Текст книги "James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing"

Автор книги: G. Norman Lippert

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Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 37 страниц)

17.Night of the Returning

To her credit, Madam Curio didn't let Professor Jackson's accusations influence her treatment of James. She examined the fracture for several minutes, poking and pinching, and then carefully splinted it. She fell into a harsh but pedantic diatribe about the woes of Quidditch injuries, but it sounded to James like something she'd said a hundred times before. Her mind was elsewhere, and James didn't need to guess what was preoccupying her. The invasion of Martin Prescott into the school had caused a wave of speculation and anxiety. His identity as a Muggle news reporter, and the fact that he was being kept in the Alma Aleron's quarters had fed a load of rumors. There was a cloud of unease over the entire school, not alleviated by the Headmistress' announcement that Ministry officials were arriving to deal with Mr. Prescott. As Madam Curio measured the Skele-Gro dosage, James caught her glancing at him suspiciously, looking him up and down. Somebody had to have let the interloper in, after all. Why not this first-year son of the Head Auror? James knew that some people–those who believed the lies of the Progressive Element–would expect him to pull just such a stunt. Earlier that day, he'd heard a voice from a cluster of students saying, "It makes sense, doesn't it? The whole Auror line is that the Law of Secrecy is our only protection from the supposed Muggle witch-hunters. So what do they do? They allow this guy to sneak in and scare us all into thinking Muggles are hiding out in the forest, behind every bush with a torch and a pyre, ready to burn us all at the stake. It's preposterous. I say let him do his story. That'll show those Ministry power-mongers what for."

        "There," Madam Curio said, straightening. "All finished. You'll feel some tingling and itching overnight as the bone knits. That's perfectly normal. Don't fiddle with the splint. The last thing you'll want is for the bones to knit crookedly. The only fix for that would be for me to re-break the bone and start all over, and we certainly wouldn't want that. Now," she gestured towards the row of beds, "pick whichever you like. I'll see that breakfast is brought to you here in the morning. You may as well make yourself comfortable."

        James slung his backpack onto one of the bedside tables and climbed up onto the unusually high bed. It was a very comfortable bed, and for good reason, since all the mattresses in the hospital wing had been infused with Relaxation Charms. The charms, however, had no effect on James' thoughts, which were dark with frustration and anxiety. Professor Jackson had admitted that tonight was a night of ultimate importance. It wasn't simply speculation anymore. And now here James was, stuck for the night in the hospital wing, neatly trapped by Professor Jackson's crafty interpretation of Headmistress McGonagall's instructions. Alone for the first time since the attempted broomstick caper, James felt the full impact of what had happened out on the Quidditch pitch. It had seemed like a crazy plan from the beginning, but no more so than the plan to capture Professor Jackson's briefcase, and that had worked, hadn't it? Everything had been a success so far, until now. It was as if an invisible brick wall had suddenly blocked them, halting their progress at the last, ultimate moment. Arguably, the Merlin staff was the most powerful element of the three relics. Even now, Corsica, Jackson, and Delacroix were probably preparing to bring the relics together, unaware that they were missing the robe, but with the two most important relics in their possession.

        In spite of his anxieties, James had begun to drift sleepily under the influence of the charmed mattress. Now he sat up, his heart beating hard in his chest. What would happen when Jackson opened his case and found Ralph's dress robes instead of the relic robe of Merlin? The Visum-ineptio charm would break, then, wouldn't it? Jackson would see the case for what it was. He'd recognize it, and remember that day in Technomancy class, when James, Ralph, and Zane had used the fake case to trick him. He had thought they'd failed, had even referred to it while taking James to the hospital wing. He would surely realize then that they hadn't failed. Jackson was smart. He'd know which of the boys had the real robe. Not Zane or Ralph, but James. The boy he hadn't 'pegged' yet. Would Jackson come to the hospital wing to demand the robe? No, even as James thought it, he knew Jackson wouldn't. He'd go straight to James' trunk in the Gryffindor boys' quarters. He'd probably claim to be searching for clues about James' involvement in the unnamed dangerous plot against Hogwarts. Jackson would surely get James' trunk open, and then he'd retrieve the robe. Everything James, Ralph, and Zane, and even the Gremlins had risked would be in vain. It would indeed be over, and there was nothing James could do about it.

James struck the bedside table with his fist in frustration. Madam Curio, seated at her desk in the corner, gasped and put a hand over her chest. She looked at James, but didn't say anything. James pretended not to see her.

        His backpack had slipped sideways when he'd slammed his fist onto the table. Resolutely, he grabbed it and opened it. He took out his parchments and his ink and quill. He knew that, under normal conditions, Madam Curio would never allow a patient to have an open ink bottle on her clean white sheets, but as far as she was concerned, she was harboring a potentially dangerous individual. Best not to provoke him. James bent over the parchment and wrote quickly, awkwardly, with his splinted arm, not even noticing the way his hand smeared the inky wet letters.

Dear Dad,

I'm sorry I took the M. Map and the I. Cloak. I know I shouldn't

have, but I needed them, and I thought it was what you would have done, so I

hope you aren't too mad. I know I don't stand a chance with Mum, but put in

a good word, will you?

         The reason I took them is because I've discovered something really sneaky and scary going on here at school. Some of the American teachers are in on it, though not Franklyn. He's cool. Also, the P.E. here is in on it. I don't want to tell you about it in a letter, but even if I am in big trouble with you and Mum, I need you to come. Can you be here tomorrow? Miss Sacarhina says you are on an important job and not to be interrupted, so maybe you can't, but try, OK? It's really important and I need your help.

Love,

James

        James folded the parchment and tied it with a bit of twine. He didn't know how he'd send it, but he felt better just having written it. He remembered now that he'd intended to write his dad about the Merlin plot way back when they'd captured the robe, and he berated himself for not doing it then. He'd thought, at the time, that his reasons for not telling his dad were good ones, but now, trapped in the hospital wing on the ultimate night of the Merlin plot, and knowing that, despite everything, Jackson might very possibly capture the relic robe back from him, it seemed foolish and arrogant that he hadn't written his dad about it earlier.

        An idea struck James and he dug in his backpack again. A moment later, he held his Weasley brand rubber duck in his hands. It still had Zane's handwriting on the bottom: Laundry Room! James dipped his quill and drew a line through that, then, underneath it, he wrote: hospital wing: send Nobby to the east window. When he was finished, he gave the duck a sharp squeeze. "Manky barmpot!" it quacked.

In the corner, Madam Curio once again startled and looked accusingly at James. Potential criminal or not, she clearly thought his behavior unaccountably rude.

        "Sorry, Madam," James said, holding up the rubber duck. "It wasn't me. It was my duck."

        "I see," she said with obvious disapproval. "Perhaps now would be a good time for me to retire for the evening. You won't be, er, needing anything, will you?"

        James shook his head. "No, Madam. Thanks. My arm feels loads better, anyway."

        "Don't fiddle with it, like I said, and you'll be fine by morning, I expect." She stood and hurried past James toward the leaded-glass doors. Two figures could be seen through the milky glass, and James knew that they were Philia Goyle and Kevin Murdock, both kindly sent by Professor Jackson to watch the doors. Madam Curio unlocked the doors and went out, offering her good-evenings to the sentries. The door clicked shut behind her and James heard the bolt clack into place. He sighed in frustration, and then jumped as his rubber duck quacked a loud insult next to him. He raised it and looked at the bottom. Below his handwriting was a new line of black letters: open th e window: ten minutes.

        James felt a little better. He hadn't been sure that either Ralph or Zane would be in any position to hear or respond to their ducks. In fact, he'd had no word whatsoever about what had happened to the rest of the Gremlins. He felt cautiously confident that none had been caught, although Ralph's predicament, left in the middle of the Slytherin holding pens, was probably worse than anyone else's. Despite that, he figured that even Ralph had gotten out all right. Once everyone had seen James explode out of the holding pen riding Tabitha's broom, attention had probably focused on his wild ride, and then Tabitha's summoning of her broomstick, bringing both it and James back to the pitch. Most likely, Ralph had slipped out at that point and returned to the shed, along with the Gremlins.

        James watched the clock over Madam Curio's desk as the minutes ticked away. He struggled with the impulse to go and open the window before the ten minutes had passed. If Madam Curio came back and saw him standing by an open window, she'd suspect treachery even though the window was at least thirty feet above the ground. Finally, as the minute hand ticked into place, announcing eight fifteen, James jumped off the bed. He grabbed the letter from the bedside table and ran lightly toward the far right window. The latch turned easily and James opened the window onto cool, misty night. The sky had finally cleared, revealing a dusting of silvery stars, but there was no sign of Nobby. James leaned over the sill, looking along the ledge, and a monstrous silent shape loomed out of the darkness toward him, blotting out the stars. It fell over him heavily, surrounded him, and yanked him bodily out the window before he had time to shout for help.

        The figure squeezed him so that James' breath whooshed out of him. Far below, a voice called in a loud stage whisper, "Not so hard! You'll grind his bones, already!" James was amazed to recognize Zane's voice. The gigantic hand loosened a bit and James saw yards of female giant going past as he was lowered toward the ground.

        "Nicely done, Prechka!" Zane called, patting the giant on her shin. She grunted happily and opened her hand, unrolling James onto the ground between her massive feet.

        "I thought you were just bringing Nobby!" James gasped, clambering up.

        "It was Ted's idea," Ralph said, moving out of the shadow of a nearby shrubbery. "He knew you'd want to get out and see to this whole Merlin affair, especially now. He went off to find Grawp the moment you were taken off by Jackson. Grawp found Prechka, who's tall enough to reach the hospital wing, and we were just trying to figure out how to get you to the window when you ducked at us. Worked out pretty neatly, we thought."

        "I'll say," James said, rubbing his ribs with the heel of his left palm. "Good thing she's left-handed or I'd probably need a whole new dose of Skele-Gro for my arm. She's got a grip! So where is Ted, anyway?"

        "House arrest, along with the rest of the Gremlins," Zane said, shrugging. "McGonagall knew they were involved in the broomstick thieving plot, even if she can't prove it yet. She probably would have let it slide–she has bigger frogs to dissect with Recreant and Sacarhina here–but Jackson's idea was to have all the Gremlins out of the way until tomorrow, when the whole thing with this Prescott dude was taken care of. Ted was sent off to the Gryffindor common room the moment he got back from the forest with Grawp. Everybody's there except Sabrina, who took a pretty ugly Gigantism Curse from Corsica. Her nose is the size of a soccerball. Nothing for it but to sleep it off, apparently. I think we'd have been under guard, too, except that Jackson thinks Ralph's too dim to be involved in the broomstick plot and I had the perfect alibi, being right there on the field the whole time. So here we are. What's the plan, James?"

        James glanced from Zane to Ralph to Prechka, and then took a deep breath. "Same as before. We need to get out to the Grotto Keep to stop Jackson, Delacroix, and whoever else is involved. We still need to capture the Merlin staff, if we can, and most importantly, we need to escape so we can testify about whoever is involved."

        "Hear, hear," Ralph agreed.

        "But first," James said, holding up the letter he'd written to his dad, "I need to send this. I should've sent it weeks ago, but better late than never. Ted was right. We need help. If we hadn't asked the Gremlins to help us, I'd still be stuck up there in the hospital wing."

        "If we hadn't asked the Gremlins to help us, you might not have gotten thrown in there in the first place," Ralph muttered, but without much feeling.

        "Zane," James said, turning toward him and stuffing the letter into his pocket, "what time is the alignment supposed to happen?"

        "Nine fifty-five," Zane answered. "We've only got an hour and a half."

        James nodded. "Meet me at the edge of the forest near the lake in fifteen minutes. Bring Prechka if she'll come."

Zane looked up the dark bulk of the giantess. "I don't think we could get rid of her if we wanted to. She seems to like helping."

        "Excellent. Ralph, you have your wand?"

        Ralph produced his ridiculously large wand from his back pocket. The lime-green painted tip glowed eerily in the darkness. "Don't leave home without it," he said.

        "All right, keep it handy. You're on guard duty. Try to remember everything we learned in D.A.D.A. and be ready to put it to use. This is it, then. Let's go."

        James darted through the shadows of the corridors, trying to move both quickly and inconspicuously, which was rather a challenge. He arrived at the portrait hole just as Steven Metzker was coming out.

        "James!" Steven said, blinking in surprise. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be…" He stopped, and then glanced around the darkened corridors. "Get inside before anyone sees you."

        "Thanks, Steven," James said, ducking into the portrait hole.

        "Don't mention it," Steven replied. "And I really mean that. I never saw you, and you never saw me. Don't make me regret this."

        "Regret what? Nothing happened."

        Steven stepped into the hall as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut on James.

        The Gremlins, except for Sabrina, were gathered by the fireplace, looking sulky and agitated. Noah saw James and sat up. "I see Prechka found her man." The others turned and grinned wickedly.

        "What are you doing here?" Ted said, growing serious. "Ralph and Zane just left to get you. It took us half the night to get your stuff sorted out after that disaster at the Quidditch pitch, so it's getting pretty late. You should be heading out to the island. You want us to come along?"

        "No, you're all in enough trouble. I just came to mail this." He held up the letter. Ted nodded in approval, sensing who it was for. "I'm meeting Ralph and Zane by the forest in ten minutes."

        "I want to come," Noah said, standing up. "Corsica cursed Sabrina. I want to return the favor on her behalf."

        James shook his head. "You three have a different job tonight, and it may well involve a curse or two. If Ralph, Zane, and I fail, Jackson or somebody will probably show up here looking for the Merlin robe. You three need to guard it. If anyone comes looking for it, you have to stop them, no matter what. I hate to ask you to do that, but… will you?"

Petra nodded and looked at Noah and Ted. "Not a problem. But as much as we'd all like a chance to plug one of those guys, do try not to fail, won't you?"

        James nodded, and then turned and ran up the stairs to the boys' sleeping quarters. The room was empty and dark but for one candle near the door to the tiny bathroom. Nobby, who hadn't gotten the principle of the Owlery and continued to show up at James' window, was sleeping in his cage.

        "Nobby," James whispered urgently, "got a message for you to deliver to Dad. I know it's late, but it's really important." The great bird raised his head from beneath his wing and clicked his beak sleepily. James opened the cage door, letting Nobby hop out onto the ledge of the table. When the note was tied to Nobby's outstretched leg, James opened the window.

        "And this time, when you come back, go to the Owlery. Nice as it is to have you around, you're going to get me in even more trouble. All right?"

        The owl peered at James with his enormous, inscrutable eyes, then hopped onto the window ledge. With a gust of flapping wings, Nobby launched out into the darkness.

        James was about to plunge back down the stairs again when his eye was caught by the dark bulk of his trunk. Was it slightly out of its normal position? He felt a sudden, icy dread. Maybe Jackson had already been for the robe. Perhaps he'd checked his briefcase before heading out to the Grotto Keep, just to be sure, and discovered the trickery. Surely the Gremlins below would have seen Jackson coming and going, but then again, maybe not. As James had realized earlier, Jackson was smart. Maybe he'd disguised himself or maybe he'd asked Madame Delacroix to use her Remote Physio-Apparition skills to simply appear in the boys' sleeping quarters to collect the robe directly. Then again, Ted had mentioned that Zane and Ralph had been there, sorting things out after the Quidditch disaster. James had to know. He hunkered down next to his trunk and produced his wand. The case unlocked at his command, and he riffled through the contents until he found the case buried at the bottom. It was still there, but it was slightly open. James gasped in fear, then felt inside. His fingers found the smooth folds of cloth. He could even smell that haunting smell of leaves and earth and living, breathing winds. He heaved a gigantic sigh of relief.

        With the trunk open, James wondered if there was anything he might need for his adventure at the island. He glanced around at the unruly pile of clothes and supplies on the end of his bed. After a moment's consideration, he grabbed the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak. He clapped the trunk shut, used his wand to lock it, and then, having left his backpack on the table in the hospital wing, he stuffed the map and the cloak into a leather book bag his mum had given him at the beginning of the year. He turned and clumped down the stairs quickly, stopping only to remind Noah, Petra, and Ted about Delacroix's powers.

        "Don't worry," Noah said, jumping up and heading for the stairs. "We'll take turns keeping an eye on your trunk. One-hour shifts, right Ted?"

        Ted nodded. Satisfied, James ducked through the portrait hole to go meet Ralph and Zane.

Five minutes later, as he came out of the courtyard and onto the grounds, James' eyes were too dazzled from the interior lights to be able to see clearly in the darkness. He felt his way down the slope toward the lake until he heard Zane whistling, apparently trying to sound like a bird. The sound came from his left, and as James turned toward it, he was finally able to make out the bulk of the giantess standing at the edge of the woods. Zane and Ralph were huddled nearby.

        "That was pretty good, wasn't it?" Zane said, grinning. "I saw that in a James Bond movie. I thought you'd appreciate it."

        "Nice," James nodded. The cool of the night air settled over him and James felt a wild sense of excitement and fear. This was it. There was no turning back. Even now, his absence from the hospital wing was probably being discovered. There might be trouble tomorrow, but if they failed now, there'd be even worse trouble to come. James glanced up at Prechka. "Will she let us ride on her shoulders? It's the only way we'll get there in time."

        Prechka heard him. In answer, she bent down, making the earth shudder as her knees struck the hillside. "Prechka help," she said, trying to keep the boom out of her voice. "Prechka carry small ones." She grinned at James and her head, now at his level, was nearly as tall as he was. Zane, Ralph, and James took turns scrambling up her arm and onto the giantess' great, sloping shoulders. James needed Ralph and Zane to help him up, as his splinted right arm was almost no use to him. When she stood, it was like riding a freight elevator into the treetops. Without a word, she began to lumber into the forest. The upper branches of the trees swept past, occasionally groaning as Prechka pushed them aside like reeds.

        "How does she know where she's going?" James asked in a hushed voice.

        Ralph shrugged. "Grawp told her. I don't know how, but apparently, it's a giant thing. They just remember where they've been and how to get there again. It's probably how they find each other's hovels in the mountains. I didn't understand the language at all, but she seems pretty sure of herself."

        Riding Prechka was an altogether different experience than riding Grawp. Where the he-giant had been careful and delicate, the giantess swayed and thumped, her footsteps shuddering up her body and shaking the boys. James thought it was rather like riding on a gigantic walking metronome. The forest swam past, eerie from this strange, high perspective, as if it were clawing at the sky. After a while, James tugged on the giantess' burlap tunic. "Stop here, Prechka. We're close and I don't want them to hear us coming, if we can avoid it."

        Prechka put out a hand, halting herself against a huge, gnarled oak tree. Carefully, she lowered herself and the boys climbed off her shoulders, sliding down her arm to the ground.

        "Wait here, Prechka," James said into the giantess' enormous, lumpy face. She nodded slowly, seriously, and then stood again. He could only hope that her understanding of their wishes was better than Grawp's, who had wandered off in search of food after only a few minutes when he'd brought them out here last year.

"This way," Zane said, pointing. James could see the glitter of moonlight on water through the trees. As quietly as possible, the boys threaded through the tree trunks and underbrush. Within a few minutes, they emerged at the perimeter of the lake. The island of the Grotto Keep could be seen further along the edge of the water. It loomed monstrously, grown to gothic, cathedral proportions for its ultimate night. The dragon's head bridge was clearly visible, open wide, both welcoming and threatening at the same time. James heard Ralph gulp. Silently, they made their way toward it.

        As they reached the opening onto the bridge, the moon slipped from behind a raft of wispy clouds. The island of the Grotto Keep unveiled fully in that silvery glow. There was virtually no hint of the wild, wooded nature of the island now. The dragon's head bridge was a carefully sculpted horror, yawning open before them. At its throat, the vine encrusted gate was as solid-looking and ornate as wrought iron. James could clearly read the poem inscribed on the doors.

        "It's closed," Zane whispered, rather hopefully. "Does that mean anything?"

        James shook his head. "I don't know. Come on, let's see if we can get in."

        Single file, the three boys tiptoed across the bridge. James, in the lead, saw the bridge's upper jaw open further as they approached the gate. It didn't creak this time. The motion was silent and oily, almost unnoticeable. The gates, however, remained firmly closed. James made to reach for his wand, and then stopped, hissing in pain. He'd forgotten about the splint on his fractured right arm.

        "Ralph, you'll have to do it," James said, sidling to the right to let Ralph in front of him. "My wand hand's no use. Besides, you're the spells genius."

        "Wh-what am I supposed to do?" Ralph stammered, pulling out his wand.

        "Just use the Unlocking Spell."

        "Whoa, wait!" Zane said, throwing up a hand. "Last time we tried that, we were almost tree food, remember?"

        "That was then," James said reasonably. "The island wasn't ready. Tonight's the night it exists for, I think. It'll let us in this time. Besides, this is Ralph. If anybody can do it, he can."

        Zane grimaced, but couldn't offer any argument. He took a step backwards, giving Ralph room. Ralph pointed his wand at the gates nervously, his wand hand shaking. He cleared his throat.

        "What is it? I always forget!"

        " Alohomora," James whispered encouragingly. "Emphasis on the second and fourth syllables. You've done it loads of time. Don't worry."

Ralph stiffened, trying to halt the shivering of his arm. He took a deep breath and, in a tremulous voice, spoke the command.

        Immediately the vines twining the gates began to loosen. The letters of the poem dissolved into curls and tendrils, contracting from the wooden shapes of the doors. After a few seconds, the doors swung silently open.

Ralph glanced back at James and Zane, his eyes wide and worried. "Well, it worked, I guess."

        "I'd say so, Ralph," Zane said, moving forward. The three of them stepped carefully into the darkness beyond the gates.

        The inside of the Grotto Keep was circular and mostly empty, surrounded by trees that had grown into the shapes of pillars, supporting a thick, domed ceiling of branches and spring leaves. The floor of the grotto was terraced with stone, forming steps that descended toward the middle. There, in the very center, a round bowl of earth was lit in a beam of bright moonlight that pierced a hole in the center of the domed canopy. The Merlin throne stood in that beam of moonlight, and in front of it, silhouetted against the moonlight, her back to them, was Madame Delacroix.

        James felt weak with fear. He froze in place, and only distantly felt Ralph's hand groping at him, tugging him backwards into the shadow of one of the tree trunk pillars. He stumbled a little, and then dropped down behind the bulk of the tree, next to Ralph and Zane. Carefully, slowly, James peered around the tree-pillar, his eyes wide and his heart thundering.

        Delacroix hadn't moved. Her back was still to them, and she was still staring motionlessly at the throne. The Merlin throne was tall, straight-backed and narrow. It was made of polished wood, but was somehow more delicate than James had expected. The mass of it was formed of carvings of vines and leaves, curling and tangled. The only solid parts were the seat and the center of the backrest. The throne looked as if it had been grown rather than carved, much like the Grotto Keep itself. No one else was visible. Apparently, Delacroix had arrived early. James was wondering how long she'd been standing there, motionless, watching the throne, when there was the sound of someone else's footsteps behind them, on the dragon's head bridge. James held his breath, and sensed Ralph and Zane hunkering down as low as they could next to him, hiding among the low underbrush lining the Keep.

        A man's voice spoke a low command in some strange language James didn't recognize. It sounded both beautiful and frightening. There was the sound of the gate's vines unfurling again, and then footsteps clacked hollowly on the stone steps of the terraced floor. Professor Jackson moved into view, walking resolutely down into the center of the Grotto Keep behind Madame Delacroix.

        "Professor Jackson," Madame Delacroix said, her heavily accented voice ringing in the stone bowl of the grotto, "you never fail to meet my expectations." She still hadn't turned around.

"Nor you mine, Madame. You are early."

        "I was savoring de moment, Theodore. It's been a long time coming. I'd be tempted to say 'too long', if I was a believer in chance. I am not, of course. This is how it was meant to be. I have done what I was meant to do. Even you have performed the role you were preordained to perform."

        "Do you really believe so, Madame?" Jackson asked, stopping several feet behind Delacroix. James noticed that Jackson had his hickory wand in his hand. "I wonder. I, as you know, am neither a believer in chance nor destiny. I am a believer in choices."

        "It matters not what you believe, Theodore, as long as your choices lead to the right ends."

        "I have the robe," Jackson said flatly, abandoning the pretense of polite conversation. "I have always had it. You will not get it from me. I am here to see to that. I am here to stop you, Madame, despite your best efforts to keep me away."

        James almost gasped. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling it. Jackson was here to stop her! But how? James felt a cold dread dawning on him. Next to him, Ralph whispered almost silently, "Did he say…"

        "Shh!" Zane hissed urgently. "Listen!"

        Delacroix was making a strange, rhythmic sound. Her shoulders shook slightly with it, and James realized she was laughing. "My dear, dear Theodore, I have never attempted to thwart you. Why, if I had not allowed a token resistance to your presence on dis trip, you'd have never chosen to come at all. Your stubbornness and suspicious nature are my best tools. And I needed you, Professor. I needed what you had, what you believed so ardently dat you were protecting."