~The Book of Abraham the Mage~

Chapter 10

In Which Langdon Inquires about Keys, Reads Strange Signs on the Pensieve, and Plans a Romantic Weekend for Six.

...

Author's Note: The search for the Holy Grail Langdon refers to in this chapter is described in Dan Brown's novel The Da Vinci Code. For those who haven't read the book, I won't spoil that story by giving away what the Grail turned out to be. But for those who have read the novel: Rest assured that the Spear of Destiny in this story will not turn out to be something...er... similar.

...

"So house elves are the descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff's lost sister Edlynn?" Anthony Goldstein scrambled up from the floor and eyed Langdon skeptically. "How is that even possible?"

Langdon glanced at the throngs of little hairless, towel-clad elves that surrounded them and smiled. They don't exactly look like the lovely Rowena Ravenclaw, do they?

He shook his head slightly. "I think a little research on the general history of house elves would be a good idea, Anthony." He glanced at his Mickey Mouse watch. "But right now, we are both late for class."

Anthony nodded, and they headed rapidly up from the kitchens, refusing a few last minute offers of brioche au sucre. Anthony still looked a little pale. "That was a rather harrowing experience in the Room of Requirement. Thank Merlin for that Muggle communication device you had with you, fledgling."

Langdon arched an eyebrow. "That's Professor Fledgling to you, Mr. Goldstein. We are just entering a public area."

The Grand Master of the Order of the Black Raven flushed a little. "Sorry, Professor."

They wove their way through the ancient torchlit corridors towards the classrooms. Langdon's glance lingered on Anthony's dark hair. Black. His hair is as black as a raven's. As black as Rowena's... And the DNA test showed that he could be a descendant of Ravenclaw himself on his mother's side...

"I've been curious about your name, Mr. Goldstein," said Langdon softly. "You have a traditional Jewish last name, but "Anthony" is the name of a Christian saint. Very few traditional Jews would choose such overtly Christian names for their children."

Anthony shrugged. "My father is Jewish, but my mother is not." He smiled slightly. "I'm a half-blood in all ways, Professor. Half Jewish, half gentile - and half wizard, half Muggle. My non-Jewish mother attended Hogwarts, but my Jewish father has no magical abilities. The funny thing is that he is the one who is obsessed with magic; he is always reading ancient kabbalistic texts in Hebrew. My father is a very learned man, and his family hoped that he would become a rabbi like his father and his grandfather before him. But he didn't. He married my mother, you see, and a gentile witch does not make an ideal rabbi's wife..."

"Perhaps not." Langdon glanced curiously at Anthony. "So your father has no magical abilities? And yet, he immerses himself in the Kabbalah, and his last name is not without a certain alchemical significance... Goldstein. "Gold stone" in both German and Yiddish, right? Perhaps a reference to the fabled philosopher's stone of the alchemists?"

"Perhaps." Anthony's face was impassive.

"A curiously magical name for a Muggle, isn't it?"

Anthony smiled slightly now. "I think you will find that most Jewish Muggles are practically half-wizards, Professor. It must be all that time we spend studying obscure texts on supernatural matters in an ancient language."

"There you are, Professor!" Hermione came hurrying towards them, with Harry in her wake. "Thank goodness you are both all right. I ran into Padma Patil in the hallways, and she told me that you were terribly late for your afternoon class with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. She was on her way to report your absence to the headmaster when I met her. I realized that something must be terribly wrong, and I tried to find you."

"You met Padma Patil out in the hallways?" Langdon looked thoughtfully at Hermione. So Padma Patil, distant descendant of Ravenclaw, was out roaming the corridors of Hogwarts this afternoon, was she? "So all the other sixth year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students have been in the classroom waiting for me, then? But the Gryffindors and Slytherins have a free period?"

"That's right." Harry nodded. Then his brilliant green eyes widened. "Oh. You don't think that a student could have cast that deadly curse on the Room of Requirement, do you?"

Anthony looked grave. "It would be a very, very difficult thing to do, Harry. But if a student had secretly studied magic well beyond his or her years..."

Langdon sighed. "Or it could have been a professor. Or a house elf. Or the undead Salazar Slytherin. Come on, Anthony, let's get to class. I wonder if anyone will be surprised to see us?"

But if any of the sixth year Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff students seemed astonished to see Robert Langdon and Anthony Goldstein alive and well, they certainly hid it well. Most of the students were napping peacefully at their desks, a few of the Ravenclaws were doing homework, and the rest of them were chatting idly about what appeared to be Quidditch-related matters.

"Did you get lost in the corridors, Professor?" Padma Patil's dark eyes were full of sympathy.

Langdon looked at her for a long moment. "I suppose you can say that, Miss Patil. Now, if you will all repeat the following incantation: Gaz-gaz lu-zu-kur..."

...

"What I don't understand," mused Langdon later that afternoon, as he lounged in front of the fireplace in Rowena Ravenclaw's bedchamber with Septima, "is how there can be so many matrilineal descendants of Ravenclaw or her sisters about in the first place. Ravenclaw herself only had one daughter, Helena, who was murdered before she could marry and have children. Helga Hufflepuff did not have any children, and the third sister, Edlynn, apparently hooked up with a house elf. Or rather, she hooked up with an erkling."

"She did what?" Septima puckered up her mouth, an expression of distaste on her lovely features.

Langdon chuckled. "I immersed myself in the curious history of house elves this afternoon. There was very little on the topic in the library, but I found a few interesting volumes among Rowena's own books here in her chamber. Apparently, the first house elves were the offspring of humans and erklings."

Septima's eyes grew wide. "Erklings? The rogue child-eating elves?"

Langdon sighed. "Erklings don't eat children, Septima. That's just an ancient myth, born from prejudice. Apparently, Edlynn fell in love with an erkling, and she must have married him, too. There was one single volume on house elves in the Hogwarts library, a book somewhat disturbingly entitled Born to Serve. A brief footnote suggested darkly that wizards were better off following the example set by the Black family in beheading house elves rather than the example of one Edlynn Erkling. The footnote did not specify precisely what Edlynn was guilty of, but I think we can imagine: She married an elf and took the name "Erkling"."

Septima sipped her tea thoughtfully. "So all house elves are the descendants of Edlynn?"

Langdon shook his head. "No, I don't think so. But maybe the very first house elves were Edlynn's biological children. Hogwarts: A History tells us that it was Helga Hufflepuff who first brought house elves to Hogwarts to work here."

"She would bring her own sister's children to work at Hogwarts as servants?"

"Yes, it sounds odd, doesn't it?" said Langdon slowly. "But if both Edlynn and her husband were dead by then, I can't imagine that the wizarding world - or the erkling world, for that matter - would have been very kind to their hybrid offspring. Perhaps Helga brought them here to protect them and give them a safe place to live." He pondered for a moment. "But even if Helga's untraditional marriage to an erkling was the first, there must have been others that followed. For there is only a single house elf at Hogwarts whose DNA shows that he is descended from Ravenclaw or her sisters: Dobby. And from what Harry told me, he only arrived at Hogwarts a few years ago; he used to work for a wizarding family before that. Where did the other house elves come from? From other human-erkling marriages, I suppose..."

"I'm sorry, Robert, I still can't help but feel that those marriages were a bit... well, unnatural..." Septima's voice trailed off.

Langdon sighed. "Well, that's apparently what Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin felt as well, since they were so horrified at the thought of the Spear of Destiny falling into the hands of Edlynn's children..."

"Right." Septima sat in silence for a moment. Then she whispered, her dark eyes wide: "So, do you think it possible that Dobby is the heir of Ravenclaw then? The Master of Magic Sybill was rambling about?"

Langdon shrugged. "Hard to tell, Septima. Dobby is one possible Heir, yes. But there are others. According to the DNA tests, you yourself, the Patil twins, Anthony, Harry, and Ginny are all descended from Ravenclaw or one of her close maternal relatives as well. Any one of you could be the Heir... Although I don't really understand how you can be descended from one of the three sisters." He reached out and brushed a lock of Septima's raven hair with his fingertips. "You don't exactly look like you are descended from a house elf, my lovely Septima."

Septima laughed a little. "I wouldn't have to be a descendant of Edlynn and her erkling beau, Robert. It's true that the history books tell us that both Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw died without a living heir, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Back in the Middle Ages, people tended to be rather quiet about children born out of wedlock. I hardly think anything like that would have been recorded by the historians. Perhaps Rowena's daughter Helena had an illegitimate child before she died? Or maybe Hufflepuff herself had a child out of wedlock?"

"True." Langdon gazed into the flickering flames of the fire. "Rowena or one of her sisters must have had a daughter, whose female bloodline has continued to this very day. The Heir of Ravenclaw could of course be either male or female, but if it's a male, he would have to be related to Ravenclaw through his mother. And since the DNA tests showed that there are still living male descendants of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, the two male founders must both have had sons, even though the history books are silent on that subject as well."

There was a timid knock on the door, and Dobby peeked in. "Begging your pardon, sir and madam, but dinner is ready in the Great Hall."

"Thank you, Dobby." Langdon regarded the tiny house elf thoughtfully. "Say, Dobby, did you hear that I was recently sorted by the Sorting Hat? It put me in the House of Ravenclaw."

The little house elf beamed. "Yes, sir, Dobby heard. Dobby was very pleased, sir, but not at all surprised that the great Professor Langdon was placed in the House of Ravenclaw."

Langdon got up and walked slowly towards the door. "Were you ever sorted when you arrived at Hogwarts, Dobby?" he asked casually.

The elf froze.

"Dobby?"

The elf gazed up at Langdon with enormous gooseberry eyes. "House elves do not belong in any of the four great houses of Hogwarts, sir," he whispered.

Langdon kneeled down so that he was at eye-level with the elf. He looked the towel-clad elf straight in the eye. "What about the fifth great Hogwarts house, then, Dobby? What about the House of Erkling?"

The little elf blinked slowly, as in shock, then crumpled to the floor. He had fainted.

...

At dinner, Langdon found himself next to Rubeus Hagrid again. He grinned up at the friendly half-giant, and Hagrid beamed back.

"Yeh look a little tired there, Langdon. Rough job, teaching, isn't it?" Hagrid chewed pensively on a leg of lamb.

"A little rougher than expected at times, yes."

"Tha' was how it was for me, too, the firs' few months. Teaching is mighty hard on the brain, compared to jus' being gamekeeper and Keeper of Keys." Hagrid took a swig from a huge tankard of ale.

"Keeper of Keys?" Langdon mumbled through a mouthful of mutton. "Which keys are those, Mr. Hagrid?"

"What keys? Why, the Hogwarts keys, of course," muttered Hagrid indistinctly, finishing off his lamb.

Langdon frowned. "Why are there keys at Hogwarts? That doesn't make any sense, does it? I thought all doors around here are opened and closed by magical spells and passwords."

"Wha'? Oh, yes. So they are, Langdon."

"Then what are the keys for? The ones you are keeping?"

Was it just his imagination, or was Hagrid beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. "Oh, they are jus'... keys. They don't open anything."

"Then why do you need to keep them?"

"Er..." Hagrid's gaze flickered. "Yeh know, I don't think I'm supposed to talk abou' that. Forget I said anything about keys, Langdon. Here, have some of this ale, will yeh?"

Langdon accepted the ale thoughtfully. "So, Mr. Hagrid, I understand that you were once a student here at Hogwarts yourself."

Hagrid beamed. "So I was, Langdon. I got expelled in me third year, thou'. Bit of a misunderstanding abou' a spider."

"Ah, yes. Septima told me about that."

Hagrid sighed a little. "People are a bit prejudiced agains' giants, yeh know. Can't be helped."

"Your mother was a giantess, Septima tells me?"

Hagrid nodded, helping himself to a whole chicken.

"But your father was a human wizard?"

"That he was!" Hagrid chortled. "Puny little feller, me dad. I could pick him up wi' one hand and lift him. Made him laugh so hard..."

Langdon smiled. "What was your father's name, then?"

Hagrid sat absolutely still for a moment. Then he said, unnaturally loudly and cheerfully: "His name? Oh, the name wouldn't mean a thing to yeh, Langdon. Here, try the chicken..."

Langdon tried the chicken. It was excellent, but he didn't enjoy it as much as he should. His thoughts kept churning, and his glance kept drifting over to his curious half-giant friend, the son of a nameless father, and the keeper of keys that unlocked no doors.

...

The corridors were empty by now. It was very late, but the torches still flickered along the ancient stone passages of the castle. Langdon glanced quickly at the Marauders' Map over Harry's shoulder; there was no one about except for their own little band of marauders: Harry, Hermione, and Professors Langdon and Vector.

"Coast is clear, Professor." Harry smiled up at Langdon.

Langdon nodded. "All right. Now, we are looking for the Spear of Destiny, but bear in mind that it may not have the appearance of a spear. Salazar Slytherin hid it here at Hogwarts, and he concealed it so well that no one has found it since. On the other hand, Mr. Peeves informs me that the spear is not really hidden at all, but that was all I could get out of him."

"Perhaps it is somehow hidden in plain view, then, disguised as something else?" Hermione's voice echoed in the narrow stone passage.

"Whatever it is, it has to be ancient, as old as the castle itself." Septima's voice was a whisper. "What are the oldest artifacts at Hogwarts?"

Harry pondered for a moment. "The Sword of Gryffindor?"

"How can a sword be a spear?" Hermione frowned. "That doesn't seem right."

"If it looked like a spear, someone would have found it long ago," put in Langdon mildly. "It is probably disguised as a common object; you may have walked right by it hundreds of times without knowing it."

"The Pensieve is old," Harry mused. "And so is the Sorting Hat. Wait - I pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of the hat once - if the hat had a sword hidden inside it, maybe it contains a spear as well."

Langdon nodded. "Excellent. Let's add the Sword of Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat and the Pensieve to our list, then. I know that none of these items bear any obvious resemblance to the Spear of Destiny, but we can leave no stone unturned. We need to check everything at this school that has been here since the founder's time, no matter how absurd it may seem at first glance to identify that item with the spear."

Hermione appeared lost in thoughts. Then she whispered: "All right, then we should also add the following to our list: Hogwarts itself. Some of the oldest portraits on the walls. Peeves. The ghosts. And of course the founders themselves, down in the crypt. Especially the undead Salazar."

"What?" Harry glanced at her doubtfully. "But the spear can't be a person, can it?"

"A person?" Langdon stood for a moment in silence. "What a terribly strange idea... Although I do remember searching for the Holy Grail a few years ago, and the Grail actually turned out to be..." He glanced quickly at Harry and Hermione. "Oh, never mind. Mature audiences only. If we are going to consider people as well as artifacts, let's add the Heir of Ravenclaw to the list as well, shall we? I suppose Peeves does belong on our list, since he is as old, if not older, than the castle itself. I'm no good at interviewing ghosts, I'm afraid, but perhaps those of you who can see them could have a little chat with the Bloody Baron and the Grey Lady. From what I understand, the Fat Friar and Nearly Headless Nick are later additions to the Hogwarts...ah, residents. Although I don't see how a ghost could possibly be the Spear we are looking for..." He shook his head slowly. "The texts describing the spear clearly refer to it as a lance or spear, lancea. It must be an artifact of some sort. Let's check the headmaster's office first, shall we?"

...

"Back again, I see," sighed the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. "Another trip to the crypt tonight?" He glanced coldly at Harry and Hermione. "By Salazar's ghost, why are these students always out of bed? In my day..."

"Hello, Phineas," said Septima softly. "We are trying to solve an ancient riddle."

"Are you, my dear?" The portrait's glance softened as it fell on Septima. "Have you come to seek my help?"

"We would love your help, Professor." Septima smiled sweetly. "We are looking for the Spear of Destiny."

The portrait chuckled. "Ah, the fabled spear! Hundreds have looked for it before you, lovely lady. They have all failed."

"We believe that it is concealed within an ancient Hogwarts artifact," Hermione stepped closer to the portrait. "Something as old as the Sorting Hat or the Pensieve."

Up on the shelf, the Sorting Hat stirred slowly to life as it name was mentioned. Harry reached up and brought it down.

"Who needs sorting this time?" The hat sounded decidedly cranky.

"Nobody," said Langdon quickly. "We were just looking for something."

"What in Godric's name-?" The hat squealed indignantly. "Mr. Potter! Will you kindly take your hand out of my insides this instant!"

Harry flushed and dropped the hat. "Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just that I remembered pulling the Sword of Gryffindor out of you, and I thought that maybe you had other ancient treasures hidden in there... Like a spear."

"I certainly do not." The Hat was clearly not in a good mood. "Why do people always assume that I've got that spear tucked away somewhere in my fabric? A sharp sword is more than enough to conceal for a hat in my delicate condition, I can assure you."

Harry stared at the hat. "Who else has assumed that you were concealing the Spear of Destiny?"

The hat coughed, and a puff of dust rose from the old, frayed fabric. "Oh, that annoying Ravenclaw boy who used to sneak into the headmaster's office at night and interrogate me about all sorts of personal things. Now, what was his name? It's been a while... Oh, yes, Perks, that was it. Solomon Perks."

"Solomon Perks?" Hermione frowned. "Who on earth is that?"

"He was the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament of 1792," said Langdon softly. "Rumored to have found the Spear of Destiny, used it to blow up the tournament arena, and to have hidden it again."

"You do know a lot, don't you?" said the hat grudgingly. "Well, let me assure you: Wherever that Perks boy may have found the spear, it wasn't in my fabric." The hat emitted a strange little giggle. "Although he was a bright boy, young Solomon Perks..."

"Can you tell us where the spear is?" asked Langdon hopefully, but the hat just laughed.

"Tell you where it is? I think not. I am sworn to keep the secrets of the Hogwarts founders."

"Are you the spear?" Harry picked the hat up and studied it carefully.

The hat sighed. "Do I look like a bloody spear to you? Of course I'm not a spear, child. If you want to find the spear, you've got to think."

"So you know where it is then?" Langdon glanced curiously at the hat.

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't," said the hat airily, emitting a fresh cloud of dust. It giggled slightly. "Salazar hid it well. I expect it was Rowena who gave him the idea; Salazar himself was never all that bright..."

"Please. We need to find it." Septima spoke softly.

"Sorry. Founders' secrets." The hat was clearly not going to cooperate.

Langdon reached out for the hat. "Speaking of the founders and their secrets... Can you tell me a little more about the House of Erkling?"

The hat was silent for a long moment. Then it muttered grudgingly: "Godric's beard, you are a worthy Ravenclaw, aren't you? No, I can't tell you about the House of Erkling."

"The House of what?" Harry looked blankly at Langdon.

Langdon smiled. "The fifth house of Hogwarts, Harry. As invisible as Aristotle's fifth element, the mysterious ether, and yet right here, before our very eyes. The House of Erkling, into which the magical house elves are sorted."

Hermione gasped. "The house elves have their own Hogwarts house?"

"Of course they do." Langdon nodded. "They possess powerful ancient magic as well, you know. And yet, the house elves are taken for granted, practically invisible to wizards, just like the invisible quinta essentia, the ether."

"But the children of Edlynn will never possess the spear," whispered the Sorting Hat softly. "Salazar himself made me swear to protect the secrets of the spear, and I will continue to do so. Even from you."

"Wait a minute." Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait sounded indignant. "The Hat is sorting house elves? What kind of nonsense is this?"

Langdon sighed. "Never mind, professor. We need to find the spear. Now, where is the headmaster's Pensieve?"

"In the cabinet here, usually." Harry opened an old oak cupboard. A plain grey font decorated with ancient runes was visible within. It was quite similar to the Pensieve Langdon had seen in the Room of Requirement, but this one seemed even older.

Langdon approached the time-worn cabinet and ran his fingers curiously over the strange writing that adorned the side of the vessel. "Hm. Interesting."

Septima muttered a lumos spell and held her wand up so he could see better. "They are Old Norse runes, aren't they, Robert?"

Hermione leaned closer as well. "Looks like it... No, wait, they are Anglo-Saxon runes, rather than Norse ones, aren't they, Professor? And some of them are the rare ones that are only attested in a few obscure inscriptions..."

Langdon nodded. "That's right, Hermione. Let's see if we can make out what they say. Cw...ea...l...d...g...? What the hell is a cwealdg? That doesn't make any sense at all. That's not even a word."

"Maybe it's the Anglo-Saxon word for Quidditch or something?" suggested Harry hopefully. Hermione buried her face in her hands and groaned.

"Or not." Harry flushed.

Hermione studied the ancient letters intently for a moment. Then she whispered: "Perhaps the runes are not meant to form a word, Professor. Perhaps they are meant to be read individually. The Anglo-Saxon runes are named after common objects; perhaps we are meant to read the names of the things, rather than the sounds they stand for." She brushed her fingers over the edge of the tank and read slowly: "Cweorð. Ear. Lagu. Daeg. Gar."

Langdon stared at her in wonder. Then he drew his breath and translated softly: "Cweorð, fire. Ear, earth. Lagu, lake. Daeg, day. Of course! The four elements: Fire, earth, water, and air, symbolizing the four houses of Hogwarts: Fire for Gryffindor, earth for Hufflepuff, water for Slytherin, and air for Ravenclaw."

Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes dark in her pale face. "But the last sign..." Her voice was a whisper.

"The fifth sign," said Langdon softly, "must stand for the fifth house. Gar. The sign of the house of Erkling."

"What does gar mean, then?" asked Harry in a whisper. "Ether?"

Langdon shook his head slowly. "No, Harry. Gar is a rare variant of ear, the earth rune that symbolizes Hufflepuff. But gar does not mean "ether". Gar is the Anglo-Saxon word for "spear". How very curious... Here, help me turn the tank over, will you?"

Working together, the four of them were able to lift the heavy stone vessel and turn it over. Langdon ran his fingers over the smooth stone surface. "I don't see any kind of opening. I thought for a moment that the spear may have been hidden inside a hollow space in the Pensieve or something, but I don't see that there is a way to get inside it."

"It certainly didn't feel very hollow when we lifted it." Harry rubbed his arm muscles.

Langdon sighed. "I think we can rule out the Pensieve and the Hat as possible hiding spaces for the spear." He glanced around the room. "Any other ancient artifacts in this room?"

They all looked around.

"Don't look at me; I'm not that old," hissed the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. "None of the portraits are."

"I wonder..." Harry walked slowly over to Dumbledore's desk, where Fawkes the phoenix sat dozing in his golden cage. Harry peered into the cage. "How old are you, Fawkes? You have been around for centuries, haven't you? I wonder whose you were, before you were Dumbledore's?"

The scarlet bird opened a dark eye and glanced at Harry for a brief moment. Then it tucked its head under its wing and went back to sleep.

"Bird used to belong to Dumbledore's grandfather," muttered Phineas Nigellus Black. "And his grandfather before him. The bird is as old as the hills. It may have belonged to old Gryffindor himself, for all I know. Still, it's a bird, not a spear."

The Sorting Hat burst into a fit of giggles. "You are never going to find that spear, you know. Not unless you put your thinking cap on..."

...

It was a chilly evening, and rain was falling steadily against the thick, leaded window panes. Harry and Hermione were curled up on the floor in front of the crackling fire in Langdon's room, while Septima sat in one of the armchairs next to Langdon.

"So it's all settled, then." Langdon sipped his tea contentedly. "You and I will apparate over to Montsegur this weekend, Septima, and explore the Perks cottage and any secrets that the magical school of Beauxbatons might hold. I called ahead for reservations; we will be staying at a delightful little bed-and-breakfast place near the ancient castle of Montsegur."

"Oh, Hermione and I are coming, too, of course." Harry glanced up. "Didn't Professor Vector tell you? She invited us to come along."

"Did she?" Langdon sighed. Well, of course he would much rather be alone with Septima, but perhaps having Harry and Hermione along wouldn't be so bad. Harry was clearly smitten with his clever classmate, so this could turn out to be a double date of sorts. Two couples, strolling leisurely along a clear lake in the moonlight...

"Ron's coming, too, of course. I invited him along," said Hermione softly.

Harry stared at her. "You...what? I mean... that's... er... great. The three of us. Yes. Great." He swallowed hard, and Langdon couldn't help feeling bad for him. Poor Harry. Well, I guess there will be one couple going for romantic moonlight walks, while the three students hang out together.

"We will need three rooms at the bed-and breakfast, then, Robert." Septima smiled at him. "I will share with Hermione, of course, and Harry will share with Ron. Which means that you will have to share with Severus."

"With... With Severus?" Langdon was pretty sure that the momentary look of panic he saw on Harry's face was reflected on his own.

Septima sighed. "Of course Severus will be coming, too, Robert. Why, he knows more about magical history than anyone I know. It would be absurd not to bring him along." Her dark eyes twinkled. "Besides, this trip will give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better. I know you could be great friends if you are willing to make an effort."

"Great friends. With Severus. Yes, of course, Septima... I can't wait."

Then Robert Langdon sank back in his chair and stared wordlessly into the fire.