James Potter and the White Horse

Chapter 3: Young Wizards

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded with witches and wizards, many of whom seemed to know and have business with James´ grandfather. Alfred diplomatically did his best to keep conversation short and keep moving towards the back of the pub. As his grandfather talked, James looked around the room and noticed a rather chubby blonde boy on the other side of the room. He looked a little shorter than James, but was roughly the same age. Realizing that he probably wasn´t the only new Hogwarts student who had come that day to get school supplies and hoping to make an acquaintance so that he might not feel quite so lost when he got to school, James smiled and waved at him to get his attention. The boy saw him and smiled timidly before turning back to his meal. James was a little disappointed not to have gotten a more enthusiastic response, but didn´t have much time to think about it as his grandfather urged him on.

They came up to the bar, where Alfred asked Bildwyn, the bartender, if any packages had come for him and his grandson. Bildwyn, who seemed awfully quiet for a bartender, just nodded and handed a parcel each to Alfred and James. "Knobbles was kind enough to arrange for spare robes to be waiting here for us," said Alfred, ushering James up the stairs to a guest room where they were able to put on clothing more appropriate to their present surroundings, and thus feel great deal less conspicuous. They were able to make it quietly down the stairs and out into the small courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron without further interruption.

Once outside, Alfred approached the brick wall on the far side of the courtyard and extended his wand to James with a smile. Every time the young James had been to Diagon Alley before, an adult had opened the magically concealed passageway in the wall for him; but now his grandfather was going to let him do it himself. He eagerly took the wand and went to tap the magic brick that would trigger the opening, but found that in his excitement he had completely forgotten which of the bricks it was. Why couldn´t he remember, he asked himself. He had seen it done a dozen times or more. When he finally settled on a brick and moved the wand towards it, his grandfather extended his hand and guided the wand up one brick.

"I knew it was this one," said James, trying to hide his embarrassment, as he tapped the brick three times with the wand. "I was just testing you."

"Of course," replied Alfred with mild sarcasm.

The bricks in the wall magically began to reposition themselves until a large arch had been formed, opening onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. The narrow, winding street was lined with all kinds of shops and bustling with all sorts of people. Alfred took his wand back, put a hand on James´ shoulder and led him onward, saying, "Now let´s see about a wand of your own, shall we?" James needed no encouragement.

Not very far down the road, they arrived at a small, ancient-looking shop with a fading sign that read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." It seemed an awfully battered place to go looking for fine wands, but James supposed that the Ollivander fame must have long ago outweighed any need to impress people with outward appearances. He and his grandfather stepped into the store and waited quietly just inside the door. Something about the atmosphere in the dimly lit and tightly packed building made anything but silence unthinkable.

As he waited, James´ attention was drawn to a pillar of dust particles, glowing in a small shaft of sunlight that had managed to find its way inside the dark shop. Knobbles was far too meticulous to allow this kind of dust to build up at home, so he had never seen anything like this up close, but it reminded him of seeing sunlight shining through a break in distant stormclouds. It fascinated him how a tiny speck of dust, so obvious in the bright stream of light, could vanish instantly into the darkness around it.

James' concentration was suddenly broken when a pale, old face appeared in the light, startling him quite a bit. The aged storekeeper´s creased mouth barely moved as he spoke, although it stretched a little in what James could only guess was a smile. "Alfred Potter, wonderful to see you again. How is your wand serving you? Ash, eleven and a quarter inches, quite firm, if memory serves."

"Correct as always, Varrin," replied Alfred. "And it continues to function as well as the day I purchased it from you, which is why I´m confident you can find something that will suit my young grandson, James."

Mr. Ollivander´s attention turned to James, who became unexpectedly anxious. The old wandmaker moved a few steps closer to him and said, "Of course. Extend your wand arm for me, lad." It was several moments before the request registered in James´ head and he was able to comply. "It´s all right, son," continued Mr. Ollivander, pulling out a length of measuring tape, "this won´t hurt a bit."

He began earnestly measuring every conceivable dimension of James´ arm and hand. James´ noticed as he watched that the silver markings on the tape measure weren´t all numbers. Some of them were letters, others looked like runes or hieroglyphics, many he couldn´t identify at all. He was so intent on the tape´s markings, he didn´t notice that it was acting independently of Mr. Ollivander until it began to measure the circumference of his kneecaps. Looking up, he saw the shopkeeper walking towards him from the back of the shop, several long boxes in his hands.

"That should suffice," he said when he reached James. The tape measure promptly went limp and dropped to the ground. He opened one of the boxes and took out a long wooden wand, which he handed to James. "A birch wand with a core of unicorn hair, fourteen and a half inches, quite flexible. Give it a wave."

James obediently gave the wand a short, unproductive flick. Before he knew it, Mr Ollivander had replaced it with a different wand. "Redwood with phoenix feather, ten inches, rather--no, that´s not it either. Try this, pine and dragon heartstring, eight and a--perhaps chestnut and phoenix feather...." James barely had a chance to get a grip on a wand before Mr. Ollivander took it and gave him another. Finally, when old wand-maker handed James an eleven-inch wand that he identified as mahogany with dragon heartstring, James´ grip involuntarily tightened around it. He felt as though some unseen force had shoved him backward--not violently, but forcefully--as red bolts blasted like lightning from his wand.

"There you have it," said Mr. Ollivander contentedly. "Quite a powerful wand, and superb for transfiguration work, has chosen you, young Mr. Potter. You will never get the same cooperation from a wand that has chosen someone else."

"Thank you," said James, uncertain what, if anything, else he ought to say. He still felt a bit like the wind had been knocked out of him. As his grandfather paid, he placed the wand carefully in the scabbard he had been given, which was fastened soundly to his belt. Just as he had been promised, it was a perfect fit.

As soon as they left Ollivander´s, James was anxious to get to Flourish and Blott´s, the largest bookseller on Diagon Alley, so he could start looking through some spell books. Strictly speaking, James wasn´t allowed to do magic outside of school, but knowing the exuberance of first-year students who have just gotten their first wands, the Improper Use of Magic Office was usually pretty lenient in prosecuting them. There weren´t very many that young that could do anything seriously dangerous even if they wanted to. Although he knew to be careful, James was determined to know a handy spell or two before he arrived at Hogwarts.

James had most everything else he would need for school already, but he did have to stop at a few more stores to pick up the few odds and ends that remained. He had just picked out a nice brass telescope when an extremely thin witch with long grey hair scurried into the store. She had a very severe-looking face; her lips sere pinched tight, as though she had just eaten something very sour, and James didn´t have any idea how her wire-frame spectacles were staying perched on her tiny nose. "Mr. Potter, at last," she said desperately. "I´ve been looking all over for you. You have no idea. Honestly, if Matthias hadn´t happened to be taking lunch at the Leaky Cauldron just when you came through... well, I just don´t know what you expect me to do when you disappear like this."

Alfred put a reassuring hand on the woman´s shoulder. "Breathe," he said carefully. When she had calmed a little, he continued, "Now Armania, I haven´t disappeared. You knew perfectly well that I wasn´t coming in today and that I didn´t wish to be disturbed. I knew that the only way that there was any chance of that happening was to leave you ignorant of my plans. In any case, you have found me and might as well tell me just what has upset you so."

Armania glanced hesitantly at James before responding, "It has happened again, Mr. Potter." She looked expectantly at Alfred, hoping that he would catch her meaning.

"Twice in as many days," he said softly.

"I´m afraid it gets worse," the anxious witch continued. "This time it happened to... what I mean to say is... it was... it was one of us." The poor woman looked like she was on the verge of losing her composure entirely. "The entire Ministry is in chaos. I simply don´t know how they are going to keep this quiet now."

Despite Armania´s care, James was certain he knew exactly was she was talking about, and was terrified. The unknown assassin he had overheard his father and uncle talking about had murdered a witch or wizard. Looking to his grandfather for reassurance, James was surprised to see that the normally calm old man was reacting with clear anger.

"I told them from the beginning that secrecy was a mistake!" muttered Alfred to no one in particular. "Now rumours will be flying faster than we can dispel them, leaving panic in their wake." He turned to his grandson and crouched so he could speak to the boy at eye level. "I hope you will forgive me James, but there are some things I must take care of immediately. Stay in Diagon Alley. I will return as quickly as possible. Try to enjoy yourself without me, alright?" Alfred forced a smile and pressed a few coins into James´ hands before following Armania out of the store and down the street.

James had wanted to beg his grandfather not to go, not to leave him alone at a time like this, but he knew he couldn´t. He wasn´t even supposed to have any idea what was going on. Still somewhat dazed, James paid for the telescope, arranged for it to be sent to his home, and walked out into the street. He couldn´t help but be suspicious of everyone he saw. Could one of them be the killer? Knowing as much as he did, being on a crowded street didn´t even give him any confidence. He tried to convince himself how unlikely it was that there would be an attack right there and right then as he walked to the Quidditch store, where he hoped he could distract himself a little.

Suddenly, James was tackled from behind. His assailant took him right to the ground, where James had to wrestle him to try and get free. When he finally liberated himself, he sat up and saw another dark-haired boy lying flat on his back and laughing hysterically. James immediately recognized his attacker as Sirius Black. Their mothers were friends and they had grown up playing together all the time. Sirius was now beating his fists on the ground and shouting, "I got you so good! You should have seen the look on your face. Priceless! Ruddy brilliant!"

When he finally got his wind back, James noticed that passers-by were beginning to stare, so he picked himself up and dusted off his robes. Looking down at his friend, he said, "Filthy coward, attacking from behind." Even though he tried to look stern, Sirius´ laughter was contagious and James soon broke down. It felt good to relieve some tension. When the two boys finally got some self-control, James extended a hand to help Sirius up.

"What are you doing wandering around Diagon Alley all by yourself?" asked Sirius once he was again on his feet.

"My grandfather brought me to pick up some things for school," he answered cheerfully. "I got my invitation to Hogwarts yesterday. Don´t be too disappointed about not getting in, Sirius. I´m sure no respectable school would accept a troublemaker like you."

Sirius didn´t seem even a little offended. "Shows how much you know," he said. "My name got put down on Hogwarts´ lists the moment I was born... before I had had a chance to make any trouble."

James laughed. "Not a moment too soon, then."

"Shut up James," said Sirius as he punched his friend good-naturedly and then followed when James continued towards the Quidditch store. "So where is your grandfather, anyway?" he asked. "Didn´t you say he brought you here?"

James wasn´t at all interested in remembering just why his grandfather was away, so he just shrugged and said, "Ministry business." Fortunately for James, they had arrived at the display window of the shop and he knew it wouldn´t be too hard to change the subject. Looking in at the assortment of Quidditch memorabilia, he turned to Sirius and asked, "So, what do you think of the Falcons this year?"

Sure enough, mentioning the Falmouth Falcons--whose extremely rough style of play made them Sirius´ favourite team--was all it took to get him going. He immediately began rambling about how they had never fully recovered from the Broadmoor brothers´ retirement. That was however, no reason to lose faith; it was just a matter of time before they would be again beating (or perhaps beating on) the best teams in the league. The team was practicing like crazy (putting several of them in the hospital), they had just upgraded their brooms, and, of course, there was the ever-present rumour that the Broadmoors might be coming out of retirement.

James happily lost track of the time as he and his friend browsed through the store and chatted about their favourite pastime. He was eager to boast about the success of his Aunt Laura and her team, the Puddlemere United, which had trounced the Falcons in their last match. He was interrupted in mid-sentence, though, when Sirius "accidentally" let a Bludger loose and it ricocheted around the room breaking everything in its path. The shopkeeper was able to grab hold of the destructive ball so quickly that James thought this must happen quite often. Fortunately for Sirius, none of the damage was irreparable, but the shopkeeper was quite insistent in his invitation that the boys find some other place to create chaos. As they left, they could hear him charming various panes of glass back into place and into one piece.

"Ah, there you are," said a deep voice behind the two boys. "I thought I heard breaking glass. I might have known young Mr. Black had found you." They turned around to see Alfred Potter looking at them with amusement. "I do hope you haven´t been doing anything illegal. I would hate to be forced to have you two locked up."

Sirius smiled. "Of course not, your Honour. I try to keep James here out of mischief, but the moment I turn my back..."

"You will have to be more diligent in the future," replied Alfred sarcastically. "As for the present, I´m afraid James and I must be off to Uffington." Sirius looked up at the old man eagerly, clearly hoping for an invitation. Alfred looked down at the two children. "As much as I might like to have you along, Mr. Black, I don´t think this is the best time to introduce the Ministry to your combined...exuberance."

"All right," sighed Sirius, who was visibly disappointed. "Meet you on the train to Hogwarts then, James?"

"Yeah, okay," replied James over his shoulder as he and his grandfather began walking down the street. "See you then!"

When they had passed Gringotts, the wizarding bank run by goblins, they turned onto Awfish Alley, which housed the London offices of the Ministry of Magic. This street was every bit as busy as Diagon Alley had been, but the atmosphere was very different. Everyone seemed in more of a hurry and less disposed to stop and chat. Those who were conversing did so very quietly, with anxious looks over their shoulders every few moments. James was glad that most everyone seemed as oblivious to this anxiety as he wished he were. There was a queue of very bored-looking people extending out of one of the buildings, apparently seeking licences to keep the various creatures that accompanied them as pets. A very annoyed looking wizard nearly knocked James down as he hurried past. James heard him muttering to himself, "If I had a sickle for every time they decided to change these forms..."

Towards the end of the alley, they arrived at a large, granite building with Department of Magical Law Enforcement carved into the stone above the entryway. James followed his grandfather up the stairs and through the great brass double doors into the vaulted main hall. It was so quiet inside that the echoing footfalls of the few employees making their way between offices seemed rather loud. The only other sound was the low crackle from the lively green flames in the two large fireplaces at the far end of the hall. Alfred whispered to James as they approached them that the fireplaces were directly linked to the Department offices at the Ministry Castle in Uffington. A pair of witches in charcoal robes appeared in the fireplace on the left and said hello to Alfred before continuing with their business. Alfred tipped his hat and then led James through the fireplace on the right.

James and his grandfather immediately found themselves on the other side of the floo portal, stepping out of the fire and into an imposing room in an ancient stone building. This was Uffington Castle, where the Wizards´ Council, the first institution of magical government in Britain, was first established. The Council and its successor organization, the Ministry of Magic, had been directed from this location for centuries. The Ministry´s functions had eventually outgrown the castle and branch offices were constructed (most notably in London, near the centre of Muggle government) to house some of the Ministry´s subsidiary offices. Now, most of the day-to-day operations and bureaucracy were actually conducted outside of Uffington. The Castle held the headquarters of the larger departments as well as offices for the Minister of Magic and his staff. James had been through the parts of the Castle that were open to public tours a couple of times, but he had never been where things were actually happening. Now he was standing in the core of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was bristling with tense activity.

"Would you like to see where I work, James?" asked Alfred once they were away from the fireplace. James enthusiastically indicated that he would. "I will not be able to give you the comprehensive tour that I would have liked. The business that called me away is keeping most everyone quite occupied at present and it would be inappropriate to impose upon them. However, the courtroom is thankfully quite vacant today."

James was too excited about what his grandfather was going to show him to be disappointed about what he wasn´t going to see. Alfred Potter was the Chief Magistrate of the highest court of magical law in Britain, but James had never been allowed in the courtroom where his grandfather presided.

Alfred led him down a corridor that ended with large oaken double doors, which he opened to reveal an enormous rectangular room with an arched ceiling. James stepped inside reverently and began looking around. There were several tiers of wooden benches lining the long walls on either side of the room. At the far end of the room stood a tall bench with the backs of three large chairs visible behind it. James knew that this was where his grandfather and the two Associate Magistrates sat. The wall behind the bench was divided into five tall windows extending from floor to ceiling and letting in a great deal of light. Several tables and chairs were distributed around the room for the benefit of the Advocates of the accused and of the accusers, as well as for the various other officers of the court. One chair, though--a very sturdy looking one in the centre of the courtroom--stood out more than anything else in the room. Alfred noticed James looking at it and said, "That is called the Crucible. It is provided for the Accused and has powerful enchantments upon it, which prevent magical energy from leaving it. Otherwise, the whole courtroom might be inadvertently blown up in a outburst of emotion."

James had no desire to sit in the Crucible, but did move to the table at the left of it to sit in the chair there. "Is this where my Dad sits when he comes here?" he asked enthusiastically. His grandfather just smiled and nodded. Involuntarily straightening his back to feel taller, James imagined he was his father, arguing some important cause with passion and skill. The room was in his mind suddenly full of people: jurors, witnesses, spectators, his grandfather and the other Magistrates. He was addressing the jurors when the other Advocate protested; naturally his grandfather and an Associate overruled him. At that point, James decided he wanted to sit in the tallest chair in the room. He looked to his grandfather for permission, and without a word he extended his hand towards the bench. James was straight away scrambling up the steps to the platform behind the bench and jumping into the stately chair. Here he had to sit up extra tall just to be able to get a good view of the courtroom, which looked considerably different from that vantage point. He noticed that the arrangement of the room set the Crucible in the exact centre of his field of view. There was a clear view of the Advocates´ tables and the seats along the walls, but James was sure that during a trial his grandfather´s eyes would be constantly drawn back to the Crucible, and the accused person sitting there. He wondered if it was hard for his grandfather to have to look so often into those eyes during the trial and the judgement; James certainly didn´t enjoy looking at even the empty chair for very long. He looked past it for his grandfather, who was standing just outside the light from the large windows.

Alfred stepped into the light and smiled, saying, "Are you ready to adjourn, your Honour?"

"Yeah," replied James, hopping down from the chair and meeting his grandfather at the side of the bench.

Alfred led him through a side door into his chambers, an eight-sided room that was apparently in one of the Castle´s many towers. Most of the wall space was lined with shelves full of books and scrolls, as well as the occasional stone tablet. The room was rather sparsely furnished. A sturdy mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room, facing the other door. The tall chair behind it was upholstered with what appeared to be black dragon hide. The chairs in front of it were adequate, but considerably more modest. The only other item taking up floor space was Alfred´s cello, which was on a stand in a corner across the room. There were several oil lamps hanging from the mouths of iron wall fixtures that looked like dragons in flight. The lamps were dark, though, because the windows behind the desk were letting in plenty of sunlight.

James began walking around the room, looking at the titles of the various volumes. There was Choice and Accountability by Maximus Kulpa, The Truth about Veritaserum by Sincera Mentirosa, Laws by Plato, Wizards and Witches in Muggle Courts by Lex Regius. He stopped for a moment to look at a scroll that began "Johannes del gracia rex Anglie..." wondering if that was some sort of incantation.

Eventually he made his way to his grandfathers desk and sat down in the large chair, which was quite comfortable. Alfred´s desktop was made of polished black marble, but James could hardly tell for all the stuff covering it. There were any number of parchments, as well as a few quills and inkwells, some sealing wax, and a couple of open books. A very ancient looking sextant and several photographs of family stood at the far corners of the desk James looked at the picture of his own family, which had been taken a couple years ago. His mother was trying to calm Catherine, a baby at the time, who was crying enthusiastically. His father had a firm hand on the shoulder of James´ younger self, keeping him from being too restless.

"This room has one of the best views in the whole Castle," said Alfred pointing to one of the windows behind his desk. "Have a look."

James got up and went to the large window. The sill wasn´t very wide, but then neither was James, so he was able to half sit, half lean into the corner of it as he looked out. And the view was incredible. James could see for miles across the rolling landscape. On the side of one of the nearby hills was an enormous figure that looked like it had been painted there by giants in broad, white strokes. He recognized it instantly. "You can see the White Horse from here," he said with excitement.

"Yes," said Alfred, moving over to the window himself. "I told you I had a great view."

"What is the White Horse, Grandfather?" asked James.

"It´s chalk," responded Alfred, teasingly. "Grass doesn´t grow there, so the chalk shows through."

"I know that," James replied.

Alfred feigned extreme confusion. "Then why did you ask?"

James sighed with exasperation. "What I meant was," he said slowly, "How did it come to be? What is it there for? What does it mean?"

"Aahh..." said Alfred as though the solution to some great mystery had just been revealed to him. "As to that, Merlin only knows." He paused to think for a moment before continuing, "it´s extraordinarily magical, that much is certain. We´ve been able to conceal this entire castle from muggle eyes. Oh, they know that Uffington has a castle, but as far as they´re concerned, it´s an ancient ruin of a primitive fortress. They can even come right up to it and believe that they are walking through the ruins. But for all our expertise, we can´t hide a simple image on a hillside. In fact, we can´t get a single charm or enchantment to stick; they all just bounce off."

"You must have some idea what it´s for, though... some guess," James said, growing more curious.

"There are nearly as many theories as there are wizards who have asked the question," he replied. "Some believe it´s a powerfully enchanted emblem that grants protection to this area, or this island, or this world. Others believe it marks the spot where muggles in ancient times--knights in particular--could come to request magical asylum. Still others believe it simply commemorates some battle, or hero, or some such thing. The list could go on and on."

"But what to you think?" pressed James.

Alfred smiled. "in my life and occupation, I have learned not to speculate before I know all of the necessary facts, that is, until I know the history. As I said, in this case there is no one living ho can give that history, so I wouldn´t presume to guess. I believe that it takes courage to admit one´s ignorance, and in this matter I am sadly, but truly, ignorant."

James grandfather kept looking out at the White Horse in silence for another few moments. Seeing the look of concern in his face, James realized that his grandfather´s frustration came from more than just his curiosity as an historian. Alfred clearly felt the answer was genuinely important.

Soon Alfred´s demeanour lifted and he looked a little to his left. "Do you see Dragon Hill a little further out there?" he asked.

James turned and saw it. It was a relatively small hill with a very level top. Most of it was covered with grass like the surrounding countryside, but a single patch of the flat area was white.

"That," continued Alfred once he knew James had found it, "I can give you the history behind. It took some digging to find the real story, which has been adapted and changed over the centuries as good stories tend to do. Perhaps that will help our journey back pass a little more quickly."

"We have to leave already?" asked James, trying not to sound too whiny.

"Presently, yes," replied Alfred comfortingly. "It´s been a good, full day and there really isn´t much else for us to do."

"What about those?" asked James, pointing out the window. "Can´t we go over to Dragon Hill and the White Horse?"

Alfred chuckled softly at the boy´s attempt to delay their departure. "They´re really not much to see up close." James opened his mouth to disagree, but Alfred interrupted him, saying, "You´ll get the chance soon enough. Trust me. Besides, the sun will go down before long and the trip back to Azkaban is hardly a short one."

"Alright," said James, obviously disappointed, but realizing it was useless to argue. After one last look out the sindow, he started towards the room´s front door.

Alfred stopped him before he could reach it, though. "My secretary is right outside that door, so going that way is somewhat dangerous. She has an unfortunate tendency to think that everything is an emergency. What is most unfortunate is that she is usually right. I think it would be prudent to take a less obvious route."

With that, he walked over to the bookcase to the left of the door and said, "Plutarch." The bookcase suddenly collapsed into the floor, revealing a dark, narrow passageway.

"Cool," said James, wide eyed.

Alfred had pulled out his wand and with a simple spell caused the torches along the corridor to light. It was still quite dark, but sufficiently bright to keep from running into the walls. James was just about to ask how far they were going when the passageway turned and then abruptly ended. He almost instinctively obeyed when he heard Alfred say, "Double advance, lunge," instructions James had often heard during his fencing training. He quickly realized that this was another password as the wall in front of them opened like a door. They passed through the opening onto a small stone balcony extending into the main rotunda of the Castle. This was easily the largest room James had ever seen. The tall, curved wall was a maze of terraces, staircases, and arched entryways in a variety of architectural styles. Most of them were interconnected, clearly designed to allow people to make their way between the various divisions of the Ministry that were housed in the Castle. However, a few of the staircases didn´t appear to go anywhere in particular, and a number of balconies, including the one they were standing on, didn´t have obvious ways of getting on or off.

James turned to his grandfather, who had just finished chatting politely with the pair of swordsmen in the painting that was now covering the entrance to the hidden passageway. "Don´t tell me we have to jump," said James.

"No," laughed Alfred. "Not if you´re careful at least." With that, he walked to the edge of the platform and two stones extended from the wall below him, forming the beginning of a crude staircase. As he stepped down onto the first, another step pulled out of the wall. "Stay close, these stairs don´t appear for just anyone," he called back to James, who quickly obeyed. As they descended, the stairs kept up, appearing a step or two ahead of them and disappearing behind them. James was quite sure he was going to fall any second. After only a couple dozen steps, they arrived at the landing that housed the entrance to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. From there, they were able to make their way to the room´s floor using less temperamental staircases (although he had the strangest feeling on one of them that its steps were slowly moving backwards).

"Now let´s see if we can get out of this building before anyone waylays me," whispered Alfred conspiratorially. Just as they began to hurry towards an exit however, a stout old man began hurrying towards them. "Too late," Alfred said under his breath. He mustered up a cheerful smile as the other man caught up and seized his hand.

"Minister Trajan," said Alfred politely, "what an unexpected pleasure to bump into you."

The Minister of Magic laughed. "Alfred, when will you be sensible and call me Julius. No, wait... I know. As soon as I retire, right?" Alfred nodded. "And don´t pretend to be glad to see me," the Minister continued. "I´ve been rushing around the Ministry putting out fires all day, and not a few people have expressed a certain... dissatisfaction with your absence--as I´m sure you can imagine."

"I´ve taken the day off to be with my grandson," Alfred relied, putting his hand on the boy´s shoulder. "James was accepted into Hogwarts yesterday and deserves to spend some real time with his grandfather, whose occupation leaves him with very little of it--as I´m sure you can imagine. My absence was planned; the Ministry should be able to survive a day short one man."

Minister Trajan sighed. "But the day´s events were not foreseeable. And you know that your entire department falls apart without you."

"That," said Alfred, rather sternly, "is a fact in which I take neither pride nor comfort. I needn´t lecture you on the dangers of leaning too heavily on a single man. The department must learn to adapt."

"Of course," replied the Minister, whose smile seemed a little more forced than it had been a few moments earlier. Turning to shake James´ hand, he continued, "Congratulations, my boy. We can certainly use a few more well-trained Potter wizards."

"Thank you, Minister," replied James timidly.

"I don´t suppose you´ll call me Julius either," whispered the old man deviously.

"No, sir," James said with a small smile. "I don´t think I could."

Julius Trajan sighed, pretending to be bitterly disappointed. "I´ll let you gentleman go then. Have a pleasant evening." He then turned and hurried to meet someone else he had spotted across the room.

Without a word, Alfred began walking again, leading James into a wide hall that extended away from the rotunda to the gates of the castle. It was deserted and echoed loudly. Apparently nearly all the witches and wizards who entered or exited the Castle did so by more magical means. When Alfred and James neared the giant double doors at the end of the hallway, they found a small rucksack and a large wooden staff sitting on the ground near the wall. Alfred told James to remove the robes he was wearing over his clothes and place them neatly by the sack. Someone would be by later to pick them up. As soon as they both looked like Muggles again, Alfred then slung the bag over his shoulder, took up the staff, and moved to the great double doors. There was a great resonating sound as the underused iron hinges creaked open and the portcullis beyond the doors lifted, allowing Alfred and James to pass through.

As they walked out of the Castle and into the open, Alfred turned to James and warned, "Walk slowly and casually. The Muggle distraction charms will linger for a few moments, but we don´t want to do anything that will draw attention to our apparently sudden appearance."

James didn´t even see any Muggles as they walked down the hill on which the Castle stood, but he supposed it was best to cautious. They soon came upon an unpaved, but well-worn road. "This is the Ridgeway," said Alfred. "It is one of the oldest roads in the known world. Thousands of years ago, people walked this very same road. Tonight, it will quite handily lead us back to the stone circle where we landed this morning. We´ve got a ways to go, so we´ll have to eat as we walk." As Alfred began waling west along the road he pulled two apples from his bag and tossed one to James.

They hadn´t gone very far when James paused after a bite of his apple and asked, "Weren´t you going to tell me about Dragon Hill?"

"Right you are," laughed Alfred. "Let´s see if I can remember it." He took a thoughtful bite of his apple, and then proceeded with the story, pausing occasionally to chew, or pull out another bit of food, or point out some landmark or impressive landscape.

"Many centuries ago, a cruel and bloodthirsty tyrant king called Vortigern amassed unprecedented power with the help of several formidable wizards, who were as corrupt as he. Fearful of his many enemies, Vortigern set about constructing an enormous and impenetrable castle from which to govern his lands and attack his neighbours. The construction of the castle proved impossible, however, as any time real progress was made, they would find it mysteriously destroyed the next morning. Recognizing some sort of magic at work, Vortigern naturally went to his wizard counsellors for advice. They hadn´t a clue what was causing the destruction, but saw an opportunity to get rid of a dangerous young man, who was incidentally about your age at the time.

You see, several years before, an important and powerful wizard had done what was unthinkable at the time; he had fallen in love with and married a Muggle--and not just any Muggle, a noblewoman. Shortly after their union, he died quite suddenly. His widow, sensing danger, went into hiding. A few months later, she gave birth to a son, whom she named Emrys. From birth, the boy showed unusual magical potential, frequently causing extraordinary things to happen. Emrys and his mother were forced to move frequently from village to village, trying to avoid suspicion. This was all quite hard on the boy, who never stayed anywhere long enough to make any real friends. He ended up spending a lot of time on his own. Still quite young, he taught himself to read, and studied every book he could get his hands on. When he was old enough, Emrys would hire himself out to villagers doing whatever work they could give him to help support himself and his mother. Whenever possible, he liked tending sheep because it gave him the opportunity to sit in the fields for hours, deep in thought. Unable to integrate into society, he became a sharp, but detached, observer of human behaviour.

The wide variety of experience, skill, and knowledge he was able to pick up made him unusually wise for his age. Despite the many attempts to remain anonymous, word eventually spread of a boy, raised without a father and followed by unexplainable events, who could see solutions to seemingly impossible problems. The mystery, and therefore notoriety, of his story only grew as it was told how he would vanish suddenly from one village only to appear later in another, more obscure village miles away. As time went on, Emrys had to seclude himself ever more to stay unnoticed. In the end, however, anonymity proved impossible.

The wizards of Vortigern finally located Emrys just before the king began the construction of his new castle. They knew that unless the boy was eliminated, he could prove an enormous threat to their positions. You see, over centuries Muggles had come to see magical folk with a superstitious sense of awe and apprehension, eventually considering them an almost completely separate race. Knowledge of Muggle-born magicians was carefully guarded and suppressed. Muggle fear of the supernatural kept wizards and witches untouchable in the many wars and battles. They might be bribed or coerced, but never directly attacked or threatened. Emrys´ very existence jeopardized their revered, invulnerable status. If a boy who was noble born and had magical talent came to power, they couldn´t possibly control him like they could the other rulers. Their secure and influential positions might become suddenly obsolete. Worse yet, if Muggles found out that a powerful wizard could be born with less than pure magical heritage, wizarding blood would become a commodity to be won in war. Every power hungry nobleman would use any means necessary to infuse his bloodline with magic. Wizards and witches would suddenly be vulnerable and have to face the horrors of war--horrors that many of them had comfortably supported, encouraged, and even provoked for ages.

The construction of Vortigern´s castle gave them the chance to get rid of Emrys without getting their hands dirty, while buying time to find the real cause of the castle´s setbacks. They told the king that the boy´s mixed parentage made his magic wild and dangerous. Vortigern was easily convinced that executing Emrys would not only end the magic that was collapsing his castle walls but also prevent further disasters.

The boy was brought to the castle site, where he was to be executed in Vortigern´s presence. To the horror of his advisors, the king was surprised and impressed by Emrys´ tranquillity as he was brought in. Based on the information he had been given, Vortigern had envisioned some sort of degenerate monstonsity--an unnatural child overcome with fits and seizures, requiring a dozen guards just to subdue him. The young Emrys was the complete opposite, calm and collected, with an imposing air of confidence for such a small person. The two large guards that flanked the small boy seemed afraid to touch him. Intrigued, Vortigern gave the boy the chance to offer some last words.

Emrys smiled and told the king that his death would not end the destruction of the castle because his magic was not at fault. Two enchanted dragons, imprisoned in an underground cavern and locked in fierce combat, were the cause. The violence of their contest occasionally became so great, it shook the earth above, tumbling the castle walls. If the king would order his men to dig where Emrys instructed them, they would uncover the cavern and release the dragons, which would inconvenience him no more.

Amused by the young boy´s story, but not believing a word of it, Vortigern ordered the dig. He hoped it would provide him with some additional entertainment. After nearly an hour of digging, the king grew bored and asked Emrys where his dragons were. The boy just smiled and, without even turning away from the king to look, pointed to the spot where they were digging. Just then, a shovel broke through the earth, letting sunlight into the hidden cavern. The king´s workers were thrown back as two enormous dragons erupted from the ground, breaking the small hole wide open.

The giant lizards, now battling in the air, were far from common, even for dragons. The scales of the first glowed like hot coals and flames trailed from it as it flew. It turned on its adversary and yelled with a voice like a thousand roaring fires. The other dragon cried back with the deafening sound of crashing waves. It appeared to have a hide of ice, which glinted in the sun and was enveloped with a shroud of fog. As the fierce and thunderous battle was being waged above them, Emrys told the king to watch the fiery dragon carefully because it was an embodiment of tyranny and oppression, and Vortigern would soon share its fate. At first, the dragon in flames looked to be on the verge of conquering its adversary and king was pleased with the boy´s prophecy. Suddenly, however, the dragon of ice gathered new strength and pierced the other dragon´s hide. Flaming blood from the wound fell to the ground and scorched part of a hilltop--I´ll let you guess which one. The injured dragon was no longer a match for its attacker; the tide of the conflict had turned. Vortigern became fearful and angry, demanding that the boy reveal the other dragon´s identity. He replied that it embodied the harmony and freedom that Vortigern and men like him nearly wiped out, but which would in time triumph again.

Just as Emrys finished his answer, the dragon of fire was dealt a final icy blow and came crashing to the earth right next to the opening from which it had been released. The fissure grew wider until it swallowed the dead dragon and all the fallen stones from the castle. It then closed again so that it was impossible to tell there had ever even been a disturbance in the earth. Furious, Vortigern ordered his men to kill Emrys, but the entire company was forced to retreat when the victorious dragon came down to defend him.

True to Emrys´ prediction, Vortigern was soon vanquished, and his kingdom acquired by a man named Aurelianus. Emrys became an advisor to the new king and was given leave to construct a castle of his own near the site of the battle between the dragons. Despite his newfound fame and power, he would often disguise himself and live with common muggles lest he forget his humble beginnings. With maturity, he learned to control his magical abilities and use them to lead his country to an age of peace. You know him as Merlin and we have just come from the Castle he built."

James was entranced by the story. Looking at the brilliant sunset behind the clouds, he could imagine what that battle in the sky must have looked like. He thought how amazing it must have been to actually see such amazing enchanted creatures. He had any number of questions about them, but it was clear to him that his grandfather didn´t have anything more to tell him.

Before they had walked very much farther at all, they came upon a slight old man holding the reins of two magnificent Arabian horses. Had James not been able to see that they clearly didn´t have horns, he might have mistaken them for unicorns.

The man was visibly relieved when he saw Alfred and James walking towards him. "Thank `eavens," he shouted to them when they were still a ways off. "I was beginning to worry. Thought maybe som´un was `aving a laugh at old Charlie´s expense. It´s not very often I get a request like this, as you may well imagine. Two mounts in the middle of nowhere at sunset. Now I´m a trustin´ person by nature, always `ave been. Me Missus is always sayin´ `ow that´ll ruin me in the end. But I says to `er, I says, `If I treat folk like their rotten, they´re like as not to prove me right. But if I treat `em like their decent, who knows but what they won´t want to disappoint you.´ Now, she´d not let me `ear the end of it if I came `ome empty `anded, so I´ll admit I was a bit worried. But `ere you are, right as can be, an´ I´ll `ave some peace tonight."

James was amazed. The man hadn´t appeared to have taken a single breath as he spoke. When they reached him, Alfred just stood their smiling, patiently and politely, as Charlie went on. James couldn´ help but smile as Alfred carefully moved his staff out of the man´s view and made it disappear.

"I appreciate your providing us with such fine steeds," said Alfred, stroking the larger horse´s neck. "I assure you we´ll take good care of... What are their names?"

This seemed to please Charlie. "This is Mizar," he said proudly patting the one next to Alfred. "And this," he continues turning to the other, "is Alcor."

"Their beautiful," said James eagerly.

"That they are, lad," smiled Charlie. "They´re right friendly too... if you treat `em right. Not that I´m saying you wouldn´t o´course. You´re both decent gents I´m sure. I´m just a bit protective when it comes to them. Never `ad children of me own, you see, so these `orses are like family to me. I don´t imagine I could bear to rent `em out if I didn´t know they love to be ridden. I´m gettin´ to old to ride `em myself without my rheumatism givin´ me a world of pain. And it doesn´t `urt that it puts some food on the table... or in the trough as the case may be. But listen to me, rambling on about nothin´ when you want to be on your way. Let me `elp you get mounted. You´ve both ridden before `aven´t you? Now that´s a daft question. Of course you `ave. This isn´t exactly the time or place for a first lesson, now is it?"

James had ridden a few times before, but it had been a while. The island really wasn´t large enough to warrant keeping horses, so there wasn´t a lot of opportunity. He wouldn´t have admitted it, but he was a little nervous about riding now; he had a suspicion that all of his previous mounts had been charmed to stay quite calm and docile for him, never moving faster than a slow trot. Alcor clearly had not been magically subdued. Holding his horse´s reins, he could tell it was literally chomping at the bit to get moving.

When both horse had been mounted and Charlie had checked and double-checked that the harnesses and saddles were secure, he turned hesitantly to James´ grandfather. Looking like he had suddenly remembered something, Alfred pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Charlie. The man still looked a little unsettled and finally said, "Now there was one thing that I didn´t quite understand. You´re going to get to the end of the Ridgeway before I can get the trailer back there to pick them up. I´d send my stable boy to meet you, except I can´t afford one. I hate to leave you waiting."

Alfred only smiled. "Not to worry," he said reassuringly. "Go straight home. You´ll find Mizar and Alcor waiting safely for you there... Trust me."

He turned to James, nodded, and the two of them began riding away. After a few paces, he whispered conspiratorially to James, "We´d best pick up the pace a bit. I´d say we have a matter of seconds before Charlie remembers just where he lives and realized that there´s no way we can beat him back there on horseback." With that they both urged their horses on at full gallop.

As they went, James´ nervousness quickly melted away as sheer exhilaration overwhelmed it. It was incredible speeding across the beautiful countryside like that, the horse´s mane billowing in front of him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. This was... this was better than flying, he thought with surprise. He could continue like this forever.

Alfred let James enjoy the experience in silence; any sound other than the footfalls of the horses would have disturbed the dreamlike tranquillity of the encroaching night. They rode up and down the rolling hills through empty fields and small collections of trees. By the time they rode around another castle on a hill, the sun had completely fallen and the stars were clear and bright in the black sky. James was able to identify a few of the constellations he knew: Ursa Major and Minor, Leo and Draco. The moon in the southern part of the sky was nearly full.

Although he couldn´t even be sure just how long they had been riding, the end came all too soon James. Alfred let him off the Ridgeway and down another path that took them back to the stone circle. Here, they dismounted, although James did so only reluctantly.

"Time to send our friends back home," said Alfred. "If you´ve said your goodbyes, that is." James patted Alcor´s side sadly before nodding to his grandfather, whose wand was already out. With a murmured incantation and a flash of light, the horses disappeared and Alfred and James continued on foot.

They quickly reached Alfred´s hidden compartment, which he magically opened. He pulled out James´ robes and broom and handed them to him. They were surprisingly cold, even for having been underground all day. He was about to say something about it to his grandfather, when Alfred pre-empted him, "They´ll warm up quickly enough. Best not to worry about it." It was clear he didn´t want to discuss it further.

When they had both put on their robes, Alfred closed the earth and they set off into the air. As dark as it was, they didn´t have to avoid Muggle cities and towns and so were able to take a less winding path back towards Cornwall. Whether flying over the twinkling lights of houses or eventually the reflective ocean, James felt surrounded by stars as he flew. It was so relaxing that the activities of the day finally began taking their toll on James. He had to concentrate just to keep his eyes from closing after a while. His grandfather even had to shout his name once when he began to doze off and started losing altitude. Fortunately, they made it safely back to the island and Alfred sent him straight to bed. James made his way to his room half asleep and crashed on his bed without even changing clothes. It had been a very full day.