Chapter Six:

Up the River to Kaaterskill

Ethan and Tim hauled their trunks off the train, found two baggage carts and hurried along the platform, following signs that read "To Boats." They found themselves walking amongst several dozen other students, as the adult wizards and witches found their way out into the station. They were evidently entering a rarely used section of the terminal, for the shuffling of dozens of feet, the low rumbling of conversation and the occasional hooting of an owl echoed weirdly as they trudged along. At last, the boys came up a long ramp and found themselves in the midst of a small crowd waiting on a wide pier.

"Whoa, will you look at that?" exclaimed Tim, who was slightly ahead of Ethan. As Ethan emerged from the dim light of the terminal into the bright sunshine, he saw what had excited Tim's interest. A graceful steamboat, gleaming alabaster white with the letters "KAATERSKILL" emblazoned in purple letters on her side, rolled gently at the far end of the pier. A few wisps of steam trailed upwards from her two black funnels. Ethan could see several uniformed crew members bustling about the decks. Above the gangway was a sign that said "Kaaterskill Boat, 9:00 A.M." To his right, Ethan saw a rusting double-ended ferryboat sitting at a decrepit slip. But beyond was the most amazing skyline Ethan and Tim had ever seen.

"Form a single line, please!" said an officious little man in a neat, blue uniform. "9 o'clock boat to Platteclove Landing, wagon connection to Kaaterskill. Have your tickets ready, please!"

"Right, tickets, almost forgot," Tim muttered. "Where did I put them?"

Ethan had his ticket in his pocket. Tim eventually extracted his from somewhere inside his trunk. By that time, the line had formed and they were near the end of it.

"Sorry, we won't have much choice of seats now," said Tim.

"I wouldn't worry, there's sure to be plenty of room," a voice came from behind them. "Besides, on a day like this, who's going to want to sit down? The trip ought to be just grand!"

Ethan and Tim turned around to see a girl with sparkling eyes, freckles and bright-orange hair that hung down just over her shoulders.

"You must be first-years, too," she continued. "I'm Anne Findlay."

"I'm Tim...Tim van der Meulen, nice to meet you," and Ethan thought the other boy's face flushed a bit as he spoke.

"And I'm Ethan, Ethan Lloyd. Do you know a lot about the trip...and the school?"

"Oh, loads really. Of course my brothers and parents have told me quite a bit," Anne answered. "But then there are some things they didn't want to let on about: school secrets and such. They said I'll find out soon enough. Look, the line's finally moving."

Slowly, they moved forward. At the gangway, they were stopped by the little officer, who examined tickets, passenger and baggage carefully, then let them pass, first admonishing them, "Leave your baggage carts to the right before you board. On you go, then."

So everyone once again had to move their trunks, owls and other baggage. Ethan and Tim had had about enough of lugging their things by now, and looked for the closest possible place to put things down. They found a spot on the fore deck that was just outside the main cabin, but still sheltered. Then they wandered inside and looked about in amazement. Finely-carved wood paneling covered the walls and many matching wooden benches were interspersed with cushioned arm chairs. Ethan saw signs for the Dining Room ahead, a Cafeteria down one deck and the Upper Deck up a magnificent staircase.

"Look at that, Ethan!" Tim grabbed his arm and pointed at the wall to the left. "The people in those pictures are moving."

A large mural was painted along the interior wall of the cabin. Along the bottom, in flowing script, was the title "Progress of Magic in North America." The subject seemed to be chronological, with Native Americans gathered around a shaman at the left, then a group of European settlers who seemed to be leaving a Puritan settlement to head into the wilderness. Next appeared a scene involving a group of wizards in powdered wigs signing a long parchment. Under this scene were the words, "Establishment of the Continental Council of American Wizards, 1777." The next tableau to catch Ethan's eye was one in which a witch and a wizard were handing a scroll to several short, spindly-legged creatures with large ears and eyes that looked ready to pop out of their heads, dressed in rags, old towels and pillowcases. "Abolition of House Elf Slavery, 1850" read the accompanying label.

While Ethan was intrigued by the discovery that his ancestors had a history as long and diverse as the muggle history he'd learned in Madison, he was fascinated by the phenomena that Tim had noticed. The characters in each tableau were in fact moving, and as they drew nearer, the boys could hear them talking as well. They were standing just in front of a scene depicting 20th century advances in healing when a young wizard in the tableau turned from a patient who had enormous green wings and said, "Welcome aboard! I do hope you'll have a wonderful year!"

"Thanks," said Tim, slightly startled,"Good luck with your work."

"It's going well," the healer replied cheerily, "We should be able to make these dragon wings disappear in just a few days now." His patient snorted and tried to turn away.

A bit further on, a game was being played in a large stadium by wizards and witches on broomsticks. "That's Quidditch!" remarked Tim and he pointed to the label below: "Moose Jaw Meteors, 26-time Continental Quidditch League Champions."

"I just read about that team, they play about 50 miles from my home," he said with a touch of pride. "But none of my family or friends has ever heard of them. Apparently they have something to do with the number of UFO sightings back home, though."

"You're from Meteors country? They are sooo cool!"

It was Anne, the red-haired girl they'd met on the dock. "Let's go out on deck, we'll be getting underway any minute," she told them. Ethan wasn't entirely sure he wanted to spend the trip with Anne, she seemed to be a bit of a know-it-all. But Tim seemed to be willing, so Ethan shrugged and went along.

"Well, I've learned a bit about them, but really I know a lot more about football; the Saskatchewan Roughriders are my favorite team."

"Oh," Anne sounded a bit crestfallen. "What's football?"

"Ummm," Tim thought how he could explain, then decided to keep it simple. "It's just a very popular muggle sport. I wish I had a moving picture to show you."

"You mean you've never seen paintings with moving characters?" she sounded incredulous as they left the salon and moved out onto the open deck. "So, your parents must be muggles,eh? I've heard their pictures don't move at all. I could hardly believe it."

"Well, yeah, I always thought that was normal. These could take some getting used to," said Tim, as he leaned on the rail along the starboard side, facing the New York skyline. "I don't think the rest of my family would believe much of what I've seen in the last 3 days."

"First wizard in the family, eh? You'll get used to it quickly," said Anne with a tone of certainty. "Why some of the greatest wizards and witches were from muggle families. Even Cyrus Flyte, the headmaster, is only second-generation. There were a few people back home who grumbled about that, said only "pureblood" wizards should teach at Kaaterskill, but I don't really agree, do you? I mean, I think we ought to learn from whoever knows best, don't you, no matter how many centuries magic's been in their families. I know I can't wait to get going, because I'm determined to be a great witch. I mean, why bother with all of this knowledge if you're not going to do something worthwhile with it?"

Ethan nodded vaguely and looked out over the lower Hudson. The steamboat gave three smart blasts of its horn and began to pull away from the pier. Looking back, Ethan saw the low archways of the ferry terminal with huge letters on top spelling the name "LACKAWANNA." Slowly but smoothly the KAATERSKILL moved out into the center of the channel and turned upriver.

"That's some city over there," he said, pointing at Manhattan's skyscrapers. "Have you ever been there?"

"Can't say as I have," Anne admitted. "But I grew up in Maine, on the coast. Heard a lot about the big cities, but I've only been to Boston once. I know there are a lot of magic folk in New York; the Department of Magic has their Northeastern Regional office there. Maybe one day we can work there. Where are you from? Your parents muggles too, I suppose."

"Madison, Wisconsin, is my home," said Ethan, with a touch of pride. "Not so big as New York, but a pretty wonderful place, I think. Best frozen custard anywhere. And no, my parents aren't muggles. But they have been living in a muggle neighborhood for years."

"Are they doing Muggle Studies fieldwork?" Anne asked. "That must be fascinating."

"Well, not exactly fieldwork," Ethan stammered. "We just sort of live with muggles. I grew up with them; I didn't know anything about being a wizard until a couple of months ago."

"That's kind of odd, really," Anne said with a slight frown. "I mean, the International Council of Wizards decided way back in 1692 to segregate from muggles. You're the first wizard I've ever met who's lived with muggles. Of course, everyone's heard of Harry Potter, but he only lived with muggle relatives because he was an orphan."

Ethan didn't respond, instead looking out at the city passing by before him. He wasn't sure he really liked this girl. She seemed to know a lot, but she seemed to think she knew even more. There was a determination and assertiveness about her that he couldn't help but admire. But he felt he might already have given away too much information about his parents; he didn't want to explain that they'd been hiding from dark wizards since before he was born...or why.

A warm September breeze flowed over the waters as KAATERSKILL steamed northwards. Ethan noticed that the ship was steering a nearly straight course up the center of the Hudson. He also thought it was somewhat strange that the steamboat didn't change its course as it approached and passed other ships. In fact, several times he was sure they were going to plow right into a line of barges or a container ship. But each time, the other ship just seemed to jump out of their way at the last minute.

"They can't even see us, can they?" Tim asked no one in particular, just after KAATERSKILL pushed past a cabin cruiser. "I mean, if they could they'd be honking at us and getting ready for a collision."

"No, the ship's got an invisibility charm," said Anne knowingly. "If they could see us, the Department of Magic would have to spend weeks modifying memories after every trip. Not to mention some muggle might figure out where Kaaterskill Academy is. Though my parents told me it's unplottable, so they'd probably have to hitch a ride on the school wagons to find it. We have a little boat to get from our island to the mainland, and they can't see that, either."

"This is getting weirder and weirder," Tim said, shaking his head.

"Well, I s'pose that depends on your point of view," Anne replied. "To me, it's just the way the world works."

"Just the way the world works," Ethan repeated, as if hearing it twice would allow it to sink in better.

After a time the three headed inside to find the cafeteria. Although they'd had a large breakfast on the train, Ethan and Tim were famished again. The ship's fare, they discovered, equaled the Limited's in both quantity and variety. They each parted with a few sickles and enjoyed an excellent lunch. Then they headed back onto the deck, this time from the port side of the ship.

As they stood looking out over the river, another boy, a bit taller than Ethan with dark, curly but neatly trimmed hair stopped and stood next to them.

"Hello, there!" said the boy. "First-years, too?"

"Yes," Ethan replied. Tim and Anne nodded.

"I'm Simon Brocklebank," the curly-haired boy continued. "I can't wait for this boat ride to be over, can you? I've spent the whole summer getting ready. I do wish they'd let us bring racing brooms, I know I could have gotten Father to buy me one. Had to settle for the latest in dress robes and a fancy owl instead. So who are you all, then?"

"I'm Anne Findlay," the red-haired girl said. "I'm rather enjoying the trip so far."

"Tim Van der Meulen."

"Ethan Lloyd."

"Lloyd, really? Not one of the Lloyds?" Simon asked.

"I don't know," Ethan replied. "Which Lloyds do you have in mind?"

"Well, Father says the Lloyds were one of the best wizarding families in America," Simon answered. "I think some of them were cousins of ours a few generations back. As pureblood as they come."

"Did you say they were a good family?" Anne asked with a bit of an edge in her voice. "What happened? Aren't they any more?"

"Well, Father said one of them married a muggle somewhere along the line," Simon explained. "So they really can't be counted as pureblood anymore. And then of course there was one who got a whole squad of Aurors killed back in the war with You-Know-Who and then ran off to hide with muggles afterwards."

"You don't really believe that having muggle blood makes you less of a wizard, do you?" Anne countered. "I mean, I come from a family that's been "pure" for at least 200 years, but that doesn't mean I'm any better than someone who's the first wizard in their family."

"Like me, you mean?" Tim interjected. "Until three months ago, I had no idea there were witches and wizards in the world, let alone that I was one of them."

Simon finally seemed to realize that he'd misjudged his audience, but he stubbornly continued.

"Well, no offense," he said condescendingly. "But I don't think any muggle-born can possibly do as well at Kaaterskill as a pureblood wizard."

"We'll see about that," Tim said quietly and he looked away up river.

Ethan had felt a surge of anger as Simon Brocklebank had carelessly insulted his family and his own parents. He was glad that Anne and Tim had taken up the conversation, for he worried that he'd do some accidental magic in his wrath. But he'd mastered his initial feelings; now he channeled them into words, sharp as knives.

"Now that you've explained everything so well, Simon," he began. "Yes, I am one of those Lloyds. And you should get a clue before you start talking about what my parents did in the war. You don't know a thing about my family! You have no idea what it's like to fight against Voldemort like they did!"

Ethan's voice had gradually grown louder as he spoke. Both Anne and Simon grimaced at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, and several other students in the area turned towards them with surprised looks.

Two boys, who looked about a foot taller than Brocklebank, both heavyset, ambled over.

"What's going on, Simon?" one of the boys asked.

"Nothing, Woody. Hi, Lew," Simon answered, then he shrugged mockingly at Ethan. "Sorry if I hurt your feelings, Lloyd. You'll need thicker skin if you're going to make it through Kaaterskill, friend. Come on guys, let's leave the muggle lovers alone before they start crying."

And with that, Simon swept away, Woody and Lew following him like bodyguards.

Ethan turned back to Tim and Anne, still trembling.

Tim took a deep breath, then said, "He's right about one thing, I guess. You and I will both need thick skins to get through this."

"Oh, don't pay too much attention to him," Anne told them. "There've always been wizards who feel only purebloods deserve to be educated in magic. His type is probably just afraid of competition. Did your parents really fight You-Know-Who?"

"Well, not him personally," Ethan explained. "But against his followers...Death Eaters, is that what they're called? In Newfoundland, before I was born."

"You mean Table Mountain?" Anne said and her jaw dropped. "Your parents really are those Lloyds, then!"

"Yeah, but I've got to ask you something," Ethan said. "It seems that everywhere I go in this world, people know who my parents are and they have some notion of what they did, even if they're wrong half the time. To me, they're just my parents. How famous are they?"

"Well, I can't tell you as well as my parents could," Anne said. "But Table Mountain was the most famous fight against You-Know-Who's people on this side of the ocean, I think. And there are lots of stories about what happened to your parents, since they were the only survivors and they disappeared soon afterwards."

"What kind of stories?"

"Well, some said that Death Eaters kidnapped or killed them in revenge; some thought they were really spies for You-Know-Who and that's why they vanished. And some said they'd managed to get away with something valuable that belonged to You-Know-Who and had to drop out of sight. But you know the truth, right?"

"I'm not sure," Ethan answered. "I mean I think I know which stories aren't true, but I don't know the whole truth. It was before I was born, after all."

"Well, if you do know, you probably shouldn't be discussing it with the likes of us," Tim said. "I don't pretend to understand all I've heard, but they must have been in great danger. I wonder whether what happened on the train had anything to do with that."

They briefly explained about the mysterious break-in on the Hoboken Limited.

"Well, I'd say this is bound to be a real interesting year," Anne said. "You may need more than a thick skin, Ethan. But I think you should get used to the attention. You may not have a funny scar on your forehead, but you're likely to be a bit of a celebrity at school."

"Great, just what I need," Ethan groaned. "I don't even know what I'm doing to begin with."

"Don't fuss yourself about it, Ethan," Tim said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You've obviously got it in your blood. And you're bound to look good compared to me!"

"Don't count on it," Ethan said, feeling more uncertain about his prospects than he had all summer.

They were interrupted by an announcement that rang across the ship, directing all students to don their robes in preparation for their arrival.

"Oh boy, here we go!" Tim muttered nervously.

"Don't worry, you'll both be fine!" Anne said as she hurried off to find her trunk. "See you at school!"

Ethan and Tim retrieved their robes and hats from the trunks and found the men's dressing room. When they emerged, both somewhat self-conscious in their black robes and pointed hats, they could see a long dock extending from the west shore of the river, still quite distant. Well beyond to the west, a wall of mountains rose up sharply from the river valley.

"I guess that's where we're headed," Tim said as a line of barges jumped out of their way to port.

As KAATERSKILL approached the landing, a voice boomed across the ship: "In a few moments we will arrive at Platteclove Landing. Carriages for returning students will be located to the left; wagons for the first-year students will be to the right. All trunks and other baggage will be transported separately via freight wagons. First-year students will please gather at the forward end of the main deck immediately."

Ethan and Tim joined the surging crowd headed down to the main deck. They quickly found their way to the bow where a few dozen first-year students were gathering. Ethan wondered whether he looked as pale and nervous as most of those he saw around him. Even Anne had gone silent for what seemed like the first time since they'd met at Hoboken.

Further down the deck, the upper-class students lined up to disembark appeared to Ethan much older, confident and mature than the frightened-looking new students. Perhaps, he thought to himself, we're all wondering what we've gotten ourselves into, now that we're here. Not for the last time, he wondered how his friends in Madison were doing; today was their first day of middle school. Looking about him again, he saw that the general mood of panic seemed to be affecting all of his new classmates, regardless of their parentage or knowledge of the magical world.

As the older students made their way off the ship and over to the carriages, a young-looking wizard in a burgundy robe and cloak, matching boots and a flat-topped hat made his way aboard and sauntered towards the first-years. Curly brown hair peeked out from beneath his hat and his brown eyes sparkled over an aquiline nose. Smiling broadly, he beamed at the knot of new students and spoke.

"Welcome to Kaaterskill! I am Herodotus Bancroft, and it is my privilege as Director of Admissions to escort you up the mountain to the school on this fine afternoon. In that capacity, though I admit we say this to every class, I must tell you that the faculty and board are most pleased with the incoming class and we expect great things from you!"

"As I will also be your Professor of the History of Magic, you will excuse me if I make some historical remarks as well. Each of you is part of the 219th class to begin their education at Kaaterskill. The first class came here while this land was caught up in the muggle Revolution that created the United States. Through many tumults--the emancipation of American house elfs, the wars between European and Native American muggles, two muggle world wars, and the battles against the dark wizards Chiromatsu, Grindelwald and--hem--You-Know-Who, Kaaterskill has always sought to produce wizards and witches of ability and character. What you do with your futures will reflect how well we have done our job, but it will also derive from your own choices. You will choose what to do with the knowledge we impart in this school. I trust that you will make us proud to count you as graduates, not only because of the knowledge you've gained, but because of the choices you make as young witches and wizards."

Most of the first-years were watching Bancroft with great interest, though a few began looking idly about or yawning as he made these last comments.

"Now then, we will began our journey up to school and you will begin your journey of magical education," he continued. He clapped his hands once, and those whose minds had wandered turned back to Bancroft. "Please pay attention while I call the roll. When I call your name, please line up at the gangway. Then you will board the wagons in groups of eight. I ask that you disembark at Kaaterskill in the same order and enter the school building single file for the Welcoming Ceremony."

Bancroft cleared his throat, then called out: "Appelbaum, Jennifer." A tall girl with curly black hair and pale skin timidly stepped forward and started the line.

"Aquino, Martin." A chunky boy with a dark complexion and deep black eyes strode forward and stood behind Jennifer. There followed "Baldacci, Nancy," "Bleheris, Eileen," and "Brocklebank, Simon" and so the line lengthened and the group near the bow shrank. After "Enemoto, Karen," Bancroft called "Findlay, Anne," and the redheaded girl sprang to her place in line. "Holsapple, Jeremy," a gangling boy with long arms and curly brown hair, nearly tripped over his shoelaces, but otherwise all made it to the line without incident. When he heard "Leskovits, Amanda," Ethan knew his turn was near and indeed the professor intoned "Lloyd, Ethan" next. As he stepped forward, Ethan thought that Bancroft gave him a searching look, but he told himself he was imagining things. But he was certain that several of the other students eyed him curiously as he joined the end of the line. As "Malinowski, Edwin," a small boy with angular features not unlike Ethan's, but with crewcut black hair, moved up behind him, Ethan relaxed a bit. He paid little attention to the roll call until he heard Bancroft call "Van der Meulen, Timothy" and saw his new friend step forward. Their eyes met and Ethan gave Tim a wink. Only two more students, "Van Nort, Lewis" and "Williams, Gwen" were called and the line was complete.

At a sign from Professor Bancroft, Jennifer Appelbaum led the first-years off the steamboat and down to the waiting wagons. These were brightly painted with large iron-tired wooden wheels and elaborate steps at each end. Two facing benches ran the length of each wagon. Ethan watched as the first eight students clambered up into the lead wagon. The second wagon was filled and then gangly Jeremy Holsapple began the third wagon. Three students followed him and then Ethan stepped up and sat facing them. As he sat down, he wondered when the horses would be brought up. Before he'd finished that thought, he was startled to see the first wagon, with Bancroft seated in front, rumble off on its own. Soon the last two wagons filled up and all were underway.

"I've heard of headless horsemen, but not horseless wagons," said a serious-looking girl with straight shoulder-length hair and glasses across from Ethan, to everyone and no one in particular. "Oh, and I'm Cindy Hotaling."

Ethan was relieved to find he was not the only one to find the wagons' locomotion--or lack thereof-- curious. Cindy's remarks had also broken the students' awkward silence and introductions were made all around. Ethan found his fellow travelers a mixed lot: 3 girls and 5 boys, 6 with two magical parents, 2 muggle-born. One of the latter, Cindy Hotaling was from a Hudson River community just an hour away from school. Malik Ibrahim, the other muggle-born student, was a 2nd generation Egyptian-American from California. The six students born to magical parents were from all over, as well. Jeremy Holsapple lived near Philadelphia, Amanda Leskovits was from Indiana, Ed Malinowski from western Massachusetts, Trevor Mercure from eastern Tennessee, Maddie Morrigan (whose real first name was Madison) from Washington, DC, and Ethan from Wisconsin.

"Are you really one of those Lloyds?" Jeremy asked, sounding impressed. "Someone on the boat said your parents were the ones who defeated an army of Death Eaters back in the war against You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, they did that," Ethan said self-consciously. "I mean I don't know if it was an army of Death Eaters, but they did fight them."

Cindy and Malik seemed unaffected by this, but the others seemed slightly awed by Ethan, who in turn felt awkward. The group fell silent for a time. As the wagons rolled along, Ethan saw hillsides forming a narrow, twisting valley enveloped in green foliage. Every now and again, he glimpsed the wagon track further up the clove, as it appeared briefly between the trees. Towering pines mixed with slender birches and sturdy maples. Although it was still late summer, some leaves were beginning to turn from green to bright oranges, reds and yellows. A small stream picked its way amongst the rocks at the center of the vale, heading down towards the great river. Still climbing, the wagons came to a sunny clearing and Ethan could see the passengers in the lead wagon pointing upwards. He followed their extended arms and saw a white structure glistening in the sun at the edge of a cliff high above them, his first view of Kaaterskill Academy of Magic. Ethan could make out a long, colonnaded portico and two towers but the school was still too far away to see clearly. Then the road took a turn back into the mixed pine and hardwood forest and Kaaterskill was again out of sight.

The road wound gradually up the mountainside now and each time it bent from a southward course back to the north, the school hove into sight. Now Ethan could see that the building was practically on the edge of a high, overhanging ledge. He turned the other way and gasped as he saw how far up the clove they had come. Laid out below them was a vast extent of country, farmland and towns, bisected by the now-distant Hudson, all checkered with sunlight and shadows.

The wagons rolled past the remains of an old foundation, little more than piles of broken stone. Edwin, the small boy with the crew cut, nudged Ethan and pointed.

"They say that was old Rip Van Winkle's house, you know," he said gravely. "My cousin--he finished four years ago--told me all about it. The muggles all think that was just a story! But really, he drank too much of a really strong sleeping draught."

"Really," Ethan said idly. "I suppose we'll see the Headless Horseman around the bend?"

Edwin blanched and replied, "I hope not! That's supposed to be really bad luck."

They saw no horsemen, headless or otherwise, on the journey upward. Time passed slowly, and the students in Ethan's wagon resumed their chatting. Finally, the wagons rolled up onto level ground. The trees gave way to a meadow of grasses and wildflowers. Straight ahead, the late afternoon sun reflected off a sheet of glassy water. In the middle of the lake rose one of the strangest structures Ethan had seen.

"Is that a lighthouse?" he asked.

"Or a castle?" Edwin suggested.

In truth the building in the lake looked like a miniature castle, with a foundation of heavy stone and a single straight tower that rose high over the lake, topped with a red tile roof.

Before anyone else could comment on the tower, the wagons made a final turn to the left and Kaaterskill Academy stood before them. The wagons pulled up onto a circular drive on the side of the building opposite the cliff. A large wooden double door was at the center of the building; over the door was a motto: "Numquam Fidete Equite Capite Carens."

The new students clambered down from the wagons and lined up single file before the door in alphabetical order. With the other new students, Ethan looked up with a mixture of curiousity and awe at the rambling white building with two large asymmetrical wings to right and left, a large three-story center section, four mansard-roofed towers rising from apparently random locations and a low, windowed dome at about the center of the building.

"Well, this is it," he thought to himself. "Time to find out what I've gotten myself into."