Chapter Fourteen

The Vases of Artephius

The day after Christmas, the morning sunlight shone dully through high clouds. No one rose early at Kaaterskill that day, least of all Ethan and Tim. Nine o'clock had come and gone before they had arisen and headed down to the Assembly Hall, sure that they had missed breakfast. Professor Bancroft and Professor Skryme were on their way out of the hall, which seemed to confirm their fears.

Bancroft disabused them of this notion with a merry smile and a wave of his hand.

"Go on in, boys, tuck in now. Don't try to get away with this during the term, though!"

He and Skryme laughed. The art teacher added, "And don't forget to come up to the studio afterwards, Mr. Lloyd! I noticed you've done some good work on Mr. Van der Meulen's portrait. Why don't you try a bit more today?"

An hour later, after a most filling breakfast, Ethan persuaded Tim to return to the painting studio. Professor Skryme greeted them. He gave Ethan a few pointers and and then moved over to the far end of the studio to work on the largest canvas Ethan had ever seen.

The size of Skryme's new painting distracted Ethan from his own work and he wandered over to have a look. It appeared to be a landscape, for along the left edge the art teacher had painted a number of tall maple trees.

"Wow!" Ethan exclaimed. "That's going to be huge! What's it going to be professor?"

"Well, I'm better known for my portraits, it's true," Skryme explained. "But spending so much time here in the mountains, I just had to try to capture the environs of Kaaterskill. I had done some sketches of the forest...I believe you students call them 'Spook Woods'--at night. I thought I'd work them up into a painting at last."

"You were out there at night?" Ethan said, impressed. "They are haunted, aren't they?"

"Well of course," Skryme said in a dismissive tone, though Ethan thought he looked a bit uncomfortable. "Then again, so is the school building itself, after all. It wasn't that bad, really."

Ethan tried to work on his painting of Tim, but there were too many thoughts bouncing around in his mind to concentrate properly. Uncle Bertrand's visit, the amulet and somehow Skryme's dark new landscape all pushed his own work aside.

"Hey, it's lunch time anyway," Tim said. "And we can go flying afterwards, before the storm arrives."

At lunch, the enchanted ceiling of the Assembly Hall was already looking threatening. The midday sun no longer peeked out of the gray clouds.

The boys hurried out to the locker room after lunch, got their brooms and a quaffle and took turns playing chaser and keeper. It got cold quickly up in the air but kept up the play until after three.

Tim was ready to head back in to school quickly, but Ethan dawdled. He was thinking about his parents and wondering what they really thought about his presence at Kaaterskill.

"I'll catch up with you," Ethan said, but when he did step out of the locker rooms, for some reason he turned away from the school and walked instead in the other direction, lost in thought.

Dark clouds scudded menacingly from the West. Ethan could already see the snow falling in the distance. Not knowing what impulse pushed him on, he turned toward the lake instead of back towards the school building. The strange little castle in the middle of the lake stood out against the darker sky as he approached.

At the edge of the lake, Ethan stopped. He tested the ice, first with one foot, then the other. Satisfied that he would not fall through, he carefully walked out towards the castle's entrance. Soon he had climbed the four steps up to the large doorway. Ethan looked up the tower, which appeared taller now that he was so close. In one of the topmost windows, he was certain he saw a flicker of light.

Ethan still didn't understand why he wanted to enter the castle, but there was no doubt in his mind that he did desire just that. Any uncertainty that remained vanished as the wind whipped him with the first icy pellets of snow. He took out his wand, but decided to try the ornate iron door handle first. To his surprise, it swung in without much effort.

Torches blazed up along the stone walls of the small entry hall as Ethan stepped in. He closed the door behind him. As the latch clicked loudly, he almost immediately wished he hadn't.

The room was unfurnished save for the torches. Three steps led up to another room opposite the doorway. Ethan could see the beginning of a stairway there, still in darkness.

He hesitated, but decided there was nothing for it but to go on. As he moved quietly up into the stair hall, more torches lit up around and above him. He looked up the stairway, which wound around the outside of the tower, but couldn't see to the top. Ethan stood as still as could be at the foot of the stairs. He could hear the wintry wind gusting around the castle; inside he heard only the rhythmic sound of his own breathing.

Finally, up the stairs he went. He counted the steps as he went up--25, 50, 75, 100 and more, then he lost track. Every dozen steps or so another torch on the wall blazed up as he approached.

The shimmering light of the torches enlarged his shadow to a ridiculous size against the opposite wall. In an odd way, Ethan drew courage from his looming shadow. He imagined himself an immense--and courageous--warrior storming hidden enemies. But as Ethan climbed, neither doughty swordsmen nor skilful wizards jumped out to challenge him. He was alone in the tower.

After what seemed like ages, but could not in fact have been more than a few minutes, Ethan reached the top of the stairs. Before him, another door of stout oak with elaborate iron strapping blocked the way. He grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door swung in and Ethan stepped into a small chamber.

A fire burned merrily in a fireplace along the wall to Ethan's right. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the brightness of the room. Small rectangular windows on the other three walls admitted the dim winter afternoon light. Torches flanked each window and a chandelier hung down from the high peak of the ceiling.

The room could not have been larger than eight feet square. It lacked any furnishing, save for a rectangular stone table in its center.

Ethan moved into the room, to the left of the table. He glanced out the window, but could make out nothing but masses of snowflakes blown past on gusts of wind. He turned and looked curiously at the stone table.

On the table sat three vessels, all of the same design but each made of a different material. They were cylindrical at the base and about six inches high. They flared out much wider towards the top with a short vertical rim.

The vessel to Ethan's left was made of reddish clay; the shiny glazed surface reflected the firelight. The one at the center appeared to be copper, while the one to the right was of a luminous blue glass.

Ethan could see that each vessel was filled nearly to its wide brim with a different liquid. The clay vessel seemed to be filled with an aromatic oil of some sort. Red wine appeared to fill the copper vessel, while the glass vessel was full of clear water.

A few verses had been carved into the top of the stone table, in front of the copper vase. Ethan read them aloud:

"Well met, brave venturer,
the vases of wise Artephius thou hast found

What was, what is, what may yet be,
here all of these the bold may see.

Make your choice, take your chance,
wave your wand but make no sound ;

thus gift of sight shall come to thee,
though none can say what thou wilt see.

This you must know, ere you begin,
the work of the vases is thus within:

the past belongs to vase of earth,
in oil of myrrh reveal its worth;

in vase of copper in reddest wine,
may be seen the present time;

clearest water in vase of glass
will show what may yet come to pass.

Some may find their hearts desire,
others deep despair;

So will you dare and risk the danger
or leave unchanged, a doubtful stranger?"

Ethan read the verses, then read them again. It seemed obvious enough that the three vases were meant to show past, present and future. But whose past, present and future? he wondered. And how? "Wave your wand but make no sound"... The line seemed vague; Ethan was used to more definite direction, matching the words of a spell with a specific wand movement.

Maybe you have to know how to move the wand before you come up here, he thought. Probably a good way to keep people who shouldn't be here...like me...from messing around.

Still, it seemed a pity to Ethan to have climbed all the way up the tower for nothing. He looked the vases over carefully and considered what he would want to know if he could use the vases.

Looking backwards might be good, he thought. There's still so much I don't know about my own family.

Ethan looked over the glass vase that could show the future. The water within the vase twinkled in the torchlight. It was beautiful but Ethan inexplicably grew tense as he gazed at it.

All right, the present then, he concluded. That should be safe enough. Not that I'll be able to do it, anyway.

He stood right in front of the copper vase and raised his wand. The wind howled outside the tower. The fire light flickered for just a moment; the entire room seemed to glow. Ethan felt his wand arm moving in a circular motion, although he did not feel as if he was moving.

The reddish liquid in the copper vase seemed to be boiling. Ethan suddenly felt himself pulled down towards it, stopping with his face just an inch or so from the surface.

At first, Ethan saw nothing but the bubbling wine. Then, to his amazement, the surface cleared and a picture came into focus. What is it? Ethan wondered. The common-room, that's it...there's Tim! His classmate was seated in an armchair in front of the fire, dozing with a book open in his lap.

The image faded and another took its place. The Assembly Hall stood empty, the magnificently enchanted evergreens lining the walls. Next an office came into view, textbooks strewn over a desk and bulging from an old bookcase. Who's that at the desk? Ethan strained to see. Professor Tiverton, what's he up to? The transfiguration teacher was poring over some documents; he did not look pleased at all. That room faded and when the picture cleared again, Ethan saw the familiar art studio. Professor Skryme was there, working before an extremely wide canvas. Ethan could just make out the preliminary sketch of a forest scene.

Ethan was amazed at the thought of being able to see what was going on all over Kaaterskill from up in the Tower. But what he saw next astounded him.

For as the wine's surface cleared again, there was his family's house in Madison. They don't have as much snow there, Ethan thought. He recognized Pete and Justin throwing snowballs in the Abrams' backyard. Then the picture moved right into the house. A small Christmas tree was in the living room window. He could see the card he'd sent displayed in the branches. And there were his mother and father sitting close together on the couch. When he looked more closely, they didn't seem very happy. In fact, Ethan was sure he could make out tears in his mother's eyes.

"Mom, what's wrong?" he said out loud and his voice echoed through the tower. He looked around self-consciously, then thought to himself, Of course they can't hear me.

When he looked back, the surface of the wine was changing again. This time he saw a place he didn't recognize, a high-ceilinged room darkened except for a low fire that barely lit a long table with carved chairs all around. At one end of the table stood a tall man, mostly in shadows. But Ethan could make out his eyes, reflecting red in the dim firelight. The man's eyes were frightening yet Ethan could not prevent himself from staring at him. In fact, a feeling overtook Ethan that the red eyes were searching for something or someone. Yes, searching for someone...searching for me! Ethan suddenly thought and a sensation of panic broke over him. The man strode towards Ethan, red eyes unblinking. As he approached, Ethan knew in his heart that he did not want to be found. He jerked his head away from the vase and staggered back to the wall, gasping and shivering.

Ethan stood stock still for several minutes. When he looked over at the table, the surface of the wine was placid, as if the vision had not happened.

Ethan had made up his mind to leave the tower when he noticed something strange happening to the table. As if an unseen hand was at work, glowing green letters appeared on the flat surface in front of the red clay jar. Ethan stepped back towards the table and read:

If the present view did not suit,
See if the past yields fairer fruit.

Oh, all right! Ethan thought, Why not? The past can't hurt me, after all. It's over and done...there's nothing it can do to me now.

He stepped up in front of the clay vase and raised his wand as before. Again, the wand seemed to move of its own accord, up and then in a straight line from right to left. The room brightened again and the fragrant oil in the vase began to move in waves back and forth. Ethan allowed himself to be drawn down towards the vase.

Suddenly the surface of the vase became as glassy as a calm sea. Bits of scenes passed quickly before Ethan's eyes. Whose past? he asked himself. Mine? or someone else's? He strained to pick out details in the swiftly moving pictures. Occasionally he recognized the image: there he was with the dowsing rod in his hands; here he saw himself with Tim looking through their ransacked belongings on the Hoboken Limited; the light standard crashed to the ground at the ballpark again before his amazed eyes. The mirror kept moving, as if it was flipping the pages of an endless book. A few moments later, Ethan saw a small, bespectacled, blonde boy being dropped off at the door of a kindergarten classroom, looking scared; then the same boy at snack time, knocking over a pitcher of juice only to have the pitcher fly back up onto the table without spilling. Ethan chuckled, for he recognized the boy and remembered the near-accident. But this could all be in my own memory, Ethan thought, a bit miffed at the mirror. Tell me something I don't know already!

At this, the mirror sped up and the passing images were nothing but a blur. Briefly he thought he saw his Uncle Bertrand and Aunt Eilonwy appearing on his parents' doorstep on a warm summer evening, but the mirror passed them by quickly. Not long after, the entire mirror was filled with a blazing green light. Ethan thought he glimpsed a frightened baby with green eyes, but the image changed too quickly to be sure.

The mirror had turned completely black, or so it seemed at first. But Ethan began to see pinpricks of light--Stars? he wondered. Must be, there's the moon, but what is this place?

The mirror didn't seem to be moving backwards in time anymore. Instead, it allowed Ethan to look back and forth. It must be a mountain top; there are a few lights way down in the valley. It must be very high; I can't see any trees at all.

With this thought in his mind, Ethan began to pay very close attention to the mirror, for he thought he could put a name to the high, treeless mountain top.

As his eyes grew more used to the darkness, Ethan could discern more detail in the vase's picture. Moonlight illuminated a flat landscape at the foot of the mountain and in the distance a seemingly endless expanse of water. Ethan guessed it was the ocean.

But there's nobody here, he said to himself. Nothing's happening.

But as he continued to gaze into the vase, he realized something was happening. Or rather, many things.

He could now make out dim figures--a dozen or more--standing in a circle at the very center of the mountain top. They'd been hard to see, thought Ethan, because they were all wearing dark robes, their faces hooded. But now one of their number, taller than the others, had thrown back his hood and raised a wand with his right hand, its lit tip revealing a face that Ethan knew he'd seen before. If only he could think where...

But before he could recall, Ethan saw something happening. The ground began to glow, at first faintly, then gradually more intensely. Now the hooded figures were illuminated, though their faces were still difficult to perceive. The tall, unhooded man raised both his arms, still directing his wand at the center of the circle, which glowed white hot. Ethan was sure the tall man was holding something in his left hand as well, hidden from view. Flames flickered over the mountain's rocky top now. As the fire grew higher, Ethan imagined that the mountain top itself was rising.

But it was not the mountain rising; rather, something huge was emerging from within the mountain. A fiery core issued from the surface, towering at least five times the height of a man. Ethan shielded his eyes from the bright orange mass and noticed that the hooded figures that surrounded it had done the same. Something else was rising around the core, something like a massive dark shadow, something that rose to the same height and shrouded the flames. Either the dark sheath was translucent or the fire within was so intense that its glow was visible through the shadow. Over the surface of the shroud, bolts of flame flickered.

What on earth is that? Ethan thought, awestruck by the enormous column of flame and shadow. He wondered whether the wizards on the mountain top had loosed a sleeping volcano. But somehow he felt that the mass was a living thing, not merely molten rock and ash.

Ethan's hunch seemed confirmed in the next instant, as two huge arms snapped out and then the base split into two huge legs. Finally something like a head emerged from the top of the column. Ethan could make out two fiery points where eyes should have been, a nose that appeared to breath flame, and a mouth with corners turned up in a savage smile.

The figures around the gigantic creature had now all raised their arms. The vase conveyed no sounds, but Ethan was certain that they had joined in a triumphant cry of welcome.

The vase now began to focus on the circle of wizards. Ethan could now begin to make out their faces. He'd already guessed that they were Death Eaters, dark wizards and supporters of Voldemort. He supposed that such men must have been vicious and evil. Yet he saw nothing out of the ordinary in these faces. As he considered the scene, Ethan decided that the tall wizard whose spell had freed the creature had to be Hafgan himself. But Bancroft said that Hafgan hadn't been at Table Mountain, Ethan thought briefly.

As the creature flexed its newly-formed limbs, bolts of flame ran along its body and radiated out towards the wizards. And as they did, the faces began to change. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, the wizards opened their mouths and cried out in words Ethan could not hear. As they did, their faces contorted in anger so powerful that Ethan could feel it without hearing their yells. And there was another emotion underlying the anger, an emotion that flowed out from the creature and throbbed through the circle of wizards. They were beyond anger now. An unthinking hatred filled their faces and again Ethan could feel the emotion flowing right out of the vase, washing over him, pulling him into the circle. Ethan had never before known such a rage. He felt a strong urge to smash, destroy, even to kill, but some part of him, deep inside, still resisted the hate he felt. So he continued to watch the vase, fists clenched, and he saw the wizards began to turn on one another.

Ethan had trouble focusing on the vase, so powerful were the emotions within him. He struggled to see what was happening. The tall unhooded wizard had stepped away from the circle. Clearly he had not expected this turn of events. Although not possessed by the hatred that consumed his companions, his face was etched with surprise and fear.

Suddenly, Ethan saw about a dozen men and women simply appear out thin air, some distance behind the tall wizard, who spied them as he began to turn away from the circle. He raised his wand as he approached and a jet of green light shot out, striking the leader of the newcomers, who immediately keeled over and lay still.

Aurors! Ethan thought, overcoming his anger and hate as the vase turned away from the creature for a time. One of the newcomers cast a spell that shot a red light towards the tall wizard. It struck him on the right hand and Ethan could see something round and shiny fall from his grip and bounce away.

Now the tall wizard looked quickly back at the circle, where the creature still raged and his comrades were battling each other, oblivious to the arrival of the others. Then the creature, a sinister smile on its face began to move towards the tall wizard.

The aurors held back, apparently awed by the vision before them. With a look of fierce desperation, the tall wizard turned from the creature to his new foes, then stood straight up and vanished from the mountain top.

The newcomers rushed forward. One man bent down to pick something up. Then they all realized that the creature had continued its approach. Its red glow came closer and closer, finally blotting out Ethan's vision completely. As it did, Ethan felt as if his body would split from the renewed swell of hate and anger within him. He staggered back from the vase and collapsed to the floor.

Ethan awoke to the rough cold of the stone floor against his face. He cast a blurry glance around him; his glasses had come off when he fell. He groped for them blindly and by luck found them at the very top of the staircase. He quickly put them on, very glad that they hadn't fallen down the stairs.

The room looked just as it had when he'd entered. Ethan had no idea how long he'd lain on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and looked uncertainly at the table. The oil in the clay vase was clear, no sign visible of the turmoil Ethan had seen within.

As he was about to turn to head back down the stairs, a glint of silver appeared on the table top before the glass vase. As if an unseen quill was moving across the surface, silvery words now appeared.

What has passed can't be wiped clean;
Today stands on the shoulders of time gone by.
Tomorrow's a mystery yet to be gleaned;
Water will show where the path may lie,
Yet have a care lest ye go astray.

Ethan read the words that shone on the table and felt himself mightily torn between two desires. He desperately wanted to gaze into the clear water. After all, he thought, if I'd only asked the right questions, my parents could have told me all that the mirror showed of Table Mountain. And the mirror's view of the present now seemed to him merely a neat form of telepathy. But to see the future, to see what he, Ethan, would do in the world and yes, to know whether Hafgan would be thwarted in his plans, now that would be worth all he'd learned of yesterday and today.

And yet, two forces kept Ethan from turning his eyes to the contents of the glass vase. He had never felt so fatigued in his life. His looks into the present and future seemed to have drained him of nearly all his strength. Even as Ethan's mind raced to consider all that he wanted to know about the future, another voice within said, Not now, please. Let me rest!

And in his heart, Ethan felt a foreboding greater than that he'd experienced when he'd seen the dark, windswept summit of Table Mountain and he knew a fear stronger than that he'd felt when the tall man had been searching for him with those frightening red eyes.

He knew what he had to do. He turned to the stairs and began to walk down the tower. He dragged one foot at a time, step by step, fighting both his physical exhaustion and the still-strong desire to see the future. As he descended, the torches above him flickered out, one by one. Finally he reached the little room at the base of the tower and here he seemed to regain his strength and willpower. He reached for the door, pulled the iron handle towards him and stepped outside. The storm had abated. Gentle snow flurries swirled around him as he walked back across the frozen lake. Within minutes, he'd reached the front door of Kaaterskill. In he went, back into the brightly lit entrance hall.

As Ethan walked down the corridor from the entrance, he glanced at his watch, then looked at it again in disbelief. For it seemed to him that he'd been in the tower on the lake for hours, yet his watch said it had been just one hour since he and Tim had parted at the Quidditch lockers.

He fairly ran to Bradbury Tower, took the Disconcerting Stair two steps at a time and shouted "Belsnickel!" at the Dutchman, who'd been having an afternoon snooze leaning against a tree.

"Hm? Vhat?" the old soldier grumbled. "Oh, it's you. In you go, then!"

As Ethan entered the common-room, he saw Tim still asleep in his chair, just as the vase of wine had shown. Ethan tip-toed up to his friend and slipped the book out of his hands.

"You'll never get ahead this way!" he exclaimed. Tim started and looked about groggily.

"Huh? What's that?" Tim asked in bewilderment. "Oh, it's you. Geez, Ethan, what are you trying to do to me?"

"Sorry, man. I just couldn't resist," Ethan said with a laugh. "But I had to wake you up. You'll never guess what I've just seen."

After Ethan had finished relating his adventure with the vases, Tim shook his head, but his eyes glinted with excitement.

"I've never known anyone who could get mixed up with such amazing stuff as you do, Ethan," he said. "Amazing...and dangerous! When are you going back?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I hope. Can't wait too long...once term starts, it'll be impossible to do it without being seen."

"Can I come?" Tim asked eagerly. "I mean, you shouldn't go out there alone again...you know, just in case something happens."

"Come along," Ethan readily agreed, "and maybe you can show me your family in the vases, like I saw mine."

So it was that the two of them went flying again the next day. But this time, both boys headed out towards the lake after they'd put their brooms away. Snow flakes drifted and eddied over the mountain top, but the sun occasionally found its way through the clouds as well. Ethan was glad to have the amulet this time; he had managed to run its chain around Tim's neck too, so only their footprints could be seen moving through the drifted snow. Across the ice they went. The door opened as easily as before. Once inside, Ethan slipped off the amulet and the two boys moved quickly up the spiral stair.

Tim looked around the room in silence, taking in the flickering torches, the stone table, and the three vases. Ethan watched as his friend read the verses carved into the table top.

"What do you suppose it means, 'risk the danger'?" he asked at length.

"Dunno exactly," Ethan replied. "Like I told you, some of the images were so real I felt I was inside the vase. But that's impossible, right?"

"I'd think so," said Tim. "So, let me give it a try. Just the present for now."

He stepped before the middle vase.

"Just wave your wand, like it says," Ethan instructed him.

Tim did so, and Ethan watched as his friend was drawn down toward the vase. Tim's eyes opened wide as the wine bubbled in the copper vase.

"Whew! This is weird, Ethan," he said.

"What do you see?"

"Well, Bancroft was reading in his study," Tim answered. "Where's this? Oh, it's the back pasture at the farm. Marvin--he's my oldest brother is out on a tractor. And...the rest of the family, they're all sitting around the Christmas tree. Looks like Will got the Play Station he wanted. And Steven's got a hockey game and a Hulk Hogan action figure. Come on Ethan, take a look at them!"

Ethan stepped up next to Tim and looked down at the vase. To his disappointment, he saw only the still-bubbling wine.

"I can't see, Tim, maybe if you move over a bit."

Tim moved one step to his left, and Ethan moved over, but still saw no image.

"I guess only one can see at a time," Ethan surmised, a bit crestfallen.

"Now where am I?" Tim asked. "Water everywhere. And fog. It must be the ocean. I've never seen it, unless you count New York harbor.

Ethan was intrigued, though he could only imagine what Tim described.

"This can't be New York. There's a coastline, and that flashing light must be a lighthouse. But I'm moving into the fog now. Nothing but fog. Hold on, the fog's gone, it's really bright, and there's a little island."

"Hey, I wonder if that's..." Ethan began. But Tim continued, apparently oblivious to his friend's presence.

"There's the strangest house I've ever seen, right in the middle of the island. They've got loads of snow. Hey, there's someone skimming in on a broom...no, there are four more and they've got a quaffle. Looks like a pick-up quidditch game. That's Anne! And the others all have red hair too. Must be her brothers."

"Thought so," Ethan murmured.

"Huh?" Tim asked blankly. "Wait, it's fading. What's next? Come on! Nothing?"

Tim stood back from the vase.

"Well, that was interesting, as far as it went," he said. "I mean, it was good to see my family and now I know what Anne's house looks like, but I didn't see anything interesting like you did."

"Maybe you should be glad," Ethan said quietly. As he did, they both saw a script appearing on the table top.

If the present seems far too mundane,
look in the vase that's clear as the rain.

What may come to pass may be to your gain,
But beware! What you see may cause infinite
pain.

Ethan looked at Tim. When their eyes met, Ethan recognized the same mingled eagerness and uncertainty in Tim that he felt himself.

"Not entirely encouraging, is it?" Tim finally said.

"No," Ethan agreed. "Then again, to know what's going to happen..."

"Yeah," Tim murmured. After a moment he stepped up to the glass vase and said, "Well, I'm going to give it a try."

Ethan watched as Tim gazed down into the water. A few large bubbles began to rise from the bottom of the vase. Gradually the bubbling became more intense, as if the water was coming to a boil. Tim leaned down over the vase, his face just a few inches above the surface. Ethan could make out nothing more, but he could tell that Tim was beginning to see what the vase chose to show.

"Let's see, this looks familiar," Tim mused. "Yeah, the Assembly Hall. Looks like a feast, it's all decorated. Flyte's standing up, giving a speech. No, he's handing out awards. Shoot, that's me...I'm a lot taller and he's handing me a big trophy. I think we won the Kaaterskill Cup, Ethan!"

Tim said this without looking at Ethan. His eyes remained riveted on the vase. "What's going on now? It's dark. Oh, it's the dormitory. That's me again, asleep though. Kind of dull. Wait a minute, I'm thrashing around, must be a bad dream. I wonder...ooh, must have woken you guys up, you've opened the curtains and you're all looking down at me like I'm nuts. It's fading..."

Tim went quiet again for a moment. Then he spoke again as a new image appeared in the vase.

"Dark again, but this time it's outside. There's a really bright light coming. I'd know this anywhere. It's a wheat field and that's a combine--our combine, I should say. Looks like Marvin's in the cab. Harvest's an amazing time, no one sleeps. Someday you should see it, man."

"Uh-huh," Ethan grunted. He'd begun to impatiently wonder when he'd get his chance at the vase.

"Look out! There's somebody in front of the machine. Geez, it's my little brother Will. He knows better than to wander around when that machine's working! He's going to get hit! Marvin, don't you see him? Oh, no..."

Tim broke off, gasping. Ethan didn't dare ask him what had happened.

"Darn it, why'd you go blank just then," Tim said to the vase, smacking his fist against the hard table. Then he stood up straight and Ethan saw a tear trickling down his cheek.

"Tim?" Ethan asked uncertainly. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," Tim answered unsteadily.

"Do you think Will..."

"I don't know," Tim muttered angrily. "The combine was about on top of him and the picture just went black. I don't see how he could have gotten out."

"Well, we don't know whether the vase shows what will really happen," Ethan said in an attempt to reassure Tim. "I mean it keeps talking about what may come to pass."

"Yeah," Tim replied, sounding unconvinced. "Well, I'm done. Why don't you have a go?"

"Don't know if I should now," Ethan told him. "Then again, that is why I came back today."

Tim moved to the side of the room and leaned against the wall. Ethan took his place before the glass vase and looked down at the water, once again clear and placid. As he did so, the water began to bubble as before. Now Ethan began to perceive images within the vase. At first Ethan saw mere snatches of scenes, like clips excerpted from a film.

The images passed quickly, though some appeared several times. An empty, torch-lit passage, water trickling down its sloped surface, turned up so many times as to be etched in Ethan's mind. He saw a room with walls covered floor to ceiling with paintings of all sorts. In elaborate cases of wood and glass, strange silver and golden instruments were arranged. In other cases were ancient, leather-bound tomes and sinister-looking displays of skulls, hands and unidentifiable bones. This room, like the dark corridor, passed across the surface of the vase several times quickly.

Eventually the pictures in the vase slowed, allowing Ethan a better look at what passed. The room of exhibits came into focus, and Ethan's eye was drawn to one wall, entirely filled with portraits of witches and wizards. Several of these seemed vaguely familiar to Ethan. With a start he realized several had pointy chins and blonde hair like his own, but with emerald-colored eyes. Others resembled his mother, with dark hair, wavy curls and the blue eyes Diana Lloyd shared with her son.

The people in these portraits seemed to be looking down at someone or something with great interest. Some pointed, others talked animatedly with their neighbors. Who are they? They must be my ancestors, but I don't know anything about them, Ethan thought. And where is this room?

But before he could look about for more clues, the vision faded. Darkness followed, the inky darkness of a moonless night. Gradually, the shadows of tall trees appeared beneath dots of light that must have been stars. Ethan felt a deep foreboding, though he as yet could see no reason to fear. Something about this scene felt familiar, though he was sure he'd never been deep in any wood at night. As he looked down, Ethan saw a figure coming into view, and as it came closer Ethan recognized himself, robes torn and face pale. He was running, as if being pursued. Somehow he knew that he had something of great value to his hunters, something he had to keep from them at all costs.

Again the scene changed. A man in white robes walked along a lonely path among mountains. Ethan caught a glimpse of the man's face. Dad! he thought at once, but then he wondered. Maybe not, though. Could be one of those people from the portrait room.

The water bubbled again and the image before Ethan dissolved, replaced by a towering figure of flame and shadow. Ethan felt a primal hate rising within him. No, it can't be! his mind told him. That's in the past!

He wrenched himself away from the vase and stumbled to the edge of the room, gasping for breath.

"It can't be...it can't," he muttered, this time aloud. "That's from the past."

It was Tim's turn to be concerned.

"Are you OK, Ethan?" he asked. "You look really pale."

"That can't be the future!" Ethan continued, barely aware of Tim's presence. "Something's gone wrong...it's past...not future."

"Ethan, what are you talking about?" Tim persisted. Ethan finally focused on his friend's face, which was etched with worry.

Ethan caught his breath and then tried to explain.

"I just saw-and felt--something that I know was from the past," he said soberly. "The vase must have malfunctioned or something."

"Whatever was it?" Tim asked.

"The thing...the creature from Table Mountain," Ethan said and he covered his face with his hands. "What the Death Eaters set free and my parents locked up again."

"Maybe it's not locked up for good, though," Tim suggested.

"But it has to be, Tim," Ethan said firmly. "If it gets out...I told you what it felt like just seeing it in the vase of the past. If that's wandering about the world, we're all doomed."

"Well, you could have been right before, you know," Tim said. "We don't know that the vase shows what really happens. Maybe it's just what could happen..."

"Yeah, maybe," Ethan nodded, and then closed his eyes in thought."

"How could it happen?" Tim asked.

"I'll tell you how," Ethan said eagerly. "If what my parents left here gets back to Hafgan or Voldemort or whoever, that's how!"

"You could be right, Ethan!" Tim said excitedly. "Ang Hsu told us in class that really powerful talismans could harness great power, power way beyond the reach of even great wizards! Don't you remember?"

"That's what happened, I'll just bet it is," Ethan replied, remembering what he'd seen the day before. "When I saw the Death Eaters free the creature in the past, Hafgan held something up in his left hand. That's what my parents found and brought here. That's what the sphinx is guarding! And that's what Tiverton is trying to steal!"

"So if Tiverton gets the talisman, than the creature could be released again," said Tim.

"But if we can stop him getting it," Ethan said resolutely. "Then the creature stays where it is...forever."

"Well, we can't stay here forever," Tim said. "We'd better get back to the dorm before someone notices us missing."

The winter afternoon was already turning dusky as the sun sank below the mountains to the west. Ethan looked longingly at the vases, but he knew Tim was right.

They headed back down the stairs. Ethan slung the amulet's chain around Tim and himself before they opened the door and returned over the frozen lake. When they reached the entrance, he took the amulet off again and stuffed into the pocket of his robes.

Ethan found it very difficult to concentrate on anything but the vases of Artephius that night. The vase of the future had given him much to consider. Oddly, the vision that kept returning to him was not the awful figure of flame and shadow, but the art gallery with all of those vaguely familiar faces looking down at him with interest. Who were they? Ethan had never known any relatives beyond his parents, Aunt Eilonwy and Uncle Bertrand. He knew that Llewellyn Lewes Lloyd had taught at Kaaterskill many years earlier, but he wondered if he could find out more by looking in the vases once again.

Tim, on the other hand, seemed unnerved by his experience with the vases. The next afternoon, Ethan suggested that they again go flying. But Tim didn't seem interested.

"Maybe I'll just go for a walk, then," he said, unconsciously fingering the amulet stowed in his pocket. "Do you want to come along?"

"No, I think I'll just stay here and read," Tim said, eyeing Ethan shrewdly. "I know where you want to go, Ethan. Don't go back, please!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Ethan asked. "No one knows I've been up in the tower. And I really want to try to learn more."

"Well, there's something odd about those vases," said Tim. "They gave me the creeps. And I'm sure students aren't allowed there. Just because we didn't get caught doesn't mean it won't happen."

Ethan shrugged, but pulled on a sweater and his winter robes and headed down the tower and out to the grounds. He slipped behind a large tree just outside the entry hall, put the amulet around his neck and walked quickly out to the lake again. It seemed nearly routine now. In minutes he was up at the top of the little tower, standing before the vases. He decided to try the vase of the future once again. Sure enough, the image of the painting gallery appeared quickly. This time he was able to take his time gazing at each portrait in turn. Many had plaques on their frames. Ethan was just able to make out the name "Lloyd" on several of them.

He strained to try to see more, but he was startled by a deep voice behind him.

"Back for another look at the family portraits, Ethan?"

Ethan felt as if his stomach had dropped about a foot. He turned and saw the tall, blue robed figure of Cyrus Flyte standing at the back of the room, the light of the torches flickering over his grave face. Ethan must have focused his attention so intently on the vase that he hadn't heard the headmaster enter the chamber.

"Umm...yes, sir. I didn't hear you come in."

"Indeed. Fascinating how concentrating one's senses on the future can lead one to neglect the here-and-now," said Flyte, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"So," Flyte continued. "I see that you, like so many others over the centuries, have discovered the lure of the Vases of Artephius."

"Centuries, sir? How long have they been here?"

"Well, that is difficult to say," Flyte answered enigmatically. "Because they are not always here. Whenever I have really needed them, I have found them here in this tower. But I have found no sign of them here on many more occasions."

Ethan suddenly felt a need to explain his presence in the tower.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to interfere," he said. "I don't even know why I was drawn here the first time. If I'd known they were here for you to..."

But Flyte held up his hand.

"You misunderstand me, Ethan," the headmaster said. "I have had neither need nor desire to look into the vases for many years now. If they were here when you arrived in the tower, you must have been meant to find them. I trust that you understand by now what they show you."

"Past, present and future--my past, present and future," Ethan answered hesitantly.

"Well, yes...and no," Flyte responded. "For example, the vase of the past showed you the events at Table Mountain many years ago. And the vase of the future showed Mr. Van der Meulen receiving an award from the school."

"How do you know that?"

"Now you have spent much of the past term wondering just what happened at Table Mountain," Flyte said, as if he hadn't heard Ethan's question. "Your classmate, on the other hand, comes from a background so unlike Kaaterskill that he still wonders whether he can ever really fit in here, despite being both top student in his class and a very good chaser to boot. The vases don't simply show past, present or future events. They react to the deepest concerns of the viewer's heart. And this is where most fail to understand the message of the vases."

"I don't understand, sir."

"One cannot rely too heavily on what the vase shows one, Ethan, for the vision is incomplete and may be influenced by the deepest hopes and fears of the viewer. While the danger of misinterpretation is greatest when looking into the vase of the future, one cannot fully trust any of the vases."

"So Tim's little brother may not get hit by the combine?" Ethan asked, trying to get his mind to understand what Flyte was saying.

"Alas, I cannot say," the headmaster said with a sigh. "The future is always very indistinct, very changeable. So many choices yet to be made, so many actions that may be taken or not. The best that I can say is that the vase shows shades of what may be in the future. Better men than you or I have gazed into the vases and gone mad with despair, been paralyzed with fear--or been infected with unfounded confidence in their fortunes."

"I perceive that you are unlikely to find the vases for some time now, Ethan," Flyte continued. "If and when you do, you will be better prepared to interpret what you see. Remember that while the past beyond our control shapes our lives, the choices we all make can change the future. We will all do well to remember that, rather than despairing of making a difference. Now, why don't you put on your father's old amulet and head back to Bradbury Tower?"

Ethan stepped back from the table that held the vases.

"Professor Flyte, sir? Can I ask a question?"

"As you already have," Flyte said wryly, "I suppose you can ask another."

"When you've found the vases here, what did they tell you?"

"The last time, I discovered that it would have been a bad idea to give my uncle socks for his birthday," Flyte answered. "A good thing, too. I've always thought one can never have enough..socks, that is. But what he really wanted was books."

Later, as Ethan lay in his four-poster, it occurred to him that the headmaster might have been pulling his leg. Then again, he thought as sleep took him, it really hadn't been any of his business in the first place.