Ralph squirmed. “Well, that’s not really true, you know. I’m just a kid.”
“Never underestimate what a kid can do, Ralphie,” George said seriously.
“That’s right,” Katie nodded. “George and his brother, Fred, caused the best class disruption in Hogwarts history in the middle of the reign of Umbridge the Terrible.”
“Like I said, it’s all about the spectacle,” George said.
“With a little revenge thrown in,” Katie said, smiling.
“How dare you even suggest such a thing?”
Ralph and James exchanged looks.
James, Ralph, Ted, and George were the last at the breakfast table. The younger siblings and cousins fairly dragged them from the table, finally getting the entire household together for the opening of the presents.
“Didn’t you do like I told you?” George said, laughing as Albus pulled him into the parlor. “Open the presents in the middle of the night and then re-wrap them again with the Reparo charm?”
“I tried!” Albus replied earnestly. “I nicked James’ wand and practiced on a box of biscuits. Couldn’t get it to work! Made no end of a mess. Mum just about thrashed me.”
“You nicked my wand!” James cried, lunging after Albus. “I’ll thrash you myself! Give it back!”
Hooting, Albus darted away with James in pursuit.
There was much yelling and shredding of paper, and James couldn’t help thinking that Christmas at Grimmauld Place probably wasn’t much different than Zane’s description of his family Christmas in the States, hinkypunks and all. When the younger Weasleys and Potters had all opened their presents and scampered off to enjoy them, the rest of the gifts were opened with a bit more reserve. Harry had gotten Ginny an unusual new cauldron, which she unwrapped and stared at rather blankly.
“It’s a Conjure-Pot,” he explained, a little defensively. “It makes dinner a snap! You just throw in a few ingredients each morning, whatever you have left lying around the cupboard. It doesn’t matter what. The Conjure-Pot figures out the best dish to make with it, prepares it, and cooks it up during the day. We all come home at night and voila, mystery meal. Great for the working mum on the go.”
“At least that’s what the sign on the display at Tristan’s and Tupperworth’s said,” Ron remarked, grinning. Harry clipped him on the back of the head.
Fleur sniffed. “Vere I come from, eet is considered improper for a man to buy cookery as a gift.”
“That’s because where you come from, my dear,” Bill said gently, “the men do most of the cooking.”
“Oh, just open the next one,” Harry said, annoyed.
Ginny’s next present turned out to be a pair of mer-pearl earrings, which went over much better. Ginny seemed simultaneously distraught and overjoyed by them.
“Harry! How did you pay for these? Mer-pearl! I never expected���!” Her eyes glittered as she blinked back tears.
“Just put them on,” Harry smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, they’re fake. Leprechaun-pearl. They came as a bonus gift with the Conjure-Pot.”
“No, they didn’t,” she smiled, and kissed him.
Ron had gotten Hermione a small but apparently expensive bottle of perfume called Whimsies’ Enchantment, which Hermione was very pleased with. Ginny and Hermione had gone together to buy Harry and Ron tickets to the Quidditch World Cup.
“We knew you’d both been wanting to go for the past several years,” Hermione explained as Harry and Ron congratulated each other. “But you never think ahead to get advanced tickets. We’ve got eight total tickets, so you can take the kids, if you wish. They’d love it. And your wives, of course, if you wished. It’s up to you.”
But Harry and Ron had fallen into a debate about what teams would be in the Cup and barely heard the last.
James opened his present and was surprised to see that his parents had gotten him a new broom.
“Wow,” he breathed. “A Thunderstreak! Mum, Dad, you got me a Thunderstreak?”
“Well,” Harry said slowly, “I knew you’d had some trouble getting started on the broom, but I spoke to your friend, Zane, and he said you were coming along really well. I thought you might like to practice on your own broom. Those school brooms are too old. Slow, unwieldy, and the handling’s gone all mushy. You try this out and I think you’ll notice the difference straight off.”
“Course, if you don’t want it,” George offered, “you could always trade with Ted. That old Nimbus of his may be slow as a flobberworm, but it has loads of antique value.”
Ted hurled a ball of wrapping paper at George, hitting him square in the face.
James felt a little sorry for Ralph, who had not heard from his dad since the message that he’d be travelling over the holidays. Ralph shrugged it off, saying his dad had probably sent his Christmas gift to the school. James and Ralph were both surprised when Ginny handed Ralph a small, wrapped package.
“It’s not much,” Ginny smiled, “but we thought you might enjoy it.”
Ralph unwrapped the package and looked at it. It was a very dog-eared and dilapidated book, the words on the cover almost illegible with age. It was called Advanced Potion-Making.
“That belonged to a great Slytherin, like you’ll be, no doubt,” Harry said somberly. “Frankly, I thought I’d lost it, but it turned up a few weeks ago. I didn’t know what to do with it until you came for the holiday. Then it just made sense that you should have it. Don’t let Professor Slughorn see it, though. Just use it as a��� reference.”
Ralph flipped carefully through the old book. The margins were crammed with hand-written notations and drawings. “Who wrote all this stuff inside?”
“Doesn’t really matter,” Harry said cryptically. “You don’t know him. Just take care of it, and be careful how you use some of the stuff in there. It can be a little��� dodgy, sometimes. Still, it just seems right that it should be in the hands of a good Slytherin man. Happy Christmas, Ralph.”
Ralph thanked Harry and Ginny, a bit puzzled at the serious looks both he and the book were getting. He recognized that, mysterious as the book was, it was apparently rather meaningful. He wrapped it in a piece of cloth Ginny gave him and placed it in the bottom of his trunk.
James was delighted when Neville and Luna Lovegood arrived that afternoon. The two had been seeing each other for the past few months, but James had heard his mum tell Andromeda Tonks that it wasn’t going anywhere. James couldn’t guess how his mum knew such things, but he never doubted that she was right. For James’ part, Neville and Luna seemed just a bit too brotherly and sisterly to be a couple.
After dinner, Grandmum Weasley appeared in the fireplace to wish everyone a happy Christmas.
“We’re having a perfectly delightful time here with Charlie,” she said from the grate. “And Prague is just lovely. I think you boys need to have a talk with your father, though. He’s gotten rather enamored with the Muggle architecture here and is talking about staying on a few more weeks. He’s become so unpredictable now that he’s retired from the Ministry. Oh, it is so difficult having you kids all over the world like this. How am I supposed to keep track of my grandbabies?”
“How are Charlie and Claire and the kids, then, Molly?” Hermione asked, gently steering the topic to pleasanter subjects.
“Quite well, although Charlie insists on taking little Harold and Jules to work with him on occasion. How these poor children can endure the sight of such creatures and not have constant nightmares is simply beyond me.”
James, who’d met his younger cousins, Harold and Jules, a few times, knew that it was likely that they, in fact, might give nightmares to the dragons rather than the other way around.
Late that evening, as most of the household was beginning to drift to bed, James and Ralph found themselves seated near the fire with Luna Lovegood, who was telling them about her latest expedition into the Highland Mountains in search of the Umgubular Slashkilter.
“Still no positive ide
ntification,” she said, “but I discovered a vast network of their tracks and leavings. Their diet seems to consist almost entirely of blusterwermps and figgles, so it’s pretty easy to identify their dung by smell alone. Sort of pepperminty. Not at all unpleasant.”
“Unglubulous��� slashkillers?” Ralph attempted.
“Close enough,” Luna said kindly. “They’re a species of flightless raptor, distantly related to hippogriffs and octogators. I took a mold of one of their tracks and a stool sample from one of their leavings. Would you like to smell it?”
“Luna,” James said, leaning forward in his chair and lowering his voice, “can we ask you a question about something? I’d rather nobody else knew about it.”
“I specialize in things nobody else knows about,” Luna said mildly.
“I mean, I want to keep it sort of a secret.”
“Oh,” Luna said, her face placid. James waited, but Luna merely watched him, smiling politely. Luna, he recalled, occasionally had a rather unique approach to conversation. He decided to plow on.
“This isn’t about Slashkilters or Wrackspurts or anything. Really, it’d be a better question for your dad, if he was still around, but I bet you know the answer, too. What can you tell us about��� about Austramaddux and Merlinus Ambrosius?”
Luna was the only completely unshockable person James knew. She merely looked into the fire and said, “Ahh, yes, not exactly my specialty. A lifelong hobby of my father’s, though. Austramaddux was the historian who recorded the last days of Merlinus and his promised return, of course. The subject of much speculation and intrigue for centuries, you know.”
“Yeah,” James said, “we know. We read about him and the prediction of his return. What we’re wondering is how it could happen? What would it take?”
Luna looked thoughtful. “It’s a pity my father isn’t here. He could speak on the subject for days. He did once, in fact, at a gathering of alternative magical publishers and broadcasters in Belfast. Gave a speech on the implications of the Merlinus conspiracies and their hypothetical plausibilities, if I recall. It went on for three and half days, until he fell asleep at the podium. Actually, I think that he was asleep long before anyone realized it. He was a notorious sleep-talker. Gave more than a few of his speeches in a nightgown. Most people thought it was eccentricity, but I think he was just multi-tasking.” She sighed fondly.
James knew he wouldn’t have much time before someone else, George, or worse, his dad or mum, would come back into the room. “Luna, what did he say about it? Did he think Merlin’s return was possible?”
“Oh, he certainly did. Had a hundred theories about it. Hoped he’d live to see the day, in fact, although even he wasn’t any too sure that when Merlinus returned, he’d be anything like what we’d call a good wizard. Wrote a whole series of articles for The Quibbler explaining the three relics and offering a hundred Galleon reward for anyone with valid clues to their whereabouts.”
James tried not to interrupt Luna. “What are the three relics?”
“Oh,” Luna said, looking at him. “I thought you’d read about it?”
Ralph spoke up. “We did, but it didn’t say anything about any relics. It just said that Merlin would leave the world of men and return when the time was ripe for him, or something.”
“Ah, well, that’s the key, then, isn’t it?” Luna said placidly. “The relics determine when the time is ripe. Merlin’s three required magical elements, his throne, his robe and his staff. He left them in the charge of Austramaddux. According to the prediction, once the three relics are brought together again in a place called the ‘Hall of Elders’ Crossing’, Merlinus will reappear to claim them.”
James gasped. The Hall of Elder’s Crossing, he thought, remembering the legend inscribed on the gate of the secret island. He felt his heart pounding and was sure Luna would hear it in his voice. He struggled to sound merely curious. “So what became of Merlin’s three relics, then?”
“No one knows for sure,” Luna replied airily, “but my father had developed some pretty strong theories. According to legend, Merlin’s ceremonial black robe was made of incorruptible fabric, allowing it to survive eternally. It was supposedly used as a caulk over the body of Kreagle, the first king of the wizarding world, in the belief that it would prevent corruption. Alas, no one knows the location of Kreagle’s tomb, its SecretKeepers having been inhumed within it to secure its secrecy forever.” Ralph shuddered as Luna went on. “Merlin’s throne as advisor to the kingdoms of the Muggles was passed from regime to regime, always kept ready for the wizard’s return, until it was eventually lost in the mists of time. Some believe that it was recovered by a wizarding king in the sixteen hundreds, and that it is stored today in the Ministry of Magic, forgotten in the endless vaults of the Department of Mysteries. Finally,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes as she searched her memory, “the greatest of Merlin’s relics, his staff. Back then, wizards used staffs rather than wands, you know. Long sticks, often as tall as the wizard himself. Merlin’s was carved from the trunk of a rare talking knucklewood tree. It is said that he could still make his staff speak with the voice of the dryad that had given it. Austramaddux kept the staff himself, claiming to be its sole keeper until the day of Merlin’s returning. He hid it, and the secret of its location is said to have died with him.”
“Wow,” Ralph said in a low voice.
“But still,” James said, “say someone could get all the relics back together again. Where is this Hall of Elder’s Crossing supposed to be?”
“Again, no one knows,” Luna replied. “Austramaddux speaks of it as if he expects his readers to know of it, as if it were a well-known place. Perhaps it was then, but it has been completely lost to us now.”
“But your father believed it would be possible to bring Merlinus back? He thought it could happen?” James prodded.
For the first time, Luna’s face became serious. She looked at James. “My father believed in quite a wide variety of things, James, not all of them technically consistent with reality. He did believe in the return of Merlinus. He also believed in the healing power of Nargle warts, the fountain of pleasing breath, and the existence of an entire subterranean civilization of half-human creatures he called Mordmunks. In other words, just because my father believed it, that hardly makes it true.”
“Yeah, I guess,” James said, but distractedly.
Luna went on. “No wizard has ever overcome death. Many have cheated it for a while, using arts ranging from the creative to the questionable to the outright evil. But no single wizard in all of history has tasted death and returned to tell about it. It is the law of mortality. One life, one death.”
James nodded, but he was barely listening anymore. His mind was reeling. Finally, Ginny peeked in and sent both boys off to bed.
“So what do you think?” Ralph asked as they passed the curtained portrait of old Mrs. Black and climbed the stairs. “You still think there’s a big Merlin conspiracy?”
James nodded. “Definitely. Remember our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class? When Professor Jackson came in to talk to Professor Franklyn about something? They were both standing up front, then the voodoo queen popped in to tell Jackson his class was waiting for him. Remember?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Well, you know that case that Jackson carries with him pretty much everywhere? I got a look into it. It came open a little and it was only a few feet away from me. There was a big bundle of some kind of black cloth in it. Jackson saw me looking and gave me a look that’d melt lead!”
James opened the door to his room and Ralph threw himself onto his cot. “So? I don’t get it.”
“Remember what I told you about the night I hid under the Invisibility Cloak and followed Dad and Professor Franklyn around? Franklyn told Dad that he should keep an eye on Professor Jackson. He said that Jackson was involved in the whole anti-Auror propaganda movement. Don’t you see?”
Ralph frowned again, thinking hard. “I
don’t know. I can’t believe Professor Jackson would be part of a plot to start a war against the Muggles. He’s hardcore, but he seems cool.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but Ralph, you know what I think that thing in his case was? I think it was one of the relics! I think it was Merlin’s robe! He’s keeping it safe until he can get the rest of the relics together.”
Ralph’s eyes widened. “No!” he said in a low whisper. “Can’t be! I mean, Professor Jackson���!”
“That’s not all,” James said, digging into his backpack. “Take a look at this.” He pulled out the folded Daily Prophet that Zane had given him, the one with the cover story about the demonstration against Harry Potter’s visit. “It’s been in the bottom of my bag this whole time. I’d forgotten why I even kept it, but take a look at the article on the back.” James tapped the article about the breakin at the Ministry of Magic and the strangely cursed thieves who had apparently not gotten around to stealing anything. Ralph read it slowly, then looked up at James, his eyes large.
“It says one of the places they broke into was the Department of Mysteries,” he said. “You think these guys were looking for the Merlin throne?”
“Maybe,” James admitted, thinking hard. “But I don’t think so. I think they were hired as a diversion. It says none of them had much of a prior record, right? They couldn’t have broken into the Ministry on their own. I think maybe they were just a distraction, riffling things around and playing a bit of havoc while someone else found the throne and got it out of there.”
“But it says here nothing was stolen,” Ralph said, glancing back at the article.
“Well, they wouldn’t admit that the throne of Merlin had been taken, would they?” James replied. “I mean, that’d be a pretty scary bit of dark magic to admit had gone missing, what with all the stories of evil wizards trying to use the relics to bring back Merlin all these centuries past. Then again,” he thought back to what Luna had told them, “if it had been stored in the vaults of the Department of Mysteries since the sixteen hundreds, maybe they didn’t even know it was there anymore. How would they know if one item had gone missing from the place? Luna called them the ‘endless vaults’, didn’t she?”
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