CHAPTER 7

Ron was thinking hard. He was thinking about what he had said earlier.

For the first time, it seemed that Ron was the only one thinking about the problem with the dark wizard. He had said his idea to everyone earlier. But with the huge battle, they seemed to have forgotten about it.

This was not true. Professor Layton's mind was whirling as it had never before. Those who knew Layton well would know that he was always thinking. It didn't matter where he was, when it was or what the situation was- he had a brilliant mind, and he used it well!

It happened to be that they were thinking about different things. Layton's thoughts started from magic in general, then subdividing into different categories, like wizards and their secrets, spells, the ownership of a wand and more. What he was looking for was the ownership part.

"Hermione," he started. "Do you have any books about wands that I could take a look at?"

"Oh, definitely!" Hermione pulled out two books. One was very old and, on the contrary, the other was very new.

"This one," she said, eyeing the old one (which had half of the cover hanging onto the spine with a single slip of "Spell- o- Tape"), "Is 'The Elements of the Wand and How to Find Them'. It was published in the early sixteenth century." Then, she put it down and slowly lifted the newer book.

"This," she continued. "Is 'Famous Wands and Their Stories'. It mentions Harry in it, by the way- it was published last Christmas!"

Professor Layton did not bother to ask why Harry, of all people, would be mentioned in the book. Was he some sort of celebrity? He might have to find that out later.

"Thank you," Layton said gratefully. He took the new book first and, finding that it was very heavy, staggered over to another slab of rock, close to where Luke was practicing his spells.

This is just what I need, he thought. He was sure that he was close to unraveling this diabolical mystery. He flipped the book open to the first page.

"'The history of the wand is a consistent pattern. It is a story. But even though each wand follows the same pattern, they are all unique and different. A wand is passed down from generation to generation, or is won from an opponent. The question is: how? You may look at each tale and, after that, you may know the answer. I sincerely hope that this collection of stories may entertain, enlighten or even prove useful to you. Sincerely, Mr. Ollivander.'"

Layton smiled. It would definitely prove useful to him. He turned to the table of contents, where he found the words, "The Elder Wand, page 777".

Presumably, he flipped to page seven- hundred seventy- seven. There, he found a black and white pencil sketch of what Layton recognized as a wand. Actually, the Elder Wand, to be precise. The illustration might be helpful to them on their quest to find the Elder Wand, but that wasn't what Layton was looking for.

It was on the opposite page that held the key to the mystery. His eyes traveled down to the heading, "HISTORY".

"The Elder Wand was claimed to be the most powerful wand in all time. Even now, many still believe so. This is because of the Tale of the Three Brothers, written by Beedle the Bard.

"Beedle wrote famous children's tales and is well- known for his collection, 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. The Tale of the Three Brothers is among them, and the story begins when three brothers are traveling along a lonely path. Then, they reach a deadly river that was too dangerous to cross. However, they pulled out their wands and created a bridge.

"Death, who had expected them to meet their end, appeared on the bridge and blocked their only path. He was very angry, for not many people escaped from his wrath. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers by giving each whatever they wanted.

"The first, second and third each took a prize: a wand of elder that made its owner invincible, a stone that brought back the dead, and a cloak that made the users invisible, respectively. The eldest brother took the wand and ventured into a village far away. There, he fought a fellow wizard to the death and boasted loudly of his victory and his powerful wand. With his opponent killed, he found an inn and stayed there for a night.

"That night, a thief took the wand and slit the eldest brother's throat. So, Death could now take the first brother as his own.

"The second brother returned to his home, where he lived on his own. He flipped the Resurrection Stone thrice in his hand. After the third turn, the figure of the girl he had hoped to wed appeared immediately.

"Yet, the girl was sad and suffering, isolated from reality. She had returned, though she did not truly belong in the mortal world. The second brother, driven insane by hopeless longing, killed himself to join his lost love.

"After claiming two of the brothers, Death searched for the third and wisest brother, but he was never able to find him. The youngest brother had grown into an old fellow and finally took the cloak off and passed it on to his son. Only then did the youngest brother join Death as equals and, greeting his old friend, they departed from this life.

"Now, it was said that if an individual owned the Deathly Hallows, the wand, the stone and the cloak, that person would be the Master of Death. However, the only known Master of Death is Harry James Potter (Also the only survivor of the Killing Curse, which he accomplished two times, both times against Lord Voldemort, whom he killed) who refused to take the Hallows and use them to his advantage. The Elder Wand was previously owned by Albus Dumbledore, who was disarmed by Draco Malfoy, and Malfoy was defeated (but not killed) by Harry Potter, the current owner.

"The Elder Wand is also known as 'The Wand of Destiny' or 'The Deathstick'."

Layton shut the book closed and smiled. He knew something was funny about Harry's story. Wasn't there something wrong with the fact that everyone other than Harry in the Elder Wand's history was dead? No, there had to be another that lived to tell the tale. That person had to be alive.

That person had to be Draco Malfoy. Professor Layton beckoned Harry over.

Harry quickly told Luke to keep practicing "Protego". Luke defended himself from Ron's light jinxes.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Layton chuckled.

"You seemed to forget about Draco Malfoy in your little explanation," Layton noted amusedly, still smiling.

Harry's face darkened. "Where did you find that out?"

"A book," he said simply. Harry sighed.

"I didn't forget him… I wish I could," Harry added. "He was my rival at Hogwarts. He challenged me, I beat him, and he crawls back for revenge."

Layton nodded. "Go on."

"During the final battle, he nearly prevented me from defeating Voldemort. Actually, one of his goons, Crabbe, nearly killed us with a deadly fire. He was lost in the process."

Layton started to feel that his theory could have been wrong, and that this was a case he might not solve so easily. "Was Malfoy killed?"

"No," Harry answered, much to Layton's relief. "I saved him from the fire."

"Yes- that's what a gentleman does," Layton agreed. Harry gave Layton a curious look before continuing.

"Yes, that was the right thing to do, I guess," Harry said. "He didn't exactly do anything in return other than hide in cowardice."

"How was he cowardly?" Layton asked.

"He didn't fight in the Final Battle," Harry explained. "I still don't like him very much."

"You don't?" Layton said, though he wasn't surprised at all.

"No," Harry said. "But I don't hate him as much as I did before."

"Well, that's good," Layton said. "Our next move will be visiting your little nemesis here."

Salazar Slytherin was very excited as he paced (or rather, floated) around the room. An impatient rustle came from a slip of paper in his ghostly hands.

"Draco, Draco, where have you been?" he muttered, annoyed. He decided to go outside and wait.

With a swish of his cloak, he transformed into a young man with a Muggle- like appearance. However, his stormy gray eyes remained. He made a face.

"Muggles and their revolting clothes…" He muttered, disgusted.

He stepped outside into a storm. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed; the sky was a dark gray, exactly the same as the gray in Slytherin's eyes. A few children ran by, soaking wet and shielding themselves with their schoolbags. They didn't seem to notice that Slytherin was completely dry, presumably because Slytherin stood in the shadows. He wanted to teach Draco a lesson for being late.

Draco Malfoy ran through the streets. He was late for his meeting with Slytherin. He tried to apparate again, but to his despair, he couldn't.

"Cursed Ministry," he said through gritted teeth, still running. "Why did we have to take an Apparating class if we weren't going to use the skill for the next century?" He said a few more insults at the Ministry of Magic and went into a fast sprint.

After a few minutes, Malfoy grew tired. Instead, he summoned a broom and flew to Slytherin's meeting place.

Finally, he arrived at his destination. He hopped off the broom and was prepared for an Angry Salazar- style scolding. This is not going to be good. He opened the door.

And… no one there! Malfoy searched the room, and found a small Muggle hiding in a corner.

"What are you doing here?" he roared. The Muggle was silent. Then, he started laughing.

What, Malfoy thought, is this madman doing at this abandoned shop?

"A madman, you say?" the Muggle asked. Malfoy jumped three feet into the air.

"WHO ARE YOU?" he shouted.

"Me? Don't you recognize me?"

Malfoy looked him over and saw nothing familiar. Suddenly, the Muggles form began to shift.

Oh no, I think I've shouted at the wrong person!

A grinning Salazar Slytherin (not a pleasant sight, it's true) appeared before him. Malfoy gulped.

Now, the only thing he could remember was Slytherin, the meeting and someone in his childhood that said the word, "Busted!"