Harry Potter and the Prince of the Enchanted Forest

Chapter 4: In Which Daystar Finally Tells His "Long Story"

Daystar led the others to the Fat Lady. Harry was confused. It seems whatever Daystar wanted to tell him, he didn't want to say in the open, but how would they get enough privacy in the Gryffindor Common Room?

"Good day, my lady," Daystar nodded at the Fat Lady.

"Good day," the Fat Lady bowed her head. "Password?"

"Pish-posh, if you please."

"Certainly." The Fat Lady swung the picture forward.

"Thank you." Daystar went in but walked by the squashy armchairs to a side door. He whispered what sounded like, "Aberolingarn," made some kind of twisting motion around the hilt of his sword, and opened the door to reveal an unused classroom.

"I didn't know this was in Gryffindor," Ron observed.

"It isn't," Daystar answered while locking the door. "I just let the door open to this room for the time being. I really, really, really don't want this to get out."

"All right. We can be really tight-lipped about some things."

"Gotten used to it by now," Hermione agreed.

"We'll keep your secret as best we can," Harry said.

"I'll know you'll do your best. All right, here goes." Daystar inhaled deeply and looked intently on his three friends. "I'm a prince."

Ron's eyes grew huge. "Oh my. Your Majesty!" He knelt down at Daystar's feet and refused to look up. "I am not worthy to stand in thy presence. Forgive for all the times my brothers or I might have treated thee with disrespect. It was not intended, we did not know."

Daystar rolled his eyes. "Ron--"

"Harry, Hermione, get down! No head should be higher than royalty's!"

"Ron, he's taller than all of us," Harry reminded him.

"You're making a fool of yourself, Ron," Hermione said.

"I am not! I'm giving my proper respect to--"

"Get up, Ron," Daystar said. "This is exactly why I tried to avoid telling anybody."

Ron stood but he still had an astonished look on his face. "Forgive me. I'm from such a poor family, I felt like I'm nothing among royalty."

"Don't worry about it. Professor Snape is right about one thing. In this world, I'm like everybody else."

"I always figured you were prince," Hermione said. "Or at least a knight or a duke. You just have that flair about you."

"Yeah, I think I noticed it too," Harry nodded.

"But you're not Prince of Darkness."

"Of course not!" Daystar answered. "I don't know where Professor Snape got that. I am a prince of an enchanted kingdom, however."

"Well yeah, that would stand to reason. Why would a muggle prince become interested in Hogwarts?"

"Well, why would a even a magical prince be interested in Hogwarts?" Ron asked. "Why would you mingle with us commoners? As a prince, don't you have more important stuff to do?"

"I only knew I was a prince for the past five years, Ron," Daystar asked. "There's still a lot I need to learn."

"You only knew for five years?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah. See, my father, the king of course, was trapped by a very complex spell. I was the only one who could rescue him because I was his only son and so I could work the sword. Only problem was, I was just a baby. So Mother raised me on the edge of our domain. She taught me reading, writing, fighting, a little bit of magic, some history, and most importantly etiquette. It was basically all the stuff I needed to be a king. Then, when I was 16, Mother gave me the sword and sent me on a quest. She only told me I could only come back when I knew why I had to leave. I basically stumbled around, met a few friends, and did my best to survive. But in my efforts, the sword recognized me as the heir to the throne. It gave me the power to sense magic, and I was able to free my father. The rest, more or less, is history."

"I see," Hermione said quietly. "Still, that doesn't really explain why you're here at Hogwarts. And what exactly do you mean, 'this world?'"

With a pulling motion, Daystar conjured the squashy armchairs from the common room. "Sit down. This will take a while." So they sat, watching Daystar intently. Daystar pulled up one of the hardwood desks and began:

****************

Now that I think about it, it's a rather funny story. At the time, however, it wasn't funny at all. It was frightening, morbid, and not just a little strange.

You see, after I found out I was a prince, I was expecting kinda a boring life. I didn't exactly feel I was prince potential, and I was sure our chief adviser would lecture me to death about my duties. Sure, I thought it would be good, being in the huge castle and having my every want and need met at the snap of a finger. Not to mention, my mother and father were together for the first time in my life, and we were a happy family. Actually, about the opposite happened. I didn't do much of anything except help my parents whenever they needed an extra hand. I continued to explore the whole sixth sense deal until I mastered it. Other than that, I more or less just hung out at the castle. It wasn't too bad, but it was still boring. I wanted to be like a chief ambassador, go outside the Enchanted Forest-- ("Pardon me, but did you say the Enchanted Forest?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Yes, that's our domain." Hermione looked back in wonder and interest as Daystar continued.) I wanted to see other creatures and kingdoms. I didn't complain, though. I live in a unique place, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. But I just wanted to get out and do stuff. Typical, teenage, "leaving-the-nest" type feelings, you know.

Then, about a month or two ago, Father took me out on a father-son boating trip. We ventured a couple of hours before sunrise to a lake on the border of our lands called the Lake of Weeping Dreamers. We had a whole morning of great stuff planned: fishing under the fading stars, breakfast as we watch the sun come up, a little swimming, a little rowing, and just being together. I don't think we ever did anything like that, since he was gone for so long.

We didn't catch anything, but we still enjoyed fishing on the edge of the lake. After the sun came up, we got in our boat to see what there was to see on the lake. As we got well out into the water, Father looked like he was deep in thought.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Daystar," he answered, "I have to be honest with you. Your mother and I had another reason for this little trip."

"What's up?"

"Well, Willin--" (that's the elf that is Father's chief advisor) "has been complaining lately that you're getting, for lack of a better word, lazy. He says that you're forgetting who you are and all about your lineage."

"Father, you know Mother taught me all I needed to know about being a prince."

"Yes, yes, I know she taught you the necessary diplomacy among other things. However, your mother has never been King of the Enchanted Forest. I have."

"Mother was a princess once."

"Yes, I know, but there are some things she can never understand about this place that I do. It's important that you learn them while there is still time."

"Father, what are you saying?"

"You are in a very unusual situation, Daystar. The trials for the person next in line to be King of the Enchanted Forest are normally held when the current king is either dying or dead. When I became king, I was expected to do things I had no clue about how to do, talk to beings I had never even heard of. My father wasn't around to tell me this stuff. All I had was Willin, and he wasn't always a lot of help. Yet, you have been chosen by the sword and the forest to be my heir in my lifetime. I feel like it is my responsibility to teach you what it means to be a king. I think you need to know more about magic."

"But I can do magic as well as you, Father. I've mastered it."

"Yes, you do use your power well, but remember that not even the Kings of the Enchanted Forest are immune to its traps and spells." Father stroked his ears as he was saying this and grimaced. I guess he knew by experience. "Even though you can use it, I think you need to understand a little bit more what it is. Why do you look so glum? I thought you would think this would be fun."

"Yeah, it probably will be at times, but to think about you, Willin, and Telemain lecturing about how to tell different types of fairies apart and what potion will do what, it just doesn't sound too inviting."

"Now, I didn't say anything about lectures, Daystar. I want this to be as interactive as possible. Sure, there will probably be some lecture, but really the only way to learn magic is to experience it. Careful, the current's picking up."

I looked around. I wasn't rowing much while we were talking, so our boat was drifting out to the heart of the lake. Now I grabbed my oar and debated whether I should try fighting the current or go with it. Yet, as I watched, the current wasn't only picking up, it was taking us into a huge whirlpool that appeared out of nowhere.

"Holy Toledo!" Father yelled. We fought the current with all we had, but the more we resisted the stronger the pull. Our boat was eventually destroyed, and we tried our best to swim back to shore. It was no use. We were going in whether we liked it or not.

"Daystar!" Father called out.

"Father!" I answered.

He swam toward me and hugged me. I think he was intending to rescue me somehow, but it did no good. The next thing I knew, the water was rushing over our heads, and we were constantly swirling. Then, everything went black.

When I came to, I found Father and I were lying on our stomachs, still holding hands, in a back alley. I nudged my father's head. "Father? Are you alright?"

Father slowly opened his eyes, got on his knees, and looked around. Once again, he hugged me around the shoulders. "Daystar, Daystar," he kept whispering in my ear.

"Where are we, Father?"

"One of two places, evidently."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry son. I didn't know this would happen."

"You don't mean we're . . . dead, do you?"

"We must be. We drowned."

"But Father, you're as dry as a bone. It's like we've never been near water at all."

"That's probably because these are our spiritual bodies, our souls. Odd, I always had the impression that they would look different. Anyhow, I've never heard of a wet ghost, so I suppose souls don't get wet even if the body drowns."

"Well, at least we went together."

"I don't know if that's a good thing. I mean, we're lucky the sword's still in the Enchanted Forest, but the forest lost its king and its heir. This is not going to be good for our kingdom, but I guess there's not much we can do about that now."

"OK, what do we do?"

"I guess we go out there and find out."

So we went out into the busy street. It was London, but we didn't know that. Everybody was giving us awkward looks as we walked by.

"I have a bad feeling about this. I don't think we're in the good one."

"Well, it's not bad. At least, nobody's bowing and 'your majesty-ing' us to death. And it looks rather busy, so we'll probably have a lot to do."

"Yeah, but it feels so barren and cold." Father probably felt that way because of the lack of magic. Nobody we passed seemed to offer much help. Then Father got that same concerned look he did before he told me about teaching me magic. "Daystar, there's something I probably should have told you, but I didn't want to disturb you on our trip."

"What's that?"

"My father, your grandfather, died by drowning in the Lake of Weeping Dreamers."

I guess I didn't look quite as shocked as he was thinking I would, but I did look at him with curiosity. "Does that lake have something against kings or what?"

"I don't know. I never learned the circumstances of his death too clearly. There weren't a lot of people with him. I always figured he wanted to prove how great a swimmer he was and found out too late that he wasn't. He might have been pulled into that same whirlpool, but I didn't know. That lake was the last connection I had to my father, and I really wanted to remember him right then."

"Think he might be around?"

"Possibl--wait a minute. Did you feel that?"

"What?"

Father walked a couple of paces back, and then I felt it too--a familiar tingle against my skin. "Magic," Father whispered. "Very strong, too. It's coming from in there. Maybe this is where we need to go."

I looked up at the sign above the door. "The Leaky Cauldron? I don't know, Father. It sounds like a hangout for old hags."

Nevertheless, Father opened the door and went in. We didn't see any old hags, but it was full of interesting people dressed in colorful robes and whatnot. While walking through the room, an unpleasant smell crossed my nostrils. "Ugh! Alcohol! Father, this is a bar!"

"Nope. It's a family establishment." Father pointed at a young boy probably about 10 or 11 sitting next to who was more than likely his father. "Besides, bar or not, this place has magic, and I intend to talk to the people here."

So Father walked up to the counter and talked to the toothless, old bartender. "Good day, gents. What can I do for you?"

"Good day, sir," Father nodded. I silently noted that it was good that the man said "day." It's positive. "We came for information."

"Well, I'll be more than happy to provide you with what you need."

"Then would you please tell us if this is the good one or the bad one?"

The man laughed. "It's the only one."

Father nodded, puzzled. "I have heard that theory before," I whispered.

"Very well," Father said uncertainly. "Where are we supposed to go?"

"To do what?" the man smiled.

"To, um, make our reckoning, I suppose."

The man laughed again. "What are you on about?"

"Isn't it obvious? We're dead, aren't we?"

The man stopped laughing and looked at us curiously. "What makes you think something like that?"

"We both drowned. This has to be the afterlife."

"You're not dead," the man said, now drawing out some sort of long stick. He prodded Father's chest and smiled. "See? You're heart's still beating. Never in my life have I met anyone who was dead who had a heartbeat."

Father didn't know what to say for a while, but then I said, "But we drowned! We know we did!"

The man just laughed, shook his head, and went to the other side of the counter. I thought I heard him say something that sounded suspiciously like, "Nutters."

"Well, that didn't do much good," I told Father.

"There's gotta be someone around here that will tell us what we need to know." He got up and walked around. We went out the back door after a long, uneventful search. Then Father looked around in excitement. "The magic's even stronger out here."

"But this is just a wall."

"There's a way around it, though. There has to be." He felt along the wall. "I knew it. There's a spell here." He grabbed the strings of magic and tugged. The wall pulled up as if it were a curtain. He pulled as hard as he could, then let go. The wall fell back down again. Then he grabbed another set of invisible, magic cords and pulled again. This time, the wall opened from the sides, but he still couldn't keep them open. "Here. You get these on the left. I'll take these on the right. On the count of three: one, two, three, PULL!"

It was like opening drapes made out of brick. I don't know how we managed it, but we got the wall open long enough for us to go through. There we noticed the interesting assortment of people, the most colorful we've seen yet.

"Well, you have to admit, this place is definitely--"

"Crowded?" I suggested.

"I meant unique, but you're right. It is rather crowded."

"Have you ever been to a place like this, Father? It's like a magical bazaar."

"I have heard of them. Morwen goes to the market in Unicorn Hills on a regular basis. I don't think I've actually been to one. This is rather organized. Look at that cauldron shop."

"Eeylops' Owl Emporium? Who knew owls were all the rage in the magical world? I always assumed they were cats."

"If there's one thing I learned about magic, it's never assume anything."

"Quality Quidditch supplies? What's Quidditch?"

"It's probably pronounced 'Kidditch,' or 'Kiddeetch.' It looks like a very French word. I have no idea, but I think it probably has something to do with flying broomsticks."

"Why do you say that?"

"There's a broom on display in the window."

"I can't tell from here. Too many kids are crowded around staring at it."

"Let's see, Gringotts." Dad stopped to read aloud the inscription on the door. "A protected treasure trove for pirates, maybe?"

"But aren't pirates thieves themselves?"

"Most of them are, but we don't know about all of them."

"Why do I smell dragon smoke?"

"Don't ask me."

"Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions?" I stared at a male manikin sporting a sparkling lime green robe. "Good night, I wouldn't be caught dead in something like that!"

Father laughed. "Wait till you see the king robes you have to wear." Suddenly, he got to his knees and started groaning. I came to help him, but that's when I felt it too. It was a sudden burning, itching sensation, like thousands of spiders were crawling all over me. (Ron winced.)

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The magic is so strong here," Father managed to say. "It's not like the forest. It's more concentrated. I think we found the heart of this whole place."

"Should we go in?"

"We must. This maybe where we're supposed to go." So we stood and went in. I briefly glanced at the sign: Ollivanders Est. 382 B. C. The door made a bell ring, and two people looked up to see us. One was a very old man with large eyes standing behind a counter. The other looked middle-aged with mismatched colorful clothing. This man lit up right when he saw us.

"Gwydoben! You old rascal!" he said addressing Father. He ran over and shook Father's hand vigorously. "What brings you to London?" Father opened his mouth to say when the man turned his attention to me. "Ah, I see you finally managed to bring your son Mendanbar here. Welcome, boy! Glad to see you finally escaped that dreadful trap. I always knew you would."

"If you please, sir," Father said, "I am Mendanbar. This is Daystar, my son."

"How wonderful!" the man went on still looking at me. "You're a grandfather now--Wait a minute." The man faced Father again. "YOU'RE Mendanbar?"

"Yes sir. Gwydoben was my Father."

"Pleased to meet you, then," the man said shaking Father's hand again. "Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, United Kingdom."

"United Kingdom? That's what this country is called?"

"Yes, and your father is one of the greatest men to ever take his position."

"Yes, I suppose he was."

"Of course. So, you brought your son here to get a quality wand from Mr. Ollivander here?"

Father and I exchanged a meaningful look. No wonder this place reeked with magic. It's a wand shop.

"I don't think they have," Mr. Ollivander answered. "I remember reading Gwydoben's story years ago in the Daily Prophet. Neither his son nor his grandson will need a wand."

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" Mr. Fudge said throwing his hands into the air. "Gwydoben's the one who can do magic so efficiently without a wand."

"Forgive me sirs," Father said, "but I fail to understand why you speak of my Father in the present. He died long ago."

"And we're dead," I added. "At least, I think we are."

Mr. Ollivander scrutinized us. "How do you think you died?"

"We drowned," Father answered.

"By any chance, was it in the Lake of Weeping Dreamers?"

"Yes," I answered. "How did you know?"

"Oh, that's a difficult story to explain," Mr. Fudge interjected. "I'd tell you, but I never really could follow it. Could you, Ollivander?"

"No sir. I try to admire magic philosophy at a distance. But I will tell you two this: you are not dead."

"No sirree, you aren't," Mr. Fudge said. "Tell you what, I'm going to summon an old friend of mine. He'll be sure to clear up any confusion you have. Why don't you wait for him at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"That bar again?" I said wincing.

"Alright then, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Here, have some sundaes on me." He put a bunch of gold and silver coins into Father's hand. "My friend should get to you in at least an hour."

"Thank you, Mr. Fudge," Father said bowing.

We found the ice cream parlor easily and ordered a couple of Chocolate Delight sundaes. "So, Father, do you believe that we might possibly be alive?"

"Well, we might be, but I don't see any way that your grandfather is."

"Why not? He drowned in the same lake as we did. And if we're alive--"

"The forest would know if its king was alive or dead. And the forest loudly proclaimed to all the world that my father was dead."

I dropped my spoon. "How do you mean?"

"When a king of the Enchanted Forest dies, the forest goes through a period of mourning. Not just the animals and the civilians, but all the trees, flowers, even the rocks. And it's not just boo-hooing either. It's loud wailing. Plus, all the moss and flowers look as though they're wilting, and the magic kinda sags and oozes out. It's not comfortable to walk through the forest during the king's funeral. Trust me, I know. Things get back to normal in about three days, but man those three days are uncomfortable. I asked your mother if anything like that happened when I was gone, and she said no. It was her only comfort, knowing that I was still alive. The forest knew."

I contemplated this as I continued to eat. Then how could both these be true? Could this just be a dream? My answer came, as I was finishing up.

Mr. Fudge's friend walked straight over to our table. "Do I have the pleasure in addressing King Mendanbar?"

"Yes sir, but you may call me Mendanbar if it pleases you. This is my son Daystar as well. And who might you be?"

The man bowed as he said, "Professor Albus Dumbledore, at your service. I must say, you look remarkably like your father."

I thought he was speaking to me. "Why, thank you sir," I said.

"Oh yes, you look like him, too, but you also look much like your grandfather."

"Sir, if you please," Father said, "Daystar and I were just discussing this. We do not understand how you could know my father. He is dead."

"Oh no, he is very much alive. He's Minister of Magic in Australia. Enjoys it tremendously. Fudge tried to get him to come see you, but he's been very busy lately. He sends his regards."

"Sounds like something he would do," Father muttered. "Could you please explain to us how this could be?"

"Yes. You see, you and your father discovered the hard way that the Lake of Weeping Dreamers is not really a lake at all."

I didn't get this. "It looks like a lake. It's wet like a lake. How can it not be a lake?"

"It does look remarkably like an ordinary lake, but the Lake of Weeping Dreamers is actually a portal. The two of you live in what we call a dreamension."

"A what?" Father asked.

"A dreamension. It is a shorthand way of saying dream dimension. It's a country none of us would deny exists, but it can't be plotted on a map, and humans cannot reach it by traveling in the normal fashion. Many believe they are completely different worlds created by open minds. There are thousands, perhaps millions of them that exist. They can only be reached by two ways. One is by dreaming, usually during sleep but occasionally through daydreams. No one really understands how the soul finds the way to these mysterious places, but it happens. In those circumstances, the body stays in its current world. And the other is through a portal, where both the body and the soul go to the strange world. Some dreamensions have several portals. Yours only has one, as far as we could tell."

"Well, that's most reassuring," I said sarcastically. "We're not dead, we just don't exist!"

"Daystar!" Father rebuked.

"But you heard what he said, Father! We're no more than a figment of someone's imagination!"

Professor Dumbledore laughed. "You, young man, have stumbled upon one of the greatest debates in my lifetime. Which world is real, and which is just a dream? This world is a dreamension for you. Some philosophers would argue that you dreamed Diagon Alley up, here. I sometimes even fancy myself a mere twinkle in the eye of a clever lady from Edinburgh. In truth though, I believe it doesn't matter. God created man, and He gave man the ability to create. That is all we know and all we need to know."

"So, let me see if I understand," Father said. "We are from a world that only exists in dreams for people here. We got here through a portal that was cleverly disguised as a calm lake on the edge of my domain, and I'm not sure I like that. Is that right?"

"Very good," Prof. Dumbledore nodded.

"Excellent. That is rather confusing."

"I know. I don't completely understand dreamensions myself, but I am delighted with them. They are so unpredictable."

"Well, it is indeed good news to hear that we are alive. Now, how do we get back?"

Prof. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "'Aye, there's the rub.' From all the research your father has done, it appears the portal only goes one way."

"What? How come?"

"Have you never heard the legend of the lake? Your father told it to me. It was said to be made of the tears of children who fled from their wicked stepmothers. They feared to go into the Enchanted Forest, but they could not go back to the horrible lives behind them. They wanted a place of safety and order. The magic of the forest provided a way, and they never were seen again. Obviously, they didn't want to ever come back."

"But we have to go back! I am the king, and this is my heir! The forest will die without us, because of some spells a friend of mine set up."

"I don't know what to tell you, your majesty. Your father has tried for years to go back. He managed a way to visit through his dreams, but he never found a way to stay."

We both looked rather somber about that. I wanted to go out and do new things, but I didn't want to leave everything behind forever in order to do so. Professor Dumbledore smiled and pulled out his wand and a very strange pocket watch. "But that doesn't mean you can go without the comforts of home. How would you like to see your wife again?"

"How can we do that?"

"It's nearly dusk here, but you are a few hours ahead of us. It's already well into the evening in the Enchanted Forest. I can conjure your wife so she could come here through her dreams. Here, I will say the spell, and you grab the thread of magic and concentrate on her." Father nodded, and the professor stood, swished and flicked his wand. "Incubio Enchanto!" he whispered. Father grabbed the silvery whisp of magic and in a few seconds Mother stood before us. She was in her nightgown, her black hair hung straight down to her feet, and she looked like she had been crying for a long time.

"Cimorene!" Father cried.

"Mendanbar!" Mother sobbed.

Father hugged her and whispered, "Dear heart," into her ear. She cried on his shoulder.

Then she saw me, gave me a hug, and whispered, "Daystar, my baby boy, my baby boy." I don't think she ever called me that.

"Listen, Cimorene, we're still alive," Father said pulling her toward him. Mother shook her head. "Yes, honey, we are alive! This is Professor Dumbledore. He told us everything."

"My pleasure, your majesty," Professor Dumbledore said, bowing.

"Here's something to make you feel better, darling. Florean! One chocolate delight sundae for my wife, please!"

Mother felt a little better eating her sundae, especially with Father holding her hand as she ate. We tried to explain to her about what Professor Dumbledore told us, and though I think she understood, I wasn't sure she believed it. The stores in Diagon Alley were closing, but Professor Dumbledore offered to show us around London. He got us more "Muggle" clothes to wear, of course. That was fun.

Then, Mother started to fade a little. Professor Dumbledore checked his watch again. "I'm sorry dear, but it's nearly morning where you are. You're about to wake up."

Father took Mother's hand. "Cimorene, when you wake up, tell everyone that we're alive, and we are coming back. Tell, Willin, Kazul, the gargoyle, everyone, but especially Telemain and Morwen. We'll need their help."

"They won't believe me."

"Tell Telemain to search the lake for our bodies, without going into the lake itself."

"And, take this." Professor Dumbledore handed her a galleon. "You should have it in your hand when you wake up. It will work as proof of where your husband is."

"Thank you," Mother whispered as she disappeared.

"Are you sure we'll be coming back?" I asked father.

"Yes. If I know my father, he probably tried to reach the Enchanted Forest all by himself. That's the way he is: a perfectionist and a stuff shirt. We're going to get the two people who know more about magic than anyone. We won't do it by ourselves; we're getting help. If anyone can help us get back, they can."

"You may have something there," Professor Dumbledore said. "I'll get you a room at the Leaky Cauldron so that you may rest. And in the morning, I'll come to introduce you to a few more people who will be more than willing to help."

Professor Dumbledore was as good as his word. He flew down to get us, but he didn't have any extra brooms for us to fly on. "It would look too conspicuous. Most people usually ride our own train, but it's not running until the beginning of the year. Perhaps the best way is to take a bus." So saying, he held out his wand, and the Knight Bus appeared in front of us. The young man in charged looked a little too overeager and excited when he saw Professor Dumbledore. "Take us to Hogsmeade," the Professor instructed.

"Hogsmeade?" Father said. "Sounds Viking."

"Oh, that's not exactly where we're going, but it's the closest stop."

The ride on the bus was rough, and it took all day. We did make it to Hogsmeade eventually, and from there Professor Dumbledore got a boat to take us across the lake. As we reached the shore, the professor checked his watch and informed us that we could call up those magic experts from our world. He whispered the incantation, and when Father grabbed the spell, Morwen and Telemain appeared before us.

"Mendanbar! Daystar!" Telemain cried. "Where have you been all day? We've been looking all over for you!"

"He means for your bodies," Morwen added.

"Didn't you listen to Cimorene?" Father asked.

"Uh, we did listen, but, well to be frank--"

"You didn't believe her?"

"Your majesty, such delusions are common during the grieving period," Telemain said.

"What about the galleon?"

"You really shouldn't have made golden coins your favorite currency," Morwen said. "But that's in the past. We believe you now. Good to see you're fine. You must be Bumble-something."

"Dumbledore," the Professor nodded.

"Yes, that's right. I'm Morwen. Honored to meet a professor of magic."

"Professor of magic?" Telemain echoed. He rushed up to shake the professor's hand. "I am Telemain the magician. I must enroll."

"Well, Telemain, I will be honored to lead you and Morwen on a tour."

"This is a school?" I said in amazement. It was the first time I got a good look at the castle before us.

"Your majesties, distinguished guests, welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Hogwarts?" Morwen said with amusement. "Only a magical school would name itself after pig blemishes."

"It looks a lot like home," I told Father.

"It does," Father nodded. "Perhaps a little gloomier, but yes it does."

As we went inside, we noticed all the staircases overhead. "Now it looks even more like home," I remarked.

"Yeah. Too many stairs."

Dumbledore lead us into a familiar spot. "This is one of the common rooms for one of our houses: Gryffindor."

"Nice," I said.

"So it's a dorm?" Morwen asked.

"Yes. We have four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff." I couldn't stop myself from snickering at a couple of those names.

"So which are the girls' houses?"

"Oh, they are intermixed. We separate the dormitories for each house, but the students are chosen for their houses based on their strongest quality. Right, let's move on.

"This is the Great Hall. We meet here for feasts, meals, and general assemblies."

"Candles floating in the air. Looks romantic," Morwen said quietly to Telemain.

"How nice! It has a glass roof!" Father remarked.

"Actually, it's magicked to look like the sky outside," Dumbledore explained.

"Hmm. Good idea. I got ideas for a anniversary present for Cimorene."

"Yes, well I believe you will be most interested in meeting the faculty?"

"They are here?" Morwen asked. "But school obviously has not started yet."

"School will be starting up again in a few weeks. Most of our teachers are here early to set up. We need to take extra precautions this year."

So he took us around to meet the faculty. Most were overjoyed once they realized who Father was. Professor Trelawney cracked me up. She put her hand on Father's head and said dramatically, "I see a bright future for you. You will become famous, and you will do many great things."

"I am, and I have," he answered nodding. "I'm a king."

Then she went on about how long his reign will be, and I told Father as we went out, "She's just saying that."

"I would show you on this part of the tour our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but unfortunately, we haven't been able to pin one down lately," Dumbledore said regretfully.

"So the position is open in your most important course?" Morwen asked.

"I'm afraid so, and I will need to find someone very soon. We're going through some very dark times.

"Minerva McGonagall. She's our Deputy Headmistress, and Professor of Transfiguration." Professor Dumbledore introduced us all to her, but I was too curious about that subject.

"Trans-what?"

"Transfiguration, the magic of turning something into something else."

"Oh, you mean like this." With a quick twist, I turned a paperweight onto her desk into a gerbil.

"Daystar, transfiguration is an exact science. It must be done with finesse." He stood over the gerbil, turned a ring, muttered some words, and the gerbil changed into a tiny fountain.

Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, pulled out her wand, said a word, and changed the fountain into a paperweight again. "That is how it is done."

"Fascinating," Telemain whispered.

Professor McGonagall looked at Morwen. "I know that face. Yes. I saw that face in a mirror years ago." Morwen blushed a little, probably didn't want to see how she looked like old, but they became friends right off.

Then Dumbledore lead us down to the dungeons. I felt a little on edge as we were heading down, and even as we went in. "Severus Snape, Professor of Potions." Professor Snape really creeped me out. His handshake was cold, and he said little. There was only one person who was interested in meeting him.

"Amazing."

"Telemain, what is it?" Mendanbar asked.

"What is it? It's the potion!" Telemain was bent over investigating a mess in a cauldron. "It has been so long since I've seen the beauty of the cauldron softly simmering over shimmering fumes, powerful, delicate liquids, creeping through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses."

"The exact reasons why they give me the willies," Father whispered to me.

"And then there's the concoction itself. Judging from the viscosity of the mixture and the precise pH balance, the potion is a very potent barrier for redirecting a matrix in a backward motion."

"Indeed it is," Professor Snape said. "This is my latest endeavor, and I have nearly perfected it. I just need to modulate the calibrations of the time frequency. I was considering adding half a milligram of boiled boomslang. Do you think that would do the trick?"

"No, boomslang would only add unnecessary oil. I would recommend one crushed fireflower."

"Fireflower. Intriguing, I had not considered that."

I couldn't believe it. Father had a knack of translating Telemain's rants into plain English, but I have never, never, never heard anyone speak the same gibberish. I didn't realize I was gawking until Morwen silently rebuked me. Telemain was impressed as well.

"It has been a long time since I have met a colleague such as yourself. Are you a magician as well, Severus?"

"Absolutely not! I am a wizard."

"Well, I have never met a wizard quite as intellectual as you. We must discuss your methodology soon."

"I would be honored." As Professor Snape turned back to the group, he glimpsed Morwen for the first time. "And who might this be?"

"Morwen," Telemain answered. He was probably about to say their relation, but Professor Snape had already taken her hand.

"Charmed," he said darkly. He kissed her hand gentlemanly, but Morwen shuddered.

"Thank you, but I am happily married to the man right behind you."

"Oh, oh!" He turned back to Telemain. "You have impeccable taste."

I was glad to get out of there. I thought Professor Snape was spooky. Professor Dumbledore took us outside to introduce us to Hagrid. He immediately recognized the Enchanted Forest as a domain with many wonderful animals and just on the edge of the Dragon Kingdom in the Mountains of Morning. Then he showed us the Quidditch field.

"I told you it was Quidditch!" I told Father.

"Well 'kidditch' sounds better I think."

"What is Quidditch? And if it's a French dessert, may I please have the recipe?" Morwen asked.

"It's not a dessert. It's a sport played on flying brooms."

"Ooh, who would've thought? Wish I had my broomstick. I bet I could fly through all those hoops." Telemain, meanwhile, seemed to be turning green only thinking about it.

"Well, I would give you more details, but your time is about up," Dumbledore answered. "Your majesty, do you have any last things to say to your guests before they go?"

"Yes. We're going to call on you again tomorrow. Bring the sword."

Morwen didn't like that. "Are you sure? You know what happens when someone outside the royal family holds that sword."

"Go to bed with oven mitts if you have to. I would ask Cimorene to bring it, but I need you two. Telemain, you remember that spell we talked about that would trick the sword into thinking it was in the forest and vice versa?"

"Yes, the enchanted matrix."

"Try to set that up by yourself tomorrow."

"But it will take weeks--"

"By tomorrow! I order you, Telemain, as your king!"

"Yes, your majesty."

Father has never done that before. He must have been anxious to get back home.

We spent the next day gathering the finest of the faculty we met and discussing what we would possibly do to make the spell work. Telemain and Morwen showed up the next day with the sword. We got together in the Great Hall with Professors Dumbledore, Vector, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape. Father placed the sword in the middle of us, as we sat in a circle. We took turns shooting spells at it, arguing what would work, until we finally had something. Father tested it with an apple, and it worked beautifully.

"Well, son, are you ready to go back home?"

"Father . . . Dad, I was thinking, you know that conversation we had before all this happened? Well, this would probably be the ideal place for me to learn magic. Perhaps I should apply."

"You sure about that? I mean, this is a completely different world, and they do magic in different ways."

"Grandfather learned somehow, and look where he is. I think it would be awesome to see magic in a completely different perspective."

"Along that line," Morwen said speaking up, "I would be interested in taking up that open position. Teaching magic has always been my secret, lifelong dream."

"I wouldn't advise that, headmaster," Professor Snape said speaking up. "We don't know about Ms. Morwen's qualifications, if she has any at all. I would suggest you would appoint someone who is certainly qualified for the job."

"Severus," Professor Dumbledore answered, "I tell again what I tell you every year. If you taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, who would teach Potions?"

"I would." Telemain raised his hand up, almost bashfully.

"Yes, but what would your wife teach?"

"That is a dilemma. Professor, do you have a course discussing how magic works? I just wrote a book about it, and if I could share it with the young people--"

"We do not have such a course, but I could easily make one. Well, I am very pleased to have three new additions to the Hogwarts family, but there are some things we need to discuss first. To my office please."

Professor Snape looked very angry with all of us, but he didn't say a word. Morwen, Telemain, and I followed Professor Dumbledore to his splendid office.

"Have a seat, all of you. Now, I mentioned this a couple of times before, but I haven't discussed it in detail. Last spring, an evil wizard arose after being out of commission for several years, a wizard named Voldemort."

Morwen and I couldn't stop ourselves. We burst out laughing. "What kind of name is that for such an evil wizard?" I said. "It's ridiculous!"

Professor Dumbledore silenced us with a wave of his hand. "Believe it or not, most people in our world as so frightened of him, they refuse to say his name aloud. I find it refreshing that you find the name amusing, but you best keep silent about it. In order to understand, I need to explain to you about one of our most exceptional students."

From there, he spoke to us about you, Harry, actually about all three of you, and all that you have done in the past few years. "Now that Voldemort has arisen again, I am concerned that Harry will be his primary target. Several say that I am the only person Voldemort is frightened of, but they flatter me. No one can do magic like your grandfather. Voldemort attacked all the continents, except Antarctica (because no wizards live there) and Australia. He wouldn't go near there with your grandfather as minister. If you could do magic like him, you can keep Voldemort in check.

"All of you are applying to me under strange circumstances. We never had teachers outside our world before. We never had a teacher who is willing to learn as much as he is willing to teach. It's been years we started a new program on account of a new teacher. And normally, our students are not older than age 17. But I will admit all of you on one condition. Promise me you will protect not only young Harry but also this entire school by any means necessary."

"Absolutely," I answered.

"Indubitably," Telemain nodded.

"Yes, of course," Morwen replied.

"Excellent," Professor Dumbledore said clapping his hands. "Now, just a few more things need to be set up, and you'll be good to go."

Father and I stayed a little longer to mark the spell in several spots on the Hogwarts campus, in Hogsmeade, and in Diagon Alley. That way we could open the portal there, and we could choose where to go from the Lake when we wanted to use it. "See you in a few weeks, Daystar. I'll send my phoenix soon with a list of your supplies."

"Um, how would--"

"Magic animals are mysterious. They can go through dreamensions easily. Fawkes will find you."

You saw how the spell worked. It felt like flying through a hollow tube of wind. Next thing we knew, we were standing on the Lake of Weeping Dreamer's surface. The Forest seemed confused to find us alive, but everything burst into a shout of joy. In the coming weeks, the three of us got ready for school, and here we are.

*******************

"So you see, I'm not just here to baby-sit you. I'm here to learn like everyone else. But Professor Dumbledore made me promise that I would protect you and the school, and that's what I intend to do. I do admire you for all you have done, and you are a remarkable person. I am glad to call all three of you friends, and I hope you can say the same.

"That's it. Sorry if I rambled, but I warned you it was long."

"That's fine," Hermione said. "I enjoyed it."

"Brilliant!" Harry whispered.

"Remarkable," Ron nodded. "Goodness! We only have thirty minutes to eat! Let's go!"

Daystar quickly undid his enchantments as they were leaving. Harry turned to him. "Uh, Daystar, there is one person I have to tell about this, but don't worry about the secret getting out. He's in hiding."

"Who is that?"

"My godfather. He wants me to keep him posted about what goes on in school. Did Dumbledore tell you about him?"

"Very little. You can tell me that long story tonight if you'd like."

"Harry!" Hermione called. "If you're going to owl Snuffles, could I please use Hedwig?"

"What for?"

"Uh, I thought of something at home that will be helpful for something. It's pretty heavy, though, but I know Hedwig could carry it."

"Okay."

Harry was glad he knew the full story. He didn't understand everything, but he knew this year was going to be very different.