Chapter Four

In Old Solomon's Row

Monday morning dawned damp and misty in Madison. Ethan woke later than he had the day before and found his parents, Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Eilonwy already at the breakfast table when he came downstairs. They all turned to him as he entered the kitchen and he could see quiet concern in their faces.

"Good morning, Ethan," Diana said. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Ethan said firmly.

"That's good, son," Griffin said. "Those cuts and scrapes not bothering you?"

"Not really," Ethan replied. "I mean, every once in a while they sting a little, but nothing major."

"Well come on then, have some breakfast," Diana urged him. "Getting some food into the system will do you good."

Ethan got himself some cereal, while Diana poured his orange juice. He devoured his breakfast, having seconds of cereal as well as an english muffin. The adults had already finished eating, but sat at the table sipping coffee and chatting, mostly small talk about old friends and family. Ethan was too busy eating to contribute much to the conversation.

"Guess I did need a good breakfast," he declared as he finished twenty minutes later and pushed his plate away. The sun had begun to burn through the mist and as Ethan remained at the table, the morning sunlight shone in on him. The adults stopped talking and looked at him; Diana thought to herself that he looked as though he'd aged two years in the past two days. Mungo jumped up on the table and eyed Ethan with interest. He felt their gazes and felt a bit awkward; but the attention also spurred him to say what was on his mind.

"I've been thinking, Dad and Mom," he began. "I know the idea of going away to school out East is kind of scary. I really like Madison and I have some good friends here."

"We understand, son," Griffin said. "It's not surprising that you'd want to stay here."

"No, wait, Dad, let me finish. I mean, I don't know anything more about Kaaterskill than what you told me yesterday. And the whole idea of being a wizard is only just beginning to sink in. But when I think about some of the strange things that have happened to me, it seems that the only explanation that makes sense is magic. And what happened last night...well, it scares me and mostly because I'm pretty sure that something inside me caused it. It's not like I wanted it to happen, at least not really, but it's as if there's a part of me that I can't control that made the light fall...Gee, I'm not doing a very good job of explaining."

"Oh, I think you're doing a fine job, Ethan," Eilonwy reassured him. "It's not easy describing something you're only vaguely aware of to begin with."

"Well, what I really want to know is this," the boy continued. "Will they teach me how to control that part of me at Kaaterskill? Because that's what I want more than anything else right now. If I was born with some kind of magic in me, I want to learn how to use it, and use it right."

"Son, Kaaterskill exists to do exactly that," Griffin said, as he realized what Ethan had decided. "There's no better place to learn the proper use of magic. And Cyrus Flyte is the finest headmaster in the school's history."

Ethan took a deep breath. "Then I know how to answer my letter from Professor Bancroft," he said slowly but firmly. "I need to tell him I'll be there for the fall term. If I'm a wizard, I want to be a good one. I'm going to Kaaterskill!"

"Oh, Ethan, if you're sure...," Diana began.

"I've never been so sure about anything, Mom," he told her.

"I'm very proud of you, Ethan," his mother continued. "That's not an easy decision...it's much harder for you than it was for any of us here. Your father and I will help you follow through on that decision."

"As will Eilonwy and I," Uncle Bertrand spoke, trying to sound grave though a wide grin had spread over his face. "And I'll warrant you'll be a darn fine wizard, too, once they've schooled you at Kaaterskill."

"Just one thing, Dad," Ethan added. "I don't know how to find an owl, to mail my answer back."

"Oh don't worry about that," Griffin said. "We'll get some parchment and a quill first; once you've written your note, I'll take care of getting an owl."

The kitchen was now bathed in sunlight. Ethan stood up and gave his mother a big hug, and he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, he no longer felt any doubt that he'd made the right choice. In the months ahead, he would often think back to that moment when he felt certain that he was following his destiny. And the memory of that certainty sustained him through experiences he could not have dreamed of before his eleventh birthday.

Uncle Bertrand went to his room, rummaged about and returned with a blank roll of parchment, a small bottle of ink and a long quill pen.

"Umm, Dad, am I supposed to write with that?" Ethan asked. "The only time I've tried writing with a quill was back in fourth grade when we were studying the Revolution. And all I managed were some really nice ink blots."

"You'll need to get used to it, Ethan," his father said with a bit of a smile. "It's what you'll use at Kaaterskill. You can take your time and practice a bit. Your letter needn't be long. You just have to tell them you're accepting their offer."

Uncle Bertrand coached Ethan on his quill writing for the next hour or so. Although his first run through the alphabet looked little better than ink blots, Ethan proved a quick study and he surprised himself as he wrote "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog" quite legibly after half an hour or so. He worked out the wording of his letter with his father, then put quill to paper and wrote:

July 14, 1995

Professor Herodotus Bancroft
Director of Admissions
Kaaterskill Academy of Magic

Dear Professor Bancroft:

Thank you for your kind offer of admission to Kaaterskill.

I am pleased to inform you that I will accept your offer. I will obtain the required books and supplies and report to school on the Wednesday following Labor Day.

Sincerely,

Ethan Lloyd

Griffin took the parchment roll, cut off the letter and then rolled it tightly. He then sealed the letter with wax and tied a piece of twine around it. Ethan wondered exactly how his father would summon an owl. Griffin slid the screen of the kitchen window up and stuck his head out briefly. Almost immediately, there was a rush of wings and a small reddish-brown screech owl landed on the windowsill. The owl preened its feathers briefly, then calmly allowed Griffin to attach Ethan's letter to its left leg. As soon as this was done, the owl leapt out and flew away.

"How did that owl know you needed a letter sent?" Ethan asked, astonished.

"Well, not all of them are that swift, of course," his father told him. "On the other hand, the Kaaterskill owls are among the brightest and I suspect this one sensed that you'd made up your mind. We must remember to pick you up an owl when we get the rest of your supplies."

And so Ethan made his decision official. The six weeks that followed were busy and bittersweet, as he prepared to go east yet tried to savor life in Madison while he still could. Ethan had a hard time explaining his plans to his friends, especially as he'd never before mentioned that his parents had gone to a boarding school out East. But they'd all seemed to accept his move as part of his family's tradition; over the rest of July and August, Ethan, Pete, Ryan and Justin were nearly inseparable. They even went to several--uneventful--Black Wolf games.

Meantime, Griffin and Diana had to work harder than ever to maintain their facade of muggle normalcy, as they spent most of their time worrying about Ethan's preparations and recalling their own school years. They explained Ethan's new school plans to Frank and Marion Abrams, who seemed a bit surprised but understanding.

The Belangers had apparated back to their home a week or so after Ethan announced he was going to Kaaterskill. "We're so proud of you, Ethan," Eilonwy had told him that evening, and both had assured him that they would do anything they could to help him with his transition. For the first time, Ethan stood with his parents in the backyard when Bertrand and Eilonwy departed. He shuddered a bit when they vanished with a loud bang, but was more curious than troubled about this method of transportation. And he was slightly disappointed when his father told him that no wizard learned apparation until he turned 16.

Ethan had read Magical Beginnings from cover to cover by the end of July and was about to ask them if they had any other books about wizarding when Griffin told him the time had come to buy his books and other supplies. Ethan had been wondering when and how he was to do this.

"I know we've got some pretty unusual stores in Madison, Dad," he said skeptically. "But where can I possibly find this stuff?"

"You have to know where to look, Ethan," Griffin answered, enigmatically. "And in this case, I think we should look in Milwaukee. We might find some of your supplies around here, but the closest place to get it all will be in Old Solomon's Row. This Saturday we'll take the bus over and do all our errands."

Saturday rolled around and they headed over to where the Badger Bus departed for Milwaukee. Diana had to work that day, so she wished them luck and headed off to the Co-op.

"Be careful!" she said seriously.

"Don't worry, dear! We will," Griffin assured her. "See you this evening!"

Ethan had rarely been outside Madison in his life, but he had been to Milwaukee once with his parents to go to museums and shops. They'd taken the bus on that occasion, too, so he had a pretty good idea of what the trip would be like. Ethan and his father sat near the front of the bus, which was about half-full of a somewhat motley group of passengers: some college students, some commuters and a few disheveled men and women who appeared to be simply drifting from place to place. The bus rumbled off, making stops in several small towns between the two cities and pulling into the Cream City's bus terminal just over an hour later.

Ethan shaded his eyes as he descended from the bus; the bright sun reflected off the pavement and the concrete and glass buildings of downtown Milwaukee. He looked around in wonder, for to his eyes Milwaukee appeared to be a really big city compared to his hometown. The buildings were much taller than those in the center of Madison and it looked to Ethan as though the city went on forever. Even on a Saturday, the sidewalks were quite full of people bustling in all directions.

"We need to walk several blocks south," Griffin told his son. "So off we go."

Ethan stayed close by his father's side as they wound their way through downtown Milwaukee. Gradually they left the blocks of high-rise office buildings behind, crossing underneath the interstate highway. Ethan noticed that the street they were on, which had been a perfectly straight line, was now angling to the right. After a few blocks, he saw the reason for this change, as they approached a sleepy river that ran through the city on its way to Lake Michigan. They passed over the bridge and found themselves in a completely different cityscape. At first there seemed to be few buildings at all. There were railroad tracks and a few brick buildings isolated from each other by "urban renewal" projects. Ethan looked about but didn't see any likely sources for pewter cauldrons or black robes.

A few blocks later Ethan thought he had been transported into a different world. The buildings were not so tall, but were adorned with painted shutters, elaborately carved wooden doors, and cobblestone walks. A clock tower jutted out from a half-timbered building at one corner. They had entered one of the old German neighborhoods that had survived two world wars and now preserved the appearance of the city when half of Milwaukee's newspapers had been printed in German, and beer gardens and brass bands dominated the summer evenings. Ethan might have imagined that they had somehow crossed the ocean and traveled back in time, but for the fact that the cars on the street and people on the sidewalks looked completely modern.

"Are we almost there, Dad?" he asked Griffin. For it had been a long walk from the bus station in the warm sun and Ethan was starting to feel tired and hot.

"Almost, son. See that little tavern up ahead?"

Ethan looked at the next block, but didn't see a tavern. Confused, he looked again and this time saw what Griffin meant. In between a store selling fancy European goods and a pastry shop was a narrow building with an old sign that read "Blatz" in large white letters on what had once been a red background. Compared to the neatly preserved buildings along the street, Ethan felt this building appeared rather shabby. He thought to himself that it was no wonder he'd missed it at first glance. None of the other pedestrians seemed to pay the old tavern any notice.

"Dad, that doesn't look like the place to get my supplies. I mean, it's just an old bar, isn't it?"

"Just an old bar?" Griffin echoed, a sparkle in his eyes. "Well, we'll see what you think once we're inside."

When they reached the door, Ethan noticed a small sign in the only window that read "Tavern der Zauberer" Griffin grasped the handle, opened the door and ushered Ethan into a dim room with a long bar along its right side and a scattering of tables along the left. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark again, Ethan saw couple of dozen patrons in the tavern, about half at the bar. An elderly man in a brown plaid vest and a white shirt with ruffled sleeves presided behind the bar. Ethan saw that the attire of the tavern's customers seemed to match the old-world architecture of the neighborhood. There was a man with a long pointed beard, wearing a monocle and a bowler hat at one table. He was seated at a table with an elderly woman wearing a bright emerald cloak who seemed strangely familiar to Ethan.

"Well, bless me, if it isn't Griffin Lloyd!" exclaimed the barkeeper. "It has been more than a month of Sundays since you last darkened our doors. Welcome back! Can I pour you a lager?"

"Thanks, Sig, it's good to be here. Can't stop to socialize now, though. Have to take care of this young fellow's Kaaterskill list in the Row. Ethan, this is Siegfried Schumann. He's been running the tavern since before I was born."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Schumann," Ethan said politely.

"And I'm pleased to meet you, Ethan," Herr Schumann replied, looking him over curiously. "I dare say you're your father's son, though it looks as though you've got your mother's eyes. It's been a long time since a young Lloyd passed through on his way to the Row. Good luck!"

"Thanks, sir," Ethan said.

Griffin was just about to move along when Ethan's eyes met those of the woman in the emerald cloak.

"I know you!" he said excitedly. "I saw you in Madison, crossing the street with the others. On my birthday!"

"Oh, Harriet, is that you?" Griffin said when he saw who Ethan was talking about. "Ethan, this is Harriet Frazee. A very well-known seer from Madison."

"Ah, yes, my young fellow, I do remember you. Nearly ran over us on your bicycle. I'm so sorry we couldn't stop and chat that day. But Herr Schumann's right...you do look to be a Lloyd. Good to meet you," she said, extending her wrinkled arm to shake Ethan's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, too" Ethan said, adding "I didn't mean to run you down on my bike, really. But I didn't know I was a wizard back then, either."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Harriet assured him. "We've known you were a wizard for some years now. Such matters do not escape the Inner Eye."

Ethan thought that sounded a bit ominous. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, for his father was now moving him down to the back end of the tavern. A long, narrow corridor led to restrooms on the right; they took a left at the end of the corridor and went out the back door. Ethan was now sure his father was either crazy or pulling his leg, for they emerged into a walled courtyard that seemed to be a dead end. There were a few tables and chairs on one side of the courtyard and several trash cans along the other side. The rear wall seemed to be painted, and as Ethan stepped closer he could see a mural depicting a street scene. The buildings reminded him of those on the street outside the tavern, most half-timbered, some with upper stories overhanging a cobblestone street. The images were faded, washed out in the bright sun, but he could see shop signs hanging from several of the buildings: a mortar and pestle on one, another in the form of a dragon, one with a black-robed figure. About half way down the street in the picture was an imposing, white-columned building, after which the street seemed to bend to the right so as to obscure its length. Ethan thought there might be several narrower alleys leading to either side of the main street. Here and there he saw knots of people, walking along the street, coming out of shops, looking into the windows and pointing. He realized they must be witches and wizards, for they were almost all dressed in robes and cloaks; some of the women wore pointed hats, some of the men wore old-fashioned top hats or bowlers.

Ethan, though fascinated by the old mural, could not see what this detour had to do with his supplies. He looked up at his father, who read the question in his eyes.

"Never fear, Ethan," Griffin said. "Let's see if I still remember the way in."

"The way into what?" Ethan asked, unable to contain his confusion.

Without answering, Griffin withdrew a wand from his pocket and looked intently at the mural. "Ah, right, that's it!" he said, half to himself, and then he pointed his wand at the second lamppost on the left side of the mural.

"Take my hand, Ethan, and come through with me," his father told him. "And don't worry about whether it makes sense."

Ethan had no idea exactly what his father had in mind, but he was beginning to drop his muggle-learned sense of what was possible or impossible. So he gripped his father's hand, perhaps more tightly then usual, and moved forward with him. Instead of feeling the solid wall that he had seen before him, Ethan felt as if he was walking into a cool sheet of water, only he didn't feel wet. He could still see the street from the mural in front of him, and it no longer seemed so faded and distant. In another moment, he felt as if he had emerged from underwater, and Ethan realized they had stepped right through the wall. Ethan looked around, blinking in amazement. He realized that they were standing in the old-fashioned street he had seen in the mural, with all of its half-timbered shops, curving away into the distance. The street was quite full of wizards and witches of all ages, most in robes and cloaks. The summer sun shone down here as it did on the muggle street adjacent, but there seemed to be no other connection. When Ethan turned around, instead of seeing the courtyard of the tavern, he saw the wall with a mural of the courtyard.

"Welcome to Old Solomon's Row, Ethan!" Griffin said, grinning at his son's delighted look. "Right here we should be able to find everything you'll need for school. But first, we'll have to stop at the bank and exchange money."

"Exchange money?" Ethan asked, still gawking right and left as they walked down the Row. "Don't they take dollars?"

"Nope, just galleons, sickles and knuts, Ethan," Griffin said. "The international wizarding currency. And of course, we kept an account with galleons here even while we've been in Madison. Luckily they'll exchange dollars for galleons at Gringotts. That's the wizarding bank; our branch is just up there." He pointed at the imposing three-story building adorned with large columns and statuary. On either side of the door stood the strangest people Ethan had ever seen, short, squat folk with long noses and ears and very long fingers.

"Who are they?" Ethan whispered, somewhat alarmed by the doorkeepers' grim appearance.

"Gringotts is operated by goblins, Ethan. The cleverest creatures for banking and anything that involves mathematics. But not the most friendly folk. They tend to be a bit suspicious."

They went inside, walking over the pink marble floors, past a line of goblin tellers behind brass wickets on the left. Griffin walked up to the first unoccupied teller, a goblin with a shock of white hair and a permanently quizzical expression on his face. The sign to the left of the wicket gave the goblin's name as Grimhawk. "How may I help you?" he asked.

"I've got some muggle money to exchange first," Griffin said. "Then I need to visit my vault; here is the key."

"Very well," Grimhawk replied, as Griffin handed over a stack of United States currency. The goblin counted it out, and then quoted the daily exchange rate. Next he withdrew from his cash drawer the corresponding amount of gold galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts for the exchange. Ethan looked on curiously as Grimhawk slid the stack of coins over to Griffin, who placed them in a large leather purse he'd had in his back pocket. Then Grimhawk motioned for another goblin to escort them to the Lloyd vault. This goblin, who seemed a bit younger than Grimhawk and even more impassive, was named Lightstride. He led them to a large cart, in which they rode deep beneath the banking lobby to the vaults. Ethan had never imagined such a place: dark, damp, lit by huge torches, quiet except for the hurtling goblin carts, which seemed to move at an extremely high speed along the tunnels. Finally, the cart came to a halt next to a vault marked "744." Lightstride stepped out of the cart, followed by Griffin and then Ethan. The goblin called for the key. Griffin handed it over. Lightstride then opened the door. Inside the dark vault, Ethan could see large piles of the same type of coins his father had gotten upstairs.

"Dad, is all this yours?" he asked, for it seemed to him a vast treasure.

"Ours, son, your mother and I have left it alone for fourteen years now," Griffin said quietly. "We used the earnings from our muggle jobs for our expenses. Gringott's pays very good interest, so it's grown quite a bit over the years. We only need a little bit now."

With that, he scooped up another pile of coins and put them in a white cloth sack. Then they returned to the cart and Lightstride brought them back to the lobby. Griffin thanked him and the goblin nodded curtly and said, "Thank you for doing business with Gringott's, sir."

Back out on the street, Griffin said, "Let's have another look at that list, Ethan. Hmmm, let's take care of the wand first. Schlauermeister's, right across the street, is the place for that."

Over the door of the shop across the street was a sign with two crossed wands over the name "Schlauermeister" in an old German script. Beneath this was the motto, "The Midwest's Finest Wands Since 1794."

As he opened the door, Ethan was nearly bowled over by a hooded figure hurrying out of the wand shop. The black-robed wizard's face was nearly impossible to make out beneath the hood. He muttered something and scurried down the street.

Ethan and Griffin looked at each other in surprise, but neither said anything. They went inside. They were the only customers in the store, which was dimly lit with lanterns and smelled musty. There was a wide counter in the back of the room with a bell to one side. Behind this were several open cupboards filled with rows of cardboard boxes with handwritten labels on the end.

"Go ahead, son," Griffin said quietly. "Walk right up and ring the bell. Herr Schlauermeister must be around the corner."

After a moment, a short, balding man in shirtsleeves and an old vest and cravat appeared through a doorway to the right of the counter.

He shot Ethan a quizzical look, and then exclaimed: "Well, well, Mr. Lloyd. I expected you'd be in soon. Can't go off to Kaaterskill ill-equipped, can you?"

Ethan said nothing, taken aback by the shop owner's obvious familiarity with him.

"Well, come on now," Herr Schlauermeister said with a bit of impatience. "Step up and let's get you measured. Then we'll see how long your wand will take to find you."

Herr Schlauermeister came around to the front side of the counter, tape measure in hand. "Right-handed, are you?" he asked. Ethan nodded.

"Hold your arm straight out for me, yes, that's good." He began measuring Ethan in every way imaginable, beginning with the distance from his fingertips to his shoulders.

"So, Mr. Lloyd, what do you know about magic wands?"

"Well, I've read a bit about them. I know they're usually made of hardwoods and they have some magical substance in their center," Ethan answered, recalling a chapter from Magical Beginnings. At this point, Herr Schlauermeister was measuring the circumference of Ethan's head at eye level, which was a bit distracting.

"Well, that's good as far it goes, I suppose," the shop owner said, and he glanced at Griffin as he added, "Certainly more than I expected given your upbringing. I suppose you know then that there is a wand meant just for one wizard. Our challenge is to find the one that is meant for you, Mr. Lloyd"

He then turned to the cupboard and after a moment pulled out about a dozen boxes from various shelves and piled them on the counter. He opened one box, took out a cloth bag, untied it and slid out a cylindrical piece of wood, which he held out to Ethan.

Ethan, still bemused, took the wand and looked it over.

"Beechwood, 10 3/4 inches, with a dragon heart string in the core, Mr. Lloyd. Not unlike your father's, I believe. Go ahead; see what it does for you."

Ethan gave the wand a tentative wave, only to have Herr Schlauermeister pull it away and stuff it back into its pouch.

"No matter, let's try something more like your mother's. Let's see, yes, willow with phoenix feather, just over 8 inches. Nice and flexible."

He passed this wand over to Ethan, but quickly took it back as Ethan raised it.

"No, evidently not. Well, well, you've got to be your own man, after all. Try this one, tulip poplar with unicorn hair."

This wand was evidently not the right one, either, and the pattern repeated itself through the entire pile of twelve wands. Schlauermeister brought out a wand, naming its components, handing it to Ethan and snatching it back after one wave, or sometimes less.

Back he went to the shelves for more. Finally, about half way through the third pile of wands, Schlauermeister muttered to himself, "Well, it's not what one would expect, but maybe it's worth a try. Yes, why not?"

Turning to Ethan, he said, "Be careful with this one...yew, phoenix feather core, eleven and a half inches...quite unusual, quite powerful. Give it a good wave, now."

As Ethan grasped the wand and raised it over his head, he felt a tingling in his right arm and a warmth that spread up from his fingers. When he waved the wand, blue and gold sparks showered from the tip, lighting the dim shop for a moment.

"Well done, Mr. Lloyd, well done!" exclaimed Herr Schlauermeister gleefully. Ethan turned around and saw his father, who had stayed in the shadows near the door, beaming proudly at him. Ethan responded with a happy smile.

"It is a bit strange, though," Ethan heard the shop owner say, and he turned back toward the counter.

"Pardon me," Ethan said, "but what is it that's strange?"

"You may not have read this, Mr. Lloyd, but wandmakers remember each wand they've ever made," Herr Schlauermeister said, looking intently at Ethan. "This wand was made with yew-wood imported from England many years ago. It is passing strange that you should be the first wizard in all those years who has been selected by a wand made of the wood of that tree. For from that same tree came the wood in the wand that chose the One Whom We Do Not Name. I doubted that any wand made of that wood would ever leave this store."

"You mean this is the same wood that's in Voldemort's wand?" Ethan asked soberly.

"Do not speak that name here, please, Mr. Lloyd!" Schlauermeister said with a scowl. "But yes, it is. I think we must expect you to be a wizard of some renown, Mr. Lloyd."

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Ethan and concluded, "Though it remains to be seen whether for good or for evil."

Ethan wasn't certain he liked Herr Schlauermeister, but he was sure he didn't want to spend any more time in his shop. He looked around at his father, whose proud smile had turned to a thoughtful frown. Griffin stepped forward at last and paid Schlauermeister with 8 gold galleons. Then Ethan tucked the wand box under his arm and turned to go.

The shop owner cleared his throat and called after them.

"There's one more thing you should know, Mr. Lloyd. That last customer before you came in...strange bird, but he wanted to buy that wand you have there for himself. It was all wrong for him and now I know why. Remember, there's one wand that's specially attuned to each wizard and this one is for you. He was quite insistent, but I refused to sell it to him. A powerful wand can be a menace in the wrong wizard's hands. A most curious coincidence...Good day, Mr. Lloyd, and good luck!"

After the door shut behind them, Griffin said under his breath, "Curious coincidence, indeed! I wonder..."

"Dad, do you think it wasn't a coincidence?" Ethan asked, suddenly worried.

"I don't know, son," Griffin said. "I don't have an answer. But adult wizards generally know better than to buy a wand that's not meant for them. You heard what Herr Schlauermeister said--this wand was destined for you and no one else. Anyway, let's get your books, then your cauldron and instruments and then your robes."

Off they went up the Row to a store called Quill and Scroll, where Ethan found the books on his list, as well as some writing supplies for practice. It was a fascinating place for Ethan, quite unlike any other book store he'd seen. Although all of the required books on his list were fairly normal, there were others in the store that sang, screamed or recited when opened, and others that could move on their own, scuttling about like crabs. At the checkout, Griffin picked up a newspaper called The Wizard's Daily Sentinel and paid for that and the books.

At Armstrong and Zimmer, Magical Instruments, Ethan bought his cauldron, scales, telescope and phials. He couldn't resist stopping into Adelma's Apothecary Arts, even though his letter said that the school would provide all potion-making supplies. Here there were barrels with slimy animal byproducts, herbs of all sorts in neat tins and packets, and things Ethan couldn't identify. He picked up a silver-grey cone-shaped item from a basket and asked his father what it was.

"Unicorn horn," Griffin answered nonchalantly, amused as Ethan's jaw dropped.

"But dad, unicorns are mythical creatures," Ethan said in disbelief, "Aren't they?"

"Well, all good muggles certainly know that," his father replied. "And we'd like to keep it that way. They're in enough demand as it is. Horns really aren't available too often, which explains the price. 35 galleons, aargh!"

They did find dragon-hide gloves at a good price, and crossed them off their list.

On they went towards the clothing store, which was back near the wall of the tavern. Before they got there, Griffin looked to the right and saw the sign for Bane and Sons, Familiar Creatures, and changed course suddenly.

"Can't go to Kaaterskill without your animal, Ethan," he said cheerily. When they came out twenty minutes later, Ethan was carrying a large cage with a large barn owl inside. They reached Wizard Wear, Gentleman's Furnishings, and stepped inside. Here Ethan was fitted for his school robes. There were several other youngsters being served and Ethan wondered whether any of them were going to Kaaterskill.

Along with the robes, he got his hat and cloak at Wizard Wear. At last, everything on the list was checked off.

"We should just have time for a bite at the Tavern before going back to the bus station," Griffin said as they hurried back to the wall. Burdened with their purchases, it was a bit harder going back through the wall, but soon enough there they were in the courtyard. Returning to the tavern, Griffin chose a table in the back and tucked Ethan's bags in the corner.

Herr Schumann came over to take their order. Father and son ordered sandwiches; Griffin had a lager beer and Ethan had an ice-cold pumpkin juice for the first time. After spending the afternoon walking around in the hot sun, this refreshed Ethan like no other drink he'd ever had. If this was what wizard food was like, he thought, he could get used to it.

"Just wait 'til you have some butterbeer," Griffin told him. "There's nothing better on a cold winter afternoon...especially when you have to study for three exams the next day!"

"Three exams in one day?" Ethan asked. He'd had so many new experiences to think about that he'd forgotten that Kaaterskill was a school and that he'd be studying subjects completely new to him. "Do you really think I can do this, Dad?"

"I know you can Ethan," his father said. "Just remember, work hard but leave some time out for fun and exploration."

Just then a tall wizard walked into the tavern from the direction of the Row. He was the most elegant-looking man Ethan had ever seen. His robe was purple with gold stars and moons; as he entered the room, he swept a beaver top hat from his head and placed it over a gold-tipped cane. His shirt had a ruffled neck and he wore a purple tie with a gold tie clip in the form of the letter "B." He strode over to the bar and ordered a drink.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Barghest, coming right up," Herr Schumann said smartly. The tall wizard sat down on a barstool and turned to survey the room. When his eye fell on Griffin and Ethan, he raised one eyebrow and smiled in a most unpleasant way. Once Schumann brought his drink, he stood and walked briskly over to the corner.

"Hello, Lloyd, old friend," he said smoothly. "So the rumors are true, then. All over the Row today people were twittering about your return. I never believed those who said you'd died at the hands of the Dark Lord's followers."

"I suppose I should thank you for your kind thoughts, Lothar," Griffin said icily. "But I note that you didn't say you were glad to see me."

"Oh, quite to the contrary, Griffin," the other man replied. "I am most glad to see you in the land of the living. It would have been a shame for the wizarding world to lose such a...knowledgeable wizard as yourself. And Diana, I trust she is well too?"

"Just fine, thank you," Griffin answered shortly.

"And this fine young man, I take it he's your son?"

Griffin nodded, and the other man extended his hand to Ethan.

"Lothar Barghest, I am honored indeed to meet the progeny of Griffin and Diana Lloyd."

Ethan shook hands and said, "I'm Ethan Lloyd, pleased to meet you, sir."

Barghest held Ethan's hand for a long moment. He fixed his grey eyes on Ethan, who felt as though this tall wizard was trying to look deep into his soul. Ethan held the gaze defiantly. After what seemed a long time, Barghest finally turned to Griffin.

"I must say, there is a definite family resemblance," he said at last and then added "The street talk was that you've raised this lad among muggles, Lloyd. I trust that's not true. I wouldn't expect such low behavior from one of your background."

Ethan was beginning to dislike this suave wizard intensely. Griffin flushed a bit as he answered.

"You and I may have very different ideas of what constitutes low behavior among wizards, Lothar," he said tensely. "How I raise my child is my business."

"Just so, my friend," Barghest murmured. "That's entirely your affair. But now I suppose you need to make up for lost time? Kaaterskill, is it, Ethan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good! Keeping up the family tradition, and all that," Barghest said. "It will be quite a challenge for you, but I'm sure your heritage will help you overcome any deficiencies in your upbringing."

Ethan realized that this comment was an insult disguised as a compliment.

"My parents have taught me how to do my best, and I think that will be good enough," he said boldly.

"Ah, I see you have the Lloyd spirit, too," Barghest said. "I do hope you manage to avoid the family tendency for courting danger."

Griffin looked at his watch and cleared his throat.

"Well, Lothar, it's been awfully nice renewing your acquaintance," he said, "but we really must be on our way. Come on, Ethan, let's get your things."

"I do hope we'll be seeing more of you, Griffin," Barghest said as he headed back to the bar. "And you, young man, remember, I am at your service should you ever need me. Making your way in the wizarding world can be a confusing business. Do be careful, both of you. Evil times seem to be upon us again. Good day!"

Griffin left several coins on the table. He and Ethan shouldered their burdens again and slipped out the front door of the tavern back onto Third Street. Ethan found the return to the muggle world jarring; he blinked in the sun as he looked around and found that everything looked completely normal, that is to say non-magical. As they walked away, he turned around to look at the tavern; it seemed to him that the sign in the window gradually faded away. Ethan looked again when they were a block down the street and he couldn't even make out the door to the Tavern der Zauberer.

A few passersby gave Griffin an odd look as he carried the cage with the barn owl. This was not an everyday sight in Milwaukee. Eventually, he decided it would be less distracting to cover the bird's cage with its drape.

"We've just about enough time to make the bus home, Ethan," Griffin said. "So let's walk briskly now. "

"Ok, dad," Ethan said. "But can I ask about Mr. Barghest?"

"Not now, Ethan," Griffin answered firmly. "Maybe when we're back on the bus. We haven't time now."

So they hurried back across the river and returned past the office towers to the bus depot. They reached it just as the bus from Madison pulled up, and they were the first to board for the return trip. This time, Griffin headed for the back of the bus. There were fewer passengers than on the morning trip and they had room to spread out a bit. That was good, since the owl cage took up a whole seat by itself.

When they were well on their way, Ethan decided it was safe to ask his father questions again.

"So, Dad, can you tell me what's up with Mr. Barghest?"

"He was in school with your mother and me," Griffin replied. "Let's just say he and I weren't close then and we took different paths after school."

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked.

"Well, as you know, I went to work hunting dark wizards. So did your mother. We were dedicated---some would say obsessed--with defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lothar, on the other hand...well, we were never able to prove it, but there was a strong suspicion that he was in league with You-Know-Who."

"And he's still free to walk around?" Ethan sounded incredulous.

"As I said, Ethan, there was no proof," Griffin continued. "And Lothar's from a very old and very wealthy family of wizards. He has a lot of influential friends. I'm sure he's spent the last fourteen years strengthening his friendships."

"I know it sounds weird, Dad, but it felt like he was trying to look right inside my mind when he was looking at me."

Griffin looked at him sharply.

"Are you sure, Ethan? The Barghests do have a family history of legilimency...that is the ability to read others' thoughts and memories. It's much more than what the muggles call "mind-reading." I wasn't aware that Lothar himself was a legilimens, but I've been out of touch for so long, one never knows."

"But if he were doing that, what could he learn from me? I don't know anything important," Ethan said. "Although to tell you the truth, I also felt that I was keeping him from doing legil...whatever it's called."

"Very interesting," Griffin said quietly. "I think that you may surprise a lot of people, including yourself, Ethan."

"Was it dangerous for you to be in Old Solomon's Row today, Dad?" Ethan asked.

"I don't know, Ethan. Not particularly, I don't think. I may be out of practice, but I can take care of myself," he replied. "It's you I worry about more than me. But you're safe with me...and there's no safer place than Kaaterskill."

The bus pulled into Lake Mills, the last stop before Madison. Two or three passengers departed, and then they headed off, the western sun shining off the windshield.

Ethan yawned; it had been a long day and his mind was filled with strange sights and strange thoughts. He had one more question for Griffin.

"Dad, Mr. Barghest said that all the people in Old Solomon's Row were talking about you? Why would they care if you suddenly reappeared?"

"Well, Lothar may have been exaggerating a bit," Griffin answered. "But then, your mother and I were involved in one of the stranger incidents in the war against You-Know-Who and were quite well known...briefly, thank goodness. And we've not been seen for fourteen years. I gather there was a lot of idle speculation about what had happened to us, and then we were forgotten. Which was exactly what we hoped for; being a daily topic in the Sentinel is no picnic. Like this, for example."

Griffin had opened his newspaper and pointed to an article with the headline, "DUMBLEDORE DROPPED BY WIZENGAMOT--Potter ties rumored cause. (from The Daily Prophet)." Two photographs accompanied the article, one of a group of wizards seated behind a long table, the other of a white-haired wizard with half-moon glasses and mischievous eyes. What fascinated Ethan was the fact that the people in the pictures were moving: the wizards around the table seemed to conferring urgently, while the old wizard beamed as he looked from side to side, then stifled a yawn.

"Here are our press people, working to discredit the greatest wizard in the world today. And apparently doing rather well at it, all because he believes this Potter boy, who says he's seen You-Know-Who. If they can do that to Dumbledore, they'd make mincemeat out of me."

"But now that you've been seen in public, will the newspaper people or people like Barghest, be able to find you?"

"Well, it will be easier for them to know our general whereabouts," Griffin said, "but as long we continue the routine we've been doing for the last 14 years, they won't be able to actually find us. There won't be any reporters at the door."

"That's good," remarked Ethan, but he was thinking to himself that their little trip to Milwaukee had turned out to be more complicated than any other errand he'd ever done.

When the bus pulled into Madison, Griffin and Ethan trudged home with their packages.

They crossed the Yahara and came to their little bungalow on Jenifer Street. Griffin opened the door and called to Diana, "Well, we're home." They told her about the day's adventures over dinner and all slept well that night.