Vera had long since sat down, and Vernon and Petunia finally calmed down. Only the terror of discovery kept them quiet, and they feared even a whisper being heard. Dudley looked around himself. Whoever heard of a damp stone dungeon inside of a trunk, and what sort would even think of such a thing? Vernon and Petunia finally sat down in a corner and after a time, fell asleep. Dudley felt uneasy. Why hadn't Magellan or Hestia come to open the trunk or to let them know the coast was clear? After what Dudley was certain was several hours, he said, "Maybe they've all gone."

"We don't know that," said Vera. "Death Eaters could still be up there, waiting or searching. We'll know when we know." She sat next to Dudley, her wand pointed at her hand. Hovering above her hand was a ball of fire that she was making larger and smaller, changing shapes with, and even making dance. "When we get advanced, we're supposed to spell without speaking. I was a natural. You don't actually need the words. You just need to give a form to your intent. Words help you do that. I never needed them. I was always very imaginative. It's no wonder then I ended up a witch."

"So, all you need to be a wizard is imagination?"

Vera said, "Nobody knows. There has to be a reason that families with no abilities for magic or even original thinking produce people like Hermione Granger, who could certainly beat me in any test, and she didn't have my talent to visualize." She had extinguished the fire, the light in the room having no apparent source, and twirled her wand between her forefinger and her thumb. "You know why we have to hide?"

Dudley shook his head.

"Those people up there." She looked up to the lid of the trunk. "They hate muggleborns. They call us mudbloods. They think the only wizard worth knowing is a wizard of pure stock. They think even less of muggles. Thing is, you'd be safe enough if you weren't related to Harry. But you're here. Magellan's a pureblood. If they found you here with him, it'd be bad for both of you. Me, a mudblood, there's nowhere safe for me. Only safety in running and hiding."

"That's awful." Dudley shook his head. "I mean, that's like Hitler."

Vera looked at him, a small, charming smile curling her lips. Dudley looked at her, puzzled, and Vera's smile broadened. She said, "Not enough people get angry with what's going on."

"That's why nutters like this Voldy fellow never get called out. People always think it's easier just to let them have their way. Think they're in control, they do."

"Or they're too afraid to admit they're not in control. They're afraid what'll happen if people lose confidence in them way more than what You-Know-Who might do."

Dudley sat back against the wall, his eyes looking up into the trunk lid. There was Harry Potter, staring down at him. "Wish me a happy birthday, then," said Harry. He looked around and was in his living room. Aunt Marge was wearing a big black judge's robe that had "Master of Ceremonies" emblazoned upon the chest. He was sitting in a circle with Harry, Vernon, Petunia, Vera, Magellan, Hestia, Dedalus, Piers Polkiss, and Malcolm. They began playing musical chairs while Marge whacked everyone except Dudley with her walking stick across the shins. The walls fell away, and they were outside while a large pinata that looked like Harry hung from a tree. Aunt Marge's pitbull, Ripper, was underneath, barking up at the paper-mache Harry. There was a cricket bat in Dudley's hand and everyone started saying, "Whack him!" Vera said, "Come on, Dudley. Take the first swing!"

Then a new voice sounded. It whispered right next to his ear, cold and high-pitched. It was a cruel voice that chilled Dudley to the bones. "Go ahead, Dudley. Lord Voldemort knows what is in your heart. Hatred, resentment. If Harry had never been in your life, perhaps you would have received the letter from Hogwarts." Dudley was too afraid to look, and yet couldn't stop himself. Inches from his own face was the hideous snake face that only such a voice could have come from. There were nostrils but no nose, the eyes were red and the head was devoid of any hair. "Yes, Dudley," said the ghoulish man, "show Harry how much you resent him." The most chilling thing wasn't the voice, or face, but what it said. It was right. Dudley had felt that way for a very long time. Harry could escape for most of the year, to real friends, while Dudley was at home with his smothering parents. He looked down at the bat and once more in his lifetime, he didn't know what he should do.

A rattling sound brought Dudley to wakefulness. Vera was asleep, her head resting on Dudley's shoulder. He gently shook her awake and as she realized her awkward position, straightened her self and scooted a respectable distance from Dudley. He pointed up and Vera lit her wand, pointing it upward. The lid opened and Magellan peered down at them.

"It's alright," he said, "you can come up now."

As Dudley exited the trunk, the snake man's voice said, "You cannot hide from Lord Voldemort. He sees your mind as clearly as the day..." and the voice faded off.

Now, Dudley got a proper look at the forbidden room. It was filled with beakers, decanters, petridishes, flasks, distillers, and numerous unnameable glass pitchers, syringes, thingamabobs, and doodads that had no readily available description. Hand written journals littered the wooden work areas and book cases that appeared to be hand made from raw timber, crowding fragile glass instruments and indescribable metal pieces. Everything was crafted with great care and attention to durability and functionality. Everyone's footfall struck the wood floor with resounding thuds.

Once they were out in the living room, Dudley got his first good look at Magellan. He looked as if he had run afoul of Dudley and his gang. His lower lip had been split, leaving a dark scab, and the side of his face was purple, his left eye nearly swollen shut. At their questioning looks, he said, "Hestia is upstairs. She got worked over much the same as I did. We are persons of interest, me and Hestia. We were actually surprised we got off so easy. Still, we had no clue where Harry is. I think what saved us was when a number of people using You-Know-Who's name were detected."

Vera asked, "How long ago did we get in the trunk?"

"You were in there for nearly a full day." He gestured to the windows. "It's nearly night now. They took us into the Ministry, all the way to London. Good thing you stayed put. They watched the house the whole time. They're probably watching it even now, but they've calmed down a bit."

Hestia came down the stairs. Indeed, as Magellan said, she had been quite bruised up, also. Vera ran over to her, offering help. Vernon appeared to be deep in thought. Petunia was ghostly white, and deadly silent. She sat down gingerly on the sofa and simply stared into the middle distance.

Vernon drew himself up, puffing up much like a peacock fanning its feathers. "Well, then."

Magellan rolled his eyes and said, "Here we go."

"I've been saying it for years, haven't I?"

Hestia shook her head and said, "And I'm sure you're going to say it again."

Vernon would not be deterred. "This is what comes of associating with this sort."

"Oh, pipe down."

"I will do nothing of the sort, madam. You lot are the sort that meddle in everyone's affairs and the respectable people, such as me and my family, find ourselves drawn inexorably into your nonsense. Your magic tricks and unnaturalness have no place in respectable society."

Hestia put her hands on her hips, a sardonic smile on her face. "Oh really? Respectable non-magic folk like gangsters, and burglars, and cheats, and swindlers, and murderers? Or people like you who make their livings selling overpriced toys and spend the profits eating enough for an army and abusing their magical nephews?"

"Now see here!"

"No, you see here! We've put up with you. We've risked our lives for you. Now, we're probably not going to survive helping you. A respectable man might thank us, help tend our wounds, which, so's you know, were intended for you. If you're what passes for respectable muggles, then you can keep your society. I'll be damned if I have any more hospitality for a lot of such ingrates as yourselves. Your son's the only one who's so much as said thank you, and from the looks of things, gratitude is a new concept for him. A fine lot you are, of snobs and stuffed shirts, and unnaturalness, you say? It wasn't us that sent a steel tube to the moon. Blow that through your mustache."

Hestia stormed out of the room, leaving Vernon sputtering incoherently. It seemed to Dudley that his father had finally met his match. Dudley marched off after Hestia, Vera following close behind.

As he left, he heard Magellan say, "It's nice to see that we can still have a quiet evening of peaceful reflection."

Dudley, upon entering the kitchen, expected to find Hestia in tears. His second choice was seething anger. He found seething anger.

Hestia said, rather brusquely, "Do you two need something?"

Vera said, "I only wanted to see if you needed help." Hestia's expression softened slightly.

Dudley said, "I want to apologize for my father. He doesn't handle it well when he's not in control of things."

Hestia scowled at Dudley. "Your father could really learn something from you, you know. That isn't the problem and you know it. Even when he is in control of things, which I doubt he ever is, he will never tolerate anyone like me...or like Magellan, or Vera. He's had sixteen years to tolerate Harry, and now you tell me what kind of job he's done of that. Dudley, your father is exactly the type of muggle that compelled wizards and witches to hide themselves from the world a thousand years ago. He'll never change. He'd have been happier living in ancient times as an inquisitor."

Dudley lowered his head. She was right. Looking back up, he took a closer look her her face. Her jaw was swollen on the right side, and might have been broken. The left eye was blood shot with broken vessels and the skin around it was dark and swollen. Hestia was as thin and lithe as Dudley's mother, and clearly as deceptively strong, if she could ignore her pain and stand proud.

Dudley said, "I'll get some ice for your swelling."

Vera said, "There's no need." She pulled out her wand and pointed it Hestia's face. It was like clay reshaping, and her eye was as smooth as always. There was a slight crunching sound and Hestia's face briefly contorted in pain as her jaw was restored to its proper shape.

"Thank you, Vera," said Hestia. "Dudley, keep trying to be a good person. You're already a better man than your father. Any idea what made you steer from the course he set you on?"

Dudley shrugged. "Harry saved my life from some things called dementors a couple of years ago and that got me to thinking of things. Then some fellow called Dumble-well, he was one of Harry's professors-he said something that got me to thinking even more. I realized I didn't hate Harry or anyone else. That was that."

Hestia nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Professor Dumbledore was a great man, and a great teacher. Great teachers are good at making people think of things. The world's a worse place without him." Hestia insisted she wanted to be alone for awhile for and shooed Dudley and Vera out of the kitchen.

"Dudley," roared Vernon, "pack your things! We're leaving!"

"I beg your pardon?" Dudley said.

"What, why?" Vera wanted to know.

Vernon ignored Vera and said, "We're better off taking our chances back at home. Harry isn't there now. There's nothing they could want from us."

Dudley shrugged, appearing unconcerned. "Then you can take your chances on your own. These people have risked their lives for us and I'm not going to run out on them. But you go on. I'm sure they'll be happy to be shot of you."

Vernon's face had turned pale with shock. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, "How dare you speak to me like that? You, Dudley?" Vernon's face turned bright red. "Boy, I've been too easy on you. It's time I showed you who's boss. You'll pack your things be back down here in half an hour, or we leave your things behind and I drag you out the door."

"You're welcome to try." Dudley did something then that Vernon would never have expected in a million years; he put up his dukes.

"No, Dudley!" Vera grabbed his arm. "Your father only thinks he's doing what's right. If you fight him over it, you'll regret it."

"But he's wrong!"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should fight! That won't solve anything."

Vernon nodded with an important, justified air. "Thank you, Vera. Now come along, Dudley."

"No," said Dudley. "If we leave, they'll see and if they don't catch us, they'll think these people helped us escape."

Petunia said, "Vernon, sit down." Vernon turned in shock and Petunia continued. "These people...we can't escape them. They can follow us anywhere we go. It's better if we don't separate."

Vernon was mortified. "Petunia, you can't honestly say that we should continue putting up with this nonsense?"

"I don't like it any more than you, but these...people...here are only interested in our welfare, and as for those...those..."

"Lunatics?" Vernon offered helpfully.

"Precisely...well, we don't know what strange, sordid things goes through their minds, do we? How do we know they won't come after us?"

Vernon threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Oh, then what are we supposed to do? We can't sit here for the whole blasted season, or however long this nonsense takes to sort. We'll go mad, we will; bloody stir crazy!"

From somewhere underneath a pile of clothes, or some kind of cloth, on the couch, Magellan's muffled voice said, "We could have a sing-along."

The deranged look on Vernon's face had frozen and lost some of its intensity when Magellan spoke. He said, "Pardon me. You, me, and Dudley; we'll go mad. Those three: obviously, they're already mad." He then smiled brightly. "They'll go sane!"

Almost on queue, Magellan's muffled voice sang, "'What do you do with a drunken sailor early in the mornin'?'" Vera couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was like everyone suddenly had permission to laugh. Dudley was the next to laugh, whether he was laughing at Magellan's woefully timed concert, or whether Vera's giggle-fit was contagious. Whatever the reason, Petunia caught it next. What sounded at first like a series of rapid-fire hiccups was actually Petunia laughing. Vernon looked around in disbelief and it seemed as if he it wasn't going to catch, but Magellan was now singing "Any Port in a Storm", oblivious to the cacophony and Vernon snorted and began to laugh wheezily.

During the moment, Dudley managed to sneak another book under his sweater. When he was finally alone in his room, he took a look at the book. It was called, "The Fundamental Secrets of Alchemy" by Nicholas Flamel. This seemed precisely what he had been searching for: an instructional book that would teach him the beginning of this magical course. He opened and read.

"Many may ponder why a man who has accomplished so much would feel the need to add to the list of rudimentary instructional materials already available when I have so obviously (at least to those who know only of my accomplishments) discovered the secrets of the universe. My answer is simply that nobody discovers the answers to his or her quest. The universe discloses its secrets during the quest and never at the destination. For those of us who take that journey, we must invariably discover that our efforts are for naught if we cannot recall the first steps we took, and in doing so, guide those who are new to the quest in their first steps."

Dudley quickly scanned the rest of the foreword and realized that it was merely an acknowledgment of critics, family, and fans. He turned to the introduction.

"If you open this book seeking to learn the secrets of magic, close it now. It cannot help you. Yet, if you are willing open your mind to amazing possibilities, all may not be lost. For I tell you alchemy is science, but it may very well be the science of magic. You will learn the five (yes, five, not four) elements not just in name but in every aspect in which they can be perceived and manipulated. Be forewarned that your goals as an alchemist are varied. Disillusion yourself of turning lead into gold. Even the greatest of sorcerers are befuddled and confounded by alchemy."

Dudley read through, enraptured, until after two pages, the explanations of what alchemy was and was not ended. The book was not that old, having only been written in the eighties. The next pages described the four elements, compared them with the muggle table of elements and explained why those were not correct elemental assignments. "Helium is explosive and hydrogen is not, true enough, but these are both air elements. What science fails to see is that all of these so-called elements are born of the key elemental material and not the other way around, as they suppose. This is the fifth elemental aspect; quintessence, or more commonly, spirit. These periodic elements are functions of their respective elements."

Dudley read the Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus, and charts and charts of the different aspects of the elements and how they came to be. Then came the instruction in the creation and use of distillers, and of a magical furnace. Dudley realized that everything he needed to conduct alchemical experiments was in the forbidden room. First, he continued to read. Halfway through the book, he found something that truly impressed itself upon his mind.

"Remember, your goal should be the harnessing of quintessence. If you've obeyed the course material presented herein, then you have already created the following examples of quintessence: alcohol (surely, you've heard it referred to as "spirit"), perfume, effervescent water (soda). When you create these spirits, you are essentially extracting the magical essence from a form of the earth element, plant material. You need to be able to make your materials for future magical workings, and that will mean being able to extract magical essence from other materials."

That caught Dudley's attention, and as he read on, it confirmed that, indeed, if he learned alchemy, he could literally take the magical essence of any substance, store in an appropriate container, like a crystal or gemstone, and have in his possession an object containing a programmed magical spell. He realized why an accomplished sorcerer such as Magellan would take an interest in such a science. If he was in a fight, he wouldn't have to draw his wand. There would be no fear of his opponent hearing and countering what was cast. He could simply take a magic crystal, activate it, and it would cast instantly, with the opponent having no idea what was cast until it was already in effect, and thus too late. True this was a small part of alchemy, and Flamel regarded it as merely incidental, but Dudley was sure that there were plenty of wizards and witches who would assign it much greater import. He pushed the thought from his mind. The mere suggestion bespoke of abuse of power. What would Vera think of him?

Indeed, that got him thinking. Truly, what would Vera think of him? He could easily imagine himself fending off an army of Death Eaters with a supply of alchemical stones and Vera looking on with awestruck eyes. He imagined Raisa running up. "Sir, you is a hero, you is!"

It was late at night and Dudley was sure everyone was asleep when there was a knock at his door. He hid the book and called for whoever it was to come in. The door opened to reveal Magellan behind it. He came in with his swagger that vaguely reminded Dudley of Mic Jagger. Closing the door gently behind him, he said, "I'm sure your parents would deeply disapprove of your reading material."

Dudley was startled and tried to maintain his innocence as he said, "My reading material?"

"Yes, you're a lousy liar and a lousy shoplifter. I've seen you whisking those books up here. It's fortunate for you that your parents would fail to observe a freight train roaring through the living room."

"You were under a pile of clothes when I took the last book."

Magellan smiled and said, "I'm not as think as you drunk I am." He looked down to the cover that was hiding Flamel's book. "Pull it out." Dudley did as instructed. "That man wrote hundreds of books, hundreds, but never about what anybody wanted to read. You see, he was born in the 1500s and he wrote that book in the 1980s."

"But that's impossible."

"I know. He never would explain it. He created the Sorcerer's Stone, the absolute goal of any alchemist. As long as he had it, he could make all the gold he wanted, he could live forever, but very recently, he was forced to destroy it. Many alchemists blame Harry Potter for it, but we really know that it was Vol-You-Know-Who's fault."

Dudley looked down at the book. "He never explained how he created it?"

"No. Nobody would ever read his books because of it, but still, he wrote them. I think he was right. I mean, it's like reading the last page of a mystery novel first. What's the point of alchemy if you already know how to make the bloody stone? That book, right there, the one you're holding, that's the definitive volume on the study of alchemy. That is the ultimate apprentice's handbook. You need magic to do much of what is in that book, but don't worry. If you don't have it now, you sure will by the time you're done with those lessons. How would you like to start coming down nights and learning those lessons while your mum and dad's snoozing?"

Dudley couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I sure would, sir!"

Magellan nodded. "There are witches and wizards and potion-makers and apothecaries everywhere, but alchemists are rare. It's a dying art and it's one of the very few wizard arts that muggles can do and become masters. You keep the book. It's yours."

"No magic, a regular simple muggle, and I can become a master?"

"Oh, yes. Saint Germaine was a fine example of a muggle to become an alchemist, one of the most celebrated in history, right up there with Nicholas Flamel."

Dudley barely slept that night, letting his imagination run wild. He kept having to resist the urge to pull the book out and keep reading. He never really got a chance to dream being in out of sleep so much but he thought he might have been dreaming about a chemistry lab in a dungeon. He would know better than to pester Magellan in view of his parents, but he found himself talking to Vera about it through the coming days. Usually, they were alone in the study, where Magellan rarely was, and nor was anyone else.

"How do you feel about the possibility?" she asked.

Dudley said, "I don't know, really. I'm not sure what I want. I was never very bright in school. I'm lousy with math and all that rubbish."

"Well, maybe you just needed the right subject to interest you. Maybe we could learn together. Do you think that would help?"

Dudley smiled and said, "I think it would. It's really something though."

"What is that?"

"You're so easy to talk to."

"It's always easier to talk to someone who lets you speak your mind." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Dudley could feel his cheeks burning and he wasn't sure how to react. His cheek had gone numb where she kissed him as the blood drained. Whatever he was thinking, he never had the chance to say it as his mother walked in. Petunia couldn't stand the place any longer and been in a cleaning frenzy. When she spotted Vera and Dudley alone and seated on the single love seat in the room, she pursed her lips, her eyes looking daggers at Vera.

Petunia strode up to Dudley and dropped two books on the table next to them. Neither of them were book that Magellan had given him, but both were books that he had been reading, both on alchemy. "Can you explain these?" She looked over at Vera as if it was her fault.

Dudley said, "Well, me game's been on the fritz since we came here so I was looking for something to do. Mag's got plenty of books so I'm reading."

"This reading material is absolutely unacceptable."

"Why? It's just science. The books even say so. There's no magic involved."

"Just so, I don't want you reading them, and from now on, I'm doing daily checks to make sure you're not." She looked sharply at Vera. "And you're encouraging him."

Vera looked torn between shame and laughter. "I know, right? Terrible crime that, encouraging reading."

"This reading material is completely unacceptable! I will thank you to let me mind my own family and keep your nose out of it."

Dudley said, "Well, which do you prefer, mother? A friend that encourages me to read and use my imagination, or the ones back home that I run around with and terrorize the neighborhood?"

"Don't you take that tone with me."

"You're out of line."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My decisions are my own and you've no right attacking someone who's got nothing to do with it. That's out of line, plain and simple. I'd be reading with or without her encouragement. She's got nothing to do with it. You've got no call to take the mickey out of her about it."

Petunia leaned in threateningly. "Well, then I'll have to keep an extra-close watch, won't I?" She turned back to Vera. "My request stands. I'll mind my own and you mind yours." With that, she stormed out.

Vera said, "Thanks for sticking up for me."

Dudley shook his head. "If only she could see herself."