Elemental Alchemy

Chapter Four

6:30 pm - Hogwarts School -- Hogsmeade

Robert's disappointment over not being able to gorge himself on Victoria's capellini pomodoro was short-lived. It was quickly blanched by a sense of awe and amazement at the building quickly looming before them. Robert craned his head out of the coach door, like a child seeing the circus, or an architecture student seeing Notre Dame or the Roman Colisseum for the first time.

The castle was immense, full of tall, sweeping archways, scattered flying buttresses, and towers that seemed to scrape the stars out of the very sky. Robert could not believe the sheer architecture of the place - it seemed like it was created by four separate designers with four separate goals in mind.

"Let me have your jacket, Robert." Paolo held out his hand.

"My jacket, why?"

"You'll need proper robes when you enter Hogwarts, especially tonight. You can keep wearing that silly, outdated Harris Tweed you always wear if you like, but if you do, you are likely to have an entire Great Hall full of adolescents and teachers staring at you."

"Yes, but, what does having robes have to do with my jacket?" At Paolo's impatient gesture, Robert began to inch out of the coat.

"I'll transfigure it for you."

"You'll what for me? Come on now, Paolo, this is an expensive piece of clothing! I actually bought this one in Scotland!"

"Well, you're in Scotland and you can get another one. Just give it to me." Robert gave Paolo his bunched up coat with trepidation. "Oh, don't worry, Robert, I can turn it back into that ugly piece of Highland apparel when you're done if you so desire."

"You'd better. That one's my favorite, too."

Paolo again retrieved his wand from within his inside robe pocket. He mumbled a latinate incantation over Robert's jacket -- a word, of course, that Robert did not recognize. Instantly, the jacket elongated, but it was still made of reddish brown tweed. The sleeves billowed outward and the elbow patches disappeared. The back of the jacket bunched up, forming a series of even, vertical pleats underneath the shoulder piece. The look of it reminded Robert of an nineteenth-century gentleman's coat.

The now robe-length tweed, starting at the collar, began turning a midnight black, the color working its way down the length of the garment as if it were soaking up a pot of black dye. Paolo picked up the robe by the shoulders, shook it out, and presented it to Robert. Robert saw that it had a shining, satin-like, bright red lining, and a silvery clasp.

Robert, as he was for most of the day, was utterly amazed. "Paolo, how did you do this?"

"Do you like?"

"Yes, I suppose I do." Robert swung the robe around his shoulders and put his arms through the sleeves. "Reminds me of my doctorate robes, only, more stylish." He fixed the clasp at his neck and smoothed out the front.

"I made the lining red," said Paolo. "If anyone asks you, you were in Gryffindor House. Knowing what you've been through the past year, and how you've braved it all, I think you'd fit in quite well in Gryffindor. I should think your friends from the train would approve. Red, Robert, is the primary Gryffindor house color."

Again, Robert couldn't help but see the meaning behind the symbolic color, and again, Robert's thoughts drifted. Red... strength, health, vigor, passion, protection, courage. On the other hand, it meant danger, warning, anger - all aspects of the fire element. Funny, Robert thought, he did see all of these qualities in Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Especially the courage and the anger - all wrapped up in Harry.

Robert wondered what the symbolic animal was for this house - Slytherin had a snake. Gryffindor must have something! A griffin? Regardless, Gryffindor was likely also a group to reckon with, and, as Robert could see thus far, it was the complete symbolic opposite of Slytherin house. Robert began to make a mental connection. Now, we have water and fire -- opposites -- the other two houses must signify earth and air!

"Here we are," said Paolo. "Leave your case in the carriage. The Thestral will bring it to my summer home here in Hogsmeade, and Victoria will see to it when it gets there." The two men lit from the carriage. Paolo led Robert up a large staircase to a set of immense oak doors. "This way."

When Paolo opened the doors, Robert was, again, stunned. The entrance hall was expansive, with two immense staircases leading up either side. The walls were full of paintings Robert had never seen before, by artists he did not recognize. Robert could not resist but take a closer look at a large, rectangular painting of a Botticelli-like angel on the right wall.

"Paolo, this painting is beautiful! The lines of it, the symmetry, the color. I've never seen anything like it before! Who is this artist?" Robert reached out a hand to lean against the frame. "This woman in the painting, she looks so lifelike!"

"Thank you very much, very much indeed." The woman in the painting batted her eyelashes and spoke in a sweet, flirtatious voice. She reached up and stroked the hand Robert rested on the frame. "You're not so bad yourself, Mister."

Robert leapt back from the painting, shaking his hand, and letting out a small, stifled yelp. "What the?" Robert turned and glared at Paolo, who was now doubled over with laughter.

"I should have warned you, my friend, with your penchant for fine art, not to go poking your nose into the works in this building. Enjoy these paintings from a distance." Paolo guffawed again. "If you touch one of them, you're liable to get your hand slapped. They're very sensitive, you know."

"They're...they're alive? These paintings, they actually talk?" Robert stammered, pointing at the Botticelliesque woman, who was now standing with her arms akimbo, an annoyed look on her face. Robert looked around wildly to the other paintings lining the entrance hall. "But that's...that's"

"Impossible? No, Bobby, not here." Paolo smiled again. "The paintings even move from frame to frame. Some can even move from one of their paintings to another. You should meet Sir Cadogan. He's a real charmer."

Paolo chuckled. "You should know, Bobby, that this castle is full of wonders. You, amico, will be like a kid in a candy store, as you Americans say. If you continue reacting to the rest as you did to that painting, you will have un attaco di cuore, a coronary, before the night is done. So, Delfino, relax, enjoy the sights, and suspend your disbelief."

"Suspend my disbelief?" Robert glared at Paolo. "Remember who you're talking to here? I'm a perpetual cynic! You know, horribly jaded? Believing nothing, trusting no one? But you're right. I've had enough surprises for one day. I should be used to this weird stuff by now."

Paolo again put an arm around Robert's shoulder. "Just follow my lead, my friend, and you'll be just fine. Don't stare too much, and try not to look like a Muggle. Remember, you're a Gryffindor! Chin up!" Robert led Paolo up the right hand staircase.

"See, I told you he's good looking." Robert wheeled around and saw the Botticelli woman, now in another frame near the banister, whispering to the portrait of a young, blue-eyed woman in a bright red scarf. "I think he's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher if you ask me. Fine choice, that one. I think he's even more dashing than Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Paolo renewed his fit of giggles. "That's quite a complement, Robert. Quite a complement." Before Robert could turn and correct the paintings, Paolo again led him up the staircase. "This, Robert, is the Great Hall."

Paolo was right. By the end of the evening, Robert was sure he was going to keel over and die from heart failure. Again, his brain had a hard time registering what his eyes were seeing. "Are those candles...are they actually floating there? And is that ceiling open?"

"Yes, and no." Paolo responded over the noise of the students' chatter. "The candles are floating, yes, but the ceiling is still there. It's just charmed to reflect the sky outside." Paolo beamed. "Such incredible memories of my first time seeing this room. I imagine I felt quite like you do right now."

"Can we go in?" Robert asked, tentatively.

"We have seats at the head table, my friend. Of course we can go in. It looks like we've missed the sorting, unfortunately, but the feast is about to start."

Paolo, again with Robert in tow, moved to the right side of the hall, and began walking up the aisle toward the front. As with the women in the painting, Robert kept hearing female whispers of "New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," and "He's cute!" and "I hope I have him for my first class." Robert noticed Hermione Granger at the closest table, and moreso, noticed that she looked particularly happy to see him. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, on the other hand, looked quite surprised.

"I thought he was up here on holiday," Robert heard Ron whisper to Harry.

Robert leaned over Hermione's shoulders, whispered to the three, and smiled. "Change of plans, thanks to Paolo, here. So much for rest and relaxation, I guess." Ron and Harry exchanged optimistic glances.

As he rose, Robert saw a dark-skinned girl with long, plaited hair lean over to Hermione. "You know him, Hermione? He looks so -- so dreamy!"

Robert laughed when he heard Ron Weasley. "Come off it, Parvati. He's out of your league, that one. He told us on the train that he once snogged an Italian physicist, who's also a yoga master! And his last girlfriend was a French Police cryptologist, whatever that is!"

Parvati continued to stare dreamy-eyed. "I don't care! I hope I have his Dark Arts class first thing tomorrow morning!"

It took everything Robert had not to stand on a table, spread his arms and shout, "I am NOT the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher!" By the time Robert had his fill of the whispers, they had approached the staff table.

A wizened man with long silvery white hair and a long white beard rose from his seat at the center of the table, and stepped down the side of the dais to meet them. Again, from the rest of the staff sitting at the table, Robert heard whispers of "Defense...Dark Arts...New professor...." Robert fought the urge to roll his eyes with annoyance.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Langdon," the wizard said, his blue eyes twinkling over a set of half-moon spectacles. "I trust your trip was a good one, not too, well, overwhelming?"

Robert felt a sense of awe just looking at this man. Obviously, he was extremely wise, and extremely powerful. "Overwhelming? To say the least, but, yes, sir, I did have a good trip, thank you." Robert wasn't sure if he should offer to shake the man's hand or bow, so he did a combination of both.

"Oh, Mr. Langdon, please," the wizard laughed. "We do not stand on ceremony here. I am Professor Dumbledore, but you may call me Albus."

"Call me Robert then."

"At least, Robert, I will not call you late for dinner!" Albus let out a happy cackle of a laugh that made Robert feel instantly more comfortable. "Please, Robert, join us for the feast. It's just about to start."

Robert and Paolo walked behind the table and sat at places on either side of Professor Dumbledore. A stern-looking woman in emerald green robes sat to Robert's immediate right. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall." She offered a hand, which Robert shook. "You are Robert Langdon?" Robert nodded. "Well, I am the Deputy Headmistress, I teach transfiguration, and I am head of Gryffindor house."

Momentarily, Robert looked past Professor McGonagall to a thin man with long, greasy black hair sitting at the end of the table. The man had a very pale, pinched face and an incredibly long, hooked nose. Robert caught his eye. The man stared at Robert for a long moment, and scowled. With a fluid motion, the man stood, billowed his robes out from behind him, and strode with seeming anger toward the table full of Slytherin students.

Professor McGonagall turned and watched the man leave. "That is Professor Severus Snape. He teaches potions, but," she whispered, "for as long as I've known him, he's desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts job." She smiled. "Am I to understand that you, Professor Langdon, are the replacement Defense..."

"No, Minerva, he is not." Albus interrupted. He then stood up at the podium, called for attention from the students, and addressed them. "In case you all are wondering, the gentleman to my right is not, I repeat, not, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was a collective mumble from the students.

"I regret to inform all of you, however, that the teacher I had hired to fill that position this year, Professor Juan Cortacabezca Matado, will be permanently unable to perform his duties. I have opened up a search for a replacement, and will fill that position as soon as possible. In the meantime, Mr. Zabini, here, has agreed to substitute for Professor Matado, and does so with my full and complete confidence."

"So who's the bloke with the turtleneck?" A thickly Irish-accented voice came from the left-hand table.

"Patience, Mr. Finnigan, patience." There was a collective laugh. "This, students, is Professor Robert Langdon. He is not here to teach. He is here on my authority to assist me with certain, shall we say, Hogwarts business. However, if Mr. Langdon requests anything of you -- anything at all -- please ensure that you cooperate with him fully and to the best of your ability. Like Mr. Zabini, Professor Langdon has my utmost trust and confidence."

Hogwarts business? If I request anything? Robert's sense of dread and foreboding at the supposed task ahead of him increased tenfold. What was he here for? What was he supposed to be doing? More importantly, what happened to Professor Matado? Robert couldn't help but think that Matado's apparent unavailability was more than it seemed, and unfortunately, was the likely reason he was here.

Again, Robert's thoughts were broken by an amazing sight. When Professor Dumbledore said, "That is all, students. Let the feast begin," the table in front of Robert seemed to explode with food and drink. Every coffer and every plate on the head table burst forth with an abundance of seemingly any and every kind of food possible. Robert awkwardly pulled up the sleeve of his robe, picked up a fork, and gingerly poked at a bowl of mashed potatoes, checking to see if it was real.

"Don't just sit there gawking, Mr. Langdon," chirped Professor McGonagall, startling Robert, "it is real food, you know! Eat, now, before it gets cold, or you'll go hungry!"

Suspend your disbelief, Robert thought, suspend your disbelief.

In spite of the incredible strangeness of the day, Robert found himself, in the face of this smorgasbord of food, incredibly hungry. After his stomach gave a nasty growl, he dove in with relish, piling food on his plate and working it down between snippets of conversation with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. Paolo merely smiled knowingly during the entire meal, consuming his veal with particular relish.

As Robert was finishing a particularly sticky, but delicious, piece of what Professor Dumbledore called treacle fudge cake, Robert saw yet another incredible sight. Flying around the room in front of him were four ethereal figures. At first, Robert couldn't distinguish what they were, and thought they were merely fog or mist rolling into the room from an open window.

But, as Robert looked closer, he saw that these forms were, "Ghosts!" Robert tried with all of his might not to gape, especially with a mouthful of dessert. Robert swallowed the cake with some difficulty. "Are those really ghosts, or is this some kind of trick, or illusion, or spell or something?"

"No, Bobby," said Paolo. "Those are really ghosts. They're the four house ghosts." He pointed to each one in turn. "That is the Fat Friar from Hufflepuff. That one there in the chandelier, that's the Bloody Baron, he's the Slytherin ghost. That one is the Gray Lady from Ravenclaw," he gave the Gray Lady a familiar wave as she flew by. "That one there, is..."

"I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. The Gryffindor ghost!" The ghost approached the head table, and bowed gallantly. Instinctively, Robert stuck out his hand for a shake, but quickly withdrew it when Sir Nicholas merely scowled at it.

"Oh, yeah, I guess...that wouldn't work would it?" Robert stammered. "I'm Robert Langdon."

"I already know who you are, Professor Langdon," said Sir Nicholas airily. "All of the ghosts in the castle are talking about you, wondering if you are going to replace poor old Professor Matado."

"Poor old Professor Matado?" He looked at Paolo, who merely shrugged. "No, sir," Robert said, trying to hide a rising irritation, "I am not. I am not the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Robert muttered to Paolo, "You'd think word would get around by now."

Sir Nicholas continued. "I presume that Professor Matado will be joining us rather soon. Just what we need around here, another Ravenclaw!" Robert saw that Paolo was making a futile attempt to hush Sir Nicholas up.

"Lucky bastard, that Matado," said Sir Nicholas. At least he will be able to join the headless hunt this year. Alas, I have been turned down yet again!"

Poor Professor Matado? Headless hunt? Is Professor Matado...dead? Headless? Robert's previous feeling of dread just increased again, this time not tenfold, but 100-fold.

Paolo interrupted, apparently trying to distract Robert, which, unfortunately, was not working. "Yes, yes, Sir Nicholas, most disappointing, that. Robert, we call Sir Nicholas 'Nearly Headless Nick' around here. He's a right legend."

"Nearly headless? Why do they call him..." Robert's nerves drove him to take another bite of cake.

"Don't ask," said Paolo, cringing. "Please, don't ask."

But, it was too late. "Because of this!" Sir Nicholas pulled at the scruff of ghostly hair on his head and pulled to one side. His head, much to Robert's horror, pulled away from the neck and was left hanging by a thin strand of sinew.

Robert swallowed. Hard.

Now, I've seen it all...

Chapter Five

9:00 pm - Dumbledore's Office - Hogwarts

After the feast, Professor Dumbledore excused the students, instructing them to follow their respective Prefects back to their dormitories. Robert continued to sit at the head table, quite full, as he watched the students walk sleepily and satiated out of the Great Hall.

Robert sat back in his chair, and inhaled deeply. His previous fatigue was again catching up to him, exacerbated by a continuously spinning mind, and incredibly full stomach.

"Do not get too comfortable, my friend," said Paolo. "There is still much work to do tonight. We are to meet Professor Dumbledore in his office in five minutes."

True to Paolo's word, five minutes later, Robert and Paolo arrived outside a heavy stone archway containing an immense statue of a bird. "Amazing," said Robert. A moment later, Professor Dumbledore ambled up beside them.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he gave a wan smile. "Robert, although this is horrible business for us, you should be relieved to know that you are about to find out why you have been brought here tonight." He turned toward the bird, raised his hands, and said, "Sherbert lemon."

This must have been a password, Robert thought, because as soon as the words were spoken, the great bird began to turn on its axis, revealing an immense stone spiral staircase. "This way, gentlemen," said Professor Dumbledore. "Professors Snape and McGonagall should already be in my office waiting for our arrival."

As Robert, Paolo and Albus rode the staircase up toward what Robert now saw was a large oak double door, Robert's curiosity got the best of him.

"Albus, what happened to Professor Matado? Is that why I'm here?" Robert saw flashes in his memory of the horribly mangled bodies of Jaques Sauniere and Leonardo Vettra, and wondered if another gruesome viewing was on his agenda for today.

"You will find out momentarily. I presume that when you see what is sitting on the desk in my office, you will recognize it immediately."

As the great oak doors opened, Robert immediately saw that Dumbledore was right. Robert's heart sank. "Its a Cryptex."

"I presume you have seen one before, Robert?" Professor Dumbledore crossed to the rear of the desk, and sat down. "This one here is giving us some particular trouble. Seems that none of us are able to touch it. Whenever we do, the thing gives us a great shock, and throws us backwards. Severus and I have broken many of the gadgets in my office trying to figure this thing out, and frankly, while I do not prize my possessions completely, some of these do not belong to me."

Despite the prospect of another cryptex looming before him, and the possibility of having to look at another gut-wrenchingly mangled body, Robert could not help but look around the office. It was a large, circular room lined with endless shelves carrying numerous gadgets and trinkets completely unrecognizable to Robert.

Except for one trinket. Robert looked to the right of the desk and saw, floating in what seemed to be a magnetic field, a pyramid bearing the etching of an open eye, similar to that found on the back of an American Dollar bill.

"The all-seeing eye, the Eye of Horus," Robert's breath came in short bursts. "That's . . . that's an Illuminati symbol. Are you an Illuminatus?" Robert sat down. After the events of the past year, he went from not believing a modern Illuminati existed, to believing, and right back to not believing again. Robert felt as if his resolve, his faith in his discipline, was being tested.

"Yes, Robert, it is an Illuminati symbol, and no. I am not an Illuminatus. Never was. I never got into politics, especially the politics of religion and science. I have my own strong and firm beliefs in the benefits of both to mankind. However, I was too busy teaching transfiguration at that time, and working with my partner on alchemaic problems." Robert sighed with relief. "However, that partner, Nicholas Flamel, he was an Illuminatus. That trinket was a gift from him."

"Nicholas Flamel, the French alchemist, was your... partner? Impossible! He died centuries ago."

"Did he, now?" Dumbledore smiled. "Sadly, by my recollection, he and his wife, Pernelle, passed away together only last Tuesday." Robert shook his head, and dropped it into his hands. He didn't want to know. He wasn't going to ask.

"Frankly, Robert, it was through Nicholas that I first heard about you and your particularly unique set of skills." Robert looked up. "Nicholas had quite a fondness for Muggles. He often scoured the Muggle news, and, in his reading he heard about the events at Vatican City last year. He also heard that the Illuminati had somehow resurfaced, and that it was performing evil, horrible, murderous deeds - deeds which Nicholas would never have endorsed."

"Nicholas and I talked often about you, your knowledge, your role in saving the Holy City from that horrible fate. More importantly, your role in uncovering the truth - that it was not the Illuminati, after all." Dumbledore paused. "It is because of those events, and the turns of late," he gestured toward the Cryptex, "that I asked Paolo to bring you here today. How lucky for me when Paolo told me he knew you personally, that he even studied under you! I do believe, Robert, that we are in dire need of your expertise."

Robert bit. "Okay, why am I here?"

"Well," said Dumbledore, "as I said, we are having quite a time with this Cryptex. I was hoping you could find a way to open it."

With a crash, Harry Potter burst into the room, breathless. "Professor Dumbledore? Did you tell him yet? Is he here to help us work out the proph...oh." Harry looked crestfallen when he saw that there were others in the room besides Professor Dumbledore and Robert. "Guess not."

"Stay here, Harry. We may find that we will need your assistance." Dumbledore continued explaining to Robert. "Two days ago, when Paolo called you, I had, only thirty minutes before, discovered the body of Professor Matado laying right outside the stone phoenix downstairs."

Here it comes, Robert thought. The tour and the viewing.

"Do not worry, Robert, the body is long gone now," it was as if Dumbledore read his mind. "but you must know that his head was severed, and his neck was wrapped in a blue and white Ravenclaw scarf. Professor Matado also had a dead raven clutched in his left hand. Whoever killed Professor Matado removed his head, and placed it atop this Cryptex. Strange set up, obviously leaving clues, but we can't figure out what they were other than the obvious - that Matado was a Ravenclaw."

Robert became lost in thought. His eyes darted to the left, and he scrubbed at his mouth, searching for the symbolic memories. Thankfully, Dumbledore paused to allow Robert the luxury of uninterrupted deliberation. Ravenclaw -- the raven -- the color blue. Blue -- strong and steadfast or light and friendly, conveying importance and confidence without being somber or sinister -- associated with intelligence, stability, unity, and conservatism. The Raven - synonymous with initiation, wisdom, eloquence, teaching. "The air sign." Robert muttered. "Water, fire and air..."

Robert looked up. Dumbledore smiled approvingly. "I have since cleaned the Cryptex as best I could without touching it. You can imagine the shock I got when I tried to lift it and was summarily thrown across the hallway. I had to ask our caretaker, Argus Filch, to carry it up here for me. Mr. Filch is not a wizard, you understand."

"So, let me get this straight," Robert stood and began pacing. "This Cryptex here reacts whenever a wizard picks it up. So, that's why I'm here - a Muggle - not only can I solve it, or so you think, but I can touch it, and therefore open it?"

"Seems only logical does it not?"

Robert gave an involuntary shiver. This was déjà vu in the worst possible way. A mysterious call, a dead body, and a seemingly impossible puzzle. This, Robert thought, was becoming an irritating pattern, like an overly repetitive plot in a formulaic series of novels.

Robert crossed to the desk and examined the Cryptex. It was larger than ones he had seen in Paris, about the size of a small bucket. It was a squat, wide cylinder, made of a dark brown wood Robert thought could have been mahogany, and the letter bands were wrought from a coppery metal. Unlike the Crypteces he solved with the help of Sophie Neveu in Paris, this one's rotating bands carried varying kinds of symbols, not just numbers or Roman letters.

Robert recognized some symbols as Hebrew letters, Greek letters, Cyrillic letters, mathematical symbols, and Alchemaic symbols - a true symbolic mish-mash. Robert knew that, in order to open the Cryptex, the letters or symbols on the bands must be lined up in the proper sequence. Forcing the Cryptex open would only serve to destroy the contents inside.

Robert reached out a tentative hand and poked at the Cryptex. Nothing happened. He then laid his hand flat along the top. There were still some dried bits of blood caked and etched into a symbol on the top. The symbol, Robert knew well and immediately recognized.

"A pentagram," Robert observed. "Does a pentagram mean anything to any of you? I mean, it is a symbol for numerous things where I come from, but in particular to wizards, does it mean anything?" Robert could not believe he was actually asking someone else to interpret a pentagram.

Snape responded. "While Muggles think that the pentagram is a sign of witchcraft, to us it is practically meaningless. The symbol has not been used in centuries. When it was used, it was only to mark directions, like a compass. So, no. It means nothing above and beyond pretty decoration."

"Perhaps, Robert, this will help." Dumbledore produced a piece of crumpled parchment from his pocket. "This, too was found with the body. Thus far, none of us have been able to make heads or tails of it."

Robert took the paper and sat down again, studying it. At the top, in green ink, it said,

Within the chamber lies the clue

To the one who gave Ravenclaw his due.

When it remains at mid the full moon

Two more spirits shall be free quite soon.

Horrible poetry, Robert thought. Not even in meter. "So," said Robert. "That ups the stakes a little bit. If we can't open this Cryptex by midnight on the full moon, if I'm reading this correctly, two more will die."

"Well, now that's obvious isn't it? We didn't need a Harvard symbologist to help us figure that out, now did we?" Snape barked. "Look out the window, Langdon! The moon is full tonight!"

Robert looked at his watch, ignoring Snape. Mickey told him it was 9:30 pm. Plenty of time. Robert continued to analyze the parchment. He saw a pattern of words written in red ink, arranged in a rough circle. As Robert turned the paper, he read the words, from left to right.

sell him Mars a falcon bold blue due

Robert scratched his head. "This makes no sense whatsoever." Robert turned it around again, repeating the words out loud, his focus sharpening. "But, there has to be a solution, there has to be something! Come on, Robert see it - see it. It's there, just see it!"

Before Robert could give the paper another turn, Snape grabbed it and flattened it on the desk. "Instead of you wasting time and ruminating about it, let me try -- my way -- Langdon." Snape took out his wand with a showy flourish and tapped the parchment. "Reveal your secrets."

The parchment seemed to shiver momentarily. Then, inkblots formed on the paper and bled out, forming words. Dumbledore read them.

I shall ne'er reveal my secrets

to a traitor such as yourself, Snivellus.

Snape blanched, and then scowled.

"Seems our killer has a sense of humor, Severus," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Sick, but a sense of humor nonetheless."

"Snivellus?" Harry chimed. "That's what my dad used to call you, isn't it, Professor Snape?" Snape, still pale, glowered at Harry. "I mean, sorry, sir, but it's important." Robert could immediately tell there was no love lost between Severus Snape and Harry Potter.

"Yes," Snape growled. "James Potter and his 'chum,' Sirius Black, thought it funny to call me that. I, frankly, never saw the humor in it." And that, Robert thought, is why.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Can I please try something? This may be one of my dad's trick parchments!"

"Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot imagine how one of Sirius and James' special maps would end up beside Professor Matado's body, especially carrying such a threatening message. But, at this point, Harry, if you have an idea, go with it."

Harry pulled his wand from within his robes, tapped the parchment, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

As the first words emerged, Harry smiled, looking very encouraged.

"Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs..."

"Look! Those are Sirius and my Dad's nicknames! It must be one of my Dad's..."

Harry's elation was rudely cut off by the development of the next set of words. Harry's smile melted away, and his face went stark white.

Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs

Bled and died for their wrongs

Mr. Moony's oe'r crippled with grief.

Mr. Wormtail, the last, has fled from his past

And serves me, the Dark Lord, beneath.

The words stopped. Harry's eyes flashed as he glared at them. Robert could hear Harry's breath come in ragged hisses as the hatred and anger percolated within him. In a release of that anger, Harry grabbed at the parchment, and crumpled it in his hands as if he wanted to rip and tear at it.

"Harry, please." Professor Dumbledore pled, taking Harry by the shoulders. "We need that parchment. Please do not destroy it! I know that this -- thing -- is taunting us - taunting you -- with the deaths of your father and your godfather, but please..."

With tears streaking down his face, Harry threw the mangled parchment back down on the desk. Robert took it and smoothed it out again. As he did so, he noticed more words emanating from the paper.

If the Potter boy's hand

Dares touch this parchment again

Or the hand of any wizard should do

Then this Cryptex and clue

With the remainder of you

Shall crumble and burn where you stand.

"Well," said Professor Dumbledore, "it looks now as if you're the only one who can handle this parchment, too, Robert."

The words disappeared. In their place, Robert saw something more astonishing than anything he saw all day. This was the clue to end all clues, and Robert was just the person to interpret it.

As the ink receded back into the page, it seemed to coagulate and pool around the center of the circle of words. It then seemed to suck back into the page, leaving a short series of numbers.

1.618:1

Robert nearly screamed with joy, mingled with a repeated feeling of déjà vu. "Phi!" He beamed at Dumbledore. "That number, its Phi! That's it! That's the solution!"

"What's the solution?" Snape sneered. "What is Phi?"

"It's the Golden Ratio. 1.618 to 1. DaVinci studied and drew it, it's in nature, art, the human body...it's creation and science and perfection all rolled into one. The pentagram, Professor Snape, is based on this ratio!"

Robert took the parchment. "Can I borrow a pen?" Paolo handed him a quill off of Dumbledore's desk, and dipped it into the inkwell.

Robert took the quill and drew a perfect pentagram, starting, as they traditionally do, from the bottom left, drawing up, down, to the upper left, and the upper right. "There."

Snape leaned over and read the words in the order in which Robert had marked their path. "Langdon, this still is naught but nonsense! 'Sell him a falcon. Due mars, bold blue?' You've gotten us nowhere!!" Robert continued to scribble on the parchment as Snape kept up his tirade.

"You, a Muggle, come in here, all high-and-mighty and you think you can break this -- this code? Is that what this is, simply a word and number game to you? The full moon is tonight, Langdon! If you do not open this by midnight, there will be another death! Matado is dead, Langdon! We may have to close the school if we don't ..."

Robert looked up from the paper, looked at his watch again, and smiled. 9:45 pm. "You know, Professor Snape. Just two months ago I finished a case, I guess you can call it, where a mathematician lady and myself dealt with Cryptices, and clues left in scrambled words. I'm in great practice with this kind of stuff." O Draconian Devil... O Lame Saint...

"Do you have it figured out, Robert?" Professor McGonagall was now leaning over the desk.

"Yes," he said, "I believe I do." He spread the parchment out in front of him. The rest were careful not to touch it, especially Harry. "The words, 'due mars, bold blue' Forget that they're words. Focus on the letters, instead. Unscramble them. What does it say?" Robert looked at Dumbledore.

After a long pause, Harry piped up. "Albus Dumbledore?"

"Absolutely right, Harry. And what about 'sell him a falcon?' Think about the letters, Harry. Focus on them. Think of another name."

After another long pause, "Halls...no. Coals... Michaels....no that's not it." Harry muttered, and then a smile crept across his face. "Nicholas....Nicholas Flamel!"

Robert got up and clapped a hand on Harry's back. "You're smarter than you look, Potter." Harry couldn't help but grin. "Yes, Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore." Robert turned to Albus. "Now, what do you have in common with Flamel that we could use to open this Cryptex?"

"Well, we worked together in Alchemy. We created a Philosopher's Stone together. Nicholas already had one, and we, together, repeated the process. The stone that could turn metal into gold and create the elixir of life, which would make the drinker immortal."

"You did what?" Robert stared. "Did you really? I mean, does that stone really exist?" Robert fought to stay on topic, but given this bit of news he couldn't help but digress.

"Yes, that is how Nicholas managed to stay alive for so long! Alas, however, the stone has been destroyed. Six years ago, Voldemort tried to take it from me, so that he could come back and rise to power. Young Harry here prevented that."

Robert turned his attention back to the Cryptex. "Okay, alchemy, alchemy." Robert made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about the stone again at a more appropriate time. He inspected the Cryptex again, and began to spin the dials. Paolo joined him, and began pointing out symbols stamped on the metal bands.

"Try this one. This is the symbol for gold. Or this one, for silver. This one means earth. What about the elementals? Try lining up by earth, air, fire and water."

Unfortunately, however, there was more than one alchemaic symbol on each of the bands. "Damn. This doesn't help. There must be something else, it can't be just plain alchemy." He paced behind the Cryptex, thinking. "How common is the knowledge of the Philosopher Stone's formula?"

"Very common," said Professor Dumbledore. "The trick was mixing the ingredients in the right proportion and timing. That's why Voldemort had to try and steal the stone I had, he could not duplicate what Nicholas and I had done."

"That formula, what is it?" Robert leaned over the desk.

Dumbledore picked up the quill and a sheaf of parchment. He began writing a series of symbols and names. Paolo came around the desk and looked over Dumbledore's shoulder. "Magnesium, copper, sodium, water.... It's so simple!"

Dumbledore handed the sheaf to Robert. "Try this. Line up the symbols for the elements, just like I have here."

Robert was encouraged. There were ten bands on the Cryptex, and ten elements written on the page.

With Paolo's help with the symbols, Robert slowly turned the bands on the cryptex, lining them up with a small arrow at the topmost point of the pentagram. With a pop and a hiss, the cryptex opened. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Woah." Harry said.

Robert reached inside the top of the Cryptex and retrieved the center canister. He slid off the top of the tube, and looked inside. The room held a collective breath.

Robert sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "Damnit! I should have known!"

"What is it, man?" Snape barked. "Out with it."

Robert reached inside the canister and pulled out the contents. It was another Cryptex - with another note. Robert unfurled the note and read it out loud.

Brilliant of you to get this far.

How simple, that five-pointed-star

A Muggle must be in your midst

Know this then, no lie

That Muggle shall die

With a single and passionate kiss.

When he read the words, "That Muggle shall die," Robert's voice hitched.

Unless of course, he

Is more clever than me

And can open this puzzle anew

For I come in two hours

In fearsome great power

For the prophecy shall ne'er come true.

Keep vigilance! The prior clue

Shrewdly unraveled by you

Each hour is what is in store

For the lifeless Ravenclaw,

That mangled body you saw

Shall be joined by Hufflepuff and Gryffindor

"But we opened it!" Harry was the first to speak. "And it still says there'll be two more deaths - one from each house!"

Except Slytherin, Robert mused. "Killers don't always keep their promises, Harry. I've learned the hard way that, sometimes, they go for the spectacular." Robert looked up at Dumbledore. "We've been lied to. This is telling us then, that even though we got that Cryptex open....there still will be two, maybe three more deaths tonight." Robert looked at the parchment again. "It seems at least one each hour, possibly including my own! I think I have a vested interest in preventing them!"

Harry spoke again. "But, it also says that Voldemort's coming." The professors in the room - with the exception of Dumbeldore -- shuddered in unison. Even Robert found a chill run down his spine at the mention of the name. "And - the passionate kiss part - he must be bringing Dementors," Harry checked his watch, "at midnight."