The Uninvited Guest

Lord Voldemort stood, looking down upon them. A twisted mockery of a priest regarding his flock from the pulpit. Behind him stood a rank of waiters, their masks shifting as the crowd gaped in horror into the featureless white masks of the Death Eaters. There was a breathless hush.

A sickly bolt of light lanced towards Lord Voldemort from the crowd. He flicked it aside and stretched out his wand. A witch rose into the air. The crowd backed away from her, pressing back against the walls of the room. Lazily the Dark Lord tilted his wrist and the woman's arms were pulled taught as if crucified. She held her head up, glaring defiance at him. A thin smile curled over his lipless mouth and her robes ripped as barbed wires sliced through them. She screamed, pulling against the spell as bright, arterial blood rained down onto the white floor. Apart from her screams there was absolute silence. Then it was over. The wires pulled, and she was torn apart. Fleshy lumps fell to the ground. Through the ten seconds the execution had taken Lord Voldemort had not glanced over at her once.

Sobs and screams rang out as the crowd, previously stunned into silence, panicked. The Dark Lord held a finger to mouth and the sounds were stolen from their lips. Men and women grasped at their throats, desperate for any sound.

'Good evening. I apologise for the interruption to the festivities. Before we proceed, would anyone else care to chance their hand against me?'

The room froze.

'Not even Dumbledore? I had head he was here, and yet the champion of this old, decadent, decaying order seems too afraid to show his face. For the rest of you, I commend you for your wisdom. Now, I am here to offer you a choice. You may stand with me, and I shall not find you wanting for your reticence until this point. You will be returned safely to your homes, and in time you will be raised to glory, as is your just dessert.

'For those who will not … do not fear. I will not harm you. I will leave you safely on this ship,' he said, gesturing with long fingers to their surroundings, 'to complete your journey. The treasures intended to line the pockets of the Ministry will be liberated and given to those in need.' The skeletal face looked down on the crowd for a long moment and then he extended a pale hand, reaching out to them as if to raise them up. Enraptured the crowd leant inwards.

Pilgrim took his opportunity and sidestepped, trying to leave the room as quietly as possible. Hands grasped him, holding him tightly. Lord Voldemort's gaze flicked down to him. 'Bring him to me.'

Hands passed Pilgrim forwards through the crowd. They held him tightly, gripping him so that he could not have resisted. He submitted to them, making himself as limp and loose-limbed as possible. Eyes followed him, until he was deposited at the Dark Lord's feet. He steeled himself.

'You may speak,' Lord Voldemort said, his voice was faintly mocking. 'Why, pray were you trying to leave?'

Pilgrim kept his eyes on the ground and let his voice quaver as he spoke, 'Forgive me, my Lord. I am but a humble visitor from a distant land. I wished no insult to you, but I feared that I …'

'Would come to harm,' Lord Voldemort said for him. He spoke for the audience, 'Arise, no harm will come to you by my hand. Behold, I raise you up,' and he reached out a hand. A curl of the fingers and Pilgrim's limbs straightened so that he stood once more. The Dark Lord towered benevolently over him, a slight plinth and an extra few inches of height setting him above Pilgrim.

'Thank you, my lord.'

Lord Voldemort turned to a Death Eater and spoke in an undertone, 'Take him and any others who choose not to join us below decks. I do not want to see them harmed.'

A tall Death Eater bound his hands before ushering him to the side. The crowd below was dividing. A small huddle was being herded to one side by a group of Death Eaters, whilst the majority had chosen to kneel. Rich cloth pooled around them on the floor. He waited patiently as those who had no knelt were separated into groups of five. Their hands were bound with silver chains. Then escorted by three Death Eaters to each group they were led away below the decks, one group at a time.

As he was marched out of the gleaming reception rooms into a service corridor plated with burnished copper Pilgrim could hear the glass display cases behind them shattering under curses. The party of prisoners was led to a small room. There the Death Eaters prodded them until they had lined up, facing the wall. Pilgrim flicked his fingers, trying to break the bonds with a spell, but his magic was beyond his reach.

'Hold on,' one of the party guests objected, 'what're you doing? He promised we weren't to be harmed …'

'By him,' a Death Eater replied.

Pilgrim braced himself for the inevitable curse when there was a polite cough from the doorway. Twisting his neck, he saw the Death Eaters begin to turn.

There was a short sigh. The smell of ash on the wind, and a near simultaneous sound of three bodies hitting the deck. The chain around his wrists dissolved and he brought them down, rubbing them to bring back sensation. Pilgrim turned around. Dumbledore stood in the doorway, finishing modifying the Death Eater's memories.

'Follow me, everyone. You will need to join the others. Did anyone not have a drink earlier?' Dumbledore asked, his tone serious. No one raised their hands. 'A pity. They seem to have been drugged with a magic suppressant. Nothing to worry about, your craft will come back to you, but it may take a little time. Now, when you leave here, turn left, and left again. Then go down the stairs and turn right until you find the others. It should only take four or five right-hand turns.' He passed out the wands the Death Eaters had pocketed.

'I'll go with you,' Pilgrim said.

'Can you still fight without a wand?' Dumbledore asked, surveying him over the half-moon spectacles. 'I cannot take you with me if you will be a liability.'

Pilgrim twisted the head of his cane to the left and instead of a wand drew out a rapier. A cross-guard in the German style blossomed around his hand. Steel running like water. 'Well enough. I only took a few sips of the wine. I imagine my power will return shortly.'

'Good. Let us go then. Does anyone know how many more groups there are?'

'Two, I think,' one wizard said. 'Look why don't we take the robes and masks, we could pass as them …'

'Because, contrary to appearances, Voldemort,' there was collective shudder, 'is not entirely foolish. The masks are transparent to marked Death Eaters, provided a marked Death Eater wears them. They may not remember the faces, but they would know us as imposters.'

The group followed Dumbledore silently after that. Subdued and shaken. When they went their separate ways, there were more than a few whimpers at the thought of leaving the safety of Dumbledore's side. Pilgrim matched Dumbledore's swift stride as they headed down another corridor in the labyrinth, following a small globe of light, which bobbed before them.

'You didn't drink anything then?' Pilgrim asked.

'I never do at these events. I prefer to keep a clear head,' Dumbledore said in an undertone. 'You are experienced in the use of a sword?'

'I've wandered long enough to pick up a few skills for when wands fail. The girl …'

'If I had revealed myself it is doubtful anyone in the ship would have survived. Voldemort would have used them to distract me. I will bear her death on my conscience for the rest of my days. As it is he decided to execute you all quietly, presumably to make everyone rather more pliable … hush,' they had rounded a corner and they could see three Death Eaters leaving a room, shutting the door behind them.

Fury flashed across Dumbledore's feathers. Pilgrim took a step backwards, involuntarily. The old wizard moved in a blur. The Death Eaters were hurled against the pipes which lined the walls. Steam flooding out and coiling in constricting ropes around the black robed wizards. A heartbeat later they were unconscious. The door to the room, made from solid bronze, was ripped from its hinges as Dumbledore marched towards it.

Bodies lay against the far wall. Their chests rose and fell slowly. Dumbledore knelt, running his fingers over the brow of the first of them.

'Well?' Pilgrim asked.

Dumbledore stood. His face was frim. 'We must hurry. They are not dead, but their minds have been stripped away.' A gesture and a whip of silver light slashed over the fallen Death Eaters. 'That should do. They will remember little and go about their business. Now, onwards.'

They took the corridor practically at a run. Pilgrim gritted his teeth against the pain. He could feel wetness seeping from his side. They came upon the Death Eaters and their prisoners suddenly, almost crashing into them as they rounded a corner. In the tight space Pilgrim's sword was no use, so, dropping it, he knocked a Death Eater's wand aside with one hand. The other stuck with lightning speed: throat, temple and solar plexus. By the time Pilgrim turned around Dumbledore had finished with the other two and directed the prisoners away.

Dumbledore looked down on the dazed and retching Death Eater coldly. A small wave of his hand and the man was floating before him, his mask ripped aside. 'What is your plan here?' Dumbledore asked.

The Death Eater tried to spit at him, but the gobbet of phlegm merely hovered in the air before dropping to the ground.

'I will not lie to you,' Dumbledore said, and his calm was worse than any fury. 'It's Bulstrode, isn't it? I remember you. You were never exceptional. Never gifted, except perhaps at small cruelties. My friend, on the other hand could be quite inventive. And even if he feels reluctant I am sure that he will follow, to the letter the instructions I gave him earlier. Would you like that?'

Bulstrode's eyes flicked to Pilgrim, who gave a cheerful smile. Pilgrim was saved from wondering what Dumbledore had instructed him to do by the shake of Bulstrode's head. The little man's eyes were bulging in fear.

'Good, now you're going to tell me everything you know. If you lie, I will know,' said Dumbledore, and his eyes were like ice.

It did not take long for Bulstrode to tell them everything. Not least because he knew very little. He was not even privy to who was on the mission, beyond an idea that there were only two or three members of the inner circle of Death Eaters present. The attack was, he believed, as it seemed: Lord Voldemort intended to line his own coffers with the items from the auction and, Bulstrode thought, leave the ship afterwards, leaving the horror of finding a score of mindless guests on board an aimlessly floating ghost-ship. Pilgrim privately doubted the plan was quite that simple, but there was no point in contradicting the Death Eater.

'And how do you all plan to leave the ship?' Dumbledore asked.

'The emergency portkeys,' Bulstrode babbled.

Dumbledore nodded and then knocked the man out. 'Very well, we need to move quickly. Once I have returned these three to them, they shall, I imagine, be ready to leave. They will probably leave some guards behind to finish whatever Voldemort intends, but I suspect most of them will have gone.'

'What did you want me to do, if you left me alone with him?' Pilgrim asked as Dumbledore finished modifying the Death Eater's memories and slipped into an ante-chamber.

'Why, nothing at all. I did not give you any instructions, after all. He did not need to know that though,' Dumbedore said quietly, 'and I think they are gone. Now, we shall ascend to the winter-room together. From there make your way to the spell-bags which keep us aloft; I shall make my way to the engines to ensure that Voldemort cannot easily incinerate us. The Death Eaters will have removed the emergency portkeys, but those who are still on here ought to be carrying at least one between them. That must be our secondary objective. After that we will secure the control car.'

Pilgrim nodded and began to follow Dumbledore, gliding silently through the corridors. His sword hung loosely in his hand. The copper plating of the passage seemed to glow as their witch-light passed by, bouncing blurred reflections around them. When they reached the hatch into the winter hall they halted. Dumbledore drew a complicated patter in the air and waited. Whatever the intended result he seemed satisfied. A gentle tap of his wand and the hatch swung open. They climbed out.

The room had lost some of its finery. Where it had seemed like pristine snow it was now as if the thaw had begun. Shattered glass from the display cases covered the floor. Shawls, the broken stems of wineglasses and crushed canapés lay where they had fallen. Bloody pulp still stained the white. Pools of liquid, some alcoholic in origin, some less savoury, lay on the floor, vibrating in sync with the engines.

Latimer was sat, slumped beside the case where Pilgrim had last seen him. Picking his way across the floor Pilgrim checked the wizard's pulse. There was nothing, only a faint hint of froth at the lips and wide, staring eyes, tinged with yellow.

'Someone poisoned him,' Pilgrim remarked, to no-one in particular. 'Amid all this someone took the time to murder him quietly.'

'The same someone who unlocked this cabinet?' Dumbledore observed from just behind him. 'When all the others were broken someone unlocked lot 67,' he took the auction catalogue from a voluminous fold of his robe. 'Namely, a pair of spectacles owned by Dr John Dee and used to read Enochian. Still, we may ponder this new mystery later. For now, we have work to do.'

Pilgrim nodded and stood. By the time he had done so Dumbledore had already vanished on his own mission. The spells which held the airship aloft were, Pilgrim was fairly sure, to be found in the upper reaches of the ship. Therefore, without further guidance to be found he climbed upwards, taking the corners slowly. He was all too aware that even a poor wizard would have the advantage unless he managed to surprise them. As it was though the ship was almost eerily silent and empty. With the broken glass littering the floor and the faint wind charms that blew through the chambers it felt like a derelict palace. Outside the clouds scudded by, red with the reflected glow from the cities below.

It was only when he entered the autumnal chamber that things began to go wrong. It was a small bar at the uppermost level of the hull. Gusts of wind floated crimson leaves through the air. Batting one aside Pilgrim stepped forwards and glass crunched underfoot. There was a long moment of silence as he waited for anyone to come to investigate. Then, as he took a step forwards, a Death Eater opened a door on the other side of the room.

The Death Eater stared. Pilgrim, however, moved. He closed the ground between them in three long strides and lunged. The Death Eater leapt backwards, conjuring a shield. The sword struck sparks from the charm.

Pilgrim advanced raining blows on the spell. The shield barely held. Silver cracks running through the translucent bubble. As Pilgrim pulled back for another blow the Death Eater took his chance. A tongue of flame licked from his wandtip. Pilgrim parried. Conjured flame glanced off the tempered steel.

'How?' The Death Eater grunted, throwing himself to the side as the sword struck again.

'I spent,' Pilgrim spat, his rapier cut the air as his opponent backed away, 'thirty years forging this.' He parried a curse. His riposte pushed the other man back further, into the corner. The blade sliced upwards the tip cutting deeply into the wizard's forearm.

'Reducto!' Pilgrim leant casually to the side. The red light shot over his shoulder. Behind him a bottle of brandy shattered.

'You'll have to do better than that,' he said, driving the blade into the Death Eater's leg, eliciting a cry of agony.

'Give in,' the man panted through gritted teeth. 'There are too many of us. We'll let you go …'

'Out of a window?' Pilgrim asked. He cut upwards, severing the wizard's fingers and bisecting the man's wand.

The Death Eater stared in shock at his hand. Then Pilgrim dashed the pommel of his rapier against the man's head and he collapsed. Pilgrim drew back the sword, about to run the Death Eater through, and hesitated, hand shaking. He lowered the sword. Despite himself he ripped off a strip of cloth and bound it in a tourniquet around the man's wrist. He added a few bonds to make sure that even if the Death Eater were to wake up he would not be going anywhere quickly. Then, bemused at his own behaviour, he set off through the doorway and up the ladder, into the belly of the airship.


Lucius Malfoy waited on the walkway between the spell bags. His underlings were fraying the enchantments which kept the magic stable. He was watching as Pilgrim stalked into the belly of the airship. He noted the sword the wizard carried. It was a sensible idea amongst the spell bags which were hung within the envelope. One stray cantrip and the entire airship would be swallowed by eldritch fire, or worse.

'Carry on with your task,' Lucius commanded his minions. 'I shall deal with this. Leave if necessary.' He drew his wand, conjuring a blade of filigreed steel. Failure would not be tolerated by the Dark Lord. It would be better to deal with the problem personally than allow it to get out of hand.

He walked down the steps to meet the wizard. The man was waiting on the lower walkway, out of the line of fire from any Death Eaters who might be tempted to chance their luck. Lucius tossed aside his cloak and mask, freeing his arms and sight. The wizard looked up, watching him with an expression of mild indifference. Blood stained the point of the man's blade.

'Good evening,' Lucius said, with a shallow bow.

'Has it been?' The wizard asked, raising an eyebrow. 'I felt the mood was a bit of a killer earlier.'

'I apologise for any distress you might have endured. If you could tell me your name I will ensure it is as short-lived as possible,' Lucius said, taking a couple of light swings with his weapon, testing the weight.

'Any particular reason?' The man asked.

'I believe one should always be introduced to those one is about to try to kill. My name is Lucius Malfoy.'

The man gave a small chuckle as if realising something, 'Of course. I thought I recognised you. They call me Pilgrim.'

Lucius regarded him, taking in the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. 'Charmed to meet you. Would you like a moment to rest? You look a little tired.'

'No, not at all. And I fear time is on your side. Shall we begin?'

'By all means.'

Their swords tapped together. Then the duel began. The wizard was on the offensive immediately. Driving forward with preternatural speed and ferocity. His body language was near perfectly controlled. Time and again Lucius barely turned aside the blade, reflexes rather than intent parrying the man's blade. The man was devilishly quick, never in range for Lucius' strikes. Each step a calculated move to draw Lucius into overreaching. Denying him the possibility Lucius retreated up the stairs.

Yet, it was evident as they reached the second landing that the ferocity of the first attack had been a brutal gamble. Pilgrim was sweating profusely, skin pallid. His hand was pressed to his side. His advance slowed. Now, as they reached the landing Lucius had the advantage. Pilgrim was driven into a retreat. He circled though so that now he was being driven up the stairs. Lucius' low cuts were knocked aside. Steel flashed a hair's breadth from his face.

Then, at the top of the stairs, Lucius threw himself forwards. He pressed his weight against the wizard. Their swords locked between them. Lucius drove his fist against his foes' wounded flank. Pilgrim bent backwards over the edge of the railing, snarling with pain.

There was a shout from above and Lucius' eyes were dragged downwards. Dumbledore had entered the hull. Pilgrim seized the opportunity and pushed him backwards. The movement was followed by a downward slash which sliced through Lucius' doublet. A ribbon of pain stretched across his chest. He hurled himself back into the fight, launching a swift series of blows. Pilgrim barely parried. One thrust drove deeply into the man's shoulder and his face went white with pain.

There was a hurried chanting above and then the soft ripple of a portkey activating. Lucius reached into his own breast pocket, pulling out a curse stone and his portkey. Pilgrim's eyes widened as he saw the stone. He threw himself forwards, onto Lucius' sword. His hand grasped the detonator and wrenched it from Lucius' grip as he fell backwards, slipping off the platform.

With a curse Lucius ripped the trigger from the portkey and vanished.


Pilgrim woke up gradually. He winced as he felt the freshly healed stab wound from Lucius' sword. Luckily the blade itself had melted into nothing. Although it was still present the wound in his side seemed to have stopped bleeding too. He looked around. Things seemed calmer.

A woman sat cross legged barely out of arms reach. She was flicking something between her fingers. It looked like a playing card. Her head was bent, and he could not see her face.

'Excuse me, but where is Dumbledore?' Pilgrim asked, a little unsteadily as he sat up.

'Close by.'

'Is that you, Per?' Pilgrim said, frowning. The voice sounded familiar. 'How come you're still on the ship?'

'I was in one of the first groups rescued.'

'No, I don't think that's it,' Pilgrim said, standing up. Things were definitely calmer. So calm that there was no other noise in the room apart from the sound of his own blood in his ears. 'I saw the people in those groups. You weren't among them.'

'You must have missed me.'

'I don't miss people,' Pilgrim said firmly. 'In fact, much as I'd like to talk to Per about a few things, I don't think you're her.'

The thing looked up at him. It certainly looked like Per. Yet, there was something indefinably wrong about it. 'And how did you work that out?'

'You're not breathing. Living people tend to breath. Per is, or was, most definitely alive. No matter what else she was. Also, this,' he waved his hand to gesture around him. 'This is all wrong. You're missing the details. There's no sign of tools slipping, or the wear or people walking here. What are you?'

The thing looked up at him. 'I am an admirer of yours. A friend, if you'll have me. I have come to make you the preliminaries of an offer. I won't take your time until you feel free to oblige me. However, let me just say that I can offer you all the knowledge you want, the knowledge you need to rescue him. To save yourself.'

'I wonder what you might want in return. Anyone who believes that they can get something for nothing is a fool. I am not a fool,' Pilgrim snapped. 'Now, get out of my head.'

The thing looked at him steadily. 'I will leave you to consider it but remember where there's a carrot there's also a stick. I have patience, but you are running on borrowed time. In fact, as a show of good faith I'll tell you what is about to happen to the airship. Maybe I'll even drop in to see it happen. Tick-tock goes the clock.'


Pilgrim woke up with a start, taking great breaths of air. A warm hand was pressed against his forehead. 'Calmly now, calmly,' said Dumbledore. The old wizard's eyes were troubled, and he was kneeling down beside Pilgrim. 'I honestly cannot believe that you are alive after that. I thought that you would be dead for certain.'

The metal struts of the airship stretched overhead once more. Pilgrim sat bolt upright. 'We need to get out of here.'

'I'm glad you think so,' Dumbledore said, drawing back a little. 'Be calm. I have stalled the decay of the enchantments, and you seem to have prevented them from blowing us up. Though I imagine that was a last resort.'

'No, you don't understand,' Pilgrim said, scrabbling to his feet, 'the ship is set to crash. They've rigged it. We're about ten minutes away from smashing into Warwick and revealing the magical world.'

'We haven't a moment to lose then,' Dumbledore replied, standing up. 'Might I enquire as to how you come to know this?'

'Malfoy was mocking me before he threw me over the side. I imagine he thought I would not survive,' Pilgrim said, limping towards the entrance to the rest of the ship as fast as he could. His sword leapt from the floor where it had fallen returning to his hand, along with its sheath. Twisting it again he drew out a wand instead.

'I'm glad to see you have your magic again. I have sent as many of the others home as I could with the emergency portkeys, but there are still four others remaining. I cannot make a portkey from here, nor apparate. There are passwords and keys which I do not possess,' Dumbledore said as they hurried through the ship.

Pilgrim nodded brusquely. He almost ran down the steps into the reception rooms. William Winchester and three others whom Pilgrim did not recognise were waiting at a table, slowly drinking a bottle of brandy. The Death Eater Pilgrim had incapacitated was tied up beside them.

'Forgive us, Professor, but we decided it was unlikely that we would get our magic back before we crashed, so we decided to make the best use of the time we had,' said one of them. His voice was calm and collected, with only a hint of a tremor.

'Whilst I commend your fortitude, I suggest that a more practical activity might be trying to survive this,' Dumbledore said. 'Mr Pilgrim and I intend to enter the control car in the gondola and prevent any disaster. Would anyone be willing to try to help us?'

William stood up. 'I am not quite ready to give up yet. Lead on, Professor. Gentlemen, madam,' he said with a curt nod to his companions. 'It has been delightful to spend a little while in your company. I hope to see you in better circumstances shortly.'

'I cannot help but think that things are more complicated than they appear,' Pilgrim said as they strode through the ship. 'But the clouds are beginning to lighten.'

'I don't think I understand,' William said, trotting to keep up.

'You might not quite grasp the significance. You were not there for much of it, but Voldemort almost certainly had inside help. Someone arranged for this to happen. Someone helped the Death Eaters infiltrate the staff. Someone got him on board. Someone with access to the cases stole something whilst the chaos of his arrival was going on,' Pilgrim swung himself down a service ladder, wincing at the impact as he hit the bottom. 'The number of people who could have had access are limited. In turn that limits the pool of suspects for another business. I would not be surprised if that same person was not the one who took advantage of the raid on Azkaban to take the Matrix.'

'It seems fairly possible, though Voldemort has many spies. It would be unwise to imagine that all of our problems are connected,' Dumbledore mused. William meanwhile merely looked bewildered.

'I would agree, if Latimer hadn't been killed, immediately after speaking to me about the Matrix. About how people who spoke up were dying right, left and centre. His death was a warning, a message. As much as not breaking that case was. They could have covered their tracks, but they want us to know that they don't care we're after them,' Pilgrim said, and halted in front of a large, secure steel door. 'Is this it?'

'Yes,' William said, 'the control car is just beyond. The door won't be easy to budge though. I imagine they've reset the passwords since I was last here.'

'That will not be a problem,' said Dumbledore. He raised his wand and the steel parted like the skin of an orange.

The control car was a moderately sized room, neatly ordered with a set of incomprehensible knobs and dials. At least incomprehensible to Pilgrim. William seemed to know exactly what they meant. The only sign that anything untoward had happened was that the room was practically awash with blood.

Pilgrim grimaced as the carpet under their feet oozed red liquid with each step. There was the sound of retching behind him and a faint apology from William.

'So, can we stop it, or redirect it?' Pilgrim asked.

William ran his hands over the dials. 'I think there might be a way. At least to make sure it doesn't crash into Warwick. At the moment though they've locked the course. It'll strike the spire of St Mary's, and if we try to pull out early the ship will probably explode. If it hits the spire though the entire system of illusions which hides the wizard streets there will come down. Worse, the muggles will see it come down.'

'So, what can we do?'

'Do we have any way off the ship?' William asked, still checking the dials. Below them the streets of the county town were becoming swiftly larger.

'Neither portkeys or apparition will work,' Dumbledore admitted, 'and sadly we cannot fly out of here.'

'I have a way,' Pilgrim admitted reluctantly. 'I can create a gateway, but not for long. We'll need to get through as quickly as possible.'

'Mr Pilgrim, my estimation of you has risen. I cannot say I expected you to own to any such abilities,' Dumbledore said. 'William, would you call the others down here?'

'Certainly, Professor,' William tapped a panel on the control board and spoke clearly. 'Would all those onboard hurry to the control car. We have a way out. You may reply to us.'

There was the hiss and click of static. Nothing else came through. Pilgrim felt a chill run down his spine and patted his pocket for the comforting presence of the card and its case. It was gone. He felt his stomach fall away. He turned to the door, he drew his wand over the steel, resealing it.

'I don't think we are as alone on this ship as I thought,' he said, pulling the curse stone out of his pocket. 'Dumbledore, watch that door. William, make sure that this doesn't touch down. We need to blow up the ship.'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. 'Isn't that a bit of an overreaction?'

'Listen,' Pilgrim said.

Over the communications board there was a sound rising. It was a low humming, a sound as if dozens of voices were rising and falling in a lullaby together. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

'That … that doesn't sound good,' William whispered, and turned off the communications. The humming continued.

'We need to make sure whatever is on here doesn't get off,' Pilgrim said. 'Trust me on this. My instincts don't lie about such things. Check for life signs if you need to.'

Dumbledore cast a charm and waited. There was no answering sign of life beyond the three of them. 'It would seem that you are correct, Mr Pilgrim. Though I must admit to a certain curiosity as to what is making that sound.'

'I think it's a curiosity we can do without fulfilling,' Pilgrim said. 'Now, William, how is it going?'

'I think I might have it. Give me the curse stone. I can rig it into the system to release as we leave,' William grunted from beneath the control panel. Pilgrim passed him the stone and William straightened up pulling on the controls so that the ship began to rise. 'Right, now, if you wouldn't mind creating your gateway? I'm afraid I told a little fib. The controls are jammed, they'll only work as long as I hold onto them, and if I let go … well we'll all go up anyway.'

'William,' Dumbledore sighed, somewhere between disappointment and admiration.

Pilgrim turned away drawing a doorway in the air. Golden lines cut into the air and the cabin behind them faded away, opening onto city of polished white stone. He put one foot through the gateway. 'You can try to come with us, William,' he offered.

'I think not. Someone ought to go down with the ship. She shouldn't die alone,' the young man said. 'She was a beauty.'