Gremlins and when he'd gone for the rolling chalkboard. Merlin knew when things were going on around the school, and he'd know what James was up to if James wasn't very careful.
'So do I, Rose,' James agreed as he and his cousin walked down the corridor toward the Great Hall, 'so do I.'
James had a simple plan. He'd talked Cedric's ghost into helping, although it had been a close thing. Cedric didn't like going into the Headmaster's office now that Merlin was occupying it, and there was some sort of boundary that prevented ghosts from entering the Headmaster's personal quarters. Still, Cedric could hover outside the windows and see when the lights went off. Presumably, Merlin slept sometime. When the lights in his quarters had been off for an hour, Cedric was to come and wake James.
James went to bed that night certain that he wouldn't sleep a wink. He was nervous about his plan, partly because he thought he might be caught no matter how sneaky he was and partly because he was afraid of what he'd discover if the plan succeeded. Every time he began to drift to sleep, he'd imagine he was hearing Cedric coming to wake him. It was silly because the ghost made no noise whatsoever unless he wanted to, so James would never hear his approach. Still, every bump and creak caught James' attention until, eventually, he drifted into a fitful sleep.
He had the dream again, but it was different this time. As always, it began with the swish and glimmer of metal blades, frighteningly close, and the rumble of ancient machinery. There was the voice, silky and ingratiating, a little maddening. It echoed so that James couldn't understand it, but occasional phrases slipped through. 'Time is not yet come…,' the voice said, and 'The task set before you…' and '… bearer of redemption…' In the dream, James shuddered.
There was a figure walking with him, but all James could see in the darkness was a faceless silhouette. James seemed to float with the figure, as if carried by it somehow. He felt the scar on his head like a weight. Then, for the first time, light bloomed in the strange space. It emanated from the pool, green and flickering, throwing dancing ripples over every surface. The walls were stone, old and slick with moss. James had a sense of being underground, far from the light of day. The voice continued to speak as figures moved in the brightly glimmering water, like reflections from another world. The voice came from a figure in the dark corner, draped in black. As it spoke, the two faces formed in the water again, their expressions both sad and hopeful, pleading. They were clearer this time, rippling just under the water's surface: a man and a woman, younger than James' parents. James' companion gasped and dropped to kneel, crawling to the water's edge, reaching to touch the rippling surface.
'Stop,' the voice commanded. 'The time is not yet come. You would join them in that world, not return them to this one. Their blood calls for payment. Only then can they cross over. But you can extract that payment. You are the one to bring about redemption, not only for them, but for all who've gone over at the will of the oppressors. You are the hand of balance. Your duty is harsh, and your burden heavy, but it is not without its rewards. You will have them back. And you will live to see the day of change. If you wish it.'
'I wish it,' the voice of James' companion whispered, and James whispered it as well, helpless not to. His voice made no sound at all.
He awoke, startled by some noise. The dream remained vivid in his memory so that it almost felt like he was still dreaming. He sat up in his bed and could tell by the moonlight that it was the very dead of night. Nearby, Graham slept with one arm dangling over the bed. The room was full of the silence of deep sleep.
'Cedric?' James whispered very quietly, careful not to wake anyone. He threw back his covers and slipped out of bed. There was no sign of the ghost. Perhaps he was down in the common room. James collected his wand and his glasses from his satchel and made his way to the stairs. He stopped near the doorway, noticing something strange. Scorpius' bed was rumpled but empty. James narrowed his eyes. Where was that little viper? He thought about Scorpius telling Rose he'd heard James talking in his sleep. Why had Scorpius been awake those times? He was surely up to something. Reluctantly, James determined to think about it later. He had more important things to do now. He turned and crept down the stairs to the common room.
The room was completely empty and dark except for the dull red glow of the fireplace. There was still no sign of Cedric's ghost. James whispered his name again, a little louder this time, but there was no response. James sighed and walked over to the fireplace. As he plopped into the high-back chair, a voice spoke up brightly, shocking him.
'Hey, James!' the voice said. 'Where's everybody at?'
James spluttered, looking around. 'What? Who… Zane?!'
Zane stood by the fireplace, apparently leaning on the mantle, although he didn't quite seem to be touching it. He grinned mischievously. 'Who else? You got my duck, I see.'
'Your—' James began, still recovering from the shock. 'No. What? Your duck? What are you doing here?'
'I sent you a message by duck a few minutes ago,' Zane said, referring to the Protean rubber ducks they used to send notes to each other. James had completely forgotten about his. 'I assumed you got the message. I told you and Ralph to meet me by the fireplace in five minutes. So where's everybody else? This place is dead as a doorknob.'
James rolled his eyes. 'So that's what woke me up! Zane, it's the middle of the night,' he exclaimed, stifling a grin. Zane's utter precociousness always amazed him. 'Ralph's in bed down in the Slytherin quarters. You forgot the time difference again!'
'Oh yeah,' Zane said, grimacing. 'It's only eight here. I mean, there. Where I really am. So what do you think of this? Much better than the lunarfly dust. Do I look all right?'
James squinted. 'Well, you did a minute ago. You're starting to fade a bit around the edges. How are you doing it?'
'It's pretty good, eh?' Zane replied. 'Another of Professor Franklyn's brainstorms. The beauty of it is its simplicity. You ever hear of a Doppelganger?'
James frowned. 'Er, yeah, actually. It's a mythical double of yourself. It shows up to warn you of your own impending death, right?'
Zane nodded brightly. 'Yeah, exactly. Franklyn figured if we faked the circumstances of untimely death, the Doppelganger might show up. Then, when it did, we could harness it and send it out to relay personal messages, like this one.'
'So you're in mortal peril over there?' James asked, furrowing his brow.
'Yes and no. The Doppelganger has to think so, but Professor Franklyn has it all worked out. There're loads of fail-safes. I'm only technically in mortal peril. When we finish talking, I'll be in the clear again. It's all a little complicated, but the Department has worked out most of the bugs. You have your wand with you?'
'Er, yeah,' James answered.
'Shoot me with it, will you? It doesn't matter how. A Stinging Hex or something. I'm starting to fade out.'
'What? I mean, are you sure?'
'Totally. Make it quick. See, the problem with this method of communicating is maintaining the magic over long distances. We need a boost from your end to keep it up; otherwise, I'll just fade out.'
James produced his wand and, reluctantly, pointed it at the fading figure of Zane. 'Acervespa,' he pronounced. A thin, needlelike bolt shot out of his wand. Zane's figure seemed to absorb the bolt. It grew suddenly solid again.
'That hit the spot,' Zane said. 'So how're things across the pond?'
'Ugh,' James said, slouching in his chair. 'Complicated. Albus is a Slytherin, I'm getting phantom broadcasts through some kind of ghost scar, the son of Dad's mortal enemy stole my bed, and everybody is worried Merlin has gone evil.'
Zane grimaced. 'Whoa. That's a mouthful. One thing at a time. You don't think the big guy's gone evil, do you?'
