The ship in storm, the frog and Sam's café belong to me. Merlin and Flora belong to Zelazney. The rest belongs to Rowling.
The boy in front of me was looking more like a chimney sweep from one of Dicken's more realistic novels than a Hogwarts student, being covered from hair to feet with a black, sticky substance. But still, from that black layer of goo he was radiating an air of happiness. His eyes twinkled and his grin was almost as wide as his head.
"Awesome!" he exclaimed. "Totally wicked. Did you see how it exploded, sir?"
"Er... yes!" I answered. "And it wasn't supposed to have done that. Are you OK?"
"What? Sure! It was wicked! And look, I'm all black. Cool!"
Shaking my head I reflected that boys are boys, whether wizards or muggles or demons. I summoned my Logrus sign - the sign of primal chaos - and used it to fish out a rag and a bucket of water from shadows. I gave it to the still babbling boy.
"Here, Creevey. Try to get the worst to come off."
I left the boy to clean himself and turned to the rest of the class.
"OK, anyone knows what Creevey did wrong?" A few hands were raised. "Dean?"
"Didn't use the transformator, sir. Too high voltage."
"Yes, that's true and... yes Abott."
"Mixed up the incantations sir. He left the magic to run wild."
"Yup. Could easily have become dangerous instead of sticky. And... Finch-Fletchley?"
"The programming was incomplete. He didn't add any end to the loop. It could've been running forever."
"True... The questions is maybe, do anyone know what Creevey did right?"
Giggles followed. I shot a glance at the still (rather ineffectively) cleaning boy, but he didn't seem to have been offended by that insult. Good. I focused my attention to the rest of the muggle-studies class again. We stood in a small dungeon room, cramped with bits and pieces of tools, cables, electrical equipment, magical ingredients and other things of equal weirdness. A number of gadgets of different proportions and shapes were placed on small tables in the middle of the room, and around them the students were assembled. In one corner was a large generator, contently running by itself. It had been hell of a job to get electricity to work at Hogwarts (and if my little generator would ever have found its way to muggle community it would have caused a fair number of professors in physics to be either very, very exited or very, very depressed, or both). I enjoyed this class, much more so than the defence-classes that were to be my main occupation. The students were eager and interested, I could use a hands-on, fooling-around approach that were much more exciting than the common class-room teaching, and some of my students actually showed real promise. I stretched out a hand and ruffled Creevey in the hair, earning a handful of goo in the process.
"What he did right was to try, to experiment. Sometimes you have to dare, to tinker, take a chance and face the consequences. However, even for how much I would like you all to develop an independent, experimental mind I would also like you to get you out of here in one piece, so from now on, no one is to connect anything to electricity until they have checked with me, OK?" They murmured agree. "Then get back to work."
They did go back to work. I slowly revolved around the table. Dean and Finnigan were trying to solder some kind of cylinder to the device, carefully measuring the angle to the main bulk of their machine. Finch-Fletchley was working on his own, eagerly typing code on a keyboard connected to something that in one way was an ordinary PC, in another way was something different altogether. I shot a glance over his shoulder and pointed out a spelling mistake. He would undoubtly have noticed it soon enough on his own, but it never hurts to gain a bit of credit. Turpin and Abott worked on a beautiful design, a device consisting of what seemed to be made mostly of slowly flowing molten glass, held together by a magnetic field. To tell the truth, I don't think they had thought much about what to do with it except for making it pretty, but who am I to suggest there is anything wrong with that? And then there was...
"Sir! Please, can you show me that flow-chart again? I'm sure I'll get it this time. Please?"
I fired my warmest smile. The pleading in the voice was obvious, and I could very well understand why. Having been raised by pure-blood wizards who knew everything about charms and transfiguration, but nothing at all about electricity, this class was really something to bite on.
"Sure, Weasley. There's no hurry. Let's take it from the beginning." I sat down on the chair and produced a piece of paper and a ball-pen from my pocket (there's no way I was going to slosh about with a quill if I didn't have to). "OK. This is the power-source, the generator. From this the electrons go through the copper cable. Electrons do go through copper, but not plastic and rubber, that's how we keep them were we want them..."
Again, through the basics of electromagnetism and beginners wiring practice. I tried to be as pedagogic as I could, but there was really a lot to cover. I gave it about ten minutes before I concluded it was time to give the other some attention and Weasley some time to mull over what I had said. I turned back to Creevey who was now moderately clean and was trying to repair his devastated device.
"You can as well throw away the turbine," I told him. "And better add a new hair of unicorn as well. That one is rather dirty... as are you too by the way. Take a good shower after this."
"Sure, sir!" he laughed and saluted. "Hey, sir, what about adding a magnetic coil around the unicorn hair? Then I can put some more electricity to the turbine and synchronize them."
"Well, you could of course. But why?"
"No idea, would be cool!" he answered, smiling with his whole face. I shook my head and made a mental note of adding a safety switch to his permanently re-designed gadget before next lecture. I shot a glance at my wrist-watch.
"OK, class. Time to put your things away. We'll continue next week."
"Aw, sir!" Finch-Fletchley protested. "Just another fifteen minutes? I'm on to something now."
"Then you have a week to think it over. Or you can design the code on paper and put in into the machine next time. Now it's time to..." and I was interrupted.
"I MADE IT!" Weasley cried, jumping up and down. "LOOK EVERYONE! IT WORKS! IT REALLY DOES! I MADE IT!" The class was staring. I couldn't help laughing. The sight of the red-head jumping up and down, excited to the point of hysteria, radiating of proudness and relief, over the fact that she after weeks of frustration and failures finally had managed to connect a set of diodes to the generator, making them blink in pattern, was somehow very heart-warming. I knew how much it meant to her. In a class where her friends were making audio recorders and computers or even stranger devices, she had been hopelessly left behind already from the start, hardly able to put a plug in the socket or change a bulb. But she had stayed and worked really hard to understand the theory of it all, and slowly, inch by inch, learnt things that the smallest muggle child could have done in its sleep. Now she had finally managed to construct a device of her own, if admittedly small and insignificant. The triumph was her and her alone.
"Very good, Weasley," I said as the class gathered closer to have a better look.
"Cool!" Creevey said with no hint whatsoever of irony in his voice. "Hey, that one in the middle's green."
"Very good, Ginny. A fine design," Dean said, giving her a quick hug, and I realized from the look she gave him that he had earned himself a fair amount of gratitude from the girl. I let them fuss around her device for a few minutes before reminding them that they lecture was over. Reluctantly they packed away and started to leave. Weasley trailed behind.
"Um, sir?"
"Yes, what can I help you with?"
"I was wondering... my dad is really a fan of muggle artefacts, and he's really interested in what we learn in this class... he would be really glad to see this thing I made... I couldn't send it to him, could I?" I smiled at her.
"Sorry, Weasley, It just wouldn't work without electricity, and it's not designed to fit in a muggle socket." She looked disappointed.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot..."
"But why not invite him here?" I asked. "It's not that I mind parents joining the lectures, and he might find some of the things we do amusing."
"I really could?" she asked breathlessly? "He'd love it. Thank you very much." She ran after her friends, still on a happiness-trip from her triumph. I laughed for myself and turned off the generator, checking that everything was all right, allowing myself a few moments of reflection. Weasley would probably never be anything but an amateurish tinkerer, at best, but some of the others were showing promise. Real promise. Especially Finch-Fletchley would probably in his time give this conservative wizarding world of theirs quite a start when his gadgets were to fulfil their true potential. It was almost that I wished to hang around to watch it happen. Almost. I glanced at my wrist-watch again. I had about an hour to get ready for the Slyterhin party and still had to get rid of the goo from my hand. Those little things we teachers have to deal with, I pondered as I made my way to the bath room.
About fifteen minutes later in my own room I was admiring myself in the mirror. I had conjured up several sets of dress robes from the shadows and was now trying them. Naturally, I looked handsome in all of them, but I wanted a set that made me look elegant as well as handsome. To tell the truth, I was a bit nervous. I had been to some company lunches and student dinners in San Francisco of course, but this was England and the old school. I didn't want to make a fool of myself by eating with the wrong fork or anything like that. A thought struck me. I dismissed it but it came back. Why not? It wasn't like I had anything to hide, and it was a while ago since we were in touch. So I walked over to the desk, produced a pack of cards from my pocket and sat down to sort out the right trump.
Trumps. I have no idea who first started to make them, but I have gained of few hints of trump artistry being practised for a very, very long time. Indeed, the fact that they are used in both Chaos and Amber indicates that the secret was known already before the first rebellion. They are a practical means of communication and transport, as well as a really ingenious way of manipulating shadows. Most of us have our own deck at hand at all times. Mine was differing somewhat from the others in that I draw most of my trumps myself and thus used my own style. In appearance they resembled playing cards, or rather tarot cards. Fortune reading is a favourite past time in the family, after all.
The trump I had chosen showed the image of a woman. She wore a blue-green dress that left her shoulders bare. Her hair was long hair and its colour something of a cross between sunset clouds and the outer edge of a candle flame in an otherwise dark room. Her eyes were blue, blue as Lake Erie at three o'clock on a cloudless summer afternoon. In the background could be seen a statue in Greek style. I took the card in both hands and started to concentrate on it, looking deeper into the picture, trying not to look at the picture of the woman, but rather the woman itself. I could feel the coldness of the trump, could feel the shadows bend. Nothing... nothing... nothing... contact!
She stood on a street, dressed in a more practical dress than the one she wore in the picture. A golden dagger was hanging at her side. The street seemed busy as people dressed in renaissance outfits hurriedly walked past her. She had halted and was now looking at me, smiling.
"Merlin! What a pleasant surprise. Do you want to come through?"
"No thanks, Flora" I said, returning her smile. "This is just a quick call. Do you have the time?"
"Of course. Let me just..." And she walked a few step to the side, keeping the contact. "How's my favourite nephew?"
"I'm just fine, thank you very much. I am still in the shadow Earth, but I finished school."
"Yes I heard. Top grades, Random told me. Congratulations. So what are you doing now?" She was leaning elegantly against a wall, looking - as always - charming. I tried to catch another glimpse of the background to guess where she was, but I didn't get much hints. The fashion indicated Amber, or the neighbouring shadows, but it was hard to tell for sure.
"I'm working as a teacher, really," I said. "In England. Ever been there?"
"Of course! I spent the better part of the eighteen century in England and France. Wonderful places. I like the people."
"So do I. Well, the reason I ask is that I'm invited to a dinner tonight and I was going to ask you for some advice. Is there any certain etiquette to be addressed? How should I behave?" She laughed.
"Why, Merlin. So sweet. Calling your auntie for some etiquette hints. Tell me, is there a girl involved?"
"Uh, no. It's the students that are giving a dinner. This is one of the old-style boarding schools, so I figured their dinners parties might involve something more than just throwing beer at each other."
"Don't be too sure..." she smirked. "But anyway, since you have endured some of the dinners here in Amber - I mean the official dinners, not the ones where the king sit in his old underpants and complains about hangover - well, anyway, since you have been to some of those, you should be prepared for everything England can throw at you. If you're in doubt, just relax and let someone else do the first move. Also, since you are dealing with students, it might be wise to let someone else take the first bite of everything."
"You make it sound easy"
"Well it is really. Which school is it?"
"You have probably not heard of it. It's a magic school, called..." Suddenly, her eyes were very wide.
"Not Hogwarts, certainly? I thought you were doing computing stuff in shadow Earth."
"You know about Hogwarts?" I asked surprised. "I didn't even know there was magic in this shadow until I ran right into it by mistake."
"Yes, they are rather successive about it, aren't they? But listen Merlin, this is important. How did you find Hogwarts?" The urge in her voice made a tiny alarm bell ring in my head.
"Er, it's a long story, really. But as I said, it was just by pure chance I found out about it at all. Why?"
"Are you sure it was an accident, Merlin? It wasn't a setup? You weren't led into it?"
I thought back to that evening at the pub. It had seemed random enough to me. It had certainly been I who started to talk to Anna, rather then the other way around, but of course, if she was good at it...
"What're you hinting, Flora? Why should someone at Hogwarts want to set me up? I told you, I've never met these people before."
She was regarded me carefully, undoubtly occupied with the favourite family game - decide how much I know, decide how much to tell me, forsee my reactions...
"I was at Hogwarts not fully thirty years ago, Earth time," she said, hesitating a moment and then continuing, "with your... father." I started.
"What? Corwin was here? What did he do? Why? Why would anyone want to set me up because of that?"
"I know little of his actions at Hogwarts," she said. But as you know I was... looking after your father now and then during his period of... confusion." I snorted but she went on. "At the time, he had been to England for almost a year and I thought I would take a look at what he was doing. So I went to England and found out that he had contact with the magic users. I was curious, because he had never been interested in magic before. I spent some months snooping around, but I never really found out much about what he was up to. I met the current headmaster by the way, a nice man named Dumbledore."
"He's still headmaster. But that doesn't tell me much, Flora. Why would anyone set me up because of something my father might have done? You must have learnt something of his dealings here." She shook her head.
"For all I knew, he might only have been snooping around just as I. He was a curious nature, after all, and it's very possible that he first at that time found out about the wizards and wanted to learn more. But your father easily makes enemies as I'm sure you remember. Just be careful, OK?"
"You aren't telling me very useful things."
"I'm sorry, but that is all I have. He went back to the states a few months later, and I followed him."
I was silent, not knowing what to say. I tried to focus my thoughts. So, father had been here. Why should that come as a surprise to me? He has lived in this world for hundreds of years. The surprising part should be if I could find a place where he had never been. But still...
"I'm sorry to ruin your good mood," Flora said. "I know that Corwin's a sensitive topic, but I just thought I should mention this since you work among the wizards."
"It's OK," I said. "It's interesting to learn what the old man was up to in his days... I suppose no one has heard..."
"No Merlin. He's still gone." I nodded.
"Well, thanks anyway, and thanks for the hints about the dinner. It'll be fun."
"Don't mention it. When you come to Amber next time, please come by and drink wine with me."
"I will."
"See you."
"See you."
And the contact was broken. Slowly and carefully I put her trump back in the case and placed it in my pocket. I stood up and glanced at in the mirror. This would do.
Absentmindedly I started my descent to the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was. My mind was spinning. Father had been here. Not a long time ago either. And Flora had hinted he had been involved in something sinister. Well, not a bad guess since he usually was, but still...
Suddenly I felt a bit home-sick. Not home as in Chaos, though, or rather, not home as in Mother. My father was not a popular topic with her. Strange. I had rarely met the man, but still he had changed my life that day after the war when he told me his tale. I had travelled here, to his shadow, partly to get to know him. And now it seemed like I had a new opportunity to do so. I barely glanced at the pale boy who opened the door to the Slytherin common room for me. The room was scrupulously clean and decorated in green and silver. The students stood by their chairs, smart, neat and nervous. Professor Snape, dressed all in black and with not a single strand of hair out of place stood at one of the short sides of the tables. The other was meant for me. Every single pair of eyes in the room was locked on me. Those little things we teachers have to deal with, I pondered.