Chapter Two
Ethan's Daydreams
Nearly eleven years had passed since Bertrand and Eilonwy Belanger had unexpectedly apparated in the Lloyds' front yard. Their neat bungalow looked much as it had, though Griffin was in the process of repainting it. The Yahara River still ambled past on its way from Lake Mendota to Lake Monona, carrying many pleasure boats with it during the hot summer months. The sun had stolen into their living room that morning, the room almost as it was as Griffin and Diana had agonized over their past and Ethan's future. But now an entire wall was decorated with pictures of Ethan, no longer a baby but a blonde boy smiling out of his 5th grade school photo, posing with his soccer team, on an excursion to the zoo with his friends or hugged by his mother and father. There was no hint in the living room that there was anything the least bit unusual about Ethan or his family.
One thing was a bit unusual, though, about this Saturday in the Lloyd household. Or perhaps two things. First, it was Ethan Lloyd's eleventh birthday. Second, he was spending most of the day out of the house. For Ethan Lloyd was annoyed with his parents, although he hadn't told them so.
The heat wave had entered its seventh day and the Lloyd family, like most of the citizenry (at least those without air conditioning) were becoming out of sorts and irritable. No one in the Lloyd household had slept well and they were awakened early by the sounds of Mungo the cat coughing up a hairball on the living room rug.
Ethan had tried to go back to sleep, but his parents had stayed up; he dozed fitfully for an hour or so, occasionally aware of the sounds of breakfast being prepared by his mother in the kitchen. His father had started clambering around on the scaffolding outside Ethan's window.
As eight o'clock approached, Ethan sat up in bed and stretched, yawning and remembering why he had looked forward to this day. Like most boys his age, Ethan was excited about his birthday party and wondered what gifts he would receive. His parents had planned a small party that evening with a few of Ethan's friends. Ethan knew that there'd be a cake and about a dozen presents. Pete Abrams, a classmate who lived next door, would be there, as would Ryan Morgan from Ethan's Little League team. Ethan's best friend, Justin Spencer-Black, had just returned with his family from Door County, so he'd be there too.
Ethan glanced out the hall window as he shuffled down to breakfast. The morning sun was already heating up the neighborhood. No breeze rustled the leaves of the mature trees that shaded the street and the nearby Yahara River looked dull and listless.
"Good morning, birthday boy!" said Ethan's mom brightly as he entered the kitchen. Sit down, your orange juice is there, the bacon will be ready soon. How many eggs would you like?"
"Thanks, mom," answered Ethan sleepily. "Can I have two please?"
"Coming up in a few minutes, dear, " his mother said over her shoulder as she turned back to the stove. "Oh, Griffin, will you come in, breakfast's nearly ready," she called out the window.
"I'll be right in, Diana," his father called in. Ethan heard his father climbing down the scaffolding. A minute or two later, the screen door swung open and Griffin Lloyd stepped in. A lanky man in his thirties, Griffin shared his unkempt, blonde hair and pointed chin with his son, but his eyes were a bright green. He was wearing baggy paint-splattered overalls which made him look still taller and thinner.
"How's it coming along, dear?" asked Mrs. Lloyd.
"Not bad at all, really. I've almost finished priming that side...it's a good thing I started early today; it's going to be too blasted hot to work out there by noon," Griffin replied, mopping his brow with an old towel that had been stuffed in a pocket of his overalls. "Oh, Ethan...Happy Birthday, son! Are you feeling older yet?"
"Not really, dad," Ethan said with a grin. "Am I supposed to?"
"Well, I know I feel older each time my birthday rolls by now," his father answered, as he sat down to breakfast. "Then again, I don't really recall that feeling when I remember my birthday's at your age. Of course, eleven's a bit special, isn't it?"
Ethan thought the last comment a bit curious. If he'd looked up quickly, he might have caught his mother giving her husband an odd look of concern, as if he'd nearly given away a secret.
Ethan didn't see the glances his parents briefly exchanged, but asked, "Why's eleven so special, dad?"
"Well," his father answered, clearing his throat," Er...you're only eleven once, son, so we want to make the most of it."
Ethan didn't think much of this answer; after all, he'd only been ten once and he'd only be twelve once, too. But just as he was about to press Griffin on the matter, his mother swept in between them with two plates laden with fried eggs and toast.
Diana Lloyd was a short, trim woman with wavy, dark hair and eyes that were the same blue as Ethan's. Diana, however, had an air of bustle and business about her that contrasted with her son's dreaminess; Ethan must have inherited that trait from his father's side of the family. As she occupied herself with putting breakfast on the table, nothing in her demeanor betrayed the doubts in her mind about what this birthday might involve. Her husband's easy-going nature masked similar concerns.
"Pete's going to see the Black Wolf play tomorrow night," Ethan said, his father's odd comment already forgotten. "He wants to know if I can go along."
"Well, Ethan that sounds like a fine idea," his mother replied.
"Of course, that's if you've recovered from all of today's excitement," Griffin added. "Did we tell you we'd gotten a note from Great Aunt Eilonwy? She and Uncle Bert are coming tonight, too.
Ethan nearly choked on a piece of bacon. He quickly had a gulp of orange juice and gave his father a look of disbelief.
"Why are they coming?" he asked.
"Well, they want to share your special day, Ethan," his mother answered. "They are the closest relatives we have and they haven't been for your birthday in, oh, it must be seven years. It's very nice of them to go out of their way for you."
"I suppose so, but you know Mom, they are kind of strange. Funny things happen when they're around. And my friends will be here."
As Ethan had grown up, Bertrand and Eilonwy were the only relatives who'd ever come to visit. Most of his friends had grandparents to visit, but Ethan knew that his grandparents had died before he was born. He didn't really dislike the Belangers, but he couldn't help notice that they always seemed out of place in the Lloyd home. By the time he was eight or nine, he'd become aware that some of his classmates thought he was a bit strange and in turn he grew intolerant of his strange relatives. They always seemed to wear mismatched clothes, and once he was sure he'd seen them just disappear into thin air in the backyard. He'd never asked his parents about that incident, because he was supposed to be asleep in bed. Sometimes he wondered if he'd just dreamed it, but deep down he knew his eyes weren't deceiving him.
"Well, they will have come a long way just to see you," his father said. "I expect you to show them respect and appreciation."
"Yes, dad," Ethan answered with resignation in his voice. Ethan recognized a tone in his father's voice that meant that the matter was closed. So he said nothing more, but inside he was mightily vexed.
After breakfast, Ethan dressed, then asked if he could go out for awhile.
"Unless you need me for some reason," he said. "I thought you might want me out of the way for awhile."
"Yes, you can go out," his mother told him. "Just be back no later than 4:00. And take a hat, it's going to get really hot and sticky today. Oh and bring down the laundry before you go."
"Sure, mom," Ethan said cheerfully. When he'd carried the clothes basket down to the basement, he grabbed his bike off the porch, snapped on his helmet and headed off. His parents were used by now to his wanderings, but they knew that he usually stuck to the bicycle path that snaked along the isthmus to downtown and the university.
As Ethan pedaled along the trail, a freight train moved slowly towards the isthmus on the adjacent tracks. He detoured to the co-op, where he bought a soda, some fruit and a scone.
Ethan took a ride around Capitol Square, where the Farmers' Market was in full swing and headed down State Street to the newsstand, where he picked up the newest X-Men comic book.
The midsummer sun bore down on the isthmus between the two lakes, glancing off the glass towers and the golden dome of the State Capitol. The shallow, greenish waters of Lake Monona on the south seemed to absorb the sunlight into its algae-covered surface. An occasional, desultory breeze raised a few whitecaps on Lake Mendota to the north. Cars and pedestrians moved more slowly than usual in the heat; even the rollerbladers and cyclists on the lakeside path were fewer in number and less ambitious than normal on a Saturday in July.
Heading back along the shore of Lake Monona, Ethan passed people lounging in the heat, some solitary, some couples, some in knots of three or four. Most clustered under the shade of the slender, young trees that dotted the narrow ribbon of green parkland. Some looked like graying, middle-aged hippies, of which the city was reputed to have more than its share; there were punks and Goths, several with leather jackets and a variety of piercings, one young man with an orange spike of hair that rose at least two feet from his scalp. There were skateboarders who'd given up their noisy acrobatics for awhile in the heat. There were a few families, young children cavorting on the grass under the indulgent eyes of their parents.
Madison may have counted amongst its inhabitants a higher proportion of outlandish characters than the average Midwestern city. Perhaps this was because tolerance for diversity was a value upheld by the vast majority of its citizens, even those who were in all other respects ordinary.
Ethan found his favorite tree and settled down to read, brood a bit and daydream. His bicycle, somewhat the worse for wear, sprawled on the ground next to him. He was a tad short for his age and slight, with blondish hair, glasses over his sleepy, blue eyes and a sharply-pointed chin. To all appearances, the boy seemed one of the least remarkable inhabitants of the park on this day. The park on the lakeshore was one of Ethan's favorite haunts. It was easy to get from his house to the park on his bike; once there he could usually find his spot under this quiet tree, gaze out over the water and daydream.
Ethan spent a good deal of his time daydreaming. It seemed to him that his life was much too ordinary. Ethan did fairly well at school, though his teachers sometimes fussed that if only he would concentrate more, he'd get top marks. As it was, he wasn't quite brilliant enough to call attention to himself...and he was inconspicuous enough that the school bullies rarely picked on him, despite his small size and awkwardness.
As he leafed through the comic book about mutant superheroes, Ethan thought about his birthday party and brooded a bit about the impending appearance of Great Uncle Bertrand and Great Aunt Eilonwy. Ethan knew it hadn't been polite to call them strange, but he couldn't help himself. He had known them as long as he could remember and for almost as long, they had made him feel uneasy. One of Ethan's earliest memories was watching his teddy bear leap out of his lap and fly around the room only to land on his head, while Uncle Bertrand beamed at him. Thinking back, Ethan realized he hadn't even known why it seemed odd at the time; he'd been too young to have set ideas about the laws of physics. But every visit from his relatives seemed to include some odd occurrence. They never drove to the Lloyds' house. Whenever they visited, Bertrand and Eilonwy simply seemed to appear at the door. Ethan wasn't even sure where they lived, but he knew they weren't from Madison. His parents never seemed to want to answer questions about the Belangers, which was most unusual, too. On this July afternoon, he realized that what bothered him most about the Belangers was that they reminded him that he'd always had a vague feeling that he was different from his friends and classmates--different in some vague, unexplainable way.
Although he was descended--somewhat distantly--from those Welsh free thinkers who had arrived in Wisconsin in the 1840s and had confounded the other inhabitants with their odd ways ever since, Ethan knew little of his family history and had no reason to think there was anything in his heritage that would set him apart from the other children in his neighborhood. Indeed, Ethan thought his parents had sometimes gone out of their way to be ordinary. While several of his friends had been on exotic vacations, to England, Hawaii and Florida, the Lloyds had never been further away than Milwaukee as a family. Earlier in the summer, they'd finally let him go to Wisconsin Dells for a weekend with his friend Justin and his family. When he was eight, Ethan had asked his parents why they couldn't go to Disney World for spring vacation. They'd told him that they couldn't afford the trip. Yet it didn't seem to Ethan that his family was any worse off than their neighbors, the Abrams', who had made the trip the year before.
Ethan had tried his best to submerge his feelings of awkwardness in many ways. At school, he tried to do well enough to get good grades, but he rarely volunteered and even gave wrong answers on purpose from time to time to avoid being top of the class. He went out for the same sports as his friends Pete and Justin, played baseball and soccer, even though he was one of the smaller players on his teams. He didn't star in either sport; in soccer he was a reserve and in Little League he was usually the right fielder. Yet in the heat of the game, odd things sometimes happened around him. Like the time he'd come into a Little League game in the last inning with the scored tied. He'd never been much of a fielder. But this was a playoff game and Ethan was determined not to embarrass himself. Still, when the first batter hit a line drive to right, Ethan was sure he could hear his coach groan. He watched the ball about to soar six feet over his head. Just as suddenly, he stuck up his glove and caught the ball. Nobody could explain how he caught it, as it was moving fast and clearly well out of his reach. But there was no denying the ball was in his glove. Ethan was as shocked as everyone else when he found it there, but he tried to act non-chalant as he tossed the ball back in to the pitcher.
Then there had been a soccer game the previous fall. Ethan had been tripped and the offending player had dribbled the ball towards the goal. Ethan scrambled to his feet, angry and frustrated, and saw the other player about to shoot. Ethan shot a withering glance in that direction, and the next second, the opposing player had fallen backwards as if he'd run into a brick wall. On that occasion, Ethan was the only one on the field who had any reason to see a connection between Ethan's fall and the abrupt halt of the shot on goal. The other player took a good ribbing from his teammates for his sudden slip. Pete Abrams, with no thought of cause and effect, called out to Ethan, "That's what he gets for a cheap shot!" But Ethan, then and later, wondered. Had he made the boy fall? How could he have? Surely he couldn't have. No, it had to have been a coincidence.
Then, perhaps strangest of all, there was his narrow escape from a group of bullies at school last spring. Ethan had early on decided to keep his profile low and generally he'd succeeded in not drawing attention to himself. But one day, Erik Brewer and three of his friends, the most feared of the fifth-grade bullies at Marquette Elementary, had cornered Ethan and Pete on the way home from school and demanded their snack money, Pete's Swiss Army knife and Ethan's binoculars. Pete and Ethan were scared but determined not to give in, and they stood their ground near the school end of the footbridge over the river. Pete was bigger and more athletic than Ethan, and Erik let his three buddies gang up on Pete while he towered over Ethan. He shoved Ethan down on the grass and shouted, "Better turn it over, Lloyd, or I'll have to break those wimpy glasses of yours." Pete was being pummeled by the other three boys though it sounded as if he was getting some good punches in himself. The next thing Ethan knew the bully was in the shallows of the river, along with his friends. Furthermore, Ethan found himself at the other end of the bridge. Everyone was too surprised for words for a moment. The bullies had no clue how they'd ended up in the water, and they beat a hasty retreat. Pete watched them go with a look of blank astonishment on this face. "Umm, how did you end up over there?" he asked weakly, running his fingers along his swollen right cheek bone. "No idea," said Ethan, who was none the worse for wear. Again, he forced himself to deny the feeling within that he had somehow willed their escape. Erik Brewer and his friends left Ethan and Pete alone from then on. Every now and again Ethan was sure they were whispering together about him, but all it took was a glance from him to send them on their way.
Ethan hadn't minded being left alone by bullies, but he noticed that some of his other classmates seemed to avoid looking directly at him after that incident, too. Evidently, someone had spread word of their miraculous escape. Pete got the same treatment, but as far as Ethan could tell his neighbor didn't spend as much time thinking about it as he did himself. When word spread that Erik Brewer's gang was afraid of Ethan and Pete, some of their younger schoolmates began tagging along behind them on the way to school and back.
Ethan set the comic book aside and looked out across the hazy surface of Lake Monona. He sipped his soda and finished off the scone he'd brought. It was almost one o'clock. The air hung heavy with heat and humidity. Ethan felt drowsy and let thoughts of his relatives and the strange normality of his life drop. His mind wandered into a daydream of life far beyond the shores of the four lakes and then he drifted into sleep. In his dream, Ethan and some other children planned some important task. He wasn't sure of their goal, but he felt certain that many people depended on their success, that lives might even be at stake. At some point he realized that the friends who were following him in this quest were not kids he knew from Madison. A girl with red hair and a stocky boy with curly hair and green eyes seemed to be his chief allies. He saw himself holding a round stone with a jagged lightning bolt carved in its center. He was strangely fascinated by its workmanship and yet felt a deep unease as he held it in his right hand. The scene changed. Now Ethan found himself in the dense thicket of a forest. A large building ablaze with light rose in the distance behind him, but all was darkness around him. The carved stone felt heavy in his pocket. There were three figures before him, hooded and menacing, adults from their size. It seemed to Ethan that he was also wearing long dark robes, but without a hood. No one spoke, but Ethan felt certain that they wanted the stone and felt just as certain that they must not get it. As they drew nearer, he fled back towards the light, but it seemed no matter how hard he ran through the forest, he got no closer to safety. His pursuers were at his heels, he was sure they would catch him any moment...
Ethan woke with a start. He was still next to his tree in the lakeshore park. A group of skateboarders had just clattered by, waking him. He wiped the sweat from his face; it was a cold sweat, not that of a hot summer day. "It was so real," he thought to himself. "Did they get it?"
But even as he wondered, the details of the dream began to slip away from him. He felt that he'd had this dream before, or at least part of it, but all he could remember was darkness and pursuit and the desperate feeling that he was about to be caught. He shook his head, frustrated by the fleeting vision.
Ethan looked at his watch. It was nearly 3:00 PM. Could he really have slept for two hours? He knew it was nearly time to head home and get ready for his party. He guessed that Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Eilonwy would be there when he arrived. So he gathered his things back into his knapsack, picked up his bike and headed back up the path. He zipped around the corner onto Williamson Street and then saw that he needed to hit the brakes fast. He needed to cross Willy Street at the light so that he could slip over one more block to the bike path along the railroad. But the light was red and standing there at the crosswalk were five or six people dressed more oddly than anyone Ethan had seen in Madison that day. The men were all dressed in long black robes and wore conical black caps and pointy little shoes. The women wore similar but more colorful robes, one a shimmering emerald green, another deep purple with stars and moons in silver. They wore pointy black hats with wide brims. Ethan skidded to a halt just behind them. They were standing in a circle , evidently deep in conversation. They didn't seem to notice the squealing of Ethan's brakes, though one of the women glanced briefly at him once he'd stopped.
The light was red, so Ethan waited, thinking he'd enjoy the show. After all, he was used to seeing strange haircuts, hair colors, piercings and clothing selections as they were part of normal life in this university town. On the other hand, these people puzzled poor Ethan. They were clearly not college students; they were too old, a couple seemed older than his parents. None of the old hippies dressed like this. Maybe they were Wiccans, he thought, though he figured even modern-day witches would dress more sensibly than this in a heat wave.
As he waited behind them, Ethan began to pick out bits of their conversation, which was hard as they all seemed to be talking at once. "..seems it's true," the tallest of the men was saying. "Young Potter witnessed it..." One of the women said something that sounded like "Triwizard Tournament" and a grave older man muttered, "...in for bad times, if He's really back." "Dumbledore's word...good enough for me, " seemed to come from the tall man. Just as Ethan was about to give up trying to figure out what the strangely-clad people were discussing, he picked out the soft-spoken words of the grey-haired woman in an emerald robe: "Someone should warn the Lloyds." He stopped stock-still for a moment, unsure whether he'd really heard those words. He wanted to interrupt them, to ask whether they meant Griffin and Diana Lloyd, to tell them who he was. But as he thought about this, the light turned green and they were on the other side of the street before Ethan realized that several other bikers had passed him and crossed the street. As he finally began to move forward, the light turned red again. He stamped his foot in frustration, then looked across to where the robed strangers had gone, only to see no trace of them. Had he imagined them? He hardly thought so. Was there something in his snack that had caused his strange dream and now was giving him hallucinations? No, Ethan was sure they had been there talking about witnesses and fear and the return of some nameless shadow...and of warning the Lloyds.
As he cycled home, Ethan couldn't stop thinking about his strange encounter. He knew there were other Lloyds in Madison, though he'd never met any of them. But the thought that these strange people, their fears and his own dark dream related in some way to his own family wouldn't be dislodged from his mind.
Ethan cycled on, too preoccupied to notice that the hazy sky had given way to white cumulus clouds and towering thunderheads. By the time he'd passed school and glided across the Yahara River footbridge, the sky was darkly threatening. As he pulled up to the Lloyd home, Ethan noticed that the porch was festooned with bunting and a banner that proclaimed "Happy Birthday, Ethan!" with large "11" s at each end of the roof.
"Well, thank goodness you're back" his mother exclaimed as he jumped off the bike and returned it to the porch. "They've just issued a tornado watch...now until 8, but it looks like the worst of it will be here soon. Come on in and say hello to your uncle and aunt."
"Hello, there, Ethan!" said Aunt Eilonwy in her quavering voice. "Let me give the birthday boy a big hug!"
The approaching storm and the strange happenings of the day had gotten the best of him and he gave Eilonwy a real hug, finding comfort for a change in her presence. She ran her hands through his blonde hair for a moment in a reassuring way. "It's really good to see you!" Ethan finally said. He turned to Bertrand, now grey-haired and if possible even stouter than ever, and gave him a quicker hug, then shook his hand firmly. His great uncle bowed his head gravely as Ethan did this, then said, "It's good to see you young man! My, you have grown since we saw you last. And so have you been wandering all over Madison on this hot sticky day?"
"Not really. I just spent some time in the park and it was so hot I actually fell asleep for awhile," Ethan said. "And had a kind of a weird dream. Looks like I got home just in time."
"Yes, of course it wouldn't be a real birthday without some unusual weather," Uncle Bertrand said. "Why I remember a birthday of your father's a few years back when two feet of snow fell on us here. That visit ended up a lot longer than we'd planned."
Suddenly Ethan frowned. "Mom, the weather won't stop my party, will it?"
"I don't think so, dear," Diana replied. "Your friends are all nearby. And if we need to, we'll just move the party to the basement for awhile. Our basement is just as safe as Pete's or Justin's."
"Phew!" Ethan sighed with relief. The prospect of a birthday party in the basement, which was partially finished, actually appealed to him. As he looked around, he saw a fairly large pile of presents in one corner of the living room. The dinner table was set with bright birthday napkins and plates. Glittering stars had somehow been attached to the dining room ceiling; in the growing gloom, Ethan thought the stars almost seemed to be twinkling on their own.
"Now go wash up, Ethan," Diana said. "Your friends should be here in about half-an-hour."
When he came back down stairs twenty minutes later, in a fresh shirt and jeans, Ethan noticed that Bertrand and Eilonwy were dressed rather oddly, as usual. Bertrand was wearing a powder-blue leisure suit that might have been fashionable twenty years earlier. Ethan thought that Eilonwy's dress looked very much like one of his mother's. In fact, it seemed too short on Eilonwy, who was several inches taller than Diana. He'd missed these details when he'd arrived; too many other strange thoughts had been racing through his mind.
It was getting blustery when Pete Abrams and his parents knocked on the door on the stroke of five o'clock. "Happy Birthday, Ethan!" Pete shouted, handing over a large, well-wrapped rectangular package. He and Ethan headed into the living room and started talking baseball. Pete rooted for the Black Wolf, the local team, and the Cubs.
"Come on in, Frank. Hi, Marion. Make yourselves at home," Griffin said. "You remember my Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Eilonwy, don't you?"
"Certainly. Good to see you again," said Marion. "Did you have a good trip in?"
"Well, travelling isn't easy at our age,I'm afraid," said Eilonwy. "But the trip was tolerable."
"You're from out East somewhere, aren't you?" Frank Abrams asked.
"Yes, yes, out East indeed," answered Bertrand enigmatically.
"Good of you to come all this way," Frank continued.
"Well, we thought it was about time we were here for one of Ethan's birthdays," said Eilonwy. "And you only turn 11 once."
Another knock on the door announced Justin Spencer-Black's arrival. A tall boy with wavy dark hair, Justin ambled in and headed in to where Pete and Ethan were sitting, carrying two small wrapped gifts. "Here you go, Lloyd!" he said. "Happy Birthday! Hi, Pete."
Justin's parents conferred briefly with Diana, then headed off. Just as they left, a sandy-haired boy walked up, also with a couple of small presents in hand.
"Come on in, Ryan," said Diana, "You'll find the boys in the living room."
"Thanks, Mrs. Lloyd," he said, quickly joining the others.
Despite the threat of bad weather, Ethan's party progressed much as any eleven-year-old's birthday party might have. Griffin grilled the hamburgers and hot dogs outside, keeping an eye on the sky and chatting with Bertrand and Frank. Eilonwy, Diana and Marion Abrams spent most of their time in the kitchen, making small talk and putting the rolls, condiments and salads on the table. The boys' discussion moved from baseball to superheroes and pro wrestling, then they decided to play table hockey in the basement.
"Hey, at least we'll be ready if there really is a tornado," Ethan called back up the stairs to his mom.
"Just don't get too involved, dinner's almost ready," Diana said.
The rain started just as Griffin brought the burgers and hot dogs in from the grill. Frank rounded up the boys and everyone set to. Food simply seemed to vanish from the table, the boys were that hungry. Old Mungo slithered under the table between people's legs, but he didn't get much in the way of handouts.
"Don't you remember, Diana," said Marion as she took seconds of potato salad, "A couple of years ago we would have been begging these kids to finish their meals. Now look at them."
"You're right," Diana said, somewhat wistfully. "I guess they're really starting to grow up. Hard to believe."
By the time the main course was cleared and the birthday cake readied for its entrance, thunder and lightning was visible in the distance. Griffin turned out the lights and only the cake candles-- and the odd star decorations on the ceiling--lit the room as everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to Ethan. He blew the candles out in one try, plunging the room into almost total darkness. Griffin flipped the lights back on, but just as Diana was cutting the cake and beginning to serve, the lights went out again. Almost immediately, the tornado siren three blocks away began wailing,
"OK, you know the drill, boys," Griffin told Ethan and his friends, "Back down you go...here, take this flashlight."
Ryan grabbed the light and led the way to the basement. After a quick look at the sickly greenish sky, the adults conferred among themselves and decided to move the party to the basement. Diana brought the birthday cake, Marion the plates and forks and Eilonwy the napkins. The men quickly collected Ethan's presents and brought them downstairs. Griffin had partially finished the basement a few years earlier and furnished it with some older chairs and card tables. Ethan had gotten the table hockey setup the year before. There were a number of battery-powered camping lamps around the room.
Griffin flipped on the radio, which Bertrand watched with evident curiosity. "Quite a system you've got there," he said, as the announcer described a line of thunderstorms moving to the northeast. A funnel cloud had been spotted just west of the city.
"Now, is everyone ready for cake?" Marion Abrams asked. She resumed the cutting of cake, while Eilonwy and Diana distributed slices.
"Well, Ethan, I guess you won't forget your 11th birthday," Frank Abrams chuckled.
They all had their fill of birthday cake. "Present time, Ethan!" Diana announced and Ethan moved over to the pile of presents on the floor. In the dim light he began with a heavy but small package from his parents. Opening it, he found a hard-bound edition of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.
"Thanks, Mom and Dad! Now I know what I'll be reading the rest of the summer"
Ethan had read The Hobbit in school that year and wanted to know more about goings-on in Middle-earth. Next he opened Pete's present, a large box which revealed a Lego kit for constructing a 19th century warship, the USS Constellation. "Cool, thanks Pete!" he exclaimed. "Maybe you can help me build it later."
And so Ethan plowed through the pile, as the radio in the background charted the steady course of the storm front through the city. While they could hear the wind and rain outside, it seemed that any tornadoes were skipping the Lloyds' neighborhood. From Ryan, Ethan received a Hootie and the Blowfish CD, from the Belangers a sweater made by Eilonwy ("I'll wear it in the fall," Ethan assured her), some camouflage pants and other clothes from his parents, a small CD player also from his parents and from Justin the new CD by the local Klezmer band Yid Vicious. "Thanks, Justin! You're the only one who'd know I'd want this," Ethan said. "No problem, buddy," Justin replied. "Enjoy!"
Finally, all the presents were unwrapped but one: a small one with a card attached. Ethan read the inscription aloud: "For Ethan, with love from Bertrand and Eilonwy. This belonged to your great-grandfather, Eilonwy's brother. It is time for you to have it." In the gloom of the basement, Ethan didn't notice his parents giving each other concerned looks as he read. He removed the wrapping with more care than usual to find a small hardbound book. On the front cover three "L"s were entwined in a monogram. He opened the cover and saw the signature "Llewellyn Lewes Lloyd" in the upper left corner. He turned to the title page and read "Magical Beginnings: a Concise Introduction to the Theory and Practice of Wizardry, Home Edition, by Elihu Verplanck. New York, 1889, Umm, this is really...interesting, Aunt Eilonwy. I didn't know my great-grandfather was a magician."
"Well, not exactly a magician, dear," Eilonwy began. She caught Griffin's admonishing glance and quickly added, "You just read it and see if it really is...interesting." She said no more.
"Let's have a look, Ethan," said Justin. Ryan and Pete ambled over, too, but they seemed more interested in the CD player and the Constellation model than the book.
Justin flipped through Magical Beginnings quickly, handed it back to Ethan and said, "I don't know, Lloyd, you must have had some weird ancestors. Either that or he had a great sense of humor."
"Now, Justin," Marion Abrams said. "It's just a family heirloom, something that connects Ethan to family he never knew. I think it's a wonderful gift."
Just as Griffin cleared his throat loudly, the electricity came back on and the room was lit so brightly they had to shade their eyes. "How's that for perfect timing? As soon as all the presents were opened, the lights came back," Diana said. The radio had sounded the all-clear, so everyone made their way upstairs. The boys were first, running outside to check for damage; aside from some small tree branches that had come down in the Lloyds' and Abrams' yards, all seemed well. While the adults cleaned up, Ethan and his friends played two-on-two soccer in the backyard. In a half-hour or so, Justin's parents came to pick him up and Ryan headed home. The Abrams family stayed a bit longer, but soon enough headed next door.
"Don't forget the ball game tomorrow night, Ethan," Pete reminded him. "We'll pick you up around 6:30."
"OK," answered Ethan. "Thanks again for everything Pete, Mr. & Mrs. Abrams."
"Happy Birthday, Ethan!" Frank and Marion chimed together as they left. The sky had cleared almost completely and the sun was beginning to sink towards the western horizon. Ethan turned to go inside, but waited just inside the door as he heard the unaccustomed sound of raised voices coming from the kitchen.
"What on earth did you think you were doing, Eilonwy?" Ethan heard his father's voice, tense and angry. "Giving him that book in front of all those people."
"Well, really, Griffin, do I need to explain myself again?" Ethan's great-aunt spoke in an annoyed tone he'd never heard her use before. "It's something that's come down in the family and it's part of Ethan's inheritance. And as for his friends and your neighbors, you heard them. They took it as just an odd old heirloom. At worst, they think you had a circus magician for an ancestor. There's no harm in it, surely!"
"You really should have told us you were going to do that," Diana interjected. "At least we wouldn't have been caught off guard."
"Ah, but had we done that, you probably would have forbidden us from giving it to him," said Bertrand, drily. "Not that you would have had any good reason to do so."
"That's as may be, Bert, but we are his parents and you should have consulted us first," countered Griffin.
For the second time that day, Ethan stood listening to a conversation he was not meant to hear, and this one was no less confusing than the first. Once again, he desperately wanted to ask what they were talking about and what it had to do with him. But his conscience got the better of him and he let the front door close with a bang, alerting the others to his presence. The argument ceased immediately. He walked across the living room towards the kitchen.
Had Ethan been facing the other way, out towards the yard, he might have noticed an odd sight. For as the door slammed, a large tawny owl swooped into the Lloyds' yard, landing on the front stoop. The owl had been carrying a small envelope that it now left in front of the door. Having deposited the envelope, the owl took off into the sunset, unobserved by Ethan or anyone else in the neighborhood.
"Oh, hi, Ethan," said his mother as he entered the room. "Have you had enough excitement for one birthday yet?"
"Yeah, actually, I think I might take some of my presents upstairs," he told her. "The books and CDs. Is it OK if I try out the CD player?
"Sure, just don't turn the volume up too high. We don't want you to go deaf at 11," his father replied.
So Ethan grabbed the player, the CDs, The Lord of the Rings and Llewellyn Lloyd's old book and headed up to his room. When his father mentioned his age, Ethan had been reminded of the several occasions on which he'd heard adults tell him that turning eleven was special. He was really starting to wonder whether that could be a coincidence, given all the strange occurences of the day. But he thought back just a couple of weeks to Pete's birthday. It had seemed fun, but there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about his friend's party.
Ethan unpacked the CD player, put the batteries in, then opened his new Yid Vicious CD, slipped the earphones on and pushed the start button. He didn't know what had attracted him to the mystical jazziness of klezmer but the music made him feel at ease in a way few other things could. As he listened, he flipped through the immense Lord of the Rings his parents had given him--it was all three volumes in one fancy red binding. He folded out the large map of Middle-earth inside the back cover and looked over Tolkien's fantastic geography. He found Hobbiton and the Lonely Mountain quickly, and the Misty Mountains with Rivendell nearby, but there were many other places not written of in The Hobbit. Ethan realized that reading this book would take many hours and he decided that he would not try to start on this summer evening.
So he picked up the strange little book that the Belangers had given him. As he opened it, Ethan experienced an odd feeling, something like a slight electric shock or an unexplained feeling of exhilaration. He read the title page again and wondered why had his parents and the Belangers been arguing over this old book. What had Eilonwy meant when she said "at worst" the neighbors would think Ethan's great-great grandfather was a circus magician? Why would they care? Who was Llewellyn Lewes Lloyd anyway?
As these questions piled up unanswered in Ethan's mind, he flipped to the table of contents, which was rather curious. The first chapter was called "Of the Discernment of the Magical Gift in a Child," the second "Of the Undisciplined Use of Magic by Youth," and the third "Steering the Magicial Youth onto the Right Path." These were followed by "Lessons for the Education of Magical Youth in the Home," "Spare the Wand and Spoil the Child," and "The Golden Rule of Sorcery." Several similar chapter headings were concluded with "Consideration of Secondary Magical Education in North America." Ethan saw nothing that would help in the training of circus performers. In fact, when Ethan read the introduction, he became more confused. There Elihu Verplanck wrote, "The author having observed the frequent difficulties that arise in the discerning and nurturing of the magical talents of wizards and witches from the earliest age, he has endeavoured in the present work to provide a guide that parents may employ to identify and encourage such talents in their children and to direct the use of these precocious abilities towards productive ends." If not for the regular use of the words "magic," "wizard," and "witch," Ethan would have thought the work a dry, old book on educational theory. The language was old-fashioned and would have been difficult for any eleven-year old, but Ethan was now intrigued if confused by the book. He skimmed the first chapter and then the second. As he read, it dawned on him that Verplanck was writing in complete seriousness about raising children with what Ethan and his friends would call "supernatural" abilities, not unlike those in his X-Men comic books. As Ethan flipped through Chapter Two, "Of the Undisciplined Use of Magic by Youth," he felt a sudden thrill of recognition as he read: "As the magical talents are part of a child's underlying nature, the reader will not wonder that children may spontaneously make use of magic without intention, often even without being cognizant of their action. Parents may notice such usage particularly when the young one faces a stressful or frightening situation. It is important for parents to understand that such spontaneous magic is completely natural and very rarely leads to serious danger for the young sorcerer or to others. Nevertheless the child may be upset by the results of his untutored magic, for they may defy what the child's mind has defined as normal. As an example, we may hypothesize that a child, feeling threatened by a large dog or other beast, may magically transport himself away from danger. As adults we may find this action perfectly explicable, while the child who has yet to experience apparation this displacement will seem disconcerting and unnatural." Ethan thought back to his escape from Erik Brewer and realized that Verplanck had described Ethan's feelings nearly perfectly, over a century earlier. He read further into the book, but nothing else reminded him of his own life. The ensuing chapters prescribed methods for teaching magic to young children, and the whole notion seemed completely impossible...if it weren't for the fact that the book seemed to explain things that Ethan had actually experienced, things that had made him feel strangely unlike his friends, things that he could not understand.
Ethan was unsure how long he'd been reading, but he noticed that it was dark outside. He put the book and the CD player aside and got into his pajamas. Then he went down the hall to the bathroom. When he'd finished brushing his teeth and washing up, Ethan headed down the darkened hallway to the stairs, intending to go downstairs to say good night. He stopped, as he again heard his parents deep in a discussion with Bertrand and Eilonwy. This time he heard no anger in their voices, but Ethan did detect a seriousness in the conversation that made him hesitate. And yet again, he listened intently to a conversation he was not meant to hear.
"We know what you've tried to do all these years," he heard Eilonwy say. "And we know you meant well and we know why you've done it. No one would question your motivation."
"Then you understand why we want to continue on that path," Griffin's voice sounded older and more tired than Ethan had ever heard it. "We want him to live in this world, away from the evil powers that threaten that one. And that's just what he's been able to do, for eleven years now."
Ethan listened more closely, as he realized they were talking about him.
"We're not being selfish," his mother's voice floated up from the living room. "But he's our only child, and I know I couldn't bear to have him exposed to that kind of danger. And if your latest news is correct, that would only make life for him more perilous."
"Well, the news from England is not definitive. Dumbledore says it's true, but their Ministry has made no pronouncement," said Uncle Bertrand. "And of course our Department will make no statement until Fudge has done so, and then will probably mirror it. Bureaucrats are the same the world over. But the point is, letting the boy know is not only better for him, it's safer for you too, especially now."
"How do you figure that?" asked Griffin. "It seems to me that if he is off at Kaaterskill, someone will put two and two together, even if we all pretend he's an orphan taken in by relatives. And if someone realizes who he is, he'll be in grave danger and he could also be used to get here. And that, as you told us many years ago, would be a disaster, not to mention probably fatal for Diana and me."
"I don't mean to downplay that possibility, Griffin," Bertrand continued. "It could happen. But Flyte has a great ability to prevent such things at Kaaterskill, at least. And you are overlooking the fact that letting him stay here, pretending he's a muggle, will have its own dangers. "
"What do you mean? I don't understand," Diana said, weariness mixing with frustration in her voice.
"What he means, dear, is this," Eilonwy chimed in. "You've already told us that he's had some, shall we say, extraordinary experiences for a muggle. That story of his escape from the school gang was priceless! But as long as he is unaware of who he really is, things like that will continue to happen from time to time. The older he gets, the more powerful the magic and the more dangerous coming from one who has no means of understanding or controlling it. Little children almost never cause any harm with their magic and Ethan hasn't yet either. But as he gets older, as a teenager and then an adult, he could do something destructive...completely unintentional, yes, but destructive nonetheless. And what's more, whether your house is unplottable or not, it will be impossible to completely hide the occurrence of unauthorized spells from the Office of Magical Law Enforcement. They'll investigate, and even if they can't nail down the location or even identify the practitioner, they'll leave a trail. And believe me, You-Know-Who's supporters will be following every trail that may exist."
"I suppose you're right," Diana said. "But what you're telling us seems to be that our house of cards is about to collapse either way. We continue living as we have these past fourteen years and Ethan's magical nature will betray all of us. Or we tell him everything, send him away to school and hope that Flyte can keep the entire magical world from knowing that Griffin and Diana Lloyd are not only alive and well but living in Madison; we might as well publish our address in the Sentinel."
"I think, " said Bertrand gravely, "that you owe the boy an explanation, nephew. No matter what else happens, Ethan needs to know what's going on and who he is. Just listening to him and watching him today, I'm sure that he has questions already. It may be that our little gift will help him figure things out, but he needs you and Diana to level with him. Give him the choice, Griffin. He may be young, but he's old enough to know his heritage and to have a say in the path his life takes. He may decide to stay right here, but if you wait, even another year, he won't have the chance to go to Kaaterskill."
A long silence followed. Ethan sat, transfixed, on the top stair. He didn't know whether to feel angry or sad or happy. He couldn't see the anguished looks that his parents exchanged. He thought he could hear them whispering to each other, but couldn't make out the words. Then he heard his father speak.
"All right, uncle," Griffin said. "Tomorrow we'll sit down with Ethan and tell him everything he needs to know. And we'll show him the letter, try to explain what his choices are, and then let him decide. And by Merlin, once he makes up his mind, we'll see to it that he carries through. And we'll need your help in that, I'm sure."
"You know we'll help any way we can," said Bertrand. "Whatever he decides."
"We'd better all get some rest, now," said Diana. "Tomorrow is going to be a very unusual day. And Ethan's got a couple of hours of sleep already."
At that, Ethan realized he'd better get to bed fast. He slipped back into his room, crawled into bed and flipped off the light. Sleep came slowly to him, as he rolled over in his mind all the incredible happenings of his birthday: the dream in the park, the robed strangers and the summer storm; his party, opening presents in the dark basement; his discovery of Magical Beginnings and the overheard conversation just concluded. It seemed that his life was about to change in a big way, but for better or worse he couldn't say. He felt as if he'd been asking an unknown question all his life and that he was about to get an answer. As he drifted into a dreamless sleep, Ethan thought to himself, "You only turn eleven once, you know!"
Page 18 of 18Printed 7/7/05