"Petra!" James called again, as if he meant to wake her. Albus knew it was a futile effort. She wasn't merely asleep. She had been Stunned into unconsciousness. Probably it had been the only way the court officials could apprehend her. Still, it hurt his heart a little to see it. It was a bit like seeing a noble dragon declawed and defanged, or a captured warrior princess with all of her hair cut off. There was something shameful about it and something rather deeply frightening. Not just because Petra was so silent in her unconsciousness, but because Albus knew that they wouldn't be able to keep her unconscious forever. Eventually, she would wake up.
Slowly, carefully, the gathered court policemen and women maneuvered Petra's body into the wide front doors of the Medical College. Keynes held one of the doors open for them, smiling that infuriating, smug smile. Inside, Albus knew, were potions that could place someone into a deep sleep, virtually dreamless.
But they won't be able to keep her unconscious forever, Albus thought again, and shuddered faintly. Eventually, Petra would wake up. Perhaps Izzy would be gone by then, spirited off to her new home in the Muggle world, her memory of Alma Aleron, the magical world, and Petra herself completely erased. Perhaps they would have succeeded in imprisoning Petra by then, for all the good it might (or might not) do. Unlike James, Albus didn't know that Petra was a sorceress, but he sensed nonetheless that she was no typical witch. Eventually, sometime, Petra would surely wake up. It was inevitable.
And when she did, Albus was quite sure of one thing: when she woke up, she would be very, very angry.
21. Unlikely Alliances
"Petra!" James called, not even feeling Ralph and Zane's hands on his shoulders, holding him back. Distantly, he was aware that he had produced his wand from his robes, was raising it as if he meant to attack Albert Keynes and his troop of court officials. It was preposterous, of course, but for the moment, he was beyond such practicalities. They had taken her, had Stunned her unconscious like some sort of wild animal, and were dragging her away for imprisonment.
The doors of the Medical College swung slowly shut, cutting off the view of the pathetically hovering young woman and her cadre of guards. Keynes watched James through the gently closing doors, his expression sadly patronizing. Did you really think I wouldn't learn the truth? His gaze seemed to say. And then, with a soft click, the doors closed.
"No," James groaned. "It's not supposed to happen this way. They weren't supposed to convict her yet! We're so close!"
"It's not over yet," Zane said quietly, seriously, finally releasing James' shoulder. "We can still set things to rights."
Ralph nodded. "Yeah, it isn't over yet."
James barely heard them, however. He could feel the invisible silver thread that connected him to Petra. It was cold, flowing down the center of his arm like a vein of ice, filling his head with murky visions and shreds of dreams, broadcast directly from Petra's sleeping mind. She was dreaming of her capture, replaying it over and over. James caught phantom glimpses of his own parents on the street outside their flat, helpless and angry. Lily was there, standing on the footpath next to Izzy. They were holding hands. Both of them looked shocked, disbelieving. In the center of the street, Keynes and his crew called Petra out, surrounding her, raising their wands toward her. He heard Petra's own voice in her memory, confused and dismayed, claiming that she would come quietly, that it was all a mistake…
It isn't a mistake, Keynes had said blandly, his own wand trained unflinchingly on her. And you certainly will come quietly.
There were flashes then, coming from many directions at once. Petra had tried to fight their force, but she hadn't been prepared. It was too sudden, and there'd been too many of them. Blackness had overtaken her then, and in her unconscious mind, the scene began to play over again, like a needle skipping on an old record.
Anger swelled in James' chest, overwhelming him. Before he knew it, he was running, darting toward the Medical Center, his wand still in his hand, gripped hard enough to emit red sparks from its tip. He heard Zane and Ralph call out to him again followed by the alarmed cries of both Albus and Lucy, but those things didn't matter. He followed the invisible silvery thread, chasing it like a beacon.
He burst through the doors of the Medical College and bolted through the lobby, his footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor. He made it only a few paces before a burst of light startled him. His wand sprang from his hand and clattered to the floor, spinning off into the hall.
"Leave it," a voice commanded quickly, even as James scrambled after it. James stopped and spun around, panting. Albert Keynes was standing in a corner just inside the main doors, his own wand raised comfortably, as if he had merely been waiting for James.
"Good choice," Keynes said, unsmiling. "I don't blame you for being upset, young man, but I would hate to see you do anything rash. You really must learn to control your emotions."
"She's not guilty!" James said, almost shouting in rage and frustration. "You must know that!"
Keynes cocked his head pityingly. "I'd advise you to leave now, Mr. Potter. I will turn your wand over to the Chancellor, from whom you may collect it at a later time, once you have calmed yourself."
"She didn't do it!" James repeated, advancing on Keynes, his hands opening and closing at his sides, helplessly empty.
"Ms. Morganstern is guilty, Mr. Potter," Keynes said calmly, his voice almost infuriatingly bland and quiet. "I have exhausted every possibility of her innocence. It is my job. Justice must be served."
"Who'd you talk to?" James demanded, shaking his head in fury. "Whoever they are, they lied!"
Keynes raised his chin slightly, his pale face growing stony. "Beware what questions you ask, my young friend," he said coolly. "You may get answers you do not wish to hear."
"You don't know anything!" James spat, stopping in the center of the foyer. Tears of frustration pricked the corners of his eyes, but he willed them back. "You can't know anything. Whatever you've heard, it's all lies!"
"I fear," Keynes said, his voice so low and quiet that James had to strain to hear him, "that it is you who have been lied to, Mr. Potter. Lied to by Ms. Morganstern herself."
James' face heated in an angry blush, almost as if he knew that Keynes was right. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, dropping his own voice.
I know what happened at Morganstern Farm," Keynes said slowly, his eyes boring into James. "Do you?"
"I know enough," James said, his cheeks still burning. "I know that she escaped from an awful life with her stepmother. Her sister too."
Keynes was shaking his head gravely. "You know what Ms. Morganstern wishes you to know. But she has kept the worst of it from you."
"And what's the worst of it—" James demanded, but Keynes was answering already, interrupting him, his words calculated to cut like a razor.
"Ms. Morganstern killed her stepmother," Keynes said carefully, making certain that James heard every word. James stared at him dumbly, and Keynes went on, drawing a sad little sigh. "She was a Muggle woman, powerless and helpless to fight back against such ferocity. Ms. Morganstern killed the woman using magic that was both stunning and inexplicable. She used a tree to do it. It sounds rather incredible, doesn't it? Apparently, Ms. Morganstern brought the tree to life, forced it to collect her stepmother, and then commanded it to drown her in a nearby lake. Worse, she did it within sight of the woman's own daughter, Izabella Morganstern. I scarcely believed it myself, but the evidence of the scene of the crime corroborates the story quite convincingly. The crater where the tree once stood is still there. And, of course, the witness is very persuasive."
When James tried to speak, his voice came out in a dry croak. "What witness?"
Keynes pressed his lips together thoughtfully, and James assumed he wouldn't answer, but then Keynes met his gaze again. "A witch," he replied very quietly. "You couldn't possibly know her. She lived in the area at the time, and was given to morning walks around the lake in question. She is a lover of n
ature, you see, and water in particular. She strove to remain hidden during her morning strolls out of fear of being arrested for trespassing since the lake was a part of Morganstern Farm. Still, her conscience bade her to tell me what she witnessed. She sought me out, in fact. Had it not been for her, and for the veracity of her story, Ms. Morganstern might well have gotten away with the murder she committed that morning. And as you can imagine, this charge only further convinced me of the truth of Mr. Henredon's allegations about what happened in the Hall of Archives. Why, without this woman's noble testimony, Ms. Morganstern might have gone scot-free."
James felt rooted to the floor, cold and solid as a statue. "Who was she?" he asked, again not expecting an answer, and yet fearing that he knew the answer nonetheless. Of course he did. He could picture her even now in his memory; long red hair, mostly hidden beneath a dark hood, glittering green eyes, unnaturally perfect, pale skin. People tend not to notice me, she had said on the night James first met her in the halls of the Aquapolis. Unless they want to. Or unless I make them.
"You do not know her," Keynes said, smiling condescendingly at James. "She is rather a secretive woman, perhaps even reclusive, although quite fetching, in her own way."
"She didn't even give you her name, did she?" James whispered, shaking his head. "She was that 'secretive', wasn't she? She was lying to you. She had to be."
"She was not lying," Keynes stated coldly, his eyes narrowing. "And she most certainly did give me her name, Mr. Potter. Not that it should matter to you. Her name…" He stopped, apparently considering whether he should go on. Finally he lowered his voice to a near mutter and went on. "Her first name is Judith. That's all you need to know. Now begone. Quickly, before I grow impatient."
James stood on the spot, however, his eyes wide, his brow knitted in consternation. Judith. He'd heard that name before. But where? His thoughts races as he tried to place it.
"Go!" Keynes commanded, flicking his wand again. James stumbled backwards as a mild force shoved him, buffeting him like a hot wind. He turned, ignoring Keynes' earlier instructions, and scooped up his wand from the floor. A moment later, he burst out into the warm air of the summer evening. Zane, Ralph and Lucy were waiting for him, wide-eyed and worried. James shook his head at them and headed across the campus, making his way to Apollo Mansion.
"What happened?" Zane demanded, trotting to catch up. "Did you see her?"
"No," James answered, walking fast, his mind spinning. "You lot go on up to the library. I… er, need to grab a few more books. I'll meet you there in a few minutes. We can talk about it then."
Ralph, Zane and Lucy agreed, albeit reluctantly.
James didn't really need any of his books, however. What he really needed was a few minutes to think. It was awfully difficult. Keynes words clanged like lead weights in James' memory, blotting out his own thoughts. Was any of it true? Did it change anything? Was it too late to help Petra now? Did Petra truly deserve his help? There were so many questions, and so few answers. James stalked along in a sort of numb fugue, barely seeing the campus as it unrolled around him. He was on the footpath that led up to Apollo Mansion when he finally, unexpectedly, remembered where he'd heard the name Judith before. He stopped, his brow furrowed, perplexed.
Judith had been the name of Merlin's betrothed love, back in the distant past, a thousand years earlier. James remembered Rose telling him all about it last year. Merlin had never married Judith, of course, due to a series of tragic events that had ended, finally, with her death at Merlin's own unknowing hand. Could there be some sort of connection?
James thought of the woman he had met in the corridors of the Aquapolis, and then later seen on the Zephyr, and then, later still, witnessed coming out of the Hall of Archives on the night of the attack, apparently in the company of Petra. Could she really be the same woman that had sought out Keynes and told him the terrible tale of what had happened at Morganstern Farm? Why would she do such a thing? How could she have known? Worse, was her testimony true? Had Petra truly killed her stepmother? And finally, somehow most nagging of all, was there some strange connection between this mysterious woman and the Judith of Merlin's tragic past?
It was impossible, of course. And yet James couldn't shake the suspicion. It buzzed around his head like a cloud of gnats, persistent and teasing. After all, it wasn't a particularly common name, Judith.
And then, out of nowhere, James remembered one more thing that Rose had told him: like the Morgansterns, Merlin's Judith had had a lake on her farm. In fact, it had formed the source of her nickname amongst the local villagers.
"Judith," James whispered to himself, musing. "The Lady of the Lake."
At the sound of his own words, a shiver coursed down James' back. Despite the evening's early summer warmth, it shook him all the way to his toes.
The final days of the school year began to run past quickly, draining away like grains of sand in a giant hourglass. Older students were most often seen buried in their books or studying in tense knots all over the campus. Final exams filled the last week's schedule, looming like vultures. James was amazed that the year had gone by so quickly. As he walked to classes, he occasionally glanced back at the Warping Willow, positioned near the southwest corner of the mall in the shadow of the guest house, and reminded himself that he would soon be using it to go back home for good. He was glad of this, and yet it all seemed so far away and remote—the Potter family home in Marble Arch, Kreacher, even Hogwarts, although he had seen the Gryffindor common room many times throughout the school year via the Shard.
Sometimes it seemed to James that it had only been a few days since his arrival at Alma Aleron. He remembered his first nights on campus, sleeping in the common dorm with its creepy clockwork monkey bellhop. He recalled (with a pang of embarrassment) the debacle of the Great Flag Switch escapade, which had destroyed his and Ralph's chances of joining Zombie House. Patches the cat had warned them about pledging at Zombie House, and he had apparently been right. The cat had suggested that they rush for Igor House. In retrospect, maybe he'd been onto something. James was fairly good at Technomancy despite his hesitance to admit it. Kneazle or not, Patches apparently knew stuff.
As the final week's exams wore on, a hard summer heat wave descended over the school, raising heat shimmers from the footpaths and making the new leaves hang limp from their branches, as if exhausted. Students loosened their ties and carried their blazers disconsolately under their arms or over their shoulders. Old-fashioned magical fans were placed in many of the buildings' entryways, their fat blades humming loudly, pushing the hot air around the halls and rustling the papers tacked to the bulletin boards. Students clustered in front of these fans, holding lackluster conversations or studying sheets of last-minute notes, furiously cramming for their impending exams.
Despite James' distractions, he felt confident that he was doing fairly well with his end-of-term exams. Through the Shard, Rose had offered, albeit tiredly, to help him, Ralph, and Zane to study since the Hogwarts school term lasted a bit longer than Alma Aleron's.
"I would ask you to return the favor in the next few weeks," she'd said, rolling her eyes. "But I expect that'd be a bit like asking for blood from a rock."
"Is that likely to be on the exam?" Ralph had asked suddenly, looking up from his bed, where he'd been poring over his Advanced Elemental Transmutation textbook. "We did butterflies from stones already. I don't remember blood from a rock." He flipped some pages while Rose sighed helplessly.
After studying late Thursday afternoon, James explained everything to Rose. Scorpius was not present, thankfully, otherwise he might not have.
"So what are you going to do?" Rose asked seriously, now standing next to the mantel in the Gryffindor common room so they could all keep their voices low. "I mean, if she's guilty, she's guilty. You can't stand in the way of justice."
James sighed deeply. He asked his cousin, "Do you really believe she's guilty?"
Rose shrugged, as if the question w
as too big to answer. "I don't know," she replied somberly. "Scorpius thinks she did it. So do Damien and Sabrina. I mean, we all like Petra and all, but it doesn't look very good, does it? That Arbiter bloke spoke to them, you know, and Ted too. Via Floo. He found out that they were all there when everything, er, came down at Petra's grandparents' farm. They told him to go hex himself, in so many words, but he already seemed to know everything. I hid behind the couch during the interview. He was one smug beast, I'll tell you."
"You got that one right," Zane commented from James' bed, where he lounged amidst a pile of books and notes. "Nobody should enjoy 'justice' as much as he does. He's just a bully with a badge if you ask me."
"So what do they plan to do with Petra?" Rose asked in a hushed voice.
Zane shrugged briskly. "She's still in the Medical College detention wing, only a few doors down from old Madame Delacroix, I hear. Lucy volunteers there sometimes, so she's been keeping us in the loop. Hardly anybody is allowed within fifty feet of Petra's door. They have guards posted all over the place, even though Petra's been unconscious the whole time. They gave her the poison apple treatment."
"Poison apple?" Rose blinked, frowning. "Is that a joke?"
"Nope," Zane said seriously. "Mother Newt makes 'em. One bite and you're out for good, or at least until someone says the magic word to wake you up. They had to give it to Petra by hand since she was already out cold when they brought her in. Until they know how to move her and lock her up, that's where she'll stay, sleeping under its spell. She may be powerful, but nobody wakes up from the poison apple on their own."
"What about Izzy?" Rose pressed. "Can't Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny just adopt her? Why's the court say she has to be Obliviated?"
"It's the law," James said darkly. "Izzy's a Muggle, remember? As long as she had a free and living magical relative, she'd have been allowed to live in the wizarding world. But now Petra's been convicted of a crime, so Izzy is on her own. If she was of age it would be a different story, but since she's not, the law says that she has to be sent back to the Muggle world."