Chapter 8. The Magic Inside.
The wand was made of yew wood, it was thirteen inches long and the wand maker had very gently inserted a phoenix feather to be its magical core. He had only two such feathers, both from the same phoenix, the other one he had used the day before to create a wand of holly only eleven inches in length and now the wands lay side by side, brothers in magic. They were boxed and placed in the shop awaiting the wizards who would claim them.
An evil so basic and elemental, one that had existed since the beginning of time observed the making of these two wands and it exalted in their creation. The opportunity would soon be here, an opportunity it had last seen over fifteen hundred years ago, an opportunity to turn all to chaos.
Which wand to choose, the Infundus, the unspeakable one, could not decide. They were of equal power, but it must choose correctly or all would be undone. In the end the decision was simple, holly was for courage, unity and guidance, these attributes meant nothing to the Infundus, but yew was for change, maturation and endings, a change to the dark, fulfilment of all its plans and the end of the world. It chose the yew.
The Infundus entered the wand unnoticed and hid itself from the magical power of the phoenix feather that lay at its core. It would not battle directly with the magic of the feather, for it was possible that the spirit could, at this stage, have been driven away. It waged a silent war instead, and corrupted the power of the wand and the instant an eleven year old Tom Riddle touched it, it corrupted him. Under the influence of the Infundus and with the power of his wand to back him up Riddle and then Voldemort carried out acts of evil that made him the most feared of his kind, and in his turn unspeakable, as he who must not be named.
But the plans of the Infundus had gone awry; its rise to absolute control had been thwarted by the actions of the Tyr and Harry Potter in particular. Now that Voldemort was gone and utterly gone, his soul scattered, never to return to this or any other world, the evil in the wand decided to act on its own. It cared nothing for the individual wizards involved, it simply required one with sufficient power to fulfil its destiny, and maybe using the one who wanted to destroy Harry Potter above all else, was a good place to start.
The Infundus had become the wand; consolidating its position so that the feather had become the weakest of the pair, overcoming it had been a simple matter, and the magic of the Phoenix only offered a token resistance. In its small wooden world the Infundus ruled and from this haven its influence ranged abroad, affecting those who were too weak to resist or those whose desires drove them to accept its suggestions with no coercion.
With the destruction of Voldemort all those years ago, it had summoned the miserable creature and escaped from the clutches of those that could do it harm. The elf always argued with the new voice in his head, but always agreed in the end, and so he was easy to control. The wand had made him check that the boy who was destined to finish Voldemort's work was safe and unharmed, and then aid him, without his knowledge, to flee the country and reach safety. Now all that the wand needed was time. Time for the boy to become a man; time for the saviour of the wizarding world to become soft, and time for them all to forget the horror, so that when that horror returned there would be nothing and no one to stand in its way.
Even at a distance the wand had no problem in controlling the elf; it could influence the blonde haired wizard but not subdue him, not yet anyway, and for the moment as their paths were closely allied it was only necessary to encourage him to act within his nature. Soon, very soon this wizard and the whole world would be at its mercy, and for another three years the wand waited, watched and planned its retribution.
The wand languished forgotten in the top drawer of an old desk, in a dusty corner of a Cambridge College but now its self imposed imprisonment was over, the time was right this time there would be no half measures, the wand, the Infundus had no ego to satisfy, it wanted nothing for itself but vengeance, and to get that vengeance it would destroy the world.
For four years Draco had existed as Laska Yoflam watching and learning the power that the muggle Magus wielded. He had always thought of the wizarding world as large, but as he observed the reach of Magus Industries Draco began to see it as rather insignificant and parochial.
It would be so simple to take over; the muggles were so willing to blindly follow those they considered gifted or superior, and if they resisted ….well none of them had any defence against a wizard. Maybe this was why Magus was so infatuated by the idea of being able to use magic, whatever the reason it blinded him to Draco's deceits and Draco had many of them.
His devices, made to identify, catch and hold a witch or wizard, were all fake. They would beep and sparkle and look very impressive simply because Draco built each of them around his wand, or one of the captured ones. His finest creation was a machine to rob a wizard of his powers and store it for later infusion, this was really only a very impressive light show, but so convincing was it that by using certain spells and a potion so obscure, it may even fool the wizard it was used on.
Then one June morning Draco was summoned into Julius Magus' office.
"Ah Laska, how goes the experiments?" Magus asked with a child like interest that his business enemies would never have recognised.
"Slow as ever sir," Draco saw the disappointment, "but I feel that a breakthrough is not far away."
"Good, good," It amazed Draco that a man with so much power and such an astute eye for muggle business could be so blind when it came to the discussion of magic and wizards. It never occurred to him that this was always the price paid when an unattainable goal was raised to such importance that all else was blotted out.
"Was that all sir?" Draco, as Laska, could be nauseatingly ingratiating.
"No, not at all, this is a momentous day for the company," Magus enthused, "A project initiated by your friend Elf which we have worked on for over ten years has reached fruition. We tested it yesterday and today I would like you to see it."
Draco knew well not to upset his boss when in such an expansive mood, and obviously he would be delighted to see …whatever it was.
The laboratory was one of the larger ones in the complex that Draco had little reason to have ever visited before. There in its centre was the thing that all the excitement was about; Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. Two huge rectangular stones standing on their ends topped by a third formed a gigantic doorway that the Knight Bus could have easily passed through, standing next to this Trilithon was a cabinet, taller that most men, and as wide as the reach of their arms. Thick cables snaked from doorway to cabinet and from cabinet to the power generators set against the back wall of the laboratory. In the tall face of the black painted cabinet was a small hatchway which at the moment was propped open. Inside the cavity open to view was a crystal rod about a foot in length, held upright by clamps at each end, and pulsing with a red light.
Magus pointed to this strange light. "The heart of the machine," he said proudly, "that is a diamond, created in this lab, the power it produces is quite incredible."
"Err… what does the machine do sir?" Draco asked cautiously.
Magus laughed. "What does it do? Watch." He closed the hatch and pressed a large green button, the only other defect in the smooth side of the cabinet.
The noise of the power generators rose to a level that was actually painful, and as speech was impossible Magus pointed now at the doorway, through which Draco could see the far wall of the lab. The view suddenly shimmered, then fractured like the reflection in a mirror that had just been smashed, and was replaced with nothing. Total blackness stared back out of the portal, and Draco felt a weak but sustained pull toward it. With a crash the circuit breakers from the generators opened and for a second or two the noise increased as released from their considerable load the generators sped out of control until their breaks cut in and slowed them.
Magus slipped a conspiratorial arm around Draco's shoulders. "Like it?"
"Excellent sir, but what is it?"
"The boffins call it an instability inducer," Magus explained, "It forms a portal that as far as we can tell leads nowhere. The space on the other side is infinite and anything that passes into it never comes back, if we can only sustain its operation it will revolutionise the waste industry."
Draco regarded Magus with disbelief; of all the ways this device could be used, and all he thinks of is rubbish disposal; but then of course thought Draco there's rubbish and there's rubbish.
That night Draco thought he had a dream, it was very vivid, and Harry would have recognised its source immediately, and would have been deeply disturbed because he would have imagined that the instigator of those night visions had been dead for seventeen years.
Draco was walking down a narrow street bordered on either side by high stone walls, it was quite dark but at the end to which he was walking was a pool of light. The light shone from an old fashioned lamp, it was powered by muggle electricity, and hung over an arched gateway that led into a courtyard. As he turned into the courtyard he could see that there was only one exit from it, a large black painted wooden door, shut and barred to him. Removing his wand from his pocket he pointed it at the lock, with an 'Alohomora' there was a click and the door swung open.
The spiral staircase behind that door had seen a considerable amount of use, the steps worn with the tread of thousands of feet; Draco added to those thousands and started to climb the stairs. One turn, then two, upwards of the left handed spiral Draco climbed until, after many more turns, at its top the stairs ended at yet another door. This one was not locked and a simple turn of the handle and the door opened inwards.
The room inside was very cluttered, piles of books and papers were leaning against each other for support, the walls were lined with shelves carrying even more books, and several small objects that Draco thought looked familiar. There was only one clear space in the whole room and that was the top of the large oak desk that occupied the space under the only window, and it was to the top drawer of that desk that Draco was irresistibly drawn. It again was not locked, why should it be, it contained nothing of value to its owner, a few pens some spare paper, and a stick that some students had used in a rag week prank, so long ago that its presence had been forgotten.
The drawer opened quietly, the only noise was from the pens rolling around inside it, and there at the back was the stick, but as he picked it up Draco realised that this was no ordinary stick, it was a wand and no ordinary wand at that. It called to him and spoke to him; it told him what it was and what he would become. Draco held it reverently and tried to stare deep into its centre, but the evil it contained would not let him in, instead it gave him an order.
When the old man shuffled through the door that had not been seen, because it was hidden beside a bookcase, and began to enquire what on earth Draco thought he was doing, Draco obeyed that order and used the two words that sent the green fire screaming across the room to strike the old man in the chest. There was a clatter of falling books and the thud of a body hitting the floor, Professor Wilfred Fullbrook lay on his back, his wide open eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, as dead as a door nail.
In his dream Draco turned on his heel and fled, out and down the stairs, through the gateway and down the street. The buildings of the town flashed by him and soon he was out in open countryside, then the place that had served as his home came into view, and seemingly without passing through any of the security Draco was in his own rooms, then lying in his bed.
The alarm clock by his bed woke Draco; he looked at it with severe distaste, that thing must be the most diabolical device muggles had ever come up with. He fumbled for the correct button to turn the buzzer off and his hand touched something on his bedside table that sent a shock of recognition up his arm. He sat up and brushed the shock of pale blonde hair out of his eyes, there lying on the table was the wand from his dream, and he was at a loss as to how it got there. Then looking in the mirror that was attached to the back of his bedroom door, he received his second surprise of that morning, for looking back at him was not the face of Laska Yoflam, his assumed identity, but that of his real self Draco Malfoy.
………………………………
The area had been cordoned off and police cars blocked the access to the narrow street that led to the gateway. The alarm was raised by the Professor's housekeeper; she had found that his bed had not been slept in, when she arrived that morning to make it, and as he was a man of advanced years she was naturally concerned. He had on a few occasions forgotten to go to bed and worked through the night, so with cup of tea in hand she had gone to his office to check on him. She found him there lying on the floor cold and pale in death, that might have been the end of it, and his demise put down to his age but for the fact that on his face, fixed forever by rigor, was a look of absolute horror as if someone had frightened him into his grave.
"Hello, John," said the suited detective holding out his hand to the man climbing the stairs. "Long time no see. Thought this one was right up your street, I know that the University is not usually your patch, but this one is full of that hocus pocus stuff you like so much. Oh who's this little lovely then," he said as a slim dark haired young woman followed John Burford into the room.
John smiled, "Of course you won't have met, will you. Burt Joplin D.S. Cambridge Central, this is Julie my I.O. one." he said by way of introduction.
"Very pleased to meet you Julie," said Burt putting on his best bird pulling voice, "didn't get your second name, and I don't suppose you're free this evening?"
Julie smiled a dangerous smile that would have quelled a lesser Lothario than Burt, but he was feeling lucky today.
"Burford," Julie said, and was rewarded by the sick expression that covered Burt's face. "No I'm afraid I shall be busy tonight, as will you be Sergeant, unless I am very much mistaken."
"Err… yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am," Burt had obtained a bright red countenance by this stage, and beat a hasty retreat. "You might have told me you worked with your missus John, made a right idiot of myself there," he added as he passed his old friend and headed for the door."
John's only response was to lick his finger and draw an imaginary '1' in the air.
John heard Julie tut, tut. "You lot are so infantile sometimes, it makes my teeth ache," she said with feeling, "How long have you been planning that one."
"Ever since the incident with the pizza and the hot dog," Julie gave her husband a very strange look. "You had to be there." he said.
The pair, now alone, spent some time examining the room and its contents. In the three years they had been together they developed an excellent working relationship as well as a personal one which had led to marriage, some twelve months ago. John understood the world to which Julie was irrevocably joined; well at least he understood some of it, and delving into past records began to realise how often the muggle and wizarding worlds intertwined. They had cleared several long standing open ended murder cases from the files, not by actually finding the perpetrators but by labelling them w.i.c.a., wizard or witch instigated criminal activity, and strangely when wica files were presented to the Home Office they were accepted without any comment. Obviously John was not the only person who knew that the wizarding world existed.
During their examination they had unconsciously stepped over the form on the floor covered by the blanket, but unable to put it off any longer John knelt down by its side and lifted the cover clear. It didn't take a genius or a wizard, but just someone who had seen the effect before to realise that the old man was the victim of the killing curse.
"Why do you reckon?" John asked his wife.
"Well, there is or was something here that is a powerful magical object," she replied as she passed a small spherical detector over the shelves. It was making a slow clicking noise that as Julie worked her way closer to the desk became louder and faster. Until, as she passed it over the open top drawer of the desk, it rose to a scream. "In here or at least it was, and kept here for quite some time judging by the residual readings." She remarked.
Bert Joplin stuck his head round the door. "They've come to collect the Professor, if that's OK, and we've some CCTV footage you might find interesting," he said.
"OK Bert, that's fine we'll be down in a minute." John replied.
In the incident van the grainy picture flickered on the monitor screen, a man wearing a long cloak turned and walked down the street away from the camera.
"That was at twelve thirty," the operator informed those gathered around, "You have to bear in mind that the lane only goes to the courtyard and that stairway to the victims office is the only logical destination, but some of the students have told us that it is possible to get over the wall and access the student accommodation without passing the porters lodge from down there."
"Why would they want to do that?" Julie asked.
"To beat College curfew and avoid trouble," Bert supplied.
"Now this is twenty minutes later, same cloak but different man," said the operator, "and these were the only two who used the lane last night."
"Probably just students up to no good," said Bert, "have to look elsewhere." And with his words the van began to empty. But Julie remained.
"Can I see the second man again?" The operator obliged. "Hold it there," the image
froze. "Can you zoom in?" The fuzzy image of the man's face filled the screen. "Merlin," said Julie without thinking. "If I didn't know any better I would say that, that man is Lucius Malfoy."
"A lead?" said Bert, poking his head back in the doorway, "worth following up?"
"No, not really," said Julie thinking furiously, "Lucius Malfoy has been dead for nearly twenty years." Then she grabbed John's arm and pulled him into a corner away from the others. "We must get in touch with Harry and Hermione," she said urgently, "if that man is not Lucius then there is only one other he could be, and that is his son Draco, and if it is it means trouble."
Harry was looking hard at the reprints of the CCTV pictures, John had the photo lab work on them and as a result the images were much clearer. Although the face of the man was clearly not Draco as they remembered him, he did look remarkably like his father had. Long, fair, almost white hair and a stretched face, with a haughty expression, he would certainly have passed as a brother of the long dead Malfoy, so why not his grown son.
"Who was this muggle who was killed?" asked Harry.
"A Professor Fullbrook, he was known to have more than a passing interest in magic, our sort of magic," said Julie. "Even the Ministry were keeping tabs on him, but recently they hadn't bothered." Harry said nothing but raised his eyebrows in surprise. "He was getting a bit past it, and not considered a threat to us," Julie explained.
"Yes, well there was certainly something about him or his rooms to interest to a dark wizard," said Harry seriously, "any ideas?"
"Only that a very powerful magical object had been stored there for some time," replied Julie, "but the Ministry have nothing on record as being missing, least nothing containing that much magic."
"Umm," murmured Harry, "unfortunately the Ministry records department is not aware of everything that goes missing." He said. "I have a horrible feeling that something nasty is happening in East Anglia, it's all too much of a coincidence. Those murders a while ago and now this one, all in the same general area, we must make a concerted effort to search this part of the country, we have to head this off before it gets out of hand."
Hermione was lying on her side in bed, her head propped on Harry's chest as usual. She could hear his heart beating but unlike on other nights they had spent together its rhythm had an urgency to it that was not brought on by their intimacy, but by worry. She could feel his mind whirling and the stress that came with it.
"Harry?" she whispered.
"Yes love?" then, "I'm sorry,── I just don't like the way this is shaping up."
"You think it was Draco?"
"Oh yes, no doubt," he said, "aged or not I would recognise that excuse for a wizard, and now he has Voldemort's wand."
"We don't know that for sure," said Hermione sitting up, "it may be something else." She added hopefully.
Harry gave his wife a grim smile. "What's happened to the famous Granger logic?" He reached out and stroked her hair with a loving gesture. "We have to work on the worst case scenario, and at this particular time I can think of nothing worse than a picture of Draco Malfoy holding Voldemort's wand and a grudge." Harry could see the expression of worry deepen on Hermione's face and he pulled her to him folding his arms around her.
"Voldemort was a much darker wizard than our Draco, and we finished him off, don't worry we will be fine." As he held her, caressed her and tried to kiss away her fears he held tight the thought that was coursing through his mind, 'Merlin but I hope so, we have so much more to lose this time.'
The last day of that particular school year, James and Jennifer's fourth and Nat's third, was one of brilliant sunshine, and promises to meet over the summer holidays. Under the watchful eyes of Harry and Hermione, James and Jennifer had maintained discreetness in their relationship, but it was obvious that they were very comfortable in each others company. Certainly the two fourth years were accepted as an item by all of their peers and even Nat had realised that she no longer had exclusive rights to James's attention, but it didn't prevent the three of them acting together in a curious mirror image of the relationship Harry, Hermione and Ron had shared when they were at school.
As usual James and Nat departed from Godrics Hollow to spend the summer with their grandparents in Avalon, this time it would be a little different as Jennifer was to join them at the end of the month. This was to be her first visit to what was arguably the most magical place in the country, and if she was looking forward to it then James was equally excited about being able to show her around. He was also worried as to Nat's reaction in having another girl with them to disrupt their normal plans for their stay, but he needn't have concerned himself as for once Nat had things to do on her own, that would have been difficult to exclude her brother from, and Jennifer's presence would provide the ideal opportunity.
David and Natalie Granger, Hermione's parents had lived in the same cottage in Avalon for the last twenty years, now both in their early sixties, they had enjoyed a life that most muggles would be unable to comprehend. Their only daughter, the joy of their lives, was the most accomplished witch to graduate from Hogwarts for generations. She had met and fallen in love with the wizard that despite his youth had defeated the greatest threat to the wizarding world that had ever been seen. Now they had produced the two most perfect grandchildren that any muggle or wizard could ever wish for. Their only disappointment was that despite all their exposure to magic they were still muggles, and there was nothing that could be done about that, it was something they just had to put up with.
James and Nat did all the things one does with grandparents when you are on holiday with them, and in their case, even occasional trips into the muggle world, to see the strange and wondrous, and it was fun. For James the fun did not stop when Jennifer arrived, there was much for her to see and he would be her guide, as for Nat she found herself more on her own but that was just as she wanted it.
The day before her fourteenth birthday Nat took the path that wound away from the village up on to the side of the Tor. At the first terrace on the hill the path divided, the left fork continued to wind round and round the Tor eventually leading to the top, the right fork followed the level of the terrace and led to the small stand of trees that concealed the entrance to the passageway that ended in the muggle town of Glastonbury.
Nat wasn't sure how long she had waited for this opportunity, the compulsion to visit the cave was hidden deep in her subconscious, it was something that she knew she had to do, and she hoped it would resolve her dilemma. As Nat emerged from the sparkling pool that was not water, but looked like it, the splendour of the crystal caves hit her as it had never done before. The light shining out of the pool was reflected back at her from the many faceted crystals that lined the cave walls in colours so fine and bright that it left her quite breathless with wonder. She didn't follow the main pathway through the cave but branched to the left and wound her way between crystal towers that rose from the rock floor to finish several feet above her head. Nat thought that the path ahead of her stopped suddenly at a blind end, but in fact it turned sharply right and opened out into a crystal chamber that was lit even brighter than the main cave. In the centre of the chamber was a conveniently placed stone block and it was on this that Nat seated herself, waiting to see what would happen next.
There was absolute silence in the chamber; no drip or splash of water from the cave penetrated into it, the sound of air passing through the cave was muted down to nothing, the only sound that percolated through to Nat's senses was the beating of her own heart. The whispering, when it started, was so tenuous as to be unintelligible, but Nat knew that the words were directed at her, so she strained her ears hoping to catch the sense of it. The volume rose slightly and then Nat realised that the voice or voices were whispering her name over and over again, so she replied.
"I am here." The loudness of her own voice made her jump, and the whispering ceased immediately.
"Well, so you are." The words wavered as if the speaker was great with age. It was a man's voice, and the words were kindly spoken. "So nice it is to meet you at last my dear."
Then there he was, as if he had stepped out of the crystals themselves, the aged man was standing before her. His hair was long and white, as was his beard and he was dressed in a long flowing blue robe that was dotted all over with golden stars. His face was hard to describe, it looked a little like her fathers, it looked more like that portrait of Professor Dumbledore in the Headmasters office, but it looked most like the face that, she suddenly realised, had been haunting her dreams for as long as she could remember.
"Why?" Nat asked the old man.
"Ah,…the simplest question to ask," he replied, "and often the most difficult to answer." He paused. "Still… not to be unexpected I suppose. To get the real answer my dear you must look within yourself, you must find the magic you hide inside yourself."
"The magic inside? … I don't understand."
"No? Umm, perhaps you don't at that," the old man smiled at her. "Here, let me help." He moved to her side and placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Look into the crystal wall in front of you," he told her, "and imagine him."
The colours in the crystals started to spin about each other and their intensity increased, brighter and brighter they became, then suddenly they dissolved away and in their place was a green meadow, and in the distance was Avalon. That it was Avalon was beyond doubt, for in the background was the Tor, but it was not the Avalon that was present outside of the caves in the here and now. This Avalon was different, it was smaller, the buildings were simpler, this was an Avalon of the past, long past.
Walking through the long grass was a young couple, Nat studied them intently, the girl was not much older than she was, and the boy just a little older. The girl Nat did not recognise even though she instinctively knew who she was, the boy despite the changes that age would bring, she knew only too well. As they walked slowly towards her she saw them ageing as if their whole lives were being played out in those few steps. Their faces may have changed but the love that was evident between them never wavered, but hidden in the man's face, which didn't age as much as the woman's, was a look of sadness and desperation.
Then suddenly on the last step the woman disappeared and the man was left standing alone, his expression one of incalculable loss, the hurt he was feeling must have reached to his very core. The vision faded and Nat was aware of the tears that rolled down her face, she turned to the old man and buried her head in his blue star studded robes, and he responded by holding her awkwardly and patting her on the back, trying to comfort her.
Nat regained her composure and looked once more into the old man's face. "Her name was Gwen wasn't it?" She asked, and he nodded silently in answer. "And they were in love, but she got old and he didn't, and so he lost her, and he's been mourning her ever since?" Nat knew she was right, but she needed the confirmation never the less.
"Yes, he fell in love before he knew who or what he was, before he knew that his life would span eons, whereas hers would be that of a normal witch. He wanted to grow old with her, for them to have a normal life together, but that was denied to him, and he considered his gift as a curse, and he still does." The old man sighed, "He did what I could not. When my pain became unbearable, seeing so many friends pass away out of reach, and not be able to join them, I hid. I became a recluse, distanced myself from my fellow wizards, existed to them only in legend, and passed into history as the most powerful wizard ever to have lived, but in truth I was a coward." The old man waved his hand and another stone seat appeared and he sat on it facing Nat. He took her hands in his and stared into those intense green eyes she had inherited from her father. "Even my love for his mother did not hold me, to my shame the arrival of my son meant nothing to me, the loss of Arthur was paramount. His death was the final act, that much of the legends are true, I could bear no more, and I allowed myself to fade away. My son had a loss as deep if not deeper than mine, but he stayed he shouldered his responsibilities and with his mother and Eleanor shouldered mine, he has been alone for so long, and even when I could have helped him I failed." The old man fell silent and the quiet of the crystal chamber descended again.
Hesitantly Nat broke the silence. "My dad told me that Solomon called on you twice during the battle with Voldemort, and that both times you helped, didn't you Merlin?"
Merlin the wizard hung his head. "No my dear, I wish that it were true." he said sadly, "I heard him call, but the help came from a source more ancient than all of us, but even then he didn't really need it, he has always held all the power he will ever need."
"But even with all his power he doesn't have the strength to make himself happy again does he?" The girl asked.
"No, but we do." said Merlin cryptically. "Look to the magic inside Nat, what do you see? What does it tell you? Look hard and it will answer all your questions for you."
Nat closed her eyes and concentrated, "I see him," she said, "with my Mum and Dad, I feel the same about all of them. I love them as a daughter should, I am not his daughter, but it is the only love I know how to give. I see my brother, I love him too, though even that love is different, and it comes from further back from that time when I was not me when I was… Sophie and he was… Oh goodness… now it all makes sense. But that isn't the end of it, it goes back even further to a time when I wasn't me and I wasn't Sophie, to a time when I was… Gwen… and that is where my feelings for him come from,… oh dear." Nat opened her eyes and looked into Merlin's tired old face. "This just makes it worse, now I know why I feel like I do, but there is no way I can express it, I don't know how, and to him I am just a little girl, the daughter of his best friends, it would be all wrong."
"Of course it would, now you love him for what he is and he in turn loves you for what you are, but that is the now," Merlin explained, "one day there will be the then. Time has a habit of changing us all, you will grow, you will learn and one day you will be able to express the way you feel, and when that day comes he will know who you really are, he has always been in love with the person you once were. It is quite probable that you and he are, as your mother and father, destined always to be together, but for the moment it must be our secret."
Even with this insight Nat still felt like the young girl she was, and nervous as to how she should act from now on, but one thing was clear in her mind, that even if in the fullness of time she revealed her true self to Solomon, within a few short years he would be alone again, and maybe that wasn't fair.
"I agree," said Merlin, when she expressed her fears to him, "but this time although my son does not call me, I can help. There can be no more than four eternal souls, Eleanor was the first; I was the second, Niniane the third, and Solomon the last. On these souls is the burden of steering all the others to the final goal, and as for some considerable time I have not met my obligations, it is possible for me to pass my gift on to another willing to take the load."
"Think very carefully Natalie Potter before you answer this old fraud," said a voice from behind. Nat spun round and the short dumpy figure of Eleanor Wicca was standing in the entrance to the chamber. "You may have inside you the life of a full grown woman, but you also have the life of an infant who never had the chance to really live, and your answer will be driven from the being that you are now with only the experiences of an adolescent."
Suddenly the purpose of her existence became very clear to Nat, she smiled at the old woman and said, "With the wisdom of age, the innocence of a child and the enthusiasm of adolescence I say …yes."
There was a sickening lurch which made Nat close her eyes and when she opened them again she found herself sitting in the sun on the upper slopes of the Tor.