"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."

        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.