Chapter Three

Van Dam's Warning

Night fog hung close to the river's surface. Water lapped against wood; sails snapped in a light breeze from the south; ropes creaked.

On a platform raised above the ship's deck, two men stood, one with a hand on the ship's wheel, gently steering. The helmsman was dressed in a shirt with ruffled sleeves and leather knee-breeches. The other man wore a blue jacket over his shirt. His head was covered by a three-cornered hat.

"Almost there, easy now," the other man said to the helmsman. "Bring her in nice and quiet."

"Aye, Captain Van Dam," the helmsman answered.

The ship had glided up to a long sandspit that jutted out from the shore, which was itself invisible in the fog.

"Anchors, now!" the captain called out to four sailors near the ship's bow.

As the anchors broke the water's still surface with a splash, the captain winced.

But the helmsman laughed a grim laugh and said, "No fear, Cap'n. They'll all be besotted by now--dead to the world. As indeed they will be hereafter."

"As indeed shall we all," the captain rejoined dourly.

The two of them hurried down to the deck, where they joined the four sailors who'd been on the bow and perhaps a dozen more.

The sailors seemed a motley group, no two dressed quite alike. Their armaments were likewise varied. Some wore straight swords in scabbards hung from their belts, some also had pistols, a few had curved scimitars and one carried a blunderbuss over his shoulder. But the captain at first appeared unarmed. Yet a careful observer would have noticed that in fact a ridiculously slender scabbard hung from his belt--and that the helmsman and perhaps half the crew were similarly equipped.

The men hurried to the stern, where two boats hung over the sides of the ship. They all clambered aboard these boats. When all were aboard, the Captain slid a wand from his scabbard; the helmsman, in the other boat, did the same. Each pointed his wand at the ropes that secured the boats and muttered an incantation. As they did so, the ropes dissolved. The boats descended gently to the water below.

Quickly the sailors took up oars and rowed towards the sandspit.

One grumbled, "And why can't you use your magic to save us this infernal rowing?"

"Silence!" the captain admonished the complainer. "We shall use magic when it most avails us, not to save your wretched arms a bit of fatigue!"

Even without magic to propel them, the little boats reached the shore in just a few minutes. The sailors jumped out and dragged the boats up onto the beach. Then they gathered themselves before the captain. He drew himself up and began to speak.

"Now, thou all know'st what must be done. There shouldst be little resistance because of our earlier preparations. There will be enough gold to satisfy wizard and muggle alike. Most important, we must secure the items from the shaman's longhouse. In and out quickly, lads, that's the ticket! And leave no witnesses! Director-General's orders!"

A low chorus of assent rose from the others. But one voice rose up to question the captain.

"Must I stay here with the boats, father? You know I wouldst go with the company."

The voice belonged to shortest of the sailors, a young man of perhaps a dozen years, with a long face like that of the captain, a pale complexion but eager eyes.

"Nay, Hans, thou knowest thy place is here. This venture is not devised for one so young. Had I been able, I would have left thee safe in New Amsterdam. Yet be of good cheer, lad! e'en so you have an important place to fill, guarding the boats so that we may flee this place quickly when our errand is accomplished."

"Yes, father," the boy answered, sounding unconvinced. "So be it."

At a word from the captain, the others formed ranks, drew their weapons, held them ready and began moving stealthily along the sandspit toward the shore.

The boy stood alone near the boats and watched them go. He held a wand uncertainly in his right hand and shuffled along the strand.

After a few minutes there came a loud report from the shore, then another. Immediately after, a bright green flash of light illuminated the shore line. Soon more gunfire pierced the night quiet and many green flashes allowed the boy to make out the outlines of longhouses and fishing huts along the riverside. An occasional scream or shout accompanied the other noises and the lights.

The boy shivered. Now he felt glad, if grudgingly so, that his father had made him stay behind. It didn't seem to him that the storming of the village was such a grand adventure after all, even if the Director-General had ordered it.

The attack went on for some time, but the gunfire and green flashes gradually lessened in frequency.

Before the noise and lights ceased altogether, something else made Hans start. The hair on his neck stood straight up as he looked around apprehensively. Was someone near?

"Young one!" a voice sounded.

The boy spun around towards the boats.

"Who's there?" he called, holding his wand out. "Show yourself!"

"I am not hiding, young one," the voice said. "Look here, on the bow."

Hans looked down and saw, to his amazement, a tiny figure standing on the bow of one of the boats. He was clad in buckskins, such as the natives of the region wore.

Then the boy trembled, for he knew enough of his father's errand to fear their discovery by an Indian, even (or perhaps especially) one small enough to fit into his own palm.

"You have nothing to fear from me, young one," the small brave said gently. "I am Raven Man of the Jo-Ge-Oh. We are the protectors of the land and its magic, but we do not attack innocent pups, a virtue your sire and his crew would have done well to learn."

"What then wantest thou with me, if not to harm me?" the boy asked.

"To warn you," Raven Man said gravely. "To warn you that you may save yourself from your elders' fate. They have shed innocent blood tonight, they have defiled sacred places, and they believe they have secured the magic of this place for themselves. But they knew not that a deeper magic protected that which they sought. They will not leave this place with their lives."

"No!" the boy cried, despair and defiance mingling in his voice. "I must warn them!"

But Raven Man said sternly, "Move not from this place, lest you share their fate, from which they cannot escape."

"What then must I do?" Hans asked forlornly.

"When your father and the others pass by, you must not go with them, no matter how they may entreat you," Raven Man said. "If you set foot on their ship, you will not escape the curse that is upon them."

"But I owe obedience to my father and he is my captain as well," Hans said, a look of confused horror on his face.

"But you do not owe him obedience when such would cost you your soul. You need not share his fate. I have warned you in hopes that you will make wiser and juster choices than your elders," Raven Man countered. "It is your choice whether to heed the warning. Now I must leave you."

The boy watched as the tiny man jumped down from the boat into a diminutive canoe. His wonder grew as the man paddled the canoe up into the air and away towards the shore.

"Take heed, Hans Van Dam! And fare you well!" Raven Man cried as he sped away.

The boy kicked at the sand in frustration as he gazed down the sandspit toward the village. All was quiet now.

Presently he heard the tramp of feet approaching. Out of the darkness came the company of sailors, led by his father and the helmsman. They sounded boisterous and triumphant. Most were burdened with sacks laden with loot. But his father carried only a small birch bark casket with a domed lid and strange symbols all over its surface.

Hans started once again, for although the crew seemed unharmed, there was a strange glow in their eyes. Everyone's eyes looked as if they contained red-hot coals. His father's bright-blue eyes had vanished, replaced by red slits.

"Well, lad, here we be," his father said, clapping Hans on the back. "All in one piece and with all the Director-General sent us to obtain. But thou look'st as though thou hast seen a specter. Is all well?"

"Nay father, I have seen no ghosts," Hans replied, staring at this father's eyes. "Art thou sure thou hast come to no harm? For I perceive thee and thy crew are somehow changed."

"Thou hast a lively imagination, Hans," the captain said with a laugh. "Now let us stow this bounty aboard and return as quickly as may be to New Amsterdam."

With that, the sailors all clambered aboard the boats. Hans hesitated.

"Come now, lad, we haven't time to wait for the sun to turn the river red," his father called.

And Hans turned and slowly entered his father's boat. The sailors rowed back to the ship, whose nameplate, emblazoned Chimaera in gold letters, could now be seen.

Captain Van Dam and the helmsman waved their wands again, this time conjuring rope ladders, up which the sailors slowly climbed with their spoils.

Hans watched them fearfully, for it seemed that they were continuing to transform before his eyes. Black beards now looked silvery and transparent, ruddy faces had gone pasty white. Yet none of the crew seemed to notice anything amiss.

Finally only the helmsman remained in one boat, the captain and his son in the other. The helmsman climbed cat-like up the ladder. With a flick of his wand he raised his boat back up to its davits.

Hans gasped with fright as the helmsman looked down at him, for the man's face was now a mere skull, the red slits where his eyes ought to have been.

"Pray, father, go not aboard!" he pleaded. "See, thy ship is bewitched! Thy crew hast turned to ghosts once aboard!"

He pointed at the helmsman. Captain Van Dam looked up for a moment.

"Och, Hans, I shouldst not have left thee alone!" he said indulgently. "The solitude hast played upon thy young mind! Now, come along, we must be off."

And he reached for the ladder and lithely climbed up to the ship's deck, the birch bark casket clutched in one hand.

When he looked down at his son, the captain was surprised to see Hans had grabbed the boat's oars and started rowing back towards the sandspit.

"Damme, what spirit of insolence hath taken thee, Hans!" the captain cried angrily. "Return hither at once!"

Hans looked up over his shoulder and heartbreak etched his young face. For his father now looked as ghostly as the rest of the crew and his fierce red eyes burned with rage.

The captain raised his wand to cast a retrieving spell on his son's boat. But before he could finish a gigantic flash of green light surrounded the Chimaera and a loud voice sounded across the waters.

"You evil ones! You have killed the people, stolen their treasures and you think you have gained the source of all their prosperity!"

Hans kept rowing, not daring to look back again. The voice continued.

"But all you have gained is a sentence of death and worse than that. The spark of life has been trickling away from you ever since you left the scene of your abominations. Yet the guardians have decreed that you shall not pass the veil and rest. Rather, you shall be cursed to sail this river for years unnumbered, bearing warnings that shall go unheeded. Men will flee at your coming and nothing shall avail you until one heeds a warning from you."

Hans' boat ran aground on the sandspit. He jumped out and hid behind it. As he did, the Chimaera seemed to burst into ghostly flames and a wailing, chilling cry went up from the ship's company.

Hans shuddered and wept until finally all went black and he knew no more.

Ethan Lloyd awoke suddenly and sat bolt upright in bed. He looked around wildly, still seeing green lights and flames flashing in his mind. He was out of breath, cold sweat on his brow.

"Just a dream," he muttered to himself as he looked around his room, everything seeming as normal as ever. The window across the room was open and the owl cage empty; Bucky the barn owl was still out hunting on this warm August night.

Ethan had often had vivid dreams in the past, but the ones he remembered usually involved him in some way. Although the details of this dream were already fading from his consciousness he felt sure that what he had seen had occurred long ago. At the same time, something about the vision seemed familiar. There had been a ship--a sailing ship--and pirates, or so it had seemed. And something terrible had happened, something evil and murderous.

As he tried to recall the details of the dream, Ethan became aware of something moving just outside his window.

"Bucky?" he called uncertainly.

But the owl did not fly back into the room.

A moment later, something did enter, but not through the window. Instead, a shimmering, translucent figure glided right through the wall.

Ethan gasped as the figure straightened up and floated at the foot of the bed.

It was a man, or rather, the ghost of a man. Only at school had Ethan seen ghosts. Each of Kaaterskill's four houses had its own ghost and a number of others also glided around the school.

Ethan's shock stemmed not from the mere presence of a ghost in his bedroom, but from the fact that he recognized the apparition. Indeed, he had seen this man only moments earlier, not as a silvery spirit but as a remarkably real image in the dream. For there was no doubt in Ethan's mind that the ghost before him was none other than the tall, grim captain of the attackers' ship.

Ethan shrank against the wall of his bed. Had he thought about it, he might have realized that he'd never known a ghost to harm anyone. But though the details of the dream still eluded him, he was sure that the captain had led his crew to commit horrendous crimes in the dream. Ethan felt a mixture of fear and fascination as he gazed on the ghost.

For its part, the ghost merely hovered there for a minute, regarding Ethan curiously.

Finally Ethan found his voice.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" he whispered hoarsely.

The ghost removed its hat and bowed.

"Jan Van Dam at thy service," it said in a sepulchral tone. "I have come to warn thee, Ethan Lloyd."

"Warn me? I don't understand. How do you know who I am?"

"I was dispatched to tell thee just this: Thou must not return to Kaaterskill Academy of Magic this year!" Von Dam's ghost answered mournfully.

"What?" Ethan asked, thoroughly confused. "Why not?"

"A most devilish plot hath been set in motion," the ghost intoned. "Terrible deeds will beset thy school, Ethan Lloyd! Thou must not be caught up in the evil."

"Hang on! What deeds? How do you know this?"

"I can impart no more, boy!" the ghost replied.

"I can't just not show up at school," Ethan insisted. "Kaaterskill's where I belong anyway, not here! I don't fit here anymore...if I ever did. You have to tell me what's going on! Who's plotting?"

"Nay, lad, that is not permitted me now," Van Dam's ghost said. "Thou wast to be warned and I have so warned thee! Remember my words!"

With that, the ghost replaced the hat on its head and swooped back towards the wall.

"Wait! You can't leave yet!" Ethan called in vain as the captain's spirit vanished through the walls again. Ethan leapt out of bed, ran quickly to the window and looked out. There was no sign of the ghost.

He slammed his hand down on the window frame in frustration. A moment later, Bucky glided through the window, a fat field mouse in his talons. The owl lighted on the perch in his cage and regarded Ethan with bright eyes.

"Didn't you see him?" Ethan asked breathlessly. "A man, I mean a ghost, floating away?"

If Bucky had seen the ghost, he betrayed no such information to Ethan. Instead he began tearing at the dead mouse with his beak.

"Figures you're just interested in dinner!" Ethan muttered as he shut the window.

Bucky gave him a reproachful look between mouthfuls of mouse.

Ethan flopped back onto his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He listened in vain, hoping to catch some clue that he hadn't imagined the entire episode. But the house was silent. Ethan's parents had apparently slept right through his encounter with the ghost.

Had the spectral captain been just another dream? No, Ethan was quite sure he'd been awake when the captain's shade had entered the room.

What then could it all mean? Surely it was no coincidence that the ghost who had come to warn Ethan had had a starring role in the strange dream of moments earlier.

As Ethan pondered these mysteries, sleep took him once again. He slept deep and dreamlessly for the rest of the night, only awakening when his mother shook him about 8:30 the following morning. The sun streamed through his window, hurting his eyes as he arose slowly.

"Come on sleepy head! Tim will be here in just a few hours. They stopped in Eau Claire last night, so they've not got much of a drive today," Diana said as Ethan rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Half an hour later, Ethan sat at the kitchen table, eating his cereal and toast between yawns. Neither a shower nor his anticipation of Tim's arrival had fully awakened him.

"You didn't sleep well, did you?" his father asked as he prepared to head off to work at the art library. "Nothing wrong with being a bit excited, I guess."

"As long as you're awake when they get here," his mother added.

"Don't worry, Mom, I will be," Ethan said. He'd decided not to try to explain the real reason for his fatigue to his parents, at least not yet. He wanted to think about it some more himself and he'd told himself that the arrival of Tim and his mom was enough to keep everyone occupied for the moment.

A bit later, Ethan sat in the living room, idly reading and half-watching the television.

His mom brought in her cup of coffee and sat with him.

"You'll have to introduce Tim to Alec Evans," she said. "I guess you'll all be heading back to school together."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Do I have to, Mom? I'm sick to death of Alec already and he's not even at Kaaterskill yet."

"Well, once you're at school, he probably won't be able to spend as much time with you. He'll have plenty of first-years to hang around with, and he may not even be in Bradbury," his mother said, trying to defuse Ethan's annoyance. "But it's only polite to introduce Tim and Alec."

"Well, OK, but don't expect Tim and me to spend all our time with him."

"Oh, I won't expect that Ethan, believe me!" Diana replied with a laugh.

It was about an hour later that a burgundy minivan with Saskatchewan license plates pulled up in front of the Lloyd's bungalow.

"They're here, Mom!" Ethan shouted from the porch. He ran down the steps to the curb, where Tim had just jumped down from the passenger seat and was stretching.

"Hey, Tim, welcome to Madison!" Ethan called to his friend, shaking hands vigorously.

"Thanks, man, it's good to finally be here," Tim answered. Ethan stood back and looked Tim over. His curly brown hair had been allowed to grow out quite a bit and Ethan thought Tim was at least an inch taller than when he'd last seen him nearly two months ago. His arms and face were well-tanned from farm work; the Van der Meulens had a large wheat farm on the Canadian Prairies.

Tim's mom, a blonde woman as stocky as her son, came around the front of the van.

"I'm guessing you must be Ethan," she said. "I'm Virjean Van der Meulen."

"Please to meet you, Mrs. Van der Meulen," Ethan said. "And here's my mom!"

Diana Lloyd greeted Tim and his mom.

"Why don't you boys bring Tim's stuff in?" she suggested. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee, Virjean?"

"That sounds real nice," Tim's mom answered. With that, the two women headed into the house and Tim opened the back of the van.

He and Ethan carted Tim's trunk up to Ethan's room. On their second trip, Ethan lugged the cage with Tim's Great Gray owl, Evangeline. When he set her cage down atop the dresser, Bucky hooted a greeting which Evangeline answered happily. The boys went back to cart Mrs. Van der Meulen's suitcase and a long narrow package of Tim's.

"That's the Quicksilver," Tim said. "I don't suppose I'll get a chance to use it around here."

"I doubt it," Ethan agreed, as they headed back inside with their loads.

"Back home, I got a chance to fly quite a lot, really," Tim said. "I think my brothers--the younger ones, anyway--were pretty jealous. I don't think Marvin really knew what to make of it."

"You did make sure no one else saw you?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, yeah. I only flew out over one of our biggest fields, miles away from town or any houses. And I kept low--did a lot of skimming just above the wheat," Tim explained. "Of course, there wasn't anyone to play Quidditch with. So what have you been up to?"

"Not much, really," Ethan told him, as they reached his room. "Summer assignments, when I can. Gone to some ball games with Pete and Justin and Ryan--I told you about them. The rains finally let up around here a couple of weeks ago."

"I know...now it's Winnipeg and Minneapolis that are being flooded," Tim said. In a lower voice he asked, "Does your dad really think that's because of dementors?"

"Definitely," Ethan replied. "And I believe it, too, especially after Alec Evans's story."

"I remember, you wrote about that. He actually saw them?"

"Uh-huh. Didn't know what they were, though," Ethan confirmed. As they were finished carrying the Van der Meulen luggage, he sat down on his bed. Tim dropped into the desk chair.

"So what's this kid like?" Tim asked. "You made him sound really obnoxious."

"Well, you'll be able to see for yourself," Ethan told him. "Mom says I have to introduce you. But yeah, I think he is obnoxious. It's like having a little brother sometimes."

"It can't be that bad," Tim observed sagely. "At least Alec has to go home to his own house at the end of the day. I can't ever get away from my brothers and sisters when I'm home!"

"I s'pose not. So how's your summer been, then?"

"OK, I guess," Tim said without enthusiasm.

"You, too, eh?"

"Well, it was good to see everybody...at first," Tim said. "And Dad always needs all the help he can find on the farm; it was good to get back to that."

"But that sounds like hard work," said Ethan skeptically. "You really like it?"

"Yeah, I do. I can't explain why, really," Tim replied. "Maybe it's in my genes, just like magic. When I'm out in the fields, I can just concentrate on that and forget everything else. But even farm work was...well, somehow different this year."

"How?" Ethan asked.

"Well, like I was saying about flying, my younger brothers and sister thought that it was cool. Problem is, they couldn't stop talking about it--magic this, magic that. I was always afraid they'd let something slip to their friends. And they kept wanting me to turn a rock into a frog or something else stupid."

"You didn't, did you?" Ethan asked.

"Of course not!" Tim said firmly. "I'd told them I wasn't allowed to do magic at home. But that just made it worse. At first Marvin and Susie didn't know what to make of me. But after a while, even Marvin started bugging me to magic the weeds away and stuff. Eventually it just wasn't much fun being around all of them. I think that's why Mom and Dad suggested coming east so early."

"Well, I'm glad they did!" Ethan said fervently. "'Cause between Alec bugging me about Kaaterskill and having to be sure I don't slip up and tell my friends something I shouldn't, I've been kind of going nuts around here. And then..." He hesitated.

Tim gave him a look that said What have you gotten yourself into now, Ethan? But he actually asked, "And then what?"

"Something really strange happened just last night," Ethan confided. He proceeded to tell Tim what he could remember about the dream and then described the visit from Captain Van Dam's ghost.

When he'd finished, Tim gave a low whistle.

"So he wouldn't tell you anything about why you shouldn't go back?" he asked.

"Nothing, except 'something terrible will happen'," Ethan affirmed.

"Seems kind of fishy, doesn't it?" Tim offered. "Sounds like a practical joke by someone who just doesn't want you back at school."

"Yeah, but who has a ghost they can order around to tell me?" Ethan asked. "I mean, can't ghosts just come and go as they please? And besides, this ghost was in my dream, too!""

"I don't know, Ethan," Tim replied thoughtfully. "The ghosts at school seem pretty independent, but I suppose the Headmaster does have some control over them. The real question is who wouldn't want you around Kaaterskill."

"Well, Brocklebank would be at the top of that list, wouldn't he?" Ethan proposed. Simon Brocklebank was a classmate of Ethan and Tim at Kaaterskill and he came from a very well-to-do wizarding family. Ethan and Simon had been sworn enemies almost from the moment they'd met aboard the steamboat to school the previous year. Brocklebank's family was very proud that they were "pure bloods," with no muggles in their family tree. Simon looked down on Ethan because one of Ethan's great grandmothers had been a muggle and also because he was friends with Tim, who was the first wizard in his family.

"Sure, but I've said this before--Simon's not smart enough to manage a big scheme like this," Tim objected.

"Well, there are always his parents," Ethan persisted. "And how about that uncle of his, Lothar Barghest? He despised me from the minute he laid eyes on me last summer. And if he's really in league with Hafgan..."

With that, they were interrupted by a voice from the first floor.

"Why don't you come down, boys?" Ethan's mother called up. "You shouldn't stay cooped up inside on a day like this!"

"I know exactly what she's going to suggest," Ethan muttered as they headed down the stairs.

"I just called Mrs. Evans to see if Alec was free," Diana told them.

Behind her back, Ethan mouthed "I told you so" noiselessly to Tim, before asking aloud, "He is, right?"

"Yes and don't sound so disgruntled about it! Why don't you and Tim go over and get him and go to the park? His mom sounded kind of worried about him; she doesn't think he's getting out enough."

"OK, Mom, we're going," Ethan said, trying not to sound too put-upon. "When do you want us back?"

"Oh, why don't the three of you go down to Michael's when you're ready for lunch? This should cover it," Diana answered as she handed Ethan some cash. "Just be back by four or so. Virjean and I may go by the Co-op and then head downtown."

Ethan had to admit that getting lunch out was fairly reasonable compensation for having to spend several hours with Alec.

As he and Tim headed towards the footbridge, Ethan pointed out the Abrams' house.

"They're away this week and part of next," he said. But when Pete gets back, you'll have to meet him. He's cool to hang out with, you'll like him. 'Course we'll have to watch what we talk about."

They reached Alec's house a few minutes later. Ethan knocked on the front door, which instantly swung open.

Alec beckoned them in, beaming excitedly.

"Hiya Ethan!" he sang out. "And you must be Tim! I'm Alec Evans."

"Glad to meet you, Alec," Tim answered, bemused, as they shook hands.

"And I'm glad to meet you!" Alec rejoined. "I mean, Ethan's been a big help already, but you and I, well, all my family's muggle through and through, just like yours, and everything's awfully new to me. You can really tell me what to expect, can't you?"

"Well, I suppose so," Tim said. Before he could think of anything else to say, Alec started talking again.

"Oh, and here's my mom, Tim. Mom, this is Tim, Ethan's friend from...from...where are you from, Tim?"

"Saskatchewan," Tim answered with a laugh as he shook hands with Alec's mom, a short woman with prematurely gray hair and glasses. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Evans."

"And welcome to you," Alec's mom said. As she looked at the three boys, Ethan thought he caught a look of uncertainty, perhaps even fear, in her eyes.

"Well, I guess you're all off for the rest of the morning, then," she continued.

"Actually, my mom's treating us to lunch, too," Ethan told her. "If it's OK for Alec to come, of course."

"Why that's just fine," Mrs. Evans answered.

"Then we'll be back sometime after lunch," Ethan said. With that, the boys headed toward the park along the lake.

Alec kept up a steady stream of questions and exclamations, which were occasionally punctuated by monosyllabic replies from Tim. Ethan walked along, mostly silent, juggling the soccer ball they'd brought with them.

When they reached the lake shore, Tim gaped for a moment at the wide sheet of placid water, blue with a greenish tint of algae in the August sun.

"That's Lake Monona," Ethan told him. "It's the second biggest of the lakes. We're surrounded by them, you know."

"It's beautiful!" Tim said. "'Course the biggest body of water where I'm from is the neighbors' farm pond."

"But Lake Mendota's supposed to have monsters!" Alec interjected.

"Yeah, but no one's seen them in years," Ethan added, drop kicking the ball out into the open field. Tim chased after it, then called Alec's name as he launched the ball towards the younger boy.

Alec ran up to the ball and managed a dribbling kick to Ethan.

After a quarter-hour of kicking the ball back and forth, the boys marked out a goal with some downed branches. Tim played goalie while the other two tried to score.

In truth, Alec wasn't much of a soccer player, but he seemed so pleased to have been included in the older boys' outing that he tried especially hard to keep up. But he didn't have a strong leg and he seemed afraid of the ball. At least the game kept him from constantly bombarding the others with questions.

At one point, Ethan lofted the ball high in the air towards Alec.

"Header!" Tim shouted. Alec looked as though he wanted to dodge out of the way, but Ethan yelled (in either encouragement or admonition), "Come on; don't just let it fall in!"

To Ethan's surprise, the ball didn't drop. Alec looked up at it and closed his eyes as if awaiting the impact. And the ball bounced back up--without hitting so much as a hair on Alec's head.

"Not bad!" Tim exclaimed as the ball landed at Ethan's feet. "Wait 'til you can try quidditch."

Rather than take a shot, Ethan trapped the ball, glanced around the park and looked sternly at Alec.

"Watch it!" he said. "You're lucky no one's too close. You know, we're not allowed to do magic except at school!"

Alec suddenly looked downcast. Tim responded, "Oh, come on Ethan. He's not even in school yet. And it's not like he used a wand or anything."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Ethan conceded. "Sorry, Alec. But try to be careful, OK. If something happens while you're with us, we might get in trouble."

"I'll be careful, Ethan, honest," Alec said shyly. "I don't even have a wand yet...I hope I get to pick one out soon!"

"Hey, I'm starving!" Tim interrupted. "Why don't we go get something to eat?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Alec added. "Where are we going?"

"The frozen custard stand," Ethan told him. "It's a bit of a hike, so we'd better get going."

Ethan thought that walking the bike path seemed to take a lot longer on a pleasant midday with Alec's constant chatter than it had on a cold, misty evening when he'd been mad at his parents.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Alec knew the names and ages of all of Tim's siblings. (He'll know the cows' names soon, Ethan thought.)

They ordered cheeseburger plates and found a booth at the back of the dining room. Tim devoured his lunch quickly and Ethan gave him some of the change to get dessert.

"Tim seems cool," Alec said nervously. "Do you think he likes me?"

"He's a good friend," Ethan replied. "He's the smartest kid in my class and he's a quidditch star. And he's got no reason not to like you."

When Tim got back with a hot fudge sundae, Ethan headed up to the counter. Alec had spent so much time talking that he was the last to finish lunch. Not until after Ethan sat down with his banana split was Alec ready to order dessert. Ethan handed him the remaining change and off he went.

"I hope your Mom wasn't expecting to get any of her money back!" Tim said with a grin.

"I don't think she was," Ethan said between spoonfuls of whipped cream and cherries. "She knows this is my favorite place and I don't get here very often."

Ethan saw Alec start back from the counter with a milk shake in hand. But as the younger boy passed the second booth, a foot shot out to trip him. Alec sprawled on the floor. His milk shake flew up in a graceful arc, then plummeted to the ground and burst just before it reached Tim and Ethan.

A chorus of guffaws arose from the second booth. The person who had tripped Alec turned and said in a mocking tone, "Oh, look, little Evans lost his balance and made a big mess!"

Ethan didn't have to see the person's face to recognize Erik Brewer, the neighborhood bully.

"Uh-oh, this is trouble," he told Tim, and before he could say more the real trouble began.

There were no other customers inside--most had taken their food to the tables outside--and the counter help had apparently taken advantage of a lull in business to hang out in the kitchen. So no one else had witnessed Alec's fall.

This was a good thing, for the next moment place settings from a nearby table began to rise into the air. Knives, spoons, forks and even napkins floated upward and began to whirl together as if a small tornado had suddenly invaded the restaurant.

Ethan and Tim stared dumbstruck at the column of cutlery as it began rotating faster and faster.

Erik Brewer and his buddies stared just at hard at the swirling silverware, their disbelief turning to panic as the metallic twister made a beeline for them. Before they could react, they were attacked by a hail of teaspoons, forks and butter knives. They covered their faces with their hands, trying to fend off the attacking silverware with their elbows. After another half-minute, the cutlery clattered down onto the table and the floor. The noise finally alerted the staff that something unusual was going on.

What they saw was strange enough, if not as odd as what they had missed. Alec was getting up off the floor, his milk shake splattered in the corner of the room. The five boys at Erik's table, unhurt but white as sheets, sat petrified amongst the fallen place settings.

A moment later, the manager emerged from the kitchen. Surveying the scene, he shouted, "Out! All of you! And I don't want to see any of you back here!"

The bullies cleared out first, hurrying out the front door. Erik cast a fearful look back at Ethan as he fled.

"But they tripped me," Alec began.

"I don't care, kid, just get out!" the manager snapped.

"Come on Alec, let's go," Ethan urged as he and Tim left their booth. Pointing towards the back door, which opened onto the bike path, he said, "This way!"

As they left, Ethan added, "With luck, they'll be heading down the Avenue, not the path!"

"You're not scared of them, are you?" Alec asked in disbelief.

"No, Alec...don't you get it?" Ethan replied in exasperation.

"What?"

Tim answered. "You just did magic in front of muggles, Alec. You want to stay as far away from those guys as you can, so you don't do it again."

"Oh," Alec said, crestfallen, as they started hiking up the bike path. "But he started it. And I didn't mean to do anything, really. Although it was kinda cool to see..."

Before Alec could finish, there was a whooshing noise, something swooped in front of them and landed on Ethan's shoulder. It was a brown barn owl with a small letter in its beak.

Alec eyed the owl curiously. Ethan took the letter and the owl whooshed away into the blue afternoon sky.

Ethan broke the red wax seal on the envelope and took out the letter. A sinking feeling overtook him as he read. When he finished, he looked up and gulped.

Tim and Alec were staring at him anxiously.

"Well, what is it?" Tim asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Here, see for yourself!" Ethan groaned as he thrust the letter into Tim's hands. "Thanks a lot, Alec!"