Chapter Thirteen

A Setback and a Reprieve

Tim's foreboding about the reaction to his friends' misadventure turned out to be justified. At breakfast the next morning, Kenny Sturtevant strode up to the first-years, looking grim. Ethan braced himself for the worst.

"Findlay, Lloyd," he said briskly. "I'd like a word with you in private. Come along."

As Ethan rose to follow Kenny and Anne out of the Assembly Hall, he looked back at Tim, who could only return a helpless look of commiseration. The others looked mystified.

The proctor led them silently down the corridors to a nearby classroom, empty as it was Sunday. Kenny beckoned them to sit at a desk in the front row; he remained standing.

"I don't know what you two thought you were up to yesterday," he said gravely. "But I can tell you that you didn't make any friends. When Danny Dewin came down this morning, he saw the house points and thought there'd been some mistake. The win yesterday should have put us just five points behind Tenskwatawa, twenty ahead of Tituba. But Danny saw that Bradbury was 65 points behind the Prophets, dead last. Even Harrison's ten points ahead of us."

Ethan and Anne shared a downcast look.

"So Danny asked his sister about it, she's a senior proctor," Kenny continued. "And she asked Bancroft. And he told her that Ethan had been docked 35 points yesterday and Anne 25 points. Of course, she wanted to know why."

Kenny paused for a moment as if waiting for a confession. As the two first-years said nothing, he spoke again.

"Seems Tiverton caught Ethan about to curse a student and that was ten points."

"But, Kenny, that was completely unfair!" Anne burst out. "Ethan had drawn his wand because Brocklebank was about to hex Peter Powles. Simon just put his wand away faster. There were loads of witnesses. Besides, Tiverton always favors his house anyway; he probably wouldn't have docked Brocklebank."

"I'm sure you're right, Anne," Kenny conceded. "And that wouldn't matter much, if it wasn't for the fact that the two of you were caught wandering around the castle destroying things after our match."

"We didn't destroy anything!" Ethan protested.

"I'm told a statue near the entrance to Tenskwatawa was practically vaporized," Kenny said, arching an eyebrow.

"We didn't do that!" Ethan argued. "Someone tried to kill us with that thing!"

"Think about it, Kenny!" Anne insisted. "We don't know any spells that could do that to a huge statue!"

"Well, Beadle and Tiverton found no evidence that anyone one else was in the vicinity," Kenny replied.

"Well, maybe that's because one of them did it!" Ethan suggested.

Kenny raised his other eyebrow. "Well, I did find it odd that Beadle hadn't given you any detention for it. Not like him at all. Really though, Ethan, you may think Tiverton is up to something, but you can't prove it and nobody else would believe you. Which means the only thing that will matter to anyone is that you two lost us 60 house points. Not a very good way to call attention to yourselves."

Ethan felt worse, if it was possible, than he had when Beadle apprehended them the previous afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Kenny," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry, too," added Anne.

"Well, I don't blame you for being suspicious about Tiverton," Kenny said. "The only thing I have to say is that you'll have to be a lot more careful in future. If Tiverton really did try to kill you, he may try again."

"Kenny?" Anne asked tentatively.

"What is it?"

"When that statue was about to drop on top of us, someone spoke a spell that broke it to smithereens. Do you think it was Beadle?"

"I'd really doubt that, Anne," Kenny answered with a small smile. "Don't you know? Beadle's not really a proper wizard... got himself expelled way back before Flyte was head, after just a couple of years. He never learned the more advanced magic. Later, someone felt sorry for him and hired him back as Keeper and he's been taking it out on students ever since. So I doubt he could have done that kind of magic."

With that, Kenny ended the meeting. "All I can tell you is that you'd better keep your heads down the next few weeks. Nobody's going to be very happy with you."

Kenny was right. Nearly all the Bradburys eyed Ethan and Anne suspiciously and refused to associate with them. But Tim stuck by them. Since Tim was now one of the most popular Bradburys of any class, that carried weight. And since most all of the first-years had witnessed the wand incident with Brocklebank, they found it reasonable to believe that Tiverton was just looking for excuses to further punish Bradbury.

When word of the incident spread beyond Bradbury House, the reaction was less restrained. Of course, the Tenskwatawas were outraged that one of their house statues had been destroyed. They believed that Ethan had been looking for revenge for his earlier run-in with Simon Brocklebank.

"You messed with the wrong house, Lloyd," Brocklebank jeered in Potions on Monday morning. "We're going to make you wish you'd never set foot in this school!"

"He's just bluffing, Ethan," Tim whispered as Ethan flushed with anger and frustration. "The teachers won't want this to get out of hand. If anything happens to you, Brocklebank and his lot will be in even worse trouble than you."

"Will they?" Ethan wondered aloud.

The Harrisons and Titubas, if not completely hostile, looked upon Ethan and the Bradburys in general with suspicion. Ethan's latest predicament caused many to recall the Daily Sentinel articles of the previous month.

Rumors spread that Ethan had planned to stage attacks on statues outside the Harrison and Tituba common-rooms too. Ethan himself knew this idea was not only false, but ridiculous, for he didn't even know where the other two houses' quarters were located. Unfortunately, many Harrison and Tituba students thought it quite likely.

Ethan was certain that Brocklebank or Katrina Powles had started that rumor. Another tale making the rounds had it that Ethan, his impressionable mind influenced by unstable parents, now believed that Voldemort himself had possessed the house statues of Kaaterskill.

For a week or more, Ethan had to be wary of Tenskwatawas waiting to ambush him. Several times he just avoided being hexed in the halls. Tim, Marcus and Kyle undertook to escort him between classes.

As time passed, however, everyone was forced to suspend hostilities so that they could finish their heavy load of school work. As their days filled with papers to write, potions to brew and tests to cram for, nobody had the energy to devote to inter-house squabbling.

Just when Ethan and his friends thought that they could do no more school work, the approach of Christmas vacation provided a glimmer of hope. The holidays would start on the Winter Solstice and end just after New Year's Day. Most of the student body would be heading down river to Hoboken and would then head to their own homes. Tim Van der Meulen and a few others had made arrangements to stay at Kaaterskill because they lived so far away from school. He would be the only Bradbury staying on, as far as Ethan knew.

One morning, a week or so before the solstice, the first-years were eating breakfast and speculating on what they might do over the holidays and what gifts they hoped for.

Marcus exclaimed, after consuming two Belgian waffles, "I'm hoping for my own Quicksilver XL, but I'm not sure Mom and Dad will go for it. And a Wizarding Wireless set for my room, so I don't have to listen to the Singing Sorceress all the time. And I want enough Jelly Slugs to get through spring term!"

"I'd settle for answers to all the spring term tests," Ethan offered as tried to eat breakfast and review his Potions and Herbology notes at the same time.

"I just can't wait to see the ocean again," said Anne fervently.

Tim sat quietly, finishing his cereal and tea. He'd explained that his parents were sending his presents to school, but Ethan could tell he was homesick already.

Just then, the owls flew in with the morning mail. One swooped over the Bradbury table and landed in front of Ethan, who quickly detached a letter. As the owl soared away, Ethan recognized his father's script on the address.

"Maybe they're sending along my tickets or something," he said to no one in particular.

"Oh, no, you'll get those from Bancroft," Anne said without looking up from her oatmeal.

Ethan opened the letter and began reading his father's words.

Dear Ethan,

By now you must be almost done with the end of term exams. Soon you'll be able to relax a bit.

Your mother and I have been talking over the holiday plans. With all that's going on in the world, we've decided--reluctantly--that it would be safer for you to stay at Kaaterskill during the break. We know you'll be disappointed, but you must trust our judgment.

We've arranged with Uncle Bertrand to bring your presents to school on Christmas Eve. I do hope that some of your friends may also be staying on.

Please know that we will miss you and be thinking of you. We wouldn't do this without good reason, so please realize that this is for the best.

Love,

Dad

Ethan's countenance fell as he read the letter. When he was done he stared blankly at the parchment. Finally, Marcus interrupted him.

"What's wrong, Ethan? You look like you just ate a dozen tripe flavor beans!"

"They want me to stay here," Ethan answered dully. "They're making me stay at school over the holidays."

Anne and Marcus looked over the letter.

"Well, they say they've got a good reason," said Anne. "For some reason, they must think it's not safe for you to travel."

"Not safe? Why's it safe for everybody else and not for me?" Ethan asked bitterly. "And why can't they tell me?"

The others shook their heads. Only Tim looked cheerful. In fact, he looked as if a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

"It won't be so bad!" he said brightly. "It's not as if you're the only one stuck here for Christmas!"

Try as he might, Ethan found he could not be angry with his friend. The look of relief on Tim's face drove away Ethan's disquiet, at least for that moment.

Next day, Ethan sent a post back to his parents. Although he wasn't looking forward to Christmas at school, even with Tim around, Ethan had decided not to plead with his parents. He was quite sure they wouldn't have decided to have him stay unless there was good reason. But he wondered what that reason might be and the question troubled him. He had tried to forget the incident aboard the Hoboken Limited, but this letter had brought that back.

He really hadn't much time to think about it, though, as the remaining days until the Solstice was filled with end-of-term exams. The tests varied as widely as the classes themselves, so there was no routine to the week.

Hsu had the students meditate for the first half, then write an essay on mental preparation for defending against dark magic.

Crockett had had his students keep journals about their plants during the term. As a final, each student made an oral presentation on the qualities and progress of their plants based on the journals. Ethan had nursed his Mimulus Cupriphilus along week by week and it now looked quite healthy.

After Ethan finished his report, Crockett twisted his craggy face, as if straining to find something to criticize. Finally he said, "You're improving, Lloyd. But you've got a long way to go before you have enough Mimulus there to help you face your worst fears!"

Ethan had feared the Herbology exam above all the others, so he considered Crockett's grudging praise a victory. Some students didn't fare as well. Edwin's Grasping Galardia had literally become a skeleton of its former self and Crockett was merciless in his assessment.

Tiverton set them five nails to transform into five different chess pieces. Again, Ethan did better than he'd expected. His bishop and knight were flawless, and the king was quite recognizable. His queen held something like a flounder in her hand instead of a sword. And his castle had a two-car garage attached. But he passed and on balance felt quite good about the result.

On the other hand, Tim succeeded on all the transfigurations except the knight, who wore a floppy hat and had a mule for a steed.

As art was an enrichment class, there was no end-of-term test. After the last class, Professor Skryme drew Ethan aside.

"You know, Mr. Lloyd," he said. "I hear that you'll be with us over the holidays. I expect that you'll be trying to forget schoolwork, but I'd encourage you to spend some time in the studio. Your portrait technique is already quite good, well beyond anyone your age that I've met--I know you won't let that go to your head! This would be a great chance to hone that talent a bit more without a lot of distraction."

"Sure, sir," Ethan replied. "I think I'd like that." He greatly enjoyed painting and felt that this might help keep him from dwelling on being stranded at the nearly-deserted school for the holidays.

"Excellent!" Skryme exclaimed, beaming at Ethan. "I'll look for you the day before Christmas Eve, then. And maybe after the holiday, too."

Ethan was pleased that Skryme had taken an interest in him. Ever since he'd overheard Tiverton threatening the art teacher, Ethan had been worried about him. Skryme had also seemed quite unnerved by the Sasquatch. Ethan also thought of the painter as something of a kindred spirit, just as new to Kaaterskill as Ethan himself. And he guessed that Tiverton wouldn't be likely to harass Skryme further in the presence of a student.

Later, Ethan asked Tim whether he'd come to the studio over break, too. But his friend seemed uninterested.

"You know how bad I am at art," he protested. "I'd better spend my time practicing quidditch."

"Well, you could just come and sit for me," Ethan offered. "If you do, I'll fly with you later."

"OK, that's a deal," Tim agreed.

As he finished the last few exams, Ethan could sense his schoolmates growing anticipation of their impending holiday freedom. And he found he couldn't avoid a feeling of emptiness, knowing that he wouldn't be sharing in that liberty.

And so, the solstice finally arrived on the mountain top, shrouding the school in gray cloud and snow flurries. Several inches of snow had fallen overnight.

Ethan and Tim watched as their roommates finished packing their trunks and prepared to take their leave.

"Might as well go and see them off," Tim suggested as Kyle, Marcus and Peter started toward the stairs.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Ethan agreed and so they all clambered down from Bradbury Tower. The main hallway was swarming with students eager to board the sleighs and head home for the holidays. As the boys joined the crowd, Ethan saw Anne Findlay waving to him from across the hall.

"Come on over, Ethan! You too, Tim!" she called.

The boys ambled over.

"All ready to go?" Tim asked. "Did you just want to rub in the fact that we're not going anywhere?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Anne answered. "All I want to do is remind you...you should use all that free time you'll have to finally get some answers about...you-know-what."

"But we've looked everywhere, haven't we?" Ethan protested.

"Not in the Special Collections," Anne insisted smoothly. "If it's a powerful object that's being guarded, that's where you'll find books about it."

"But the only way to get into Special Collections is with a note from the House master," Tim said. "I can't see Bancroft letting us dig around, not after what he told Ethan."

"And Skryme wants me to spend my free time in the studio, painting," Ethan added.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Anne said, as the line began to move. "Oh, and both of you...Happy Christmas!"

Just then, Simon Brocklebank sauntered past them. He glanced at Ethan and Tim and then told Lew Van Nort in a stage whisper, "It's such a shame that some parents don't even want their children to come home for the holidays!"

They and several other Tenskwatawas guffawed and were gone before Ethan and Tim could react.

As Anne disappeared out the front door, she called, "Don't pay any attention to them! Remember, research!"

Kyle, Marcus and Peter were among the last to board a sleigh. Ethan and Tim followed them out the door.

"Have a great holiday, guys!" Tim said. They all shook hands.

Marcus told them as he climbed into the sleigh, "Merry Christmas! And try not to get into too much trouble while we're away!"

"Not too much!" Ethan echoed as he waved.

The sleighs glided away down the road towards the Landing. The two boys watched until the last one disappeared around the first corner, and then turned back towards the school.

Old Epaphras Beadle was helping Standish haul an enormous pine tree in through the entrance as the house masters watched. Professor Bancroft saw the boys and beckoned to them. They walked over to where he was standing next to the door.

"Well, boys, I know it wouldn't be your first choice," he said in a kindly voice. "But really Christmas at Kaaterskill isn't so bad. I wouldn't claim that the faculty is the best company imaginable, but you will see the school in a different light, that's certain!"

"Yes, sir," Ethan and Tim said together without conviction.

"Now, now, do try to get into the spirit, gentlemen!" Bancroft admonished them. "Perhaps you'd like to help with the decorations. I'm sure Mr. Beadle wouldn't mind the help."

"If you think so..." Ethan began. He'd been relieved to find that Beadle wasn't quite the ogre most students believed he was, but wasn't sure he wanted to spend the morning with him.

"Absolutely, Mr. Lloyd!" Bancroft continued cheerily. "In you go, now! Find Mr. Beadle in the Assembly Hall, he'll put you to good use. I'll check in on you in a bit!"

"Oh, this will take our minds off being left behind," Tim muttered as they headed down the main hall.

"It won't be that bad," Ethan said, surprised at his own optimism. "Beadle's not such a bad sort, you know...just don't tell him I told you that."

The sight that met Ethan and Tim when they walked in to the Assembly Hall was wondrous enough to make them forget all discontents for the moment. Six huge Christmas trees stood along the sides of the room. Beadle and Standish had just finished placing the final tree, the biggest of them all, where the faculty table usually stood at the far end of the room beneath the great windows. Indeed the hall had been completely refurnished since they'd had breakfast earlier that morning. The four long house tables were gone, replaced by several round tables near the center of the room. Real snow was falling from the enchanted ceiling, which was just as gray as the sky outside, only when the snow hit the floor it simply disappeared.

Ethan and Tim walked over to Standish and Beadle, who were admiring their handiwork. After a minute of awkward silence, Standish turned around and noticed the boys standing there.

"And what might you want?" the groundskeeper asked suspiciously.

"Umm, Professor Bancroft thought Mr. Beadle might want us to help him," Ethan said haltingly.

"Did he indeed?" Beadle said, one eyebrow arched. "Yes, I think I know what the two of you can do, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Van der Meulen, is it?"

"Yes, sir," said Tim, who'd thus far managed to avoid meeting the feared Keeper of Buildings.

"Well, boys, see these greens?" Beadle pointed at a large pile of holly and mistletoe ropes. "We need to hang them along the walls on either side of the hall, from those hooks."

Beadle was gesturing towards a series of ornate hooks about a foot below the high ceiling in the Assembly Hall. Ethan had never noticed them before.

He and Tim looked stupidly from the greens to the hooks.

Then Tim asked, "Is there a ladder we can use?"

Standish guffawed. Beadle snorted, and then said derisively, "A ladder? I thought you boys were wizards!"

"Oh, yeah," Tim said sheepishly, his face now scarlet with embarrassment.

"Thought you'd have learned levitation by now," the Keeper of Buildings added.

Ethan had aimed his wand at the greens and said "Wingardium Leviosa!" before Beadle finished speaking. One end of a long rope of holly rose into the air. He began to walk it towards the wall.

"That's the spirit, Lloyd!" Beadle said. "Keep it rising, now!"

"Tim, you need to get the other end up," Ethan told his friend. "I can't do this properly by myself."

Tim cast the levitation spell at the other end of the holly rope. Ethan lifted one end over the first hook and then Tim placed the other end over the next. The holly was swagged perfectly between the hooks.

The boys continued with a rope of mistletoe, then another of holly. After half an hour, all the walls of the Assembly Hall were festooned with the greens.

"That's teamwork for you," said Beadle approvingly. "I daresay Professor O'Loughlin would be proud. Thanks for your help, boys! You can run along now. Stay out of trouble!"

Over the next few days, Ethan got used to the empty corridors and brilliant decorations that the holidays brought to Kaaterskill. The few students who'd stayed ate with the faculty at the round tables in the center of the Hall. It was a bit daunting trying to make casual conversation with Crockett or Renfro, let alone tall, gaunt Cyrus Flyte, who seemed even more intimidating to Ethan up close than he did when seen at the faculty table. Ethan was a bit more comfortable conversing with Bancroft or Hsu, but tried whenever possible to sit with Skryme. To Ethan's relief, Tiverton always seemed to gravitate to a different table.

At breakfast on Christmas Eve, Professor Bancroft sat down with Ethan and Tim. Over some excellent Eggs Benedict, he passed on some welcome news.

"In an hour or so, a wagon will be arriving from the Landing," Bancroft said. "I'm given to understand that it contains certain parcels from Saskatchewan, Mr. Van der Meulen, although you'll have to wait until Christmas to be sure."

"Cool, sir," Tim replied with a smile.

"And I believe your uncle is arriving as well, Mr. Lloyd," Bancroft added to Ethan. "He may have some packages as well. Once they've been tended to, he'd like to see you. Would you meet him in the Entry at 9:00, please?"

"Sure, I can't wait!" Ethan said quickly, forgetting entirely the ambivalence he'd always felt towards Bertrand and Eilonwy in Madison.

As the boys headed back to Bradbury Tower after breakfast, Tim asked, "Is he the one who you saw disapparate in your yard back when you were little?"

"Yeah, that's him" said Ethan wistfully. "Hey, I wonder how come he doesn't just apparate here. I suppose it might be difficult with all those presents."

"Ethan, I thought you were into history!" Tim chided his friend. "It says right in Kaaterskill Chronicles that you can't apparate or disapparate from the school or the grounds. Bradbury himself set it up that way to keep unwanted visitors away."

"Hmm," Ethan replied absently.

"So are you going to introduce me to your uncle?" Tim asked.

"Sure, why not?" said Ethan.

So they spent an hour or so lounging in the common-room, Tim browsing through the Daily Sentinel and Ethan flipping through some Squibs Next Door comics that Marcus had left behind.

As the clock in the corner approached nine, Ethan sprang up from his chair before the fire and headed toward the door. Tim followed. A few minutes later they were standing at the reception desk, on which several small decorated fir trees rotated slowly, with real fairies fluttering around them.

As Ethan and Tim watched the turning trees, Ang Hsu walked slowly up to them.

"I see you are as fascinated by Professor O'Loughlin's work as I have always been," the wizened old wizard observed, eyes twinkling. "Happy Christmas Eve, boys."

"Happy Christmas Eve to you, Professor," Ethan said. "We're just waiting for my uncle to arrive."

"Ah, yes," Hsu said. "The good Mister Belanger. I too am waiting for his arrival."

"Oh, do you know Ethan's uncle?" Tim asked.

"We became acquainted many years ago," Hsu answered reflectively. "And many worlds away."

This answer intrigued Ethan, but before he could ask Hsu how he came to know Uncle Bertrand, the front door swung open.

In walked Uncle Bertrand himself, brushing snow off a forest-green robe with red trim. With his rotund form, grey hair and bright eyes, Ethan thought his uncle looked like some eccentric assistant to Saint Nicholas.

Beadle followed Bertrand part way into the entrance and looked at him expectantly while holding the door.

"Thank you, Beadle," Uncle Bertrand said. "And if you would take care of my parcels along with the others, I'd be much obliged...ah, Ethan, there you are!"

Beadle went back outside and the door swung shut. Ethan soon found himself enveloped in a bear hug.

"Good to see you, my boy!" Bertrand said as he stood back again. "Let's have a look at you now. You look good, lad! I trust you're well-used to dear old Kaaterskill by now!"

"I think so, Uncle Bertrand," Ethan replied. "But every time I think I know the place, something new pops up."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Lloyd," Hsu interjected. "You will find that to be true no matter how long you are here. Why only last week I found myself in a beautiful room I'd never seen before near the observatory. Perfectly set up for evening meditation. I only hope I can find it again."

"Ang Hsu!" Bertrand exclaimed as he saw the Defense against the Dark Arts professor. "You got my message!"

"Indeed, Bertrand, I did!" Hsu answered. "You look well, my old friend."

"As well as I expect I can," Bertrand allowed, "given my age and experience. You look the same as ever."

"I don't know whether that is a compliment or not," Ang Hsu said with a chuckle, "given my age and experience.

Tim had been standing apart, observing the reunions. Now Uncle Bertrand noticed him and spoke again.

"And this must be a fellow Bradbury, eh, Ethan?" he said. "Bertrand Belanger, most pleased to meet you."

"Tim Van der Meulen, sir," Tim answered, as Bertrand vigourously shook his hand. "Glad to meet you."

"Ah, yes, I believe that Ethan's parents have mentioned your name," Bertrand said. "From somewhere way out West, right? And quite a Quidditch player already."

"Yes, I'm from Saskatchewan," Tim answered, blushing a bit at the mention of Quidditch.

"Well, now that Mr. Beadle has the packages taken care of," Bertrand said with a wink at the boys. "Why don't we go up to your common-room for a bit? Ang Hsu, will luncheon work for you as I suggested?"

"But of course, my friend. Shall we meet here at noon?"

"I will see you then! Lead on, Ethan," Uncle Bertrand said. "It's been a long time since I visited Bradbury Tower."

"Were you in Bradbury, then, Mr. Belanger?" Tim asked as they worked their way back along the corridors.

"Oh, yes," Bertrand said. "That's how I met Eilonwy...Ethan's great-aunt. All the Lloyds have been in Bradbury for ages."

"So you knew which house I'd be in before I did?" Ethan asked curiously.

"Well, one never knows for sure," Bertrand continued. "Until the dowsing rod's gotten a good feel for you. But any other house would have been something of a shock!"

Once in the common room, they sat down around the fireplace and chatted casually for a while.

"So I hear you're making History and Art your specialties, eh, Ethan?" Bertrand asked.

"Ah, yeah, I really enjoy History," Ethan allowed.

"And he's the best artist in the school already," Tim added, making Ethan blush. "Professor Skryme said so himself."

"Charms coming along well, I hope?" Bertrand continued. "And Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I like both of them," Ethan answered. "Even though I can't always tell what Professor Hsu is driving at."

"You may not understand that until you have need to use what you've learned," his great-uncle told him. "Generations of wizards have been confused by Ang Hsu, only to find they owed him their lives later on."

"Well, I'd rather have double Dark Arts and skip Herbology and Potions altogether," Ethan volunteered.

"Hmmm," Bertrand sighed disapprovingly. "Don't ignore those classes, Ethan. They'll really help you in life, you know."

"Well, it's just that the professors are really hard, especially on me," Ethan explained. "Crockett's been dead set against me from the first day of class, seems to have some old grudge against Dad, really."

"Crockett's a good teacher, Ethan," Bertrand insisted. "Has his faults, I'm sure. But he knows his stuff. What you take away from his class...and Potions...could well save your life too."

Bertrand's comment reminded Ethan of the question that had nagged him since his parents had written to tell him he'd have to stay at school for the holidays.

"Uncle Bertrand," he began. "All this talk about this class or that saving my life...and Mom and Dad not wanting me to come home right now. Well, I can't help wondering what it's all about. You're all making me feel like I'm walking around with a target on my back and I don't know why."

At this, Tim shifted uncomfortably in his chair and got up.

"Would either of you like some tea?" he asked. "I think I'll go get some."

"Yes, Tim, that would be nice," Bertrand said. "And maybe some biscuits. I seem to recall some excellent Christmas biscuits at Kaaterskill in my day."

"Just some tea for me, Tim," Ethan added.

As Tim left to fetch the tea, Bertrand turned to his great-great-nephew with a look Ethan could not read. Was it pity, compassion, pride or some combination? The look passed in an instant, replaced by Bertrand's normal placid, bemused expression.

"Ethan, you know your parents love you more than anything in this world," he said quietly. "They sacrificed nearly everything when they settled in the muggle world and they stayed in Madison mainly because they wanted to keep you safe. I'm sure they secretly hoped you'd be a squib--that you wouldn't inherit their magical talent--so that you'd never have to enter our world."

"I never really thought about it that way," Ethan said, thinking back to the conversations he'd overheard on his birthday.

"When your letter came last summer, it was a surprise to you, of course," Bertrand continued, looking Ethan in the eye. "But for your parents...well, they saw all their hopes unraveling."

"You mean they don't really want me here?" Ethan asked. "I'm confused."

"No, no, don't misunderstand me," Bertrand said, again looking straight at Ethan. "All parents have to let go of their children sooner or later. Your parents knew in their hearts that going to Kaaterskill was the best thing for you, the only way really for you to learn what you need to know."

"But what do I need to know?" Ethan insisted. "How to levitate teacups? How to change a nail into a chess piece? There must be more to it than that!"

"Well, of course there is," Bertrand replied. "Though I daresay you may find those skills come in handy some day. If you think hard, perhaps you can already remember such an occasion. I seem to recall hearing that you had an interview with a Sasquatch a couple of months ago."

"Oh, yeah," Ethan said, somewhat taken aback. "But that was a fluke, after all. And it was my friend Anne who knocked him out."

"Fluke or no, you and your friends knew enough magic to escape your predicament," Bertrand remarked. "You must understand, Ethan, that everything you learn at Kaaterskill is important. Each lesson builds on the last and provides the foundation for the next. And even the simplest spell--cast by the least skillful wizard--may cast down the powerful in the end."

"Well, you're probably right," Ethan conceded. "But that doesn't tell me why it would be dangerous for me to go home. Don't you know?"

"No, my dear boy," Bertrand said thoughtfully. "I can tell you about what dangers lurk out there for young wizards generally, but I'm not privy to your parents' reasoning."

"They must have said something!" Ethan insisted. "Can't you give me just a hint?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Ethan," Bertrand answered. "I have always made it my practice not to know more than I need to, especially when Cyrus Flyte is involved."

"Flyte?" Ethan's eyes flashed. "You mean he told my parents I shouldn't go home."

"Now I don't know that, certainly not," Bertrand said, looking flustered for a moment. "Professor Flyte is your headmaster, so of course your parents communicated with him about their plans."

Tim returned with a pot of tea, three cups and a plate of biscuits that looked so delicious Ethan had several after all. Try as he might, he couldn't get Bertrand to tell him anything more. As noon approached, Bertrand excused himself to go meet Ang Hsu for lunch.

"I'm afraid I must be off down the mountain as soon as we're through with lunch," he told Ethan. "So I'll wish you a Merry Christmas, lads!"

Ethan had enjoyed Bertrand's company, despite his inability to pry information from his great-uncle. He was loath to see him leave so soon.

"I wish you could stay longer," he averred as Bertrand gave him a hug.

"As do I, my boy," Bertrand answered. "Alas, I cannot, for another errand awaits me at day's end, many miles from here. I'll pass your greetings on to your parents when I see them. Good to meet you, Mr. Van der Meulen! I trust you'll be a good influence on our Ethan here!"

"I'll do my best," Tim replied stoutly, shaking Bertrand's hand.

And with that, Bertrand went out the portrait-door and was gone, leaving Ethan muttering to himself.

"Why wouldn't he tell me more?" he said. "He knew about the Sasquatch, but I never told Mom and Dad about that. Flyte must have told my parents something, but what?"

"Ethan, let it go for now," Tim said as he stood behind him. "It's Christmas Eve! We're warm, we're safe and we've got the whole place to ourselves! Let's try to enjoy it while we can."

"OK, I'll try," Ethan agreed, and it didn't prove too hard. They played some wizard chess, at which Tim had improved considerably more than Ethan over the fall term. After lunch, they headed to the painting studio, where Ethan had begun working on a full-length portrait of his friend. Professor Skryme was nowhere to be found, but the door was open, so Tim sat patiently as Ethan painted for an hour or so.

When the boys turned in for the evening, they lay awake for sometime, speculating on the presents that had arrived with Uncle Bertrand that morning. Ethan finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of brightly wrapped packages and the Christmas feast. He awoke briefly, sure he'd heard the tinkling of bells somewhere nearby, but soon snored again.

Christmas morning dawned bright and sunny. When Ethan peeked out between the bed curtains, Tim greeted him.

"Merry Christmas, Ethan! Look here! Presents!"

Ethan looked and saw a fairly large pile of presents at the end of his bed and another next to Tim's. He hurriedly pulled on his bathrobe and scrambled out to get a better look. Hanging from the mantel across the room were two enormous stockings labeled "Ethan" and "Tim."

"Merry Christmas, Tim!" he answered with a yawn, still gawking at the gifts.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Tim asked. "It's just us, after all."

Ethan agreed heartily, so the two boys waded into their respective piles and began unwrapping.

Tim's older brother Marvin had sent him a football autographed by the Saskatchewan Roughriders.

"Now you'll really have to explain football to Anne and Marcus," Ethan told him.

Ethan's first present was a box of goat milk fudge from Professor Bancroft.

"Guess he noticed how much I liked it."

Pete Abrams had sent him a book on the history of the X-Men.

Tim giggled as he unwrapped a package from his parents.

"I already know what this is," he said. "Mom makes one every year for each of us."

Ethan watched as Tim held up a burgundy woolen hat with a large pompom on the top. Tim's name was emblazoned across the front in silver.

"Does she always knit them in Bradbury colors?" Ethan asked.

"No, I wonder how she knew," Tim mused. "I don't think I've told her."

"Hey, I've got something from your folks, too," Ethan said, surprised, as he picked up the next box in his pile. "It's a hat just like yours!"

Indeed it was, but with the name "Ethan" across the front.

"I did tell her in my last letter that you'd be here too," Tim said. "So she must have decided you'd need a Van der Meulen tuque."

Ethan's next gift was from Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Eilonwy. It was an ornately painted wooden box marked "Special Collector's Edition: Fifty Famous Wizards of the Americas." The fifty cards inside featured a picture and biography of American wizards of the previous two millennia.

Tim was delighted with the present Ethan had gotten him, an illustrated book called Those Magnificent Meteors: a History of the Moose Jaw Quidditch Club, 1875-1995. And Ethan was quite pleased with the case of magical paints and brushes that Tim had found for him.

"These'll be much better than the school's old stuff," he said enthusiastically

Finally, there was one very large pile of torn wrapping, bows and ribbons in the middle of the room and just one present left. It was a small box labeled "For Ethan, with love from Mom and Dad." He'd already gotten a sweater, a wand care kit and an Exploding Snap game from his parents.

"I wonder what else they sent," he wondered out loud. As he picked up the box, he heard the contents shifting within.

Tim, who'd already unwrapped his last gift, looked on curiously as Ethan carefully removed the paper and revealed an unadorned brown cardboard box. Ethan took off the lid and removed a folded piece of parchment. He opened and read the note aloud.

"Dear Ethan,

This is an old Lloyd heirloom. It has served your father well, but you will probably put it to better use now and in the future. It has unusual properties, which we will leave to you to discover. One thing you should know: you should use it sparingly and in times of real need. Frivolous use may make one dependent on its powers. Use it wisely and use it well.

Love, Mom and Dad"

Wide-eyed, Ethan looked into the box and lifted the object that had been beneath the note. It was a small stone, oval in shape, not more than two inches long. Etched in the center of the stone was a sun, mostly obscured by clouds. A hole had been drilled near one end of the stone and a long chain of finely wrought silver rings run through.

Ethan held the stone in his left hand, looking at the etching and letting the chain run through his right hand. When he looked up, he saw Tim staring at the stone in wonder.

"It's some kind of amulet, isn't it?" Ethan asked. "I wonder what it's for."

"Well, put it on," Tim urged. "How else are you going to find out?"

"Dunno, you think I should?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, go ahead. Putting it on to find out its purpose isn't frivolous, is it?"

"OK, here goes," Ethan said as he slid the chain around his neck. He it hang down its full length, so that the stone was nearly at his waist. "Hmm, nothing seems to be happ..."

"Ethan! Where are you?" Tim said, looking around wildly. "Where'd you go?"

"What do you mean, Tim? I haven't moved."

"Then I can tell you what that stone does," Tim answered, reaching his arm out and poking Ethan in the ribs.

"Oww! What do you mean?"

"You're invisible, Ethan."

"Don't be silly," Ethan answered, holding his right arm up in front of him. "I can see myself just fine."

"Come over here and look in the mirror then," Tim insisted.

When Ethan stood in front of the mirror on the back of the dorm door, he gaped. He could see Tim, but there was no sign that he was standing there himself. He held up his arm again. He could see it in front of him, but not in the mirror.

"Cool!" Ethan and Tim both exclaimed.

"Think of the things I could do with this," Ethan said, slipping the amulet off and reappearing in the mirror. "I could really mess with Brocklebank's mind."

"Yeah," Tim said. "Of course that assumes he has a mind worth messing up. Didn't the note say not to use it unless you really need to?"

"Umm, yeah, it did," Ethan conceded. "But what do Mom and Dad think I need it for?"

"Maybe you have to discover that on your own, too," Tim suggested.

Ethan placed the amulet back in the box and stowed it in his trunk at the end of the bed. He and Tim headed down for a leisurely Christmas breakfast and then spent the day emptying their stockings, which were filled with fruits, nuts and all sorts of unusual sweets. They played several rounds of Exploding Snap, Ethan examined his wizard card set and Tim read about the Moose Jaw Meteors, while watching highlights of the club's history.

Ethan had never seen such a feast as Christmas dinner at Kaaterskill. The main course was an enormous roast goose, with every imaginable accompaniment, large flagons of butterbeer and cranberry shrub, and a magnificent array of pies and puddings for dessert. Everyone at the table had a large Christmas cracker to open. As each popped, magical fireworks shot up towards the ceiling and a magical (if silly looking) crown flew up and landed on the recipient's head. Even Cyrus Flyte looked a bit less forbidding with a pink crown hung over his wizard's hat at a crazy angle.

It was nearly eleven when Tim and Ethan staggered up to Bradbury Tower. Ethan had to admit that this Christmas had been unlike any he'd ever experienced--and maybe better, too. As he pulled his covers around him, he wondered again about the amulet's purpose, but within minutes sleep took him and he slept untroubled until morning.