G. Lippert - James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing

Snape studied James, scowling. Finally he nodded slightly. "Yes, Potter, quite true. Few knew it, but I had some natural inclination toward the task. Being adept at potions, mixing the necessary enchanted paints was the simple part. It did take me quite some time to hone my rendering skills enough to modify the paintings, but as with any other art, painting was mainly a matter of practice and study. I agree with you, however, that you'd have never made the connection if it weren't for my own blind arrogance in allowing that book to continue to exist. I may have been a genius, but pride has been the downfall of greater geniuses than myself. Nevertheless, it has proved to be a very successful endeavor. I have been able to observe you and the rest of this school's operations rather freely. So tell me: why do you come to me now? To gloat over your luck?"

"No," James said firmly, and then paused. He didn't want to say what he'd come to say. He was afraid Snape would laugh at him, or worse, refuse their request. "We came… we came to ask for your help."

Snape's expression didn't change. He regarded James seriously for a long moment. "You came to ask for help," he said, as if confirming he'd heard James correctly. James nodded. Snape narrowed his eyes slightly. "James Potter, I'd never have suspected it, but you have finally impressed me. Your father's greatest weakness was his refusal to seek assistance from those better and more knowledgeable than him. He always required their help in the end, but usually to their great, and sometimes final, detriment. You seem to have thrown off that weakness, albeit reluctantly. If you had come to this realization a few weeks ago, we might not have had to rely on pure fortune and good timing to save you from a fate worse than death."

James nodded again. "Yeah, thanks for that. I know it was you who sent Cedric to help when we were going to open Jackson's case."

"Foolhardy and ignorant, Potter. You might've known better, although I admit I'd have been surprised if you had. The robe is exceedingly dangerous and you are stupendously negligent to keep it here. As much as I am loath to admit it, you should turn it over immediately to your father."

"What do you know about the Merlin conspiracy, then?" James asked excitedly, ignoring the rebuke.

"I know little more than you do, unfortunately, other than the wealth of knowledge I've accumulated through my studies of the legend and the multitude of previous attempts to facilitate the return of Merlinus Ambrosius. A study I can assure you would've proven far more helpful to you than your current ridiculous fantasies of capturing the Merlin staff."

"Why are they ridiculous?" Zane asked, stepping a bit closer.

"Ah, the jester speaks," Snape sneered in a low voice. "Mr. Walker, I believe."

"It's a fair question," James said, glancing at Zane. "The staff is probably even more dangerous than the robe. We can't let it be controlled by the sorts of people who believe Voldemort was just some misunderstood sweetie who wanted everybody to be pals."

"And who might these people be, then, Potter?" Snape asked silkily.

"Well, Tabitha Corsica, for one."

Snape regarded James with open contempt. "Typical Gryffindor prejudice."

"Prejudice!" James exclaimed. "Whose house is it that believes that all Muggle-born wizards are weaker stock than the purebloods? Whose house invented the term 'mudbood'?"

"Don't ever say that word in front of me again, Potter," Snape said dangerously. "You believe you speak of what you know, but let me save you from your ignorance by reminding you that what you know is as limited as it is one-sided. Easy judgments about individuals based on their house of origin is another of your father's greatest mistakes. I'd hoped that you would surpass that as well, based on your own choice of companions." Snape's black eyes darted to Ralph, who had hung back, watching silently.

"Well, Ralph's different, isn't he?" James said weakly.

Snape responded quickly, his eyes still on the larger boy. "Is he? Different from what, Mr. Potter? What, precisely, do you believe you know about the members of Mr. Deedle's house? Or, dare I ask, Mr. Deedle himself?"

"I know what the tree sprite told us," James said rounding on the portrait, his voice rising in anger. "I know that there is a bloodline of Voldemort alive in these halls even now. His blood beats in a different heart. The heir of Voldemort is alive and he walks among us."

"And what makes you so certain," Snape said sharply, "that this heir is a Slytherin? Or a male?"

James opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. He realized that the dryad had never actually said either of those things. "Well, it just… makes sense."

Snape nodded, the sneer creeping back into his face. "Does it? Perhaps you haven't learned anything after all, then." Snape sighed, and he seemed genuinely disappointed. "What did you come to ask, Potter? I see you are determined in your course regardless of what I say, so let's get this over with."

James felt small in front of the portrait of the former headmaster. Zane and Ralph stood further back, and James knew it was his question to ask. This was his battle more than it was theirs. His battle against the Merlin conspiracy, yes, but more importantly, his battle against himself and the shadow of his father.

He raised his eyes to Snape's black gaze. "If we can't get the Merlin staff, I need to go to the Hall of Elder's Crossing. I need to stop them there, before they can hide the staff and the throne forever."

James heard the movement of Zane and Ralph behind him. He turned back to them. "I won't ask you two to come, but I'm committed. I have to try to stop them."

Snape sighed hugely. "Potter, you really are just as foolish and preposterously self-absorbed as your father. Turn the robe over. Give it to your father or the Headmistress. They will know what to do. I will advise them. You cannot possibly hope to manage this on your own. You've impressed me once. Do try and accomplish that again."

"No," James said with conviction. "If I tell them, Jackson and Delacroix and whoever else will get away. You know it just like I do. Then two of the relics will be lost forever."

"Without all three together, the power of the relics is broken."

"But not destroyed," James insisted. "They are still powerful on their own. We can't let them be used by those who'd try to continue Voldemort's work. We can't risk them falling into the hands of Voldemort's heir."

Snape scowled. "If such a person exists."

"That's not a risk worth taking," James countered. "Where is the Hall of Elder's Crossing?"

"You do not know what you're asking, Potter," Snape said dismissively.

"We'll find out somehow, James," Zane said, stepping forward again. "We don't need this old pile of paint to tell us. We've worked everything out so far. We'll figure this out, too."

"You've survived on suspicious good fortune and the interference of myself alone," Snape growled. "Do not forget your place, boy."

"It's true," Ralph said. James and Zane turned to look at him, surprised to hear him speak. Ralph swallowed and went on, "We have done pretty well so far. I don't really know who you are, Mr. Snape, but as grateful as we are for you helping us when James put on the robe, I think James is right. We need to try to stop them and get the rest of the relics. You were a Slytherin, and you said that the things they say about Slytherins aren't always right. Well, one of the things they say about Slytherins is that we always just look out for ourselves. I don't want that to be true. I'm with James and Zane, even if we fail. No matter what."

Snape had listened to this sudden speech from Ralph with a steely eye and a tight frown. When Ralph finished, he glanced at all three of the boys in succession, and then heaved another sigh. "You're all completely daft," he said flatly. "This is a pointless and destructive fantasy."