"I don't see why all three of us need to do this anyway," Ralph complained. "I trust you two. You could've just told me about it tomorrow at breakfast."
"You seemed plenty excited about it when we planned this, Ralphinator," Zane whispered. "You can't lose your nerve now."
"It was daytime then. And I wasn't born with any nerve, just so you know."
"Shh," James hissed.
Zane bent over the map. "Is anyone coming?"
James shook his head. "No, looks safe. Filch is in his office downstairs. I don't know if he ever sleeps, but for now, at least, the coast is clear."
Ralph straightened up, pulling the Invisibility Cloak a foot off the floor. "Then why are we under this thing at all?"
"It's tradition," James said without looking up from the map.
"Besides," Zane added, "what good's having an Invisibility Cloak if we don't use it to float around the halls unseen every now and then?"
"There's nobody to see us, anyway," Ralph pointed out.
James directed them toward the right angle of the intersection and they shuffled on. Soon enough, they came to the gargoyle guarding the stairway to the Headmistress' office. James could tell it was watching their feet under the raised cloak even though it remained perfectly still. James hoped that the password hadn't changed since he'd accompanied Neville to the Headmistress' office a few months earlier.
He cleared his throat and said quietly, "Er, Gallowater?"
The gargoyle, which was relatively new, having replaced the one that had been damaged in the Battle of Hogwarts, stirred slightly, making a sound like a mausoleum door grating open. "Is that the one with the forest green field and the sky blue and red patterns?" it asked in a carefully measured voice. "I can never remember."
James conferred in harsh whispers with Ralph and Zane. "Forest green field? I don't even know what it is! It's just the word Neville used to get in!"
"How'd he answer the question, then?" Zane asked.
"It didn't ask him any questions!"
"It's a tartan pattern, I think," Ralph rasped. "My grandmum is mad about them. Just say yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm not sure. Say no, then! How should I know?"
James turned back to the gargoyle, which seemed to be staring fixedly at James' shoes. "Er, yeah, sure."
The gargoyle rolled its eyes. "Lucky guess." It straightened and stood aside, revealing the entry to the spiral staircase. The three boys shuffled toward it and clambered onto the lower steps. As soon as all three were on it, the staircase began to rise slowly, carrying them up with it. The hall outside the Headmistress' office lowered into view before them, and they stumbled into it, swearing and jostling each other under the cloak.
"That's it," Ralph said in an annoyed voice. He yanked at the cloak, struggling out from underneath it, and then let out a stifled shriek. James and Zane pulled the cloak off their heads and glanced around nervously, looking for whatever had startled Ralph. The ghost of Cedric Diggory was standing in front of them, smiling mischievously.
"You've really got to stop doing that," Ralph said breathlessly.
Sorry, Cedric said in his far-off voice. I was asked to be here.
"Who asked you?" James inquired, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. The hair on the back of his neck was still prickling. "How would anyone know we were coming here tonight?"
Cedric just smiled and then gestured toward the heavy door that led into the Headmistress' office. It was shut tight. How'd you plan to get past that?
James felt his face heat a little in embarrassment. "I forgot about that," he admitted. "Locked, is it?"
Cedric nodded. Don't worry about it. That's why I'm here, I guess. The ghost turned and walked effortlessly through the door. A moment later, the three boys heard the sounds of the lock being unbolted. The door swung open silently and Cedric grinned, welcoming them in. James entered first, and Zane and Ralph were surprised to see him turn immediately away from the Headmistress' massive desk. The room was extremely dim but for the reddish light of the banked fireplace. James lit his wand and held it up.
"Get that thing out of my face, Potter," a voice drawled quietly. "You'll wake the rest with it, and I suspect that this is meant to be a private conversation."
James lowered his wand again and glanced around at the rest of the portraits. All of them were sleeping in various poses, snoring gently. "Yeah, you're right," James agreed. "Sorry."
"So you deduced a version of the truth, I see," the portrait of Severus Snape said, his black eyes locked on James. "Tell me what you believe you know."
"It wasn't much of a deduction, really," James admitted, glancing at Ralph. "He figured it out. He's got the book."
Snape rolled his eyes. "That dratted book has been more trouble than it was ever worth. I should've destroyed it when I had the chance. Do continue."
James took a deep breath. "Well, I knew something was going on when I noticed all those characters in the paintings watching us. I also knew they all looked a little familiar, even though they were all really different. I don't think I'd have made the connection if Ralph hadn't shown me the drawings in the potions book, though. I knew the book had belonged to a Slytherin my dad had loads of respect for, so I thought of you and it all just came together. You painted all those characters into the paintings all over the school, and every one of them is a portrait of you, but in disguise. That's how you've been watching us. You spread yourself out through all those paintings. And since you are the original artist, nobody else can ever destroy the portraits. It was your way of assuring you could always keep an eye on things, even after death."
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."