Five minutes later, the three boys clambered up to the Gryffindor common room, rushing to hide Jackson's briefcase before their next class. James buried it in the bottom of his trunk, then Zane produced his wand.
"Just learned this new spell from Gennifer," he explained. "It's a special kind of Locking Spell."
"Wait," James stopped Zane before he could cast the spell. "How will I get it open again?"
"Oh. Well, I don't know, to tell you the truth. It's the counter-spell to Alohomora. I wouldn't think it'd work against the owner of the trunk, though. Just anybody else. Spells are smart that way, aren't they?"
"Here," Ralph said, crossing the room. He opened and closed the window, then stood back. "Try it on the window latch. You don't need that open, anyway. It's dead cold out there."
Zane shrugged, and then pointed his wand at the window. "Colloportus." The window lock clacked shut.
"Well, it works, all right," Ralph observed. "Now try to open it."
Zane, wand still raised, said, "Alohomora." The lock jiggled once, but remained locked. Zane pocketed his wand. "You try it, James. It's your window, isn't it?"
James used the same spell on the window lock. The lock unhinged neatly and the window swung open.
"See?" Zane grinned. "Spells are smart. I bet old Stonewall could tell us how that works, but I'm not going to be asking him any more questions, I'll tell you that."
James closed his trunk with Jackson's case inside and Zane performed the Locking Spell on it.
On the way back down to their classrooms, Ralph asked, "Won't somebody else notice that Jackson's carrying a different briefcase? What if one of the other teachers asks him about it?"
"Not going to happen, Ralphinator," Zane said confidently. "He's been carrying that thing long enough that everyone expects to see him with it. As long as they expect to see his case in his hand, the Visumineptio charm will make sure that is what they see. We're the only ones that'll see that it's your buddy's old rock-hound bag."
Ralph still seemed worried. "Will the charm wear off over time? Or will it work as long as people think that the fake case is the real one?"
Neither James nor Zane knew the answer to that. "We just have to hope it lasts long enough," James said.
13. Revelation of the Robe
That evening after dinner, the three boys ran up to the Gryffindor sleeping quarters again, pausing only when James noticed the staring woman in the background of a painting of some maidens milking a pair of ridiculously plump cows. He berated the tall and ugly woman, who was dressed like a nun, demanding to know what she was looking at. After half a minute, Zane and Ralph got impatient and each grabbed one of James' elbows, dragging him away. In the sleeping quarters, they clustered around James' trunk while James unlocked it and pulled out Jackson's case. He set it on the edge of his bed and the three of them stared at it.
"Do we have to open it?" Ralph asked.
James nodded. "We have to know we have the robe, don't we? It's been driving me crazy all day. What if I was wrong and the thing in there is just some of Jackson's laundry? I can't help thinking that he's the sort that'd carry around a totally meaningless briefcase just to get people talking about it. You should've seen how he was this morning when he thought he'd caught Zane and me. He was right mad."
Zane plopped onto the bed. "What if we can't even open it?"
"Can't be that much of a lock if it popped open that day in D.A.D.A," James reasoned.
Ralph stood back, giving James room. "Let's get it over with then. Try and open it."
James approached the case and tried the lock. He'd expected it not to work and was prepared to try the assortment of Opening and Unlocking Spells the three had collected. Instead, the brass catch on top of the case popped open easily. So easily, in fact, that James was momentarily sure it had clicked open a split second before he'd actually touched it. He froze, but neither of the other two boys seemed to have noticed.
"Well?" Ralph whispered. Zane leaned over the case. The mouth of it had come open slightly.
"Can't see anything in there," Zane said. "It's too dark. Open the rotten thing, James. It's yours more than either of ours."
James touched the case, grasped the handles, and used them to pull it open. He could see the folds of black cloth. A vague, musty smell wafted from the open case. James thought it smelled like the inside of a jack-o'-lantern a week after Halloween. He remembered Luna saying that the robe had once been used to cover the body of a dead king and he shuddered.
Zane's voice was low and slightly hoarse. "Is that it? I can't tell what it is."
"Don't," Ralph warned, but James had already reached into the case. He pulled the robe out. The cloth unfolded smoothly, spotlessly black and clean. There seemed to be acres of it. Ralph backed further away as James let the robe pool on the floor at his feet. The last of it came out of the case and James realized he was holding the hood of it. It was a large hood, with golden braids at the throat.
Zane nodded, his face pale and serious. "That's it, no doubt. What are we gonna do with it?"
"Nothing," Ralph answered firmly. "Stick it back in the case, James. That thing's scary. You can feel the magic of it, can't you? I bet Jackson put some kind of Shield Charm or something on the case to contain it. Otherwise, somebody would've felt it. Go on, put it away. I don't want to touch it."
"Hold on," James said vaguely. He could indeed feel the magic of the cloak, just as Ralph had said, but it didn't feel scary. It was powerful, but curious. The smell of the robe had changed as James pulled it out. What had at first smelled faintly rotten now smelled merely earthy, like fallen leaves and wet moss, wild, even exciting. Holding the robe in his hands, James had the most unusual sensation. It was as if he could feel, in the deepest pit of his being, the very air in the room, filling the space like water, streaming through cracks in the frame of the window, cold, like ice-blue vapor. The sensation expanded and he sensed the wind moving around the turret that housed the sleeping quarters. It was alive, swirling over the conical roof, channeling into missing shingles and exposed rafters. James faintly remembered children's stories about how Merlin was a master of nature, how he felt it and used it, and how it obeyed his whims. James knew he was tapping into that power somehow, as if it was embedded in the very fabric of the relic robe. The sensation grew and spiraled. Now James felt the creatures of the deepening evening: the pattering heartbeats of mice in the attics, the blood-purple world of the bats in the forest, the dreaming haze of a hibernating bear, even the dormant life of the trees and grass, their roots like hands clutched in the earth, clinging to life in the dead of winter.
James knew what he was doing, but didn't seem to be operating his own arms. He raised the hood, turning himself into it. The robe slid over his shoulders, and just as the hood settled over his head, hiding his eyes, James heard the alarmed and warning cries of Zane and Ralph. They were fading, as if down a long, sleepy tunnel. They were gone.