s speciesist,” Rose commented without much feeling as they met Ralph near a large painting, where he seemed to be engaged in a discussion with the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

“So you aren’t barmy after all,” Ralph said doubtfully, frowning and scratching his head. “S’just a title?”

“Indeed,” the portrait replied in a high, nasally voice. “Before the twelfth century, ‘barmy’ merely meant ‘inventive or prone to overheat if one wore a wig in the sun’. I’m just as sane as you or the potted plant or that rather fetching girl behind you.”

Ralph glanced back and was relieved to see Rose approaching, “Of course,” the portrait went on, its face clouding slightly, “there was the matter of my attempt to teach trolls to perform ballet…”

Around and behind the painted visage, pale elephantine legs in pink silk slippers rose and thumped down, shaking the ground in a clumsy, prancing circle.

“I’ve got to stop getting into conversations with paintings,”

Ralph breathed, stepping to join Rose and James. “So what’s this all about, then?”

Rose summoned the Room of Requirement, which materialized, as usual, opposite the portrait of Barnabas and his prancing trolls. The portrait still mumbled to itself uncertainly, and then gave a tittering laugh.

“Inside,” James nodded toward the door as Rose opened it.

The sound of lightly running feet echoed from the hall and James glanced aside, alarmed. A shadow capered into view, preceding the form of his sister, dressed in weekend jeans and a maroon jumper.

“Oh good,” she said, “I’m not too late again.”

“Who invited you?” James exclaimed, taken aback.

“I did,” Rose answered challengingly, poking her head back around the door of the Room of Requirement. “It gets a bit boring being the only real brains in the room, especially since you didn’t bring Walker along this time.”

James sighed. “That’s because he already knows. He’s the reason I’m telling you lot. It’s fine,” he said, turning back to Lily, who gave him a slightly petulant look.

Following Ralph, the group filed into the Room, which looked just as before: smallish and private, dominated by a round table with several chairs and a large Foe Glass on the rear wall. Just as the door started to swing closed, it bumped and swept open again, admitting the figure of Scorpius Malfoy, who blew out a disgruntled breath and flung himself languidly onto the nearest chair.

“I had to interrupt a perfectly good chess match for this, Potter,” he commented importantly. “I was beating Nolan Beetlebrick rather handily. And I had a galleon riding on it.”

“You didn’t need to interrupt anything,” James declared, knitting his brow in annoyed surprise. “Because I deliberately didn’t invite you!”

“Ah, because you’re a good enough wizard to block the Protean charm from any ducks except the ones you want to quack.” The blonde boy produced his own Weasley duck from his pocket, showed it to James and gave it a brief squeeze.

“Sod off!” the duck quipped in its squeaky voice. Written on the duck in blue ink was James’ own handwriting: OotP meeting Saturday 3:30 PM. NO SCORPIUS.

James sank in his seat and muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me, Potter?” Scorpius clarified innocently. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Ralph blinked in surprise and glanced from James to Scorpius.

“I think he said ‘duck yourself’…?”

“Shall we get underway, then?” Rose said, raising her voice suddenly. “I’m sure we all have things we’d rather be doing.”

Behind Rose, the door clicked and shoved open again, admitting a push of air and another figure. Exasperated, James jumped to his feet.

“Hey everyone,” Albus said, stopping in the doorway and looking around. “I figured I’d find you all in here.”

“Anyone else out there we should invite in?” James asked, glaring around the room. “Mrs. Norris the cat? The Wyrd Sisters? Myron Bleedin’ Madrigal and Wizarding Wireless News?”

“Cool your cauldron, James” Albus said in a bored voice, closing the door and falling into a chair. “I’m just here with a message from Professor Debellows. But first, what’s the big news this time?”

With the door finally closed and everyone who could enter accounted for, if not invited, James drew a deep breath, suddenly unsure if he really wanted to share the secret, despite Zane’s advice. He fell back into his chair and studied the tabletop.

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