Neville Longbottom dressed with great care today. His dark blue robes were newly bought courtesy of Madam Malkin. The white dress shirt underneath complemented the robes perfectly while his black shoes glinted in the sunlight. He spared a glance into the small mirror mounted on a wall in his room. The mirror was not very large just enough to see one's face with. Its frame was wrought silver with intricate carvings engraved on one side.
"Seems only yesterday you were fumbling with your buttons and ties." The mirror sniffed. "Now look at you."
"That WAS yesterday, mirror. My venomous tentacula is teething, remember. Almost lost a finger." Neville held up his hand inspecting the minute bite marks that were now just starting to fade.
"I don't know what's gotten into you lately. You used to be such a quiet, predictable boy."
Neville peered at himself. Reflected back at him was the same roundfaced boy he had always been if a little taller and less paunchy around the middle. "I haven't changed."
"What do you call staying up all night reading, experimenting with dangerous plants and whatever else I don't know about."
"That's all so far - reading, herbology, a potion here and there."
"You used to stay up here all the time and I would tell you stories about your mum and dad until you fell asleep." The mirror's voice turned sullen. "I hardly ever see you what with school and gadding about doing errands for HER. Remember, she stood aside as the family plotted to kill you."
"They just wanted to scare the magic out of me not kill me." Neville inspected his shoes. "Gran is getting older. She can't do everything. Besides, I have to learn it all don't I?"
"True. But still she's placing so much on your -"
"There is never a better time than today, never a better chance than right now. Can't avoid it so I'd better start learning it. A little bit every day." A sad expression flickered across his features. He blinked and the sadness was masked. He straightened and took a deep breath. "Mirror, will you tell me a story tonight?"
The mirror's voice brightened in tone rising an octave or two. "Lovely! A good long story. About Frank?"
"No, about magic and adventure, something diverting. Why don't you think about it while I'm gone."
"Where are you off to now?"
"St. Mungo's." Neville walked to his desk and opened a locked drawer.
The mirror had no ready reply. In the silence, Neville withdrew a leather-bound journal. He placed it gently almost reverently into his robe pocket. "Say hello to Frank for me will you."
"I will, mirror." Neville opened his bedroom door. "I will."
There in the permanent resident ward at St. Mungo's late that morning, a lone voice could be heard reading. The charge nurse knew better than to interrupt or forbid the action. The boy's reading always lulled her patients into a peaceful sleep. For this one day a year, her patients didn't need a calming potion or a sleep charm.
Neville reclined in the arm chair. He usually read them stories of Christmas or short stories. Today he decided to read from his father's old journal. He looked over at his parents. Their childlike eyes looked back at him waiting for the story to continue. I don't think you understand a word I'm saying but at least I have your attention.
He had just finished November's journal entries. He turned the page and began on December.
December 2 - I am going to do it, journal. I am going to talk to her and tell her how I feel. Then I'm going to ask her to the Yule ball. There is never a better time than today; never a better chance than right now. I'm going to tell her today.
December 3 - She said yes! By the gods, I thought I would faint in the hallway. I found her waiting for me outside of her Charms class after breakfast. She smiled. I smiled back and promptly dropped all my books. Imbecile! While picking them up, I stumbled my way through the words somehow. She touched my cheek and said yes. I was late for McGonagall's class but it was worth losing five house points.
December 6 - I have to owl Mum for some money. She will not be pleased at all. Alice and I got carried away at Honeydukes. I teased her horribly about her fondness for sugar quills. She teased me most unfairly in return about my chocolate frogs. My card collection isn't complete yet. That's why I was buying so many. I tried to explain this but she wouldn't stop laughing. Father will tease me, too, when he finds out. I can just hear him, "Frank, how can you manage our portfolios when a small allowance overwhelms you so?" I have yet to think of a good reply.
December 7 - Study, take exam, get a good grade, study some more. It's an endless cycle. What's it all for? NEWTs next year I suppose.
December 9 - The Slytherins and the Gryffindors had another row at supper. All this feuding is silly. I don't think anyone remembers how the argument even started. What's so bad about admitting you're wrong when you ARE wrong? Father says it's a waste of energy to bear grudges. Time usually proves them false or mistaken. I have to agree. Dumbledore locked us all in the tower tonight as punishment. Alice and I will have to take our walk another time. Too bad, it's a full moon tonight. A walk by the lake would have been glorious.
December 11- It's done. At my request, Mum has extended an invitation to Alice and her parents to come have dinner at the house sometime during the holiday. I hope they like me. Maybe I should get a haircut? I'll ask Mirror when I get home.
December 13 - I saw the perfect flower in greenhouse three today. I think it's a type of orchid. Adele will surely know what it is. It would look so nice in her hair just so. I'll try to get out tonight and -
Neville heard a small noise. He stopped reading and looked around. His father was lightly snoring with an arm curled protectively around his mother. He tucked the covers around them both. Pocketing the journal, he left them to their sleep.
His grandmother was out in the hall waiting patiently. "Asleep?"
"Yes." Neville nodded at the charge nurse. She smiled gratefully at him and went to check on her patients. "I'm sorry, gran. I should have told you what I was planning to read beforehand."
"It's all right, Neville. It was just ... just trying to hear his words again." Madame Longbottom put down her tea. "Did you know your voice is starting to sound like his and like your grandfather's ? So gentle yet firm and certain."
"I'm just glad my voice broke finally. For a while there, I was sure I would be stuck doing duets with Trevor for a very long time."
Neville smiled at his grandmother. "Ready to go home?"
"More than ready, my boy, more than ready. I don't suppose hospital chairs will ever become truly comfortable."
Neville offered her his arm. She leaned on him a bit more than usual as they made their way to the Floo station of the hospital. Several nurses and doctors who knew them on sight waved their good-byes.
That night Neville stared at his ceiling. It had been a difficult day and though he was not apt by nature to brood overmuch, he could not help thinking about his parents. Thinking about his parents inevitably led his thoughts to Professor Snape and all his training. His eyes took in the tall pile of material still to be read on his writing desk. I really should start a new book tonight. If I fall behind there will be no catching up!
He sighed and the mirror heard him. "Are you ready for your story now?"
"I suppose." Neville rose and walked to his desk.
"You're not thinking of reading while I tell you the story are you?"
"I can do two things at the same time, mirror."
"And give neither endeavour the full justice it deserves,"
Neville perused through the titles. His mind was heavy tonight and reading would probably give him a headache. He returned to his bed. I suppose I can read two tomorrow if I get up early. "All right, mirror. You win. I hope you have a good story for me."
"Oh, I do. I do. This story is of ancient lore."
Neville groaned. "Not magical history, please. My head can't take all those dates and names tonight."
"What I'm about to tell you isn't history, Neville, it's LEGEND!" The mirror's voice had taken on a sublime quality full of fulsome depth and hints of mischief. "Get comfortable now."
Neville had rarely heard the mirror be as enthusiastic about a story as it sounded now. Intrigued himself, he closed his drapes and lit a small candle then settled himself in his bed as instructed.
"This is about the Wishbringer who -"
"Like my coins?"
"Yes and no. It's about the person, the woman actually, for whom the coins are named after."
"What? There really was a human wishbringer?"
"Yes, oh most definitely, yes. This is the story of the first and only recorded instance of a real-life wishbringer."
Neville screwed up his face in concentration. Inwardly his mind browsed throught the books and documents in the Library as Snape had taught him. "What book is this story in? I don't see anything like this in the Library."
"This is oral history, Neville. I heard it first from your ancestor Mikhail Longhas on the night of the gifting when my maker, Pieros Ollivandros, gave me to Mikhail." The mirror paused then said, "What library are you talking about? I think it highly unlikely that it would be in any library. There was no other in attendance save myself and Mikhail swore Pieros to secrecy."
Neville thought quickly. The mirror had been passed down the generations of his family but it was better to be safe than sorry. He lied. "I ... I meant the Hogwarts school library, mirror. I looked up legends and myths there once and found no mention of a wishbringer, human or not."
"There hasn't been another one in several hundreds of years. Rather hard to make a history of someone that's not there."
"So she could teleport herself with just the power of her will anywhere, any time without spells or charms?"
"She could do that and more. Some say she could even make mortal wishes come true. Are you ready to hear the tale or not?"
"Yes, go on, please," Neville felt his spirits lift anticipating the story's beginning.
"The story begins in the olden times when our land was coveted then conquered by the Romans ..."
The wide cobbled road wound its way through the now conquered lands of Britannia. Upon it, Quintus Salerno, a seasoned legion commander in the armies of the Claudian Caesars, rode high on his horse heading for the field where his soldiers awaited. It was now three days since the deciding battle and he felt that even his hardened soldiers merited some relaxation. He reached the open field and surveyed the formations arrayed before him. Roman discipline ruled the day as each division moved as one with no dissension or break in the ranks. Armor and shield shone in the bright light of morning. Quintus nodded at his sub-commanders who raised then lowered their swords in acknowledgement.
Quintus addressed his troops, "On behalf of our wise emperor, Claudius, I commend you all for this our victory! This troublesome land is now Roman land once more!" This was greeted by loud and lusty cheers. "As a fitting reward, I now grant each division in their turn a day of liberty!" The ground shook as the men cheered and stamped their feet on the ground.
"Sub-commanders, you have your orders, see to it that these men have their liberty!" With that, Quintus rode away back at a fast gallop. His faithful centurion, Armek Decidio, trailed him.
They entered Quintus' tent to find a sweating messenger standing on trembling legs. The messenger was a trusted slave, a Greek, belonging to Quintus' household by the name of Trigorin. He clutched his missive tightly in his hand. When he saw his master, Trigorin bowed deep and stayed so until Quintus greeted him.
"Armek, get ale for Trigorin." Armek left to do as he was bid. Quintus bade Trigorin to sit on a chair nearby. Quintus looked at Trigorin. Trigorin was not an old man but neither was he in his prime. His wife, Calpurnia, must have had good reason to send him all this way. The man was clearly on the last vestiges of his endurance. "Good Trigorin, what tidings do you bring that should ask so much of you?"
"Master Quintus, the lady Thesia bid me to deliver her message to you in all haste and import." Trigorun took a deep breath and seemed to steady himself. "Your fair wife Calpurnia, my lady, has the consumption. The physician say that it stems from the same plague that rages through Rome as we speak. Your daughter bid you to come at once for my lady cries out for you."
Quintus could hardly credit what he was hearing. Before he could say anything, Trigorin continued, "I must also impart that young master Cassius was afflicted with the same malady the day of my departure. I have here the physician's statement and a letter in the lady Calpurnia's own hand." Trigorin held out the letters.
Displaying the impeccable sense of timing that had served him well in the legion's campaigns in Gaul, Armek arrived with two goblets of ale. He gave one to the Greek and another to his friend and commander. Trigorin drank deep and fast. Finally he was able to fully rest from his long journey. He could feel the tendrils of exhaustion taking hold on his body.
Quintus read the letters quickly. Calpurnia's letter he perused the secreted in his cloak for reading in private. The physician corroborated Trigorin's message. Both his wife and only son were gravely ill. Neither his face nor his voice betrayed the churning emotions within him. But his eyes did and well he knew of this one weakness. He stood and turned away from his audience. He took a sip of ale. "Armek, find Trigorin a bed in the medical tent. Trigorin, our camp physician is a Greek, Poladorus, he finds Roman company tiring so your presence should be welcome. You have my thanks and my favor, Trigorin. You may ask anything of me that I have the power to give."
"Master, you know what favor I would ask. You have always known." Trigorin said.
"This time I will not deny you. You are getting on and wish to see your family again. I understand." Quintus turned and faced his faithful servant. "Bear witness, Armek, that I now release Trigorin from my service. He is now a free man. I will gladly sponsor you for Roman citizenship if you so desire." Quintus held out his hand.
Trigorin smiled and grasped Quintus' hand. "Thank you. Your offer is most generous."
"Nothing more than what you have earned. Now go and ease your aching body in a bed."
Armek led Trigorin to the medical tent then returned to his commander's tent. Quintus would need a friend more than a centurion now. His thoughts traveled to the last time he saw the lady Calpurnia. It had been a month before their march to Britannia. Even though he was not family, Quintus' household had always treated him as like a distant uncle. Calpurnia had mended his cloak and had new boots made for him. She showed so much kindness to him and truly to any who sought her aid. To think of her ravaged by sickness hurt his heart deeply. He entered the tent to find Quintus pacing.
"I must go. I cannot go." Quintus muttered. "I must see her. I must. Yet, I cannot."
Armek stood watching him for a time before saying, "You must go."
"Never in our long marriage has she ever asked much of me."
"I will have our horses readied."
"She has ever been the wife of my heart. Wretched soldier that I am, she has still stayed by my side." Quintus stopped his pacing and looked at Armek directly. "She may already be dead, Armek. It has been nearly a month's time since Trigorin left."
"Consumption can linger, Quintus. Calpurnia is a strong woman."
"Do you know that in her letter she only asks for my presence? No demands, no flowery pleadings. I married a strong woman, yes."
"She needs you now. Go to her."
Quintus was silent. He opened a box and took out roll of parchment. He handed it to Armek. "See here, Armek, a list of all my soldiers who have asked leave of me in order to return to their own afflicted kin at home. Go on read it."
Armek unrolled the parchment. Some of the names he recognized by name and sight. Others he knew only as names or faces within the formations. He lost count after thirty names. "I did not realize there were so many."
"I have denied them all," Quintus sighed. "I have never asked any of my men to do any more than what I was prepared to do myself. If they were denied so must I."
"Aurelius Trachus will be arriving soon to take over your command, Quintus. We are scheduled to leave within five weeks. Surely no one would question were we to leave a little earlier."
"I will not leave my command. I cannot." Quintus crossed his arms over his chest. "But Trachus is coming from Rome. We can meet Trachus along the way thereby hand my command to him at least a week early. Armek, we leave in two days."
Preparations to leave were immediately begun. Trigorin and Armek saw to every detail. No one saw anything amiss with their commander leaving early. Quintus was an honorable man and all knew that Britannia was his last campaign before retirement. A small feast was prepared on the eve of his departure.
"A toast, Quintus, to your long service to the empire." Crasus, a subcommander, raised his goblet to his commander. "And to the final conquering of Britannia."
"To Quintus and Britannia!" they all said.
The food was served and conversation flowed easily around the table.
"This campaign is not as I had expected, Crasus." said Temor, "The natives give us food and tribute without being asked or ordered. All conquered peoples should be so cooperative."
"I have heard murmurs among them that we being tolerated." Crasus replied.
"They do not have a choice, do they?"
"They feel that they do. My liasson officer tells me that they smile and serve because they know that we will not be here for long."
"And by what wise oracle do they base this belief on?"
Armek had been listening in and could not restrain his curiousity any longer. "Yes, Crasus, I am curious to know as well."
"They speak of a wish that has been made by one of their leaders that will -"
"A wish!" Temor snorted. "Foolish, ignorant savages."
"They truly believe in this, Temor. Because of it, we now count ourselves very fortunate."
"Who is this leader that commands their faith so?" Armek asked.
"That is a mystery. No one will reveal who he is. They refer to him as 'the wisher' and nothing else. They say that the wisher has great powers that have protected them for many years."
"Hah! Wishing did not do them any good against the might of our legions, did it?" Temor crowed. "It took us only a day to secure their surrender."
"Their quick surrender only shows that their leaders are wise nothing more, preferring peace to bloodshed." Quintus observed from across the table. "There are other parts of Britain that will be less cooperative, Temor. I am sure that Trachus will make certain your division does not become stale."
"I surely hope not. My men are more than ready." Temor raised his glass and nodded at his old comrade.
The next day Quintus' departure was seen by almost the full company. The soldiers saluted him as he passed. The following day they were well away from the camp. A messenger from the Emperor himself stopped their party. Quintus frowned at the dispatch.
Aurelius Trachus was dead of the plague. Trachus' legions under a new command was being dispatched to Gaul to help crush yet another rebellion. Quintus should not expect relief until the next season. It was early spring now which meant that relief, if it came, would only come in the summer. A summer that Calpurnia would not see. Quintus turned his party around and headed back to camp.
Upon his return, his men marked that he was a changed man. He rarely left his tent and when he did his temper was vile. Every day he would make an animal sacrifice to the gods for the deliverance of his family. After the sacrifices, he rode alone through the hills driving himself and his horse to exhaustion. Armek or Trigorin took turns trailing him. They often returned with the setting of the sun and Quintus slung over his horse.
Armek remembered the talk of the wisher. He sought out Crasus. Together with Trigorin they convinced the elders to communicate to the wisher the plight of their commander. The elders had witnessed the growing madness of the Roman commander. Fearing future reprisals and hostilities from the occupying Romans, the elders agreed to ask the wisher to help.
The following night a young boy approached Trigorin with a response from the wisher. He and Armek were to meet with the wisher on the night of the full moon. They were to bring an article of clothing belonging to Quintus and some item belonging to his wife. The wisher would then make it possible for Quintus to visit his dying wife and son before it was too late. In exchange the wisher required two things - one hundred pieces of Roman coin and their avowed lifelong silence on the matter.
Two nights later, Armek and Trigorin rode outside of the village. The wisher bade them go to a point where the river split into two streams. There they would deliver the items and the wish granted. As they rode to the appointed place, neither man voiced their concerns. They had not told Quintus of their plan fearing not his wrath but his disappointment. It had been too long. A trip to Rome now would be fruitless. The wisher was their last hope.
They reached the correct place and dismounted. The moon cast a bright reflection on the waters. They looked around them but saw no one else nor heard any other sound. The two grew uneasy.
"I don't like this, Trigorin. It is too quiet. I don't even hear the sounds of night." Armek turned his horse around surveying the area.
"A few minutes more, Armek. If I have learned nothing else, I know that no one is as punctual as a Roman." Trigorin said.
It was good advice. After five minutes they heard a rustling off to the side. A small lone figure emerged from the brush. By instinct, Armek's hand went to his sword. Trigorin touched him on the arm. "Save that, Armek. There is one of him and two of us."
The figure stepped closer. As he stood next to the two Romans, it's hood was slipped off. The "he" was a woman with dark hair and dark eyes. Her pale skin was luminous in the moonlight. In a clear voice she asked, "I am the wisher, Phaedre. Have you brought what I asked?"
Trigorin stared. He had seen more beautiful women in his time but never had he ever seen one so confident and assured. She seemed very young to his eyes no more than twenty if he was not mistaken. Her eyes were direct and unafraid. Next to him, Armek was equally stunned. "Yes, wisher. I have the items you requested."
"Phaedre, Trigorin, my name is Phaedre. Please call me by my name."
"As you wish, Phaedre."
"Good." Phaedre stretched her arms out. "Place upon my arms the item belonging to your commander, Trigorin."Phaedre commanded. "Above that place the item belonging to your lady."
Trigorin folded then laid Quintus' cloak across her arms. On top of the red cloak, he placed Calpurnia's letter.
Phaedre closed her eyes. Trigorin and Armek watched her intently. Her lips moved but no sound came forth from them. She made no other movement for a few minutes. Finally, she opened her eyes and smiled shyly. She motioned for the items to be removed from her arms. Trigorin lifted the letter and Armek the cloak.
"It is done." She pulled a small package from her cloak. "Take this and place it within the grasp of your commander. It contains healing plants which will cure his family. He must brew the leaves and have his wife and son drink of it."
"Wait, how is Quintus to get to Rome? This is useless if he cannot get to Rome in time." Armek asked his alarm mounting by the second.
"In his sleep tonight will he journey. When he wakes, he will be in Rome. He will return when the moon has lost its fullness." Phaedre pulled the cloak over her head and turned to leave. "Remember, he must bring the leaves with him."
Phaedre walked away and before their eyes disappeared as if swallowed by the night. The two men could not make anything of what had just transpired. In a daze, they rode back to camp and did as she instructed. Trigorin wrote a short note and affixed it to the small package before putting the package in Quintus' grasp. The two sat vigil by their commander's bedside. Sometime before dawn the two sentinels fell asleep.
The next morning they found the commander's bed empty. Armek rode all through the camp but no one had seen their commander. Trigorin calculated the timing of the waning moon. Armek returned and together the two devised a ruse. They explained to all that the commander had gone hunting. Trigorin and Armek were to follow him. They would all return in a few days.
With that said, the two men rode out complete with provisions for a party of three. They returned four days later and once more sat vigil by the bedside. On the fifth morning, Quintus Salerno returned both in body and in spirit.
"It is a miracle of the gods!" Quintus exclaimed. He held up a small scroll. "I was truly there. Look this traveled back here with me. It is a letter of thanks from Calpurnia. I will burn it with my offering this morning."
"Truly a miracle, Quintus." said Armek. "Are you quite sure that Calpurnia and Cassius are fully recovered?"
"Yes. As soon as they drank the mixture of Trigorin's leaves, the consumption and fever began to abate. Slowly, true but better than anything the physician's had tried." Quintus beamed. "Where did you learn the healer's arts, Trigorin?"
Trigorin grinned. "At the foot of dark-haired, dark-eyed goddess."
Several hundred years later, a young woman of no more than twenty summers relayed the tale of the Romans and the Wisher to a wizard visiting the village - Mikhail Lohngas. "And that was the start of many adventures as Trigorin and I traveled the known world."
Mikhail sipped his mead. His eyes had not strayed from the girl all through her tale. "What do you propose to do now, Phaedre?"
"A wish made for the sake of vanity must be undone. I am going to wish to die, Mikhail, soon." Phaedre stared at the fire. "My loves have died. My gift has denied me children. And I can no longer bear the loneliness of eternal youth."
"So, why have you come to me? I will not help you take your own life."
"I do not want all that I have seen and lived through to be lost. I owe that much to those in my past. I want to make certain that the tales are not lost so that some day any who have the same gifts will have the guidance that I did not."
"Again, why me? You have kin here that would -"
"No, Mikhail. I asked my gift to bring me someone who will do as I ask and not profit from it. That someone is you." Phaedre opened a cabinet and motioned to the contents. "Here is all I am, all that I have to give to my future sister. I want you to bring this into the future and keep it well within your kind."
"I ... I -"
"Do not protest so. You have proof of what I am. But I have seen with my own eyes the magic and other wondrous things you do when you believe no one is watchng. I know you are an enchanter, Mikhail. I have heard of such beings but never thought to meet one." Phaedre smiled at him. "When the next wishbringer comes, one of your line will find her. The signs will show him the way."
"Wishbringer?"
"It was Trigorin's name for me. A good a name as any." Phaedre replied.
"The wishbringer will be a woman, a witch?"
"Yes, a daughter of Gaia. She will not be born of your kind of that I am certain at least." Phaedre looked at him. "Will you do this for me, Mikhail?"
Mikhail did not answer immediately. If he accepted this charge, he knew that it would not be relinquished until the arrival of the new wishbringer. What she was asking of him required more commitment and dedication than one man could muster. You owe her your life. Keeping her secrets safe is a small price to pay.
Mikhail had come to the village by accident. He had been on his way to Glastonbury but was attacked by goblins on a footpath. He had fought them off but was left wounded in the struggle. He collapsed soon after. The villagers found him and brought him to Phaedre. Over the last few days as he recovered he had seen enough to know that Phaedre was what she said she was. There was no doubt of that in his mind. But could he commit to this task, a lifetime's work?
He stood up. He walked to her until he too stood by the cabinet. Inside he glimpsed objects he had never before seen: sacks of coin, large gems that pulsed as if containing a life of their own, vials full of an exotic pearly liquid, parchments with nearly microscopic script upon them and more artifacts he could not recognize but whose great antiquity was obvious. He realized that before him was a treasure trove of knowledge collected over the equivalent of several lifetimes. Mikhail was awed then humbled by the realization and the responsibility.
"I will honor your request in my lifetime, Phaedre. Through my bloodlines thereafter, your wish shall so be honored still." He grasped her hands. "This I swear to you."
"And that is the same tale told to Pieros by Mikhail that day so very long ago. One day the wishbringer will come and lay claim to her destiny. She will bring light and truth to our world." said the mirror. "In memory of the promise made to Phaedre, Pieros made the first charmed wishbringer using a Roman coin."
"Did Phaedre really die?"
"She disappeared the following day and nothing more was ever heard of her. Did she truly die as mortals do? No one knows."
"Mirror, what was done with Phaedre's coins and treasures? They're not here at the house are they?"
"Mikhail's son, Rhys, wanted to safeguard them permanently so he charged the goblins with their safekeeping."
"The goblins?!"
"How do you think Gringotts got its start? There is a vault somewhere, the first vault ever made, guarded by goblins sworn to protect it with their very lives. No one save Rhys and the oldest of the goblin elders know what it contains. It is a certainty though that Phaedre's coins and her other secrets are there."
Neville sat straight up in bed sleep forgotten. "The goblins were still at war with us back then. How did Rhys secure the goblins' cooperation when all of their kind wanted rebellion? "
"Ah, you do pay some attention in history class."
"But, mirror, why the goblins? And what about Phaedre and Trigorin? What adventures did they have? What was that about eternal youth?"
"The answers to those questions are best left for another time. Goodnight, Neville."
"Wait! Why did Mikhail get attacked by the goblins in the first place? And where is the vault? Does anyone know when the next wishbringer will come?"
The mirror was silent. Neville knew that the mirror could be stubborn. It had said goodnight and that was that. He laid back and thought about all he had been told. No wonder the goblins practically gave me an honor guard when I visited the bank. I wonder who has access to vault number one and where it is.
His thoughts turned to the wishbringer. One hasn't been found yet but one will be. She was to be found by a wizard. That was what Phaedre had said. Not just any wizard but by a Longbottom! Neville grew excited at the thought that perhaps he would be the finder. Not bloody likely. But still if the unlikely event ever happened, he knew exactly what he would wish for - his parents' recovery and the defeat of the dark lord Voldemort once and for all.
The last male heir of Mikhail Lohngas fell fast asleep still pondering the wishbringer and the legacy he now bore.
Hurry, wishbringer, hurry. We need you now more than ever.
~ * ~
A/N: Whew! One guess as to who the wishbringer will be and who will end up discovering her. First (and probably last) attempt at a story within a story within a story style, past and present- exhausting. Reviews, questions and comments, please. Enjoy! mavidian