Chapter Seven
The Dowsing Rod
The empty wagons rattled off around the circle into the setting sun. Professor Bancroft stood before them once again and said, "Here we are at last! In a few moments, you will enter the Assembly Hall to join your schoolmates. The first ceremony of your careers here is the traditional House Assignment. When you enter, please follow me down the Main Hall and into the Assembly Hall, where the returning students and the faculty await you. We will walk straight to the front of the hall, where each you will be assigned to one of the four houses: Bradbury, Harrison, Tenskwatawa, or Tituba. During your school years, your house will be your family, there to support your efforts, cheer your victories, and buoy you up after your failures. The houses engage in friendly competition each year for the Kaaterskill Trophy; each of you may win points for your house through your successes and you will lose points for any bad behavior."
Bancroft stopped, straightened his tie and his hat, and announced, "It is time to process. Follow me, please. "
He strode up to the door, opened it and led the first-years into the school. When Ethan marched in with the others, he saw that they had entered a broad hallway that led clear through the building to another door on the eastern side of the school. At the near, or west, end, their was a large reception desk to the left side; corridors ran off to right and left, but Bancroft led the group all the way down the hall, which was brightly lit by torches and adorned by portraits. Like those aboard the steamboat, the paintings featured subjects who moved; some smiled and waved at the newcomers as they passed, others yawned or fussed over their robes. Ethan was sure he saw one distinguished-looking wizard vanish from his own portrait, then appear in the next, whispering into the ear of a white-haired witch.
Bancroft turned left at the end of the hall; had he continued, he would have led the first-years right out onto the colonnaded portico. As it was, when Ethan reached the turn, he found that they had marched into a large open hall with a high ceiling. Once in this room, his curiousity briefly overcame the growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. For the Assembly Hall was the most magnificent and unusual room Ethan had ever seen. Four long tables ran nearly the full length of the room, with a wide central aisle, now filled by the first-years' procession. At the long tables sat the returning students in their robes and hats. The tables were set with glistening silver plates and goblets. Above these tables hovered countless candles, which supplemented the torch light along the walls. At the end of the room, raised on a stage, was a fifth table that faced the doorway. Behind this table sat the faculty, over a dozen witches and wizards, all very impressive in their dress robes. At the center of the table was an older man, tall and gaunt, wearing a deep blue robe, hood thrown back to reveal a stern face, with deep-set, dark eyes, a sharp, beak-like nose and wild, white hair. As he gazed over the top of his glasses, his bleak face was softened by a bemused smile.
Ethan realized that the blue-robed wizard must be Cyrus Flyte, the headmaster. Behind the faculty table on the wall hung a large tapestry, decorated with five interlocked circles. In the center was a magnificent eagle in flight above mountains. In the circles that surrounded the eagle were images of four other creatures: an otter, a lizard, a wolf, and a mountain lion.
Many of the new students were looking and pointing upwards. When Ethan looked up, he was awestruck, for the high ceiling appeared not to be a ceiling at all. What he saw above him seemed to be the late summer evening sky, the sunset still glowing in the west.
"It's enchanted," Edwin whispered from behind. "My cousin told me it always looks just like the sky outside."
"Pretty cool," Ethan replied, but before he could say more, the witch next to Flyte rapped on her glass with a spoon to call the school to attention. Instantly, all eyes turned to the tall, gaunt wizard in the blue robe.
"Welcome! Welcome all to another year at Kaaterskill," he intoned. "And most especially, welcome to our new students. Before we can begin the new year in earnest, the first-year students must receive their house assignments. Professor Bancroft?"
"Thank you, headmaster," Bancroft replied. He stepped up to the faculty table, where Flyte handed him a gnarled tree branch, about four feet long, forked at one end. As he came back down to the aisle, Ethan could see four pictures set up between the first-years and the faculty table. The pictures matched those on the tapestry: a mountain lion with the name "Bradbury" beneath it, a wolf over "Harrison," a lizard over the name "Tenskwatawa," and an otter labeled "Tituba." Bancroft held the branch over his head by the forked ends. And to Ethan's amazement, a knot near the top opened like a mouth, and the branch began to sing:
You may think that I look crooked,
but I'm here to set you straight.
The dowsing rod will tell you all
which House shall hold your fate.
For back two centuries and more,
in days of storied yore,
Bold Elwyn left old Angle-land
and came unto this shore.
Well-versed in rhabdomancy, he
did stoutly climb the peaks.
He walked the valleys green and fair,
Earth's wisdom for to seek.
Conversing much among the wise,
of Dutch and Haudenosaunee,
the secret spots in these high peaks
at length bold Elwyn came to see.
And here, when muggle wars did rage,
and these lands threw off English rule,
then Bradbury did seek a place
to plant the new land's magic school.
From a willow close beside a stream,
a gnarled, forked branch he chose,
and to the highest peaks did go,
the right spot for the school to dowse.
And on the cliff atop the clove,
the dowsing rod did vibrate so,
that Elwyn knew this was the spot
where Kaaterskill the school should go.
'Tis many generations since
the Kaaterskill Acad'my rose
high on the cliff atop the clove,
not far from where old Rip did doze.
And each of you must now take hold
of Elwyn's wise old dowser,
I'll look inside your head and heart,
and tell you where you'll prosper.
You might belong in Bradbury
if you are brave and daring.
The Founder's house is where
the bold at heart are ever faring.
You might belong in Harrison,
with the loyal and the clever.
They keep their wits about them,
and hold friendship firm forever.
You might belong in Prophet's house,
by name it's Tenskwatawa,
if you're far-sighted and ambitious
this house will surely claim you.
Or maybe yet in Tituba,
where dwell the caring and the wise.
Those sorcerers have searching minds,
but ne'er forsake their human ties.
So hold me tight with all your might,
the dowsing rod's your friend in need.
I'll guide you to your house and home,
and bid you do your best indeed.
As Bancroft lowered the rod, the hall burst into applause.
"So that's it," Edwin said, sounding relieved. "We grab the branch and it pulls you towards the house banner. My cousin made it sound like we had to perform some kind of spell. This won't be so bad."
Ethan nodded, but the butterflies in his stomach weren't going away. He was glad he wasn't being required to do magic, for he was sure that he'd either be unable to do anything or worse, that he'd accidentally make the ceiling fall on someone. But he wasn't very keen to stand up in front of the whole school while the dowsing rod decided his fate. And already he was having trouble remembering what the rod had said about the different houses. One was for the brave and daring, but was it Bradbury or Harrison? And which was caring and wise? He thought he might be far-sighted and loyal but he hadn't often been called overly clever or ambitious. He rather wished the song had mentioned a house for nervous daydreamers.
Bancroft now addressed the new students. "When I call your name, you will step forward and grasp the dowsing rod. When your house is chosen, you will go and join your housemates at their table."
He unrolled a scroll in his left hand. "Appelbaum, Jennifer," he said loudly.
Looking if possible paler than before, Jennifer stepped forward. Bancroft handed the dowsing rod to her and she took hold with both hands. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, the rod jumped slightly in her hands and Jennifer was drawn forward towards the house banners. Almost immediately the rod pulled her to the banner with the mountain lion and it shouted out "BRADBURY!"
There was much shouting and clapping from the table to Ethan's far right, and Jennifer rushed over to the Bradbury table, handing the rod off to Martin Aquino, whose name was called next. It only took a moment for the rod to bring Martin to the banner with the otter and call out "TITUBA!" Off Martin went to the table at the far left of the hall to the welcoming cheers of the Titubas.
"Baldacci, Nancy" went to Tituba as well, as did "Bleheris, Eileen."
Simon Brocklebank smirked as he took hold of the rod, which yanked him forward to the lizard and shouted "TENSKWATAWA" immediately. Brocklebank gave the Prophet's table their turn to cheer.
"Devlin, Linsey" gave Tituba yet another newcomer, then "Deming, Sara" became the first new Harrison.
And so Bancroft worked his way down the scroll. Sometimes the rod didn't decide right away, and sometimes it pulled the student back and forth in front of the banners before settling on a house.
"Findlay, Anne."
Anne rushed forward, took the dowsing rod and was pulled directly to the mountain lion. The rod shouted "BRADBURY!" nearly as quickly as it had announced Brocklebank's house. Her face nearly as red as her hair, Anne headed over to the Bradbury table where she was greeted with enthusiasm.
"Holsapple, Jeremy" stepped forward carefully so as not to trip again. But the rod took its time assigning him; nearly a minute passed before it called out "HARRISON!"
As the line in front of him grew shorter, Ethan had a sudden thought, one he knew was foolish but could not suppress. He imagined that the rod would pull him back and forth and back again, and finally pull him straight back out of the hall while announcing, "SORRY, THIS ONE'S A MISTAKE!"
Amanda Leskovits was assigned to Tenskwatawa. Bancroft called out, "Lloyd, Ethan" and Amanda handed Ethan the dowsing rod. Again it seemed to Ethan that the faculty, particularly Flyte, was looking especially intently at him and that the room had gone quiet as he stepped forward.
Holding the rod, Ethan felt a slight vibration running from the forks into his arms, a bit like the feeling he'd had when he'd found the right wand. He felt as if he was gliding very slowly towards the house banners rather than walking. And he heard the dowsing rod's voice in his ears, quiet and thoughtful.
"Hmmmm, a Lloyd is it? I haven't seen one of you for years...well, let's see what we can do with you. I see, I see...a fine mind, I think, and the vision to go with it. And a stubborn streak as well. And a fair bit of courage, though you might not admit it yourself. But where to put you? A stubborn visionary...Tenskwatawa would serve you well...then again..."
Ethan remembered his encounter with Brocklebank on the boat and thought to himself, "Not Tenskwatawa, please not that house."
"Not the Prophet's house?" the rod answered his thought. "Very well, if you're sure. Your courage...and your arrogance... have landed you in BRADBURY!"
Ethan gave a sigh of relief and passed the rod off to Edwin as he hurried to the Bradbury table.
From across the table, an older boy reached over to shake Ethan's hand.
"Welcome to Bradbury, Lloyd! I'm Kenny Sturtevant, one of your proctors. Good to have you aboard!"
"Thanks! It's good to be here," Ethan said sincerely. It felt good to be past the tension of the sorting ceremony and to be somewhere he was wanted.
Looking back to the front of the room, he saw with some disappointment that Edwin Malinowski had gone to Harrison.
Turning again to the Bradbury table, Ethan saw that four of the first-years had preceded him there. They soon introduced themselves: in addition to Anne Findlay, they were Jennifer Appelbaum, who'd had time to recover from having to lead off the ceremony; Erin Frazier, a jovial girl with shoulder-length brown hair and a twinkle in her green eyes; and Marcus Gibson, an African American boy with close-cropped hair and a stocky build.
They were soon joined by two more girls: Maddie Morrigan, who'd been in Ethan's wagon, and Melissa Murthin, a blonde girl from West Virginia who was already taller than most of the first-year boys.
"Double 'M's must be lucky for Bradbury," Kenny Sturtevant exclaimed as the two girls sat down next to him opposite Ethan and Anne.
A few minutes later, the only pair of twins among the new students was sorted. Katrina and Peter Powles were twins, but the dowsing rod sent Katrina to Tenskwatawa and her brother to Bradbury.
The line awaiting their turn with the dowsing rod was getting short indeed now.
"We should get a couple more," Kenny said hopefully, "With luck at least one more boy."
There was a brief wave of snickering, mostly from the muggle-borns, as "Simpson, Lisa" was sent to Harrison House. Anne looked puzzled and a bit indignant for Lisa.
"It's just because of a TV show," Ethan tried to explain.
"Oh, you mean television?" Anne asked eagerly. "Someday maybe I'll see that. Still, that's no reason to laugh at her."
Soon, Kenny got at least part of his wish, as a lanky boy named Kyle Stuart was sent to Bradbury. After shaking Kyle's hand, Ethan turned back to the line. He'd just noticed that Tim Van der Meulen was about to be sorted. And then the dowsing rod was in his hands. It started to pull him towards Harrison, but then veered to the left and announced "BRADBURY!"
Ethan cheered louder than anyone as the boy from the prairies approached the Bradbury table. Ethan stood up and high-fived Tim as he joined the table. He'd been too nervous to think about it earlier, but Ethan was quite glad that he and Tim would be in the same house.
And then, as Lewis Van Nort went to Tenskwatawa and Gwen Williams to Harrison, the assignment ceremony was over. Bancroft took the dowsing rod up to the faculty table with him and sat down to Flyte's right.
"Congratulations to all of the houses and their new members!" Flyte said. "I have a few words to say, but nothing that you ought to hear on an empty stomach. It's time to build up your strength for the new term. Let the feast begin!"
As Flyte raised his arms, the tables were suddenly laden with a tremendous quantity and variety of food and drink. Platters of roast turkey, pork and beef, meat pies, bowls of all kinds of vegetables, loaves of freshly baked breads; all had apparently materialized out of thin air.
The first-years gasped in surprise and delight at this; the older students added a hearty cheer and all set to eagerly. Ethan loaded his plate with a bit of everything within his reach.
The new Bradburys got to know each other in snatches of conversation between mouthfuls.
"Well, we are twins," sandy-haired Peter Powles was saying. "But, for the longest time, Mom and Dad thought only Katrina had any magic in her. But last year some garden gnomes had me surrounded in our yard. Up to their usual tricks. Next thing I knew, I'd blasted them over the fence, don't ask me how. I'm not sure Katrina will ever forgive me, though. I'm certain she really hoped I'd turn out to be a squib."
Tim was comparing muggle and wizard farming methods with Marcus Gibson.
"Know the right spells and you don't need all of those weed killers and fertilizers," Marcus said. "And it must be hard for you to control the nogtails if you can't even see them. But those big machines--what do you call them?"
"Combines," Tim told him.
"Well, they sound like they might be worth a look."
"But Marcus, what are nogtails?" Tim asked.
At that moment, there was a swishing noise, the torches in the hall fluttered, and Ethan was suddenly aware of a number of apparitions flitting about the room.
One of these, the shade of an elderly woman in antique clothing, alighted near the end of the Bradbury table.
"Hello, Goody Cloyse!" Kenny greeted the ghost. "Had a good summer, I hope!"
"As good as can be expected, Master Sturtevant," she said. "The annual meeting of the Society of Colonial Witches was a great success, if I do say so myself. And the mixer with the Ancient and Honorable Colonial Wizards was quite pleasant for a change."
Turning to survey the new students, Goody Cloyse continued, "Welcome to Bradbury, my dears. I trust you're up to the challenge of winning the Kaaterskill Trophy this year. I'm counting on you; old Onteora won't let me forget that Tenskwatawa's held it for five years running."
There was a moment's awkward silence. Some of the first-years were still too astonished by the appearance of the ghosts to speak. Ethan noticed that Tim and Jennifer were nearly as pale as Goody Cloyse. Then an assertive voice rang out.
"You can count on us, ma'am," Anne Findlay spoke up. "We'll get you the trophy this year! That's a promise!"
"That's the spirit!" the ghost replied. "Well, you must excuse me. Although I'd love to join you, I must catch up with Nattee Swarts."
And with that she floated over to the Harrison table and began conversing with the ghost of a young woman in the garb of a colonial servant.
"Didn't any of your brothers tell you that a promise to the house ghost is close to sacred, Anne?" Kenny Sturtevant asked seriously. "She'll hold all of us to that now. And the ghosts can be really unpleasant if promises aren't kept."
Both the new students and the older ones at the Bradbury table looked at each other nervously.
"Why'd she have to stick her neck out like that?" Tim whispered to Ethan. "Or I should say our necks."
Anne looked around and blushed momentarily. Then she said defiantly, "Well, don't you think we can do it? And if you think we can, don't you think we should?"
"You won't find anyone at the table who disagrees with your sentiment, Anne," Kenny continued. "It's just that...well, we usually let the seniors and proctors speak on behalf of the house. But what's done is done--don't let it worry you too much."
Appetites overcame anxiety and everyone turned back to their plates. When all were nearly full, the platters were cleared instantly and a bountiful supply of desserts appeared in their place: cakes, pies, custards, ice cream and cookies.
Not sure he could eat more but unable to resist the treats set before him, Ethan served himself a slice of apple pie with maple walnut ice cream.
Between bites, Ethan surveyed the faculty table and wondered which teachers he would have for his classes. Finally he asked Kenny Sturtevant to tell him their names and subjects.
"Well, of course there's Flyte," Kenny started. "He teaches rhabdomancy, it's his specialty, but that's an upper level elective. And Bancroft you've met, History of Magic and of course he's Master of Bradbury House. So you'll see a lot of him. Then, beginning over at the left, that's Ang Hsu, he teaches Defense against the Dark Arts."
Kenny was speaking of a very short wizard with a wizened face, deep in conversation with a tall slender witch with a crescent moon and starts on her lavender hat. He continued, "He's quite excellent but tough. Has a lot of field experience fighting dark wizards. They say he turned down job offers from Hogwarts more than once. And he's talking to Mickelson, she's the Astronomy professor. Then there's Bruno Galvez, he'll take your flying lessons and phys.ed."
Kenny gestured toward a square-shouldered wizard with a thick black beard who was in animated discussion with a green-robed wizard with thinning gray hair and a rugged face.
"That's Euell Crockett who's the Herbologist. Top flight, he's written a lot of standards in the field, but don't get on his bad side. He can be worse than your worst nightmare!"
Tim, Anne and Peter Powles were also listening to the older boy carefully now. Ethan wondered if he could stay on any teacher's good side for long.
"Now that next fellow's new," Kenny noted, pointing to an elegant-looking wizard with a long-waxed mustache and a goatee wearing a many-colored robe that shimmered in the flickering light. "Must be the new Magical Arts professor. And he's talking to Professor Tiverton, the head of Tenskwatawa House, who teaches Transfiguration. He's a good enough teacher, but a bit odd; supposedly went on a European tour a few years back and he's been just a bit off ever since."
"And Lydia O'Loughlin, the Assistant Head, is next to him. She teaches Charms and heads Harrison House," Kenny continued. "Flyte's right hand, she is. And it looks like it's time for the speech."
Professor O'Loughlin, a prim looking woman with reddish hair tied back in a bun, tapped her glass with a spoon.
"Your attention, please," she said in a voice with a slight brogue. Everyone who was still eating stopped and a moment later the desserts disappeared from the tables.
"Now I trust you are all feeling comfortably fed and watered," said Cyrus Flyte. "I should like to offer a few announcements to start the term. First, I ask you to welcome our new Resident Artist and Magical Arts instructor, Roscoe Skryme. Professor Skryme is a distinguished creator of magical landscapes and portraits. His most recent works include the official portrait of the Secretary of Magic, which is on view at the Department in Washington."
Students and faculty joined in applauding Skryme, who responded with a nod and a cheery wave.
"Now, there are some notices, mostly for the benefit of our new students, although I daresay some of you old hands would do well to listen again," Flyte continued. "The Haunted Swamp and Spook Woods are off limits to all students. Senor Galvez has also asked me to emphasize that no flying is allowed on the east side of the school. Quidditch practice will begin week after next; anyone interested in trying out for their house team should contact Senor Galvez. All students are reminded that school rules, as well as Department of Magic regulations, prohibit any harassment of local muggles; please keep that in mind during the Halloween holiday."
"Our Keeper of Buildings, Mr. Beadle," Flyte continued, pointing towards a gruff-looking and unkempt man standing at his far left, "has asked me to note that students are prohibited from doing magic in the corridors between classes. A complete list of forbidden activities is posted outside Mr. Beadle's office for your edification."
"Finally, I wish to make some remarks--which I promise I will keep brief--on the state of the wizarding world at the beginning of this school year," Flyte said. "For as you begin another year of studies in this special place, I must tell you that our world has become more dangerous than it has been these many years."
As he spoke these words, the headmaster's tone became unmistakably serious; the faculty picked up on this immediately and turned to Flyte gravely, with the exception of Skryme the artist, who was looking off towards the students. Many of the latter also concentrated on Flyte's tall, gaunt figure.
"I have learned from the most reliable source that Lord Voldemort returned to England at the beginning of the summer." Any students who had not been paying attention turned towards the front of the hall at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. Professor Skryme snapped out of his reverie. He also turned to look at the headmaster, but not before his eyes met Ethan's with a very curious look.
"I know that many of you are predisposed not to believe this news," Flyte continued. "If you or your parents follow the wizarding press then you may have formed the opinion that the return of Voldemort is merely the product of the imagination of an unstable young wizard."
At the second mention of Voldemort's name, the entire room seemed to wince. Flyte paid no attention and continued, "I believe that the press, regrettably, has been induced to spread this explanation by those who, for their own reasons, prefer that we continue to think that all is well."
"I must tell you that I believe that Lord Voldemort has indeed returned and that he has lost neither his malice nor his potency. My source is none other than Albus Dumbledore, my colleague and the great enemy of Voldemort. Further, as our good Professor Bellamy can confirm, the signs of this evil wizard's return have been quite clear to those who have been open to the Inner Eye over the past few years."
A somewhat wispy witch in a burgundy robe and hat to Flyte's right nodded briefly. The hall was nearly silent.
"Why do I think it important to share this news with you?" the headmaster commenced once more. "For over two centuries, this school has endeavoured not only to teach the skills of magic but also the ethical use of those skills. We must together, faculty and students, strive for these goals more than ever now. To pretend that evil does not exist merely makes it more difficult for good to prevail. Many of your parents and older siblings experienced the atrocities of Voldemort's first rise. Some of you have lost loved ones to his forces. I know that I do not need to convince you that he must not be allowed to triumph, least of all from neglect. I ask that the rest of you at least read the news with a skeptical eye. That is all I have to say."
The assembled school took a collective breath and then everyone began talking at once.
"Leave it to the old man to wake people up," Kenny said. "And to say what needs to be said."
But Peter Powles looked worried.
"My mom says Dumbledore must be getting senile to believe the stories Harry Potter's telling," he said. "She said she'd never send Katrina or me to a school with a head like that. I hope she doesn't hear about this."
"Don't tell him, then," Tim suggested. "My folks are muggles. They don't read wizard papers and I'm sure not going to tell them either that an evil wizard is on the rise or that our headmaster believes crackpot stories. If I did, I'd be back in the wheat fields before you could say "Saskatchewan.""
Maddie Morrigan said, "Well, my mom works at the Department of Magic and she says that it's probably true, but the higher-ups can't admit it; after all, they've spent the past fourteen years telling everyone that You-Know-Who was gone for good."
"But doesn't it seem just a bit odd that it's that Potter kid who says he saw You-Know-Who," asked Marcus Gibson. "I mean his parents were killed by You-Know-Who and he survived. I can see how he might be obsessed with You-Know-Who."
"Well, think about it," countered Anne Findlay. "If you were Lord Whosit, and you'd been defeated by a baby 14 years ago, who would you go after when you finally came back? Makes sense to me. What do you think, Ethan?"
As Ethan had listened to Flyte and the conversation that followed, he'd turned over in his mind what he'd learned from his parents and his own experiences in Old Solomon's Row and on MagiTrak. Hearing Anne address him, he stopped his musing and spoke slowly.
"Me? If I were Voldemort?"
Nearly everyone at the table flinched again.
"Don't say the name!" Peter blurted out. "it's bad enough that Flyte keeps saying it!"
Tim said quickly, "If you were You-Know-Who? I know what I'd do...duck!"
This seemed to relax everyone; anxiety was replaced by laughter.
Ethan said, "Well, my parents never thought You-Know-Who was gone for good. And if he's back, he'll probably want to pick up where he left off. Which means that anyone who stood up to him last time better pay attention."
"Too right," Kenny agreed and added grimly, "And the rest of us better be ready for a war."
Only a few minutes had passed since Flyte had finished talking, though it seemed much longer. He again arose, motioned for silence.
"Now, since we have obviously stimulated your minds as well as filled your stomachs, let us conclude with the school cheer and then send you all off to bed. Old-timers, you know this by heart; for our newcomers, follow along and join in!"
Flyte raised his wand above him and sent jets of purple smoke into the air. Near the ceiling they exploded like fireworks, then cascaded down and formed words. He began in his deep voice; the faculty and students joined in:
Kaaterskill, Kaaterskill
up on the hill,
Empty heads you need to fill,
with wisdom and knowledge
until we're ill.
We're ready to learn
if you're ready to teach,
all we ask is please don't preach.
Kaaterskill, Kaaty Skilly Kaaterskill
best of magic schools,
we'll mostly follow rules,
try not to act like fools,
and study 'til we drool.
We'll make you proud
we're in your crowd
and think until our minds implode.
When they finished, Flyte said with an indulgent smile, "Ah, it does my heart good to hear true school spirit! Now, I must remind you, classes begin bright and early in the morning. So, off to bed with you!"
The Bradbury first-years followed Kenny out of the Assembly Hall and up a large spiral staircase at the center of the building. Up and around they went, climbing slowly past the second floor to the third. There they filed down a long corridor, turned right at the end and right again onto another staircase. Exhausted from a long and unusual day, Ethan wanted nothing more than a comfortable bed.
"You'll want to pay attention to the upper stairs, they like to change," Kenny was saying. "This one is usually the most direct route to Bradbury Tower. The elevators are reserved for faculty and 7th year students; they've got age-sensitive charms on them, so don't push your luck."
As they reached the upper levels of the building, their route became more complicated. At one point, Kenny stopped and pressed the nose on a marble bust of a bald wizard. The adjacent wall slid open to reveal a side passage. At the end of the passage, they turned down a staircase. But as Ethan sensed his feet going down the stairs, his eyes told him that they were in fact going up.
Kenny called through the first-years' confused chatter, "This is the Disconcerting Stair. Once you reach the bottom, you'll find yourself at the top; going down from the dormitory, you'll appear to be going up. Don't worry, you'll get used to it in a day or two."
At the bottom of the stair, which was one floor up from the top, Ethan saw that they'd reached a small hall that seemed to be a dead end. Before them hung a portrait of a soldier dressed in the costume of the ancient Dutch settlers, with a blunderbuss over one shoulder.
The soldier in the painting surveyed the students, and then said brusquely, "Pahssvord?"
"Wolfsbane," Kenny replied. The soldier saluted as his portrait swung off the wall to reveal an arched doorway.
Kenny stepped in and they found themselves in a room with windows on three sides and a large fireplace on the other. Over the fireplace hung a large coat of arms in needlework, featuring the Bradbury mountain lion. Several library tables were scattered around the room, as were a number of armchairs and sofas that Ethan thought looked cushy enough to sleep in. Then again, he was beginning to think he could sleep standing up.
Opposite the door at the end of the room, two staircases led up to the dorm rooms. Kenny directed the boys up the staircase to the right and the girls up the one to the left.
Ethan, Tim, Peter, Marcus and Kyle trudged up the stairs to the boys' dorm. Three more short flights up they found the first-years' room. Thoroughly tired, Ethan wasn't even surprised to find the room furnished with five old-fashioned high-post beds complete with bed hangings, decorated with a colorful print of pine woods and mountain lions. Next to each bed was a stand with a candlestick, pitcher and bowl. They found their trunks at the foot of the beds and their owls' cages hung next to the windows.
"Hi, Bucky!" Ethan yawned as he opened the cage to give the bird a good night stroke and a bit of food.
Five extremely sleepy boys got into their pajamas, blew out their candles and climbed into bed in near silence.
"'Night all," Tim muttered from his bed opposite Ethan's, as he pulled the bed hangings shut. Four other vague "good nights" answered from behind the other four sets of bed curtains. Ethan fell into a sound sleep immediately.
Whether from overeating or simply over stimulation, Ethan passed into a very strange dream. He was sitting in a chair in the middle of an empty Assembly Hall. Professor Skryme, the artist, was standing at an easel a few feet away. His colorful robe shimmered as he pointed a wand at the canvas and swished it back and forth as if it was a paintbrush.
Skryme stopped to admire his work, gestured to Ethan and said, "Come, have a look." Ethan stood next to the artist and gasped in horror, for he saw his own image on the canvas, standing atop a rock in a forest, wrapped in the coils of an enormous snake.
Skryme gave a cold, cruel laugh. As Ethan turned towards him, the artist changed into the tall, elegant figure of Lothar Barghest in his purple robe.
"I see you've inherited the Lloyd knack for sticking your neck where it doesn't belong, boy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"
Barghest's body changed into Simon Brocklebank and the curly-haired boy laughed as he watched Ethan struggling with the serpent in the painting. "Go home to your muggle friends, Lloyd! You don't belong here; you're in way over your head!"
A jagged flash of lightning illuminated the ceiling of the hall and Brocklebank changed before his eyes into a tall, raven-haired wizard whose eyes glowed red in the now-dark hall.
"Hastings!" Ethan gasped as the man raised his snake-headed cane and pointed it at Ethan.
"Look out!" Ethan heard himself call out of the painting, but it was too late. Like his painted self, Ethan found himself wrapped in the constricting spirals of the snake's body. His last vision was of Hastings, eyes flashing, laughing at him, not the mocking schoolboy laugh of Brocklebank, but the icy cold laugh he'd heard from Skryme. In a flash of green light, Ethan woke, trembling and tangled in his sheets. He looked around wildly, disoriented in the unfamiliar bed, but he heard only gentle breathing and snoring from his roommates. With that, he rolled over and fell asleep again.