At last, the ship on which James Potter was traveling docked in London, where an escort would meet him to transport the Griffin he had procured, and himself, to his father’s house, where his brother, Albus, lay in wait. The ride was longer than James could stand, for every meter seemed like a lifetime to him, even after nine days of seeking what only the worthy could find.

When the convoy arrived at the Potter family home, after what had seemed like ages to James, the group quickly began to corral the Griffin, which had recently decided to become uncooperative. James thought that perhaps the creature would respond to him, since it had relented to him, not this gaggle of strangers.

“Easy there. We just need to take you inside.” As he stroked the creature’s eagle-like beak, James felt the power and vitality of it, and that life force made him feel confident that this endeavor would succeed and that his brother would live.

Once the now acquiescent Griffin was ensconced in the back yard, James practically ran into the house in search of Luna Scamander. Instead, he met Albus’s wife, Anne, near the door. She looked pale, thin, and teary-eyed. The previous few weeks had been harder on her than anyone, especially when one considered how much she loved his brother.

“James, is he going to be all right? Is this going to work, because I�”“ She did not finish her sentence, because her composure shattered as she crumpled to the floor.

James wanted to comfort her, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Instead, he muddled through. “I, um, well, it’s the best chance we have, Anne. It’s all up to Luna and the Healers to make sure he’s going to live.”

From her knees, Anne gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. You’ve done so much where I’ve been able to do so little. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

He knelt in front of her and kissed her forehead. “Nonsense. He’s my brother, and he would do everything under the sun to save my life. How could I do any less?” James patted her on the shoulder and left to find Luna. She needed to extract stomach bile from the Griffin as soon as possible to start brewing the potion that would hopefully cure Albus.

Outside of Albus’s room, Luna stood, waiting for James with her usual whimsical smile, the source of which he still could not understand. He sighed and said, “It’s done.”

“Very good,” Luna answered. “You can see him now, if you like. The Healer’s wanted to keep everyone out, but Harry was quite insistent. Finally, they realized that seeing visitors wasn’t going to make him any worse than he already is.”

“Thank you, Luna. For everything.” James hugged his father’s longtime friend, who was one of Britain’s foremost authorities on magical creatures of all sorts. Only she would believe that a Griffin could still exist and that it was guarding the vast booty of Godric Gryffindor, even when everyone else would think both of them mad. He smiled wryly to himself. Look who’s laughing now.

As he cracked open the door, James saw his brother’s face, which glowed a brilliant shade of gold. The sickness had really taken its toll. One of its side effects was skin translucency that allowed the metallic properties of the alchemized bone to shimmer though the dermis. It was beautiful and terrible all at once.

James sat by Albus’s bed for nearly an hour before his brother emerged from his fitful slumber. “Al?”

Groaning, Albus rolled over to see who was visiting. He was ecstatic to see James. “You came back. Did you find it?”

“Aye, that I did, little brother. Hopefully, by this time next month, you’ll be chasing that kid of yours around again.”

Albus tried to smile, but the fruit of his labor was less than stellar. “I hope so. She’s only three, and it would kill me all over again if she had to grow up and not even remember me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Al. You’re going to be fine, you’ll see.” As his brother drifted back to sleep, James whispered, more to himself than anything, “You’ll see.”

He had no idea how long he had slept there, but James had fallen asleep at his brother’s side. When he regained consciousness, he watched as two Healers administered an oral potion to Albus. As a Healer himself, James understood the underlying principles of both the potion and the ingredients with which it was made. The theory was, as outlined by ancient texts about the disease, that the Griffin’s biology was strongly linked to gold as an element, which would lend itself to a cure.

Once the Healers left, James knew that now it was time to wait. It would be maddening, hoping that the alchemization of the bone would reverse, for then, the only thing left to do would be to treat for the heavy metal poisoning. It did, however, give him ample time to contemplate the incredible, nine-day journey that had brought him to that point.

Nine Days Earlier

“That bloody cow!”

James was incensed. He was sitting at the Leaky Cauldron with Scorpius Malfoy, his brother’s best friend, in order to inform him in person of Albus’s recently contracted illness. However, that morning’s Daily Prophet had him ready to strangle a reporter with his bare hands.

“How dare she say such things about Albus!” James fumed. “She acts like he got Midas Disease on purpose. Only a complete nutter could believe that.” He slammed his hand on the table, hard, causing their drinks to slosh here and there.

Scorpius sat patiently, waiting for James to become more reasonable. Once satisfied that he could speak without sparking James’s pique, he asked, “So, aside from slanderous beat writers, you have quite a story to tell, my friend. First of all, what in the name of Merlin is ‘Midas Disease?’”

His mind diverted from the newspaper article, James explained, “Midas Disease is an extremely rare disorder in which the infected person’s bones slowly succumb to alchemization, or turn to solid gold. There hasn’t been a documented case of it for well over five hundred years.”

Brow furrowed in concern, Scorpius asked, “So, is there a cure? And, if not, what happens to someone who has it?”

This caused James to frown even more. “Well, the disease itself doesn’t kill, because we have potions that can substitute the bone’s marrow functions. It’s the heavy metal poisoning from the gold that does it, so if his bones aren’t recalcified, Al doesn’t have a chance in hell of living through this.”

“Damn,” Scorpius swore. “Now I see what you mean. A cure?”

James shook his head. “The only known cure is the stomach bile of a Griffin.”

“Guardians of treasure; I guess it makes sense. But aren’t they extinct?” Scorpius was extremely concerned; Albus, who had been his friend for well over twenty years, could and probably would die, and they all seemed helpless.

Sighing, James replied. “’Fraid so. We’re researching alternative treatments at St. Mungo’s right now, but I don’t think there is anything. The last Griffin was destroyed early last century when some wizard used his powers to dig up an Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb�”Tutankhamun, I believe.”

“Damn,” Scorpius repeated. “So, what can we do? We can’t just sit here and let him die!” His normally placid demeanor became one of anger and frustration.

His own disgruntlement apparent, James snapped, “Don’t you think I know that? He’s my brother, Scorpius. What about his wife? His daughter!” Running his fingers through his hair, James flung himself from his chair, knocking it to the floor. He paced the room, ignoring the stares of slightly alarmed onlookers. “I don’t know what to do.”

Scorpius, who was immensely more composed than James, asked, “So, are any Griffins unaccounted for?”

Flinging his arms wildly, almost clobbering another patron, James said loudly, “No, there aren’t any. I�”“ He ended his sentence abruptly and sunk deep into thought. After what seemed like an eternity to Scorpius, James finally asked, “Do you know anything about the treasure of Godric Gryffindor?”

Rolling his eyes, Scorpius joked, “Wrong house, mate. I’ve no idea what that is.” He crossed his arms. “Where are you going with this?”

James’s eyes lit animatedly. “Gryffindor was filthy rich when he died, yet no one ever saw so much as a Galleon of his wealth. It was rumored that he hid it somewhere to keep it from deterring him from his teaching duties.”

“So, you’re saying that there’s a king’s ransom out there, and if I’m understanding you correctly, you believe there will be a Griffin guarding it.” Scorpius’s tone was incredulous.

“Exactly! I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before. Send an owl to Luna Scamander and tell her where I’m going. I have ten days before Al is too far gone. I�”“ Snatching his cloak, he plunked down a Galleon to cover his drinks. “I have to go!”

As James flew out the door, pinching the bridge of his nose, Scorpius mumbled to himself, “Did he actually say where he was going?”

When he reached his home, James ran through the door and into the attic, where his old school books were stored. He dug through them furiously until he found the one he sought, A History of Magic. In the index, he identified every entrance for Godric Gryffindor. After flipping through the pages, James found the object of his search.

He descended the stairs at a furious pace and went to pack a few necessary items. The commotion was so great that it brought his wife, Augusta, into the room, who clearly thought he was an intruder. When she saw it was James, she lowered her wand and glowered.

“James, what on earth are you doing?” She put her hands on her hips the way she did when their son was doing something naughty, but James hardly diverted his attention from packing.

Not even bothering to look at her, James answered, “I have to go, love. I think I have a lead on a cure for Albus.”

This changed Augusta’s tone immediately. “You’re not doing something dangerous, are you?”

Exhaling resignedly, James looked at his wife. “Guss, I have to do this. He’d do the same for me, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to help him.”

Augusta took this as confirmation that his mission would indeed be dangerous, but also that she could not stop him. “Please be careful,” she said quietly.

James kissed her hard, surprising her. “I really do love you more than life itself. You know that, right?”

“I do.” She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep herself from tearing up. It seemed as if he was saying it in case he did not return, which scared the hell out of her. “I love you, James. Remember that before you do anything stupid.”

She knows me too well, he thought. “I will.” Giving her one last peck on the cheek, James collected his bag and sprinted out the door to the nearest place that was safe for Apparition.

As Augusta watched her husband leave without so much as a backward glance, she felt her heart tear into shreds. Their family would not recover if something were to happen to him.

James Apparated to the site of Godric Gryffindor’s tomb in Godric’s Hollow, which, according to A History of Magic, was renamed thus after the legendary wizard’s death.

No small amount of breaking and entering would be required to gain access to the sarcophagus. The task would be a tricky one, but years of nocturnal mischief at Hogwarts had geared him to evade nearly any security.

According to the bloke at the inn down the street, only two entrances led into the ancient mausoleum, the front one being the most heavily guarded. Thankfully, the man did not find it untoward that a stranger was inquiring about the security status of one of the wizarding world’s most treasured monuments.

The back door was the easiest way to enter undetected, something which struck James as ridiculously predictable. He scanned the area; it appeared that the door was secured with a relatively simple Locking Charm. It would be no obstacle for one as schooled in gaining access to places he should not be. He felt his lips curl in glee at the simplicity of it.

Once the sun set, it was time to strike. The last employee, the custodian, left for the night, using the same charm the security wizard used earlier. When the man was out of sight, James skulked from his hiding place on the hill next to the tomb. After whispering the correct charm to unlock the door, he entered the mausoleum of Godric Gryffindor himself, breaking the first of what he figured would be many laws.

The building itself was unremarkable. Dusty tapestries adorned much of it, but there was nothing odd about the sarcophagus in the slightest. Not a single marking marred the smooth surface of the white marble.

It must be inside, James thought to himself. Breaking into the building was one thing, but to disturb the corpse was entirely different. Over and over in his head, he kept telling himself to think of Albus as he Levitated the lid open.

The body was not decayed, exactly, but it appeared waxen, almost suspended in time. It was eerie to behold, and James felt shivers ascend his spine. Once the lid was on the floor, he circled the sarcophagus, only to find…nothing.

His head spun with the sting of failure. Finding this bloody treasure was Al’s last chance at survival, and he, the oldest brother and future head of the family, had failed. Shame welled in his chest as tears sprung in his eyes; he did not bother to wipe them from his cheeks.

Ashes replaced the spot where the first tear fell onto the corpse. The second droplet caused even more rapid decay, and, before James could understand what happened, the entire body turned to dust before his eyes. “Oh, Merlin, what did I just do?”

Panicked, James looked around, trying to see if this was some sort of spell or practical joke played on any who dared disturb the remains, but there was nothing but the walls, the sarcophagus, and the now-powdered remains of Godric Gryffindor.

Suddenly, a breeze came through, blowing the ashes out of sight and into what seemed to be nothingness. James could only watch in horror as it all happened in front of his eyes; nothing could stop it.

James hung his head in despair, which was when he noticed something extremely odd. There were runes on the bottom of the sarcophagus, engraved into the stone. He felt his heart sing with elation that he had not just defiled the grave of one of the greatest wizards of all time for nothing.

Quickly, James withdrew a roll of thin parchment and a black crayon from his bag and made a rubbing of the runes. Once that was finished, he replaced the marble lid and left as fast as he could, undetected. His next obstacle was translating the runes, but he knew that this particular sequence was beyond his abilities, which left him only one other option.

Lifting her head from the crude rubbing of the Runes, Lily gave her brother a suspicious look. “Where did you get this?”

James shifted uncomfortably under her glare. “Is there any way I could get out of answering that?”

Lily sighed. “I thought as much. So, why are you trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets?”

“What!” James exclaimed. “I had no idea what this thing said, only that I need to know where to go next.” He wanted to kick himself for revealing that to Lily.

“Go where next, James?” Rising from her desk, Lily stood as nose to nose with her brother as she could despite the near-twenty-centimeter difference in their respective heights. “If you don’t tell me what you’re doing, I swear to Merlin that I won’t look at one more rune.”

Though she did not raise her voice, he knew better than to argue. He related his plan to recover Gryffindor’s treasure, or, more accurately, to find the Griffin that might be guarding it, to save their brother. Once he finished recounting his plot, she flopped back into her chair, clearly overwhelmed.

“James, this is complete madness! You know what they’ll do to you when they find out you broke into a national monument? They’ll throw you into Azkaban!” She buried her face in her hands in frustration, but no amount of pleading would dissuade him from his purpose.

His resolve unhampered, James said calmly, “Lil, if I don’t do this, Al is going to die. End of story; there is no happy ending. I can’t let that happen.”

Through her hands, she replied, “Don’t you think I know that?” Lily lifted her eyes to meet James’s gaze, her eyes teary. “I just don’t want to know what would happen if you got caught and Albus died anyway.”

Truthfully, James had not even considered that possibility. If Lily’s fears came to pass, their parents would lose two sons, not just one. It was sobering, but James knew he had to try. “Is there anything else I should know before I go?”

Wordlessly, she handed him the parchment containing her translation, which he accepted while walking out the door.

Once in a secure location, he studied the translation. It contained the entry point of the Chamber. Not the one that required use of Parseltongue in the girls’ lavatory, but the one that he doubted anyone even knew existed. It led from the Headmistress’s office into the subterranean cavern in which Salazar Slytherin had built his infamous sanctuary. The hitch was gaining access to Hogwarts.

The perfect entry point hit James. There was a secret passage running from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade into the school. Instead of breaking into the best-protected building in Britain outside of the Ministry of Magic, all he had to do was steal into a simple sweet shop. It was almost too good to be true.

After Apparating to the village, James donned a Disillusionment Charm to render himself invisible. Dawn was fast approaching, and the shop would be opening in an hour. He awaited the shopkeeper’s entrance, and when the old man came into sight, James slunk to the entrance of the building and waited for the security spells to be dropped.

The shopkeeper opened the door, but did not leave enough room to squeeze through. Desperate, James stuck his foot in the path of the rapidly closing door, causing it to fling back open.

James hobbled into the shop, biting his lip hard in pain. The shopkeeper looked at the door, not sure why it had not closed, but he shrugged and shut it again successfully. Once the man went to his office, James gingerly crept to the stairs, but a traitorous floorboard squeaked under his weight.

Poking his head out of his office, the shopkeeper looked around, trying to identify the source of the noise. “Hello?” he called. “Is someone there?”

Not even daring to breathe, James stood still as a statue, hoping the man would simply think he was hearing things. Much to his relief, the shopkeeper shrugged and went back into his office. The coast was finally clear to go to the cellar.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, James looked for the trap door that would lead him straight into the school. Finally finding it, he lowered himself into the black, mildewed tunnel. He had never taken this route before, but he knew its existence from the Marauders’ Map, which Harry had bequeathed to him in his first year at Hogwarts. Judging by the relative distance, James knew he had about twenty minutes of trudging through this tunnel. Not trusting the air to support him that long, he cast a Bubble-Head Charm to provide clean air until the journey ended.

James reached the one-eyed witch statue without incident. After he drew his wand and whispered, “Dissendium,” the stone in front of him began to slide to the side. He silently berated himself for not being more careful about being noticed. It was around the time that students would be going to breakfast, and the Ravenclaws could pass that location at any time.

Fortunately for James, no one saw the passage open or close, so now all that remained was to somehow gain entry into the Headmistress’s office, both without being seen or detected while he found the corridor leading into the Chamber of Secrets.

The perfect solution presented itself in the form of a memory. Had the students hiding in the Room of Requirement during the war not created a passage out of the school to obtain food? He wondered if the room might yield a similar passage into the Headmistress’s office.

He made his way to the seventh floor to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, where he knew the Room of Requirement sat, waiting for its next task. As he knew to do, James paced in front of the wall where the door to the room would be revealed, thinking to himself, I need a passage to the Headmistress’s office. Over and over, the request repeated in his mind until the elusive entry presented itself.

James entered quickly to avoid the doorway being seen by any students, though it appeared there were none in that particular location. Inside, there was nothing but a painting of an old man in voluminous robes. He approached the portrait, which was labeled, much to his chagrin, as Godric Gryffindor himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the portrait addressed him, despite his state of invisibility.

“You’re the one who desecrated my tomb, are you not?” Horrorstruck, James could do nothing but open and close his mouth in a feeble attempt to answer for his actions. When no sound came out, the portrait laughed at him. “Fear not, my boy. I can’t do anything to you, I’m just a picture. I just want to know what would cause you to disturb a man’s resting place.”

Finally finding his voice, James stammered, “I, um, well, you see�”“ Taking a deep breath, he settled on telling it how it was. “My brother, Albus, is very ill. He has the only case of Midas Disease in five hundred years, but all the Griffins are extinct as far as we know, so the cure can’t be made. I was hoping that your hidden treasure is guarded by one.”

Gryffindor regarded James carefully. “So, it’s my gold you’re after, or the Griffin?”

“Sir, if I find that Griffin, I would dive every Galleon of my own to you if it meant saving my brother.” James hoped that Gryffindor believed him, because he meant every word he said.

Raising a brow, Gryffindor asked, “And what after that? Will you reveal it to the world, or would it be our little secret?”

Without missing a beat. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t let my brother die.”

“Young man, I would never do such a thing.” Flipping his hand dismissively, Gryffindor continued. “I was just testing your intentions. Do what you wish with whatever you find there. I’m dead; why do I need gold?”

James could not believe his luck. “Oh, thank you, sir!” Rather sheepishly, he added, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where it is.”

Laughing as if James had told an extremely funny joke, Gryffindor said between guffaws, “Oh, Merlin, no! I want to see if you can find it yourself. But I will grant you access to the Headmistress’s office so you can continue on your way. Professor Vector is not in at the moment.”

“I, um, thank you.” Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would be conversing with Godric Gryffindor, joking about turning his corpse into ash.

Chuckling merrily, Gryffindor replied, “Just say you won’t turn anyone else’s bones to dust.”

Smiling at the portrait as it swung open, James clambered into the new passageway, a few steps closer to his final destination. The end of the tunnel was blocked by another painting, on which James pushed delicately until it opened.

Once inside, he quickly confirmed that the Headmistress was, indeed, absent�”she was�”before going straight for the corner of the room where a great cabinet stood. As the runes instructed, James mumbled, “Homenum passus.”

The cabinet shifted to the side, revealing yet another passage; this one was blessed with stone instead of dirt. As soon the entry sealed behind him, torches lit on their own, illuminating the entire passage the whole way down.

As he neared the Chamber, James’s nerves began to hum. He was well aware that a basilisk had resided down there for centuries, but no one had stayed there long enough to find out what else lurked in the cavern’s murky depths.

After descending for over five minutes and an interminable amount of stairs, the passage finally ended. Lily’s translation of the runes had instructed him to go to the statue of Slytherin. James wondered why Gryffindor would hide anything in this place, but, remembering the great beast that once lived there, he thought it had probably been the safest place at the time. The statue of Slytherin had runes on its base, of which James made a rubbing. The stones lining the entrance of the cavern in which the giant serpent had probably lived also had runes, but these were much too large to copy.

James only recognized a few, and what he did translate basically said that only fools would proceed past that point, but he entered anyway. The path was filled ankle deep in stinking water; after trudging for nearly ten minutes through the putrid conditions, James reached a dead end.

He lit his wand only to reveal another panel of runes. Once he copied these as well, James turned back and strode out of the snake hole, desperate to be far away from it. The end of the tunnel could not have come soon enough; as soon as he reached the main portion of the Chamber, he practically ran back up the stairs toward the Headmistress’s office only to hear voices on the other side of the cabinet.

Straining to hear through the thick wood, James could barely make out the voice of Professor Vector and a very familiar one that made him grin.

“Mister Potter, do you have anything to say for yourself?” the professor barked.

His voice clearly amused, Eric, James’s son, responded, “I hold that he had it coming. Montague called my mum a cow, so I had no choice.”

The angry voice of Vector answered back, “You most certainly did have a choice. Detention!”

Sounding bored, Eric replied, “Yes, Professor. May I go now?”

Cheeky little thing, James thought to himself, smiling. Soon, the room emptied of all inhabitants. After a few seconds of silence to make sure, James uttered the spell to open the cabinet, and he reentered the office.

The portrait that led from the Room of Requirement was also of Gryffindor, and he approached the painting and addressed it. “Sir, may I pass back to the Room of Requirement so that I can be off to my next destination?”

Gryffindor had been sleeping; his eyes fluttered open and he grinned at James. “Ah, back already? It’s a shame that Salazar’s monster is gone. It really was a thing to behold.”

“You knew about the basilisk?” James could not believe that someone like Gryffindor would allow such a creature to reside in a school with children.

“Of course I did. It was my idea to guard my treasure! Salazar only claimed the Chamber for darker purposes once we had our falling out. He instructed the serpent to attack Muggleborns instead of doing its rightful duty.”

James was completely taken aback. “All this time, everyone believed that it was Slytherin’s monster, when it was yours the whole time.”

Sighing, Gryffindor responded, “Well, posterity will believe what it may. I just had Salazar talk to it for me.”

“Of course. So, may I go now?” James’s patience had finally run out. The portrait swung open wordlessly, and he passed through the tunnel as quickly as he could.

Exiting the school and Honeydukes undetected proved much easier than gaining entry, and sooner than he had thought, James was walking nonchalantly down the streets of Hogsmeade, no longer in need of his invisibility. He entered the Hog’s Head and asked about a room for the night, though he had no intentions of staying in it that long.

The arrangements were made quickly, and James practically slammed the door behind the barkeep and withdrew the rubbings, quill and parchment, and a rune translation book he had purchased before he entered the bar.

Every time James opened the book of runes, though, the tiny symbols seemed to mock him. They were not nearly as complicated as the ones Lily had translated to lead him there, but he could not risk involving her again. She had her son to think about. He had already broken numerous laws to get as far as he did, so deciphering a few runes should not be nearly as challenging as it was. He did have an O.W.L. in Ancient Runes, but, as it had been several years, he struggled even with the most basic form of syntax.

Finally, after hours of slaving, James finally figured out where he was going and what he had to do when he got there. He was heading to Egypt.

The desert sun scalded James’s extremely British skin. Within hours, he dispensed of his robes in favor of local attire, which properly shielded one’s flesh from the orb that was intent on frying it.

According to the runes, the next site lay beneath ‘the King whose faithful cat stands guard for eternity’, which led James to the Great Pyramid in Giza guarded by the ancient Sphinx. Where under the pyramid he was supposed to go, James had no idea, but the runes gave the correct counter-jinxes to dispel the protective wards around the chamber containing his next clue.

He supposed it was plausible that the treasure was hidden there in Egypt, because Gryffindor had lived in Africa there for quite a number of years before returning to England to help found Hogwarts. That had been when the lion had been chosen as the symbol of Gryffindor House.

It seemed prudent to wait for nightfall before breaking yet another law�”stealing into the Great Pyramid. Once the Muggle museum portion of it was closed, most everyone left the location with naught but simple surveillance equipment. Magic allowed him to circumvent this minor obstacle easily, but he was more worried about any security set up against wizards by the curse breakers of Gringotts.

In preparation, James bought a simple tourist’s map of the structure. It showed, in surprising detail, what was in each chamber from top to bottom. The most promising site on the map was a chamber, its purpose unlisted, far below the others. It was the most likely starting point.

That night, after all was quiet, James cast a Disillusionment Charm, solving his Muggle camera problem. The motion detectors were easily bypassed by Apparating past them, which went off without a hitch. After removing his invisibility charm, he sighed in relief. He was in.

James had memorized every turn on the map the best he could. After following the meandering tunnels leading into the bowels of the ancient pyramid, he felt the air become increasingly stale. When he was finally at the intended destination, James lit his wand to search for any signs of runes. There were no fresh tracks in the dust on the floor, a sign that interruptions would be extremely unlikely. As he paced back and forth, searching for signs of magic, a glint caught his eye.

The sparkle of a gem drew James’s attention from the hieroglyphics on the walls. There was a brilliant ruby embedded in the wall. It was remarkable that such a prize had evaded the greedy hands of both Muggles and goblins. Surely enough, underneath the gleaming stone were the runes he sought. The inscription was short and simple: ‘He who removes this stone shall die.’ The language of threatening warnings was universal, but even for such a prize, James could not understand how the gem was still there after centuries of grave robbing.

Suddenly, an idea hit him. He drew his Muggle flashlight and turned it on. Once he extinguished his wand, the ruby and the Runes disappeared from sight. That explained why it was still there; wizards, for the most part, knew better than to brave the effects of ancient curses, especially ones from Godric Gryffindor himself.

As he lit his wand once more, James dug for the paper detailing the counter-spells that would both allow him entry and quell the curses threatening to kill and immediately began uttering the incantations.

A doorway appeared, its stone crusted with rubies similar to the one marking its location. After James cast the final spell, the huge stone slab slid to the side, revealing a tunnel that led even further into the depths of the earth.

Realizing that he had no choice, James descended into the darkness, against which the feeble light of his wand could scarcely compete. He took step after cautious step, wishing for the stairs to end and take the eerie blackness along with it. Once he reached the bottom of the steps, he stepped through the threshold.

“Lumos maxima,” James said. The spell flooded the room with torchlight, and the dull luster of gold glinted in the glow. It was not the treasure trove of legend, but it was definitely the lair of a wizard. There were gold cauldrons off in one corner, and books no less than a thousand years old lined shelves.

It was the books that drew James’s interest. He painstakingly identified the title of each, trying to find either the treasure or the next clue. Unfortunately, the search was fruitless, at least until he saw one last tome in the far corner, nearly hidden from sight.

There it sat, on a podium and still open. James crossed the room, staring reverently at it. The cover was solid gold, the borders of the pages crusted with a gold leaf pattern that resembled the coat of arms for Gryffindor House at Hogwarts.

James wanted to touch it, to examine it, but its ancient beauty almost spoke to him and told him not to do so. The book seemed to have a life of its own; he could feel it. However, time was running short. If he did not find the last Griffin thought to exist, his brother would die. That sparked James to ignore the voice in his head and touch the golden volume against his instincts. Immediately, the torches all extinguished, and the portal became an immutable stone wall.

He was trapped.

The light of his wand scarcely shone a meter in front of him, but, despite that, James decided to browse the golden book anyway. Unlike his previous encounters of his quest, this book favored Latin to runes, much to his relief, for it was much more familiar than the small symbols that seemed to laugh at him. After reading for several minutes, he identified it as an ancient spellbook, nothing that could lead him toward Gryffindor’s hidden legacy. The book was impressive and probably contained spells hitherto unknown to the wizarding world, but this was not the time for archeology.

He replaced the book, and the lights subsequently reilluminated. That was when James noticed markings on the podium. That’s just bloody great, he lamented. More runes. The tiny depictions would not leave him alone, and it frustrated him as he withdrew the hated translation book.

The next location on the journey, he deduced, was in a temple that lay outside the Ethiopian capital of Addis Ababa. The mountains, according to the runes, held a strong connection to magic, and early wizards had considered it a sacred place.

James was not fazed by the new destination so much as the fact that he was trapped by a doorway that did not seem inclined to release him. In frustration, he shouted, “Why won’t you let me leave?”

Shock was not an adequate term for what James felt when a ghostly figure emerged from the book, causing him to fall back into the dirt. Once again, he found himself addressing Godric Gryffindor. He was neither a ghost nor a poltergeist; the figure appeared as in real life, simply slightly transparent. The specter approached James, a knowing smile on his face.

“Ah, young man, I see you’re doing well. This particular pyramid is normally crawling with Muggles.” Gryffindor extended a hand to James, who reluctantly accepted it. He knew that any escape would have to be with this apparition’s assistance. Surprisingly enough, Gryffindor was able to help James to his feet.

“How in the name of Merlin did you do that?” Curiosity overrode James’s composure.

Gryffindor smiled. “It is by old magic that I am able to exist outside of the bounds of a book or a painting, which I’m sorry to say has been lost on the generations.”

James simply stared. “You mean to tell me you’re not dead?”

Shaking his head, Gryffindor replied, “Oh, I am very much dead, but that book is a Horcrux.”

“That’s Dark Magic! Everyone knows you never touched the Dark Arts.” James crossed his arms, daring the ghost to contradict him.

The specter simply chuckled. “The Horcrux never started out that way. It was simply a way for one’s spirit to live on after death in a partial corporeal form, and it did not require the death of another to be utilized. All you need is a magical object, such as that�”“ he gestured toward the golden book, “�”and the right spell. I believe you’re familiar with the bastardization that Salazar concocted after leaving Hogwarts.”

A glower answered the question. Nodding in acknowledgement, Gryffindor continued. “To activate the spirit form, all one needs to do is touch the magical object in which it lay.”

“So that’s why everything went wonky when I touched your book?” Understanding finally started to seep into James’s brain.

“Precisely. Now, I understand you’d like to leave?” Gryffindor waved his arm, and the stone blocking the exit slid back from whence it came. “Take this book with you. It would be nice to return to Hogwarts and walk its halls once more.”

James grinned at Gryffindor. “I know what you mean. I envy my son; he just started his First Year.”

“Ah, Eric finds himself in the Headmistress’s office quite often. He’s setting up to surpass even yourself.”

With a proud smirk, James took the golden book and stowed it in his pack. The apparition of Gryffindor vanished, but he had expected as much. James left the pyramid the same way he came, unseen by anyone, wizard and Muggle alike. He Apparated back to his hotel to research his next target.

Addis Ababa had deep roots in magic; Godric Gryffindor himself had spent time there in his youth, learning the trade of magic from some of the best wizards of the age. It was then that Gryffindor had decided to found Hogwarts with his best friend, Salazar Slytherin, who had also trained with the Ethiopian master warlocks.

Once adequately briefed on the new location, James used a Portkey to arrive far outside of Addis Ababa to avoid the locals, who would undoubtedly be looking for the source of the unlicensed magical transportation. To James’s chagrin, the temple lay near the top of the tallest mountain in the area, Ras Dejen. It would require several hours of intense climbing, and Gryffindor had told him that Apparition, of course, would not be possible, insisting that the journey was important, not the end of it; James heartily disagreed, of course.

So he began the arduous trek up the steep grade, the temperature steadily dropping. The mountain was over six kilometers in height, and James knew that the temple was close to the top. The journey proved even more taxing than he anticipated, his legs burning in pain.

Finally, out of energy and nearly out of will, James sank to the cold earth, half frozen, exhausted and disheartened. His breath came in ragged gasps, desperate to pull in more oxygen than the thin air would allow. Out loud, he said to himself, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Guilty for the thought, he pulled out the photograph of Albus and his daughter, Melissa, from his bag. He felt like he had failed them. However, when he saw the little girl waving at the camera and Albus grinning and kissing her cheek, a new resolve washed over him, even more potent than the paralytic chill in the air. He would keep going, he had to keep going. It was not just about Albus anymore; it was about the whole family, and he would not let them down.

Though the frigid air seared his lungs, James trudged determinedly up the craggy slope, focused on his destination. Every time his resolved flagged, he thought about his brother, which steeled his nerves when his body came up short.

After a seemingly interminable amount of time, James saw the stairs of which Gryffindor had spoken, flanked by twin lion statues, standing guard. However, when James reached the beginning of the ancient stone steps, the lions came to life, their tails lashing angrily to blocking his path. Their roar was bone-chillingly similar to that of the real animal. They did not stir from their perches, but James knew they would, should he try to pass again. Instead, he asked them, “How may I pass?”

The left lion answered, “You must prove yourself worthy to enter the sacred temple of our forefathers.” A table appeared in front of him, bearing three identical goblets, filled with some sort of wine. “Of these three cups of mead, one is safe to drink. The others are laced with a potent poison. You are to determine which is safe and drink from that one.”

Logic was not a weakness of his, but he was exhausted, hungry and lacking oxygen; his mind was in no condition to solve riddles. So, in lieu of flogging his mind with a likely unsolvable puzzle, James said what Gryffindor told him to say. “It doesn’t matter which one I drink. Either all of them are poisoned or none of them are, because there is no answer.”

This time, the right stone lion snorted. “That was not one of the choices. Now, choose your goblet.”

Crossing his arms in defiance, James snapped, “I won’t.” Evidently, no one had ever deigned to speak to these fearsome cats in such a manner, because they seemed truly taken aback. James smiled lopsidedly. “Gryffindor said you’d be like this.” They had fallen for the trap his ghostly traveling companion had helped him lay.

Upon hearing the name of one of the temple’s ancient occupants, the first lion asked, “You spoke to Gryffindor?” When James nodded, he continued. “Why did you not say Gryffindor sent you? We would have let you by right away.”

As the tails swished to the side to allow him to pass, James chuckled. “What, and miss those looks on your faces?” Once he had crossed the barrier, the lions returned to their previous petrified state, sentinels of the stairs. He had to hand it to Gryffindor - the ruse to befuddle the guardians had gone exactly as he had predicted. James patted his bag where the golden book resided, appreciative of the impromptu guide that lay in its pages.

After the encounter with the lions, James felt a second wind come to him, despite the pain that radiated through every fiber of his body. At last, the stairs seemed to come to an end.

When James reached the top of the obnoxiously long steps, he prayed his eyes were deceiving him. The temple was there, but all that remained was a pile of rubble. Either age had taken its toll or someone had destroyed it, because all there was to see was a heap of mossy stones.

No longer able to stand, his body throbbing and his mind reeling, James felt blackness consume him as he fell to the ground.

James awoke to a jabbing at his side and to the smell of something cooking. Since he had last eaten in Egypt, the aroma was enticing; he was not even inclined to ask what it was. He rolled over and swatted his arm at the disturbance and mumbled, “Guss, knock it off. I want to sleep in.”

A chuckle that certainly did not belong to his wife sank into James’s brain, and his eyes flew open. It was Gryffindor, standing over him with a stick and a smirk. Damn, he thought. I’m still stuck on this mountain. Grudgingly, James stirred from his uncomfortable posture to find he had been moved near a fire tended by a wizened old priest in plain brown robes. When the priest’s eyes met James’s, his chocolate brown face split into a toothy grin.

Edging closer to the fire, James realized that he was chilled to the bone. Though he knew it was a dumb question, he turned to Gryffindor, currently sitting beside him, and asked, “Can I use magic here?”

Gryffindor shrugged. “You can, but you don’t have your wand on you, so it may be rather difficult.”

Alarmed, James’s hands flew to his jacket pocket, where he had left his wand, and sure enough, it was gone. “I could have sworn�”“ Gryffindor cut him off, smiling knowingly.

“Wands aren’t allowed past the sentries. It vanished when you walked past them, and it will reappear once you leave.” At James’s sigh of relief, Gryffindor playfully punched him in the arm. “If I told you that would happen, would you still have crossed?”

Without hesitation, James replied, “Yes. A wand costs twelve Galleons, but I only have one brother.”

Turning back to the fire, Gryffindor rebutted, “I meant that you would have left it back in Addis Ababa.” When James merely grumbled, Gryffindor laughed at him openly. “You’re not a morning person, are you, Potter?”

“No,” James said sulkily. It was not so much the morning as the sinking feeling he got every time his vision strayed over to the rubble heap that was the temple. “What am I supposed to do? The temple is gone.”

This time, the old priest answered him, handing over a plate of some of the unnamed cooked animal. “It’s still there. It’s my job to determine whether your quest is a pure one. Godric has enlightened me to your purpose, and if it is the truth, you will be allowed entry.”

James sighed in relief. So, his endeavors thus far were not in vain. If his body did not hurt everywhere, he could have jumped for joy. The news even erased the slight gamy taste of what he thought was rabbit.

Gryffindor continued to enlighten James. “Once you’re fed, we’ll go to the temple. Just make sure you bring your Rune book.” Once he caught sight of James’s dirty look, a smile loomed. “Chin up. It’s good to exercise your mind a bit.”

“So you say,” James scoffed as he rubbed his arms briskly, attempting to force his blood to flow faster.

Noticing James’s discomfort, Gryffindor asked, “Is something the matter with your wandless magic, boy?”

James raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that you have the capability to Transfigure yourself a jacket, and yet you sit here in misery. Why?”

“I haven’t got that kind of ability. That’s my father’s talent, not mine.” James knew his wandless magic was decent, certainly better than average, but Transfiguration was the most difficult area of magic with a wand, let alone without one.

Gryffindor rolled his eyes. “And you’ll not even try?” He gave James a condescending look as he turned back toward the fire. “And to think you were sorted into my house.”

That raised James’s hackles. “I’m not trying it because I’m half frozen, and I’m stuck on a bloody mountain with a snarky old ghost! How the hell would you feel?” It irritated James that he was so easily riled, and his annoyance only doubled when he realized that he was bellowing insults at a dead man. Feeling slightly ashamed, he sunk back to the ground.

Not perturbed in the least, Gryffindor cheerily slapped James on the shoulder. “Now, that’s the ticket! Get that blood moving and look like you mean it, boy. Now, take something you can Transfigure, and just do it!”

James could not believe what he was hearing. He had just insulted this man, but instead of taking affront, he was getting a pep talk. However insane James found Gryffindor to be, he found himself doing as he was told.

Fishing a spare pair of trousers from his pack, James laid them down neatly on the earth, positioned his palms above them, and clearly picturing a downy parka, said aloud, “Inanimatus conjurus.” There was a transformation, but not quite what he had expected; one leg of the trousers turned into a jacket sleeve, but the rest remained in its original state.

Frowning, James cleared his mind of all thought except the spell and his goal. Calmly, he repeated the spell; this time, a remarkably warm-looking jacket lay before him. He hastily donned the coat and noticed that Gryffindor was grinning. “Now that’s the ticket, lad! You never know until you try.”

“Can we just get on with this? I’ve only got seven days left before my brother is dead.” As much as he appreciated Transfiguration lessons from Godric Gryffindor himself, James could not afford to waste time.

Gryffindor rose, as well as the priest. James followed suit as they walked over to the ruined temple. The priest mumbled some incantation, the words spoken so fast James could not understand them. Incredibly, the rubble vanished, and in its place stood a perfectly intact stone temple with a wooden door and glass windows. It was as if a veil had been lifted to reveal the true face of the edifice.

The transformation took James’s breath away in a manner even the thin air could not. The priest led them into the temple, and James could not help but look about in curiosity. There were runes everywhere, covering almost every square centimeter of the walls. “Damn.” That epithet, however, was one of frustration, not admiration or wonder.

“Don’t worry, lad, you don’t have to read them all. Just those,” Gryffindor said, pointing at a small patch of wall which favored inked symbols rather than carved ones.

James approached them, but he now recognized several of the symbols already. He used quill and parchment to jot down his interpretation. Once it was finished, he read it aloud. “The key lies within duplicate sentries, millennia strong, with white nobility.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling an oncoming headache, James groaned. “Now, if I just knew what the hell that means.”

Gryffindor poked his semi-transparent forefinger onto the center of James’s forehead forcefully. “Think, Potter, think. What has many sentries, white in color, that’s been around for thousands of years?”

“I don’t know, some sort of building with columns, I guess. Marble, perhaps.” Turning toward the maddening ghost, James felt a tirade coming from him that he could not stop. “Now, I know you want me to figure this out on my own and all, but no one could possibly figure�”“ He stopped his rant midstream as an idea hit him. “Greek architecture is mainly comprised of columns, is it not?”

Shrugging, Gryffindor made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

James knew that he had found the answer. “Ah, I know it is! I don’t suppose you’d tell me which one it is, would you?”

“I’d finish translating first, and perhaps then you would not ask foolish questions.”

Gryffindor’s words made James feel like an idiot, but not for long. He was in much too good a mood, because not only had he climbed an impossibly high mountain, he had also riddled out the aggravating runes in record time without help. He finished the rest of the translation, then recited it to himself. “Kings shall bow before it.”

Vocally, James tried to tie it together. “An ancient Greek building with columns, and kings bow before it. What would make a king bow? One of their gods, perhaps?” Think, Potter, think! He tried to remember all he knew about the Greek polytheistic religion, which was not much. A king would only bow to a god, that much he knew, but they had a bloody god for everything!

“What if it didn’t mean a human king, but the king of the gods?” That certainly made sense to James; everyone would bow to the king of the gods, which was…

“The king of the gods was Zeus,” Gryffindor added.

James tilted his head to the side. “I thought you said you wouldn’t help me.”

Mouth twitching with a smile, Gryffindor answered, “I did, but I’d really like to get going. This is marvelous!”

“Glad I could oblige,” James snapped. So, he was looking for a building, probably a temple, dedicated to Zeus. Problem was, there were probably dozens. “Which one?” he whispered to himself.

Gryffindor dragged James toward the door. “We’ll figure that out on the way. Let’s go!” He hauled a pensive and slightly-bewildered James in his wake as he yelled parting words over his shoulder at the priest, who waved congenially.

Having had enough of being led around like a child, James wrenched his arm from Gryffindor’s grasp, glaring. “I can walk well enough on my own, thank you.”

“Never said you couldn’t. Now, I take it you can’t Apparate all the way to Greece, though?” He stopped short, nearly causing James to walk into him.

Shaking his head, James said, “No. I was thinking a Floo would be less traceable.”

Nodding in agreement, Gryffindor replied, “Methinks you are right. Do you know the nearest Floo to where we’re going?”

James chortled, “I don’t even know where we’re going. Athens, I suppose.” He scoured his mind for someone who would know Athens. Of course, he admonished himself. Scorpius would know. Knowing such a long distance Patronus message would be nearly impossible wandlessly, James rapidly descended the stairs to pass the lion guardians as soon as possible to get his wand back.

He heard Gryffindor running to keep up with the brisk pace. Once past the stone cats, James immediately withdrew his wand, newly returned to his inner pocket, and called, “Expecto Patronum!” A radiant stag burst from its tip, and it bounded into the distance, alight with silvery glory.

Gryffindor, who had finally closed the gap, said in admiration, “That’s a fine Patronus, lad.”

Smiling, James replied, “It’s the same as my father and his father before him.” James continued his declination of the mountain. By the time he was near the bottom, a shining snow leopard stopped in front of him, and in the voice of Scorpius, it said, “It’s a place called To Kazani.” Just as James realized he had no idea what that meant, the Patronus finished one last sentence before vanishing. “It’s called ‘The Cauldron.’”

“Hmm, so, a place in Athens called ‘The Cauldron?’ I guess there’s one in every nation’s capital.” Addressing Gryffindor, James asked, “So, where’s the nearest Floo?”

The specter merely shook his head. “The Floo was before my time, lad. I have no idea.”

James heard a voice over his shoulder, which he recognized as the old priest. “There is one in town at ‘The Cauldron.’”

Quirking a brow, James asked tentatively, “Just ‘The Cauldron?’ No unpronounceable local name?”

The priest laughed. “English is spoken in Addis Ababa almost everywhere. Not everybody speaks Amharic.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” James breathed. It would greatly expedite things without a language barrier. As he departed, he patted his bag and said to Gryffindor, “You should probably go back to the book. The last thing Muggles need to see is someone walking around with a ghost.”

“Agreed.” Gryffindor disappeared at once, leaving James alone as he put the remainder of Ras Dejen behind him. Once in the heart of the city, James asked the friendliest looking local in sight, a woman with several children in tow, where he might find ‘The Cauldron.’ She did not appear to understand him, obviously not amongst the English-speaking population.

After several failed attempts, a young man, dressed very differently than the rest of the city’s residents, finally approached James. He whispered, “You’re a wizard, aren’t you?” James’s disbelieving expression answered the question. “Go to an alley, hold your wand in your hand, and say, ‘Point me, The Cauldron.’ It will give you the direction, and, eventually, you’ll find it.”

“Thank you,” James said simply. He felt fortunate that he no longer needed to beg information from people who obviously did not know what he was saying, let alone to what he was referring. In a secluded alley, he did as instructed, and to his delight, his wand pointed to his right.

James followed his wand’s directions, periodically checking to assure he was going the right way, and eventually, he reached a sign that was identical in almost every way to the one in Diagon Alley at The Leaky Cauldron, minus the crack. He knew he had reached the right place. Inside, he sat at the bar, which was filled with witches and wizards from dozens of nationalities. The bartender approached him. “So, what’ll it be?”

The man spoke English, but not in a dialect with which James was familiar. “American?”

“Canadian, but pretty close. I take it you’re a Brit.” When James nodded, the barman repeated, “So what’ll you have, buddy?”

“I’ll take tea, the most normal food you’ve got, and a shot of Firewhiskey, please. Do you take Galleons?”

Grinning, the barman answered, “Who doesn’t? I’ll be right back.” He left James at the counter, who took a seat at the most stable-looking stool in the vicinity.

About three minutes later, the bartender returned with the drinks and an unfamiliar dish. He recognized the chips, but not its accompanying entrée. “What is this, anyway?” James could not even venture a guess.

“They’re chicken nuggets.” He looked at James as if he were completely barking. “Everyone eats them across the pond.”

James was just relieved that the main ingredient was identifiable and ate voraciously. When he finished, he paid for his meal plus a room. The barman led him to his rental, left him with a key, and Apparated back downstairs. He entered the room and extracted his A History of Magic texts once again.

After hours of poring over every mention of Greece in the whole book, James determined that the Temple of Zeus in Athens was the most probable destination. Since he was done for the day, he settled down for sleep that was much more restful than his stint of unconsciousness on the side of the mountain.

When James awoke, he felt refreshed and ready to continue. Once downstairs, he found same barman and called, “Oi, bartender! How much is a Floo?”

“Six Sickles,” he answered. “Where ya headed, English?”

James replied, “Athens.”

The bartender looked at him curiously. “What takes you to Athens?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, mate.”

Completely serious, he responded, “Try me.”

“I’m treasure hunting,” James said conspiratorially. He knew the barman would never believe him, so there was no harm in telling him. The worst that could happen is the man would think him a complete nutter.

Snorting, the barman replied, “You’re right, I don’t believe you. Just some sightseeing then?”

James nodded, not bothering to elaborate. “Yeah, just to see something different.” He wanted to leave, so once he paid for the portion of Floo powder, James walked to the fireplace, threw in the silvery dust and called, “To Kazani, Athens, Greece.” Hoping he had pronounced it right, James stepped into the emerald flames uneasily.

As he emerged into a foreign fireplace, James was relieved to see another bar, much like The Leaky Cauldron in London. It had to be the right place, because he heard what sounded like Greek spoken by two men at a nearby table. He walked to the bar and asked the nearest employee, “Is this The Cauldron?”

The waitress rolled her eyes and said in a heavy accent, “Of course it is. Are you going to order or not?” James sat at the bar obediently and ordered a butterbeer and the only Greek dish he knew, which was stuffed grape leaves.

After he finished and paid, James asked how to find the Temple of Zeus. The unfriendly woman gave him much the same advice as the boy in Addis Ababa, which was to ask his wand for directions. He mentally noted that method to avoid shrewish servers in the future.

Once he got a bead on his destination, James approached the monumental ruins, now towering above him. Its majestic pillars rose in a manner that he supposed the ancients had intended to be toward the heavens. It was impressive, to say the least, considering how long ago it was built as well as the lack of technology in that age.

Fortunately, James looked like just another tourist, albeit an oddly-dressed one. His sleeveless sweater over a white shirt was far warmer than the balmy atmosphere necessitated, but, after freezing his gobstones off in the highest mountain range in Africa, James would not underdress again.

James spent the day ranging the place, looking for any access he could grant himself come nightfall when it was free of the general public. He found a small security building, which he would be sure to circumvent, and an underground access tunnel that could be reached via the sewers. As distasteful as it was, James kept telling himself that he would do it for Albus.

Night fell around eight, and James was ready. His plan to Confund the security guards and sneak underground worked flawlessly. There were times he could swear he was being followed, but he attributed it to nerves and continued his journey though the dank waterways.

The subterranean part of the temple was as impressive as the exterior. It was grandiose, or, at least, it had been in its heyday, and James was impressed that Muggles had built this incredible structure over two thousand years earlier. Zeus, had he existed, would have definitely been satisfied.

It took almost an hour, but James finally found the runes he was looking for hidden deep in a corner that one would not see unless one searched for it specifically. He made a rubbing and exited the temple before he could get caught. Breaking and entering was almost second nature for him now, considering the amount of practice he had over the past few days.

Once he returned to To Kazani, James rented a room to study the runes in quiet. He summoned Godric to keep him on task when he became tired, frustrated, or confused. After hours of labor, James had the information he needed, so he took a brief nap and packed his belongings in preparation to disembark. Just as he was about to leave, the door flew open and his room was assailed with the Greek Magical Law Enforcement as they arrested him.

Well, at least the building smelled better than Azkaban.

James sat in his holding cell, pending his arraignment in front of the Greek Minister of Magical Law Enforcement. He was not a common criminal; trespassing on what the Greeks consider a national treasure was high on the list of offenses one could commit. Apparently, the sentence should one be found guilty was nearly the same as once would receive for the use of the Cruciatus Curse in England. That made him wonder what punishment would await him in his homeland if they found out it was he who had broken into the tomb of Godric Gryffindor. He shuddered to think.

However, James found that there was nothing left to do but wait. After hours of solitary confinement with not even so much as a book to read, he finally heard the tumblers on the door’s locking mechanism clicking out of place. The door opened, and one of the last people he expected to see was standing before him; it was none other than the bartender from Addis Ababa. “You?”

Smirking, the bartender replied, “Not quite. You won twenty-three games as the Gryffindor Keeper at Hogwarts and fifty-seven professionally. You are currently employed at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies in the Emergency Trauma Ward. You have one son, age eleven, currently at school and probably in detention as we speak. Your favorite color is blue, you like it when your wife punches you in the jaw, and you secretly prefer butterbeer to Firewhiskey, but you’re terrified to let any of your male friends know.”

Complete confusion would not begin to touch James’s current state of mind. How could a bartender from Canada that was supposed to be over 2000 kilometers away possibly know all of that about him unless… “Scorpius, you son of a bitch! You followed me all the way from London, didn’t you?”

Grinning from ear to ear with very un-Malfoy dimples gracing his cheeks, Scorpius nodded through his bartender disguise. “Polyjuice potion is truly wonderful, you know.”

“No, it bloody is not! That was you I heard while I was excavating that old temple, wasn’t it?” James folded his arms in annoyance, glaring at his friend.

Scorpius would not be deterred. “Of course it was! Now, we need to get you out of here before these extremely testy Greek people find out I’m here. Here,” he tossed James a flask of Polyjuice Potion. “Take that so you’ll look like the bloke I left locked in the closet down the hall. I have his clothes right here.”

Taking both the flask and the uniform thrown to him, James looked warily at the sickly green potion. He chugged it in one gulp, and the following cringe rippled practically from head to toe. “Good Godric, that fellow tastes like sprouts!” He tried desperately not to choke on the noxious brew, but his own words halted even the bitter flavor. “Godric. Gryffindor!”

“Relax, Potter. I have your stuff, and the book is safe.” Scorpius patted his own pack as James’s dry heaves and bubbling skin began his transformation.

One of James’s first acts as the Greek MLE officer was to unbutton his pants. This other man was clearly more soft around the middle than James’s lean frame, not to mention much shorter. Giving Scorpius the evil eye until he had some privacy to change his clothing, he quickly swapped garments and glared at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. “This bloke seriously needs to lose a few stone and consider shaving more often. I look like a fat little hedgehog.”

That brought a laugh from Scorpius, whose face was slowly starting to return to its former visage. Noticing this, he frowned. “Time for a reload.” Gulping down his own phial of Polyjuice Potion, this one a pale orange, his face held the same disgusted expression as James. “I’ll never get used to this rubbish.”

Once their disguises were complete, James and Scorpius crept out of the prison wing of the MLE offices with the assistance of the security clearance charm Scorpius had managed to pry from the man whose image James had borrowed. No one thought to ask why one of their officers was walking alongside someone who was clearly not a member of the squad, but they both accredited that to the irritated look on James’s face.

They walked out of the front door, unchallenged, and headed to a different inn, this one significantly nicer, probably due to Scorpius’s heavy gold purse and patrician tendencies. Sitting at the desk provided in the room, James laid out his rubbings from underneath the Temple of Zeus, hoping that his companion was better versed in runes than he was. That hope was in vain.

“I’m sorry, mate, but I have no idea how to read runes. You’re on your own. The best I can do is take notes.” Scorpius shrugged, as if to apologize.

James nodded. “I’ll take that. I’ll find a sequence, translate it, then say it out loud so you can write it.”

Together, they slaved over the very intricate set of symbols, which was much more difficult than any of the ones James had dealt with thus far. He was proud of himself that he did not falter. Even Scorpius, who had passed on runes as a course at Hogwarts in favor of Arithmancy, was beginning to understand the structure of the dead language of their forefathers.

Once they were finished, their next destination lay ahead, and, thankfully, it was far away from Greece.

“Dragons! I bloody know it’s going to be dragons!” James scowled at the pub floor beneath him, which was located in the heart of the Romanian capital of Bucharest.

That version of ‘The Cauldron’ was much more…rustic. Straw covered the dirt floor, and the walls were wattle-and-daub, lending the whole place a certain barnyard smell. It was a fragrance to which two city fellows such as James and Scorpius were not accustomed, much more so for the latter, who seemed loath to touch anything, let alone take a meal there.

The runes had noted that there was a cave about one hundred kilometers to the north of the city, and since Bucharest was mainly Muggle, it was important to stick to non-magical means of transport�”meaning they would have to take the rail, then hike. James did not relish another long trek on foot, especially considering the ordeal in Ethiopia, but Scorpius, who had wisely chosen not to follow up Ras Dejen, was excited.

“Oh, come on, man! How are you not absolutely excited? We’re making history.” There was almost a childish glee in Scorpius’s voice as he clamored at their upcoming task.

James rolled his eyes. “Who cares? I just want to get this rubbish done with. I really don’t want to walk all over the damned hillside, but I’m doing it for my brother.” Something had been circulating in his mind for a while, and James had not thought to ask about it until that moment. “So, how did you end up with the disguise of a Canadian?”

Smirking, Scorpius explained, “It was an undercover operation to expose drug runners bringing their filth into England from the States. Canadian Magical Law Enforcement lent me an identity to use whilst I was there. For some reason, they thought I’d stand out too much.” He shrugged.

“Mate, you dress like a bat.” James could hardly stifle his rather inappropriate laughter. Scorpius’s tendency to favor more traditional wizarding garb made it exceedingly difficult for the man to blend into a Muggle environment. Rose tried to help him with it every so often, but it was no use.

Scorpius feigned affront. “At least I don’t wear glasses. Don’t Muggles make those things you poke into your eye so you don’t need them?”

The thought of another bout with contact lenses made James shudder, so he dropped the subject altogether. “Should we get going? The sun comes up in about a half-hour, and we will probably need all day to find this cave. I don’t want to be out past nightfall, because there are probably all manner of creatures in these forests that would love nothing more than to have us for dinner.”

“Agreed. Let’s get some breakfast from the market. No doubt they wash this place with muddy water.”

They left the inn, bringing with them every item in their collective possession, and after a quick breakfast, the pair embarked on their quest, starting with a train ride from the capital to the mountain city of Ploieşti. From there, they continued their journey with the assistance of a rented all-terrain vehicle.

Scorpius looked at the small craft dubiously. “Are you sure you can drive this thing, James? It looks terribly unsafe.”

“Just shut it and put on your helmet. I can drive a Muggle car, so how much different can they be?” James sounded much more confident than he truly felt.

Muttering, Scorpius mumbled, “Famous last words.”

As it happens, the trip on the ATV was much more successful than either of them had thought it would be. They covered ten kilometers in a little over an hour, much to Scorpius’s relief. “Merlin’s dirty knickers, that was unpleasant!”

James scoffed. “Too much for your delicate Slytherin sensibilities? Too much outdoor activity for you?”

“Sod off, Potter. I’m just saying what you’re thinking, and you know it. That contraption is vile and dangerous.” Scorpius’s expression greatly resembled a pout, which caused James to roar in laughter.

Shaking his head, James chortled, “You’re just too much, you know that?” He swung his pack over his shoulder. “Too much.”

The duo began to hike when the ATV trails became too narrow to use and the trees too thick. James relished the clean smell of the mountain air, and since he was much better prepared for the colder conditions this time, it was immensely more enjoyable than his African death march. Scorpius, also in excellent physical condition, was with him every step, albeit in a much darker mood, undoubtedly from the ATV ride.

“For the love of Merlin, why am I doing this? I can’t believe I used my vacation time for this!”

When James stopped in his tracks, Scorpius nearly slammed into his back. He spun on his heel and raised a brow. “Are you going to complain the whole way there? Weren’t you the one who was all excited to do this? You could go back to London, you know. Feel free to tell Lily I’m fine.”

Scorpius’s eyes held surprise. “How did you know?”

James huffed. “I know my sister. She was horrified that I was going into the Chamber of Secrets. How do you think she would react to a Greek jail or being eaten by dragons in the middle of nowhere?”

“She would tear me limb from limb if I left you alone, that’s how she would react. I’d sooner take on the dragon.”

Nodding in agreement, James continued hiking, using a Magic Detection Charm in order to find the right cave. It would point the tip of his wand where higher concentrations of magical activity were located. After nearly five hours of aimless wandering, they finally located a cave that was possibly the one for which they searched.

They entered the mouth of the cave, wands drawn and ready in case of creature attack. However, there was nothing. Not a single bat or mouse, not even vegetation, lived there. It was eerie in its lifelessness.

“This can’t be right. This cave is much too small for, well�”anything.” James was wary. A trickle of apprehension shivered up his spine, telling him that something was wrong with the scene. Again, James checked for magical activity, but it reaffirmed that it was, indeed, this empty cave in which they stood.

Scorpius lowered his wand and extracted the golden book. As soon as he touched it, Gryffindor appeared and looked at his surroundings with a smile. “Ah, it’s good to be back here.”

James scowled. “What for? There’s nothing here.”

Gryffindor shook his forefinger, as one would do to a child. “Oh, that’s not quite true, my boy. Just because you don’t see anything, it doesn’t mean that nothing is there.”

“But what are we supposed to do?” Frustration was abundant in Scorpius’s words. “If no one’s figured out the magic in these caves for this long, how are we supposed to do it?”

Before Gryffindor could answer, though, James chimed, “Maybe we’re not looking properly. Remember the translation and how it said ‘see and be seen’ and ‘there but not there’? We thought that was just a bunch of rubbish or that the translation was wrong, but I think I get it now.” Sifting through his own bag, James produced the heirloom Invisibility Cloak. He raised a brow to Scorpius. “Please don’t tell Al I nicked this from his house. I’m sure he’d murder me.”

Not interested in how James came upon the Cloak so much as what he planned to do with it, Scorpius asked, “So, what are you doing?”

“Testing a theory.” James whipped the Cloak over his head and struck gold. Where the back wall of the cave had been without the cloak now held a vast subterranean cavern, which was abutted by two large tunnels. “Whoa,” he breathed in awe.

Scorpius tried to stand where James was standing, but he was unsuccessful in seeing anything new. “What’s there?”

James removed the cloak and suggested, “Try using a Disillusionment Charm.” Scorpius complied, and a similar gasp of surprise followed. James turned to Gryffindor and asked, “Can we walk through it?”

“Oh, absolutely. Just remember to completely clear the stone before you remove your invisibility, or it will certainly be the death of you.” Gryffindor walked over to the false wall and passed through it as if it was not there. “I guess it’s good to be not quite there at times.”

They heard Gryffindor’s voice like he was still next to them, yet they did not see him. James donned the Cloak again and followed the spectral guide. Scorpius followed, though at a distance for fear of walking into James.

Gryffindor stopped and spread his arms wide. “Walk past here, and you can remove your invisibility.” After a few seconds, James and Scorpius reappeared. They looked about the cavern with great wonder, stunned by its magnificence. Majestic stalactites and stalagmites hung from the ceiling and jutted from the floor respectively. Neither had ever seen such a place.

To James’s concern, though, Gryffindor’s expression had lost its joviality upon entering the cavern further. It heightened his earlier unease. “Is there something we should know?”

“You could say that,” Gryffindor replied, still craning his neck to see as much as possible. “Great challenges lie ahead.”

Scorpius scowled. “This doesn’t look good, mate. What if there’s�”“ His words were interrupted by a mighty growl, louder and stronger than anything had the right to be.

James began panting in fear and apprehension. His palms were practically gushing sweat as he turned to his friend and said, “See, I told you there would be dragons!”

The walls of the cavern seemed to shake as the dragon’s ominous vocalizations drew nearer. Even Gryffindor seemed nervous; whether it was because he feared for the safety of James and Scorpius or for the safety of his Horcrux was unclear. What was clear, however, was that danger was about to stare them in the eye.

It was larger than life with its enormous, fanged mouth, lethal tail, and armored body. James knew immediately that this was one of the legendary Hungarian Horntails, known mostly by its vicious nature.

Scorpius stared at the Horntail, wide-eyed. Normally, he was no coward, but in the face of such a beast, even the bravest of men hid like frightened children. “I…I think we should run now.”

Glaring, James snapped, “No! We have to get past that bloody thing, so stop thinking about how many ways you can escape and start figuring out a way to get by it without being roasted.”

Just as James brandished his wand, the dragon emitted a stream of white-hot fire from its mouth, directly at the three of them. Driven by pure instinct, James cried, “Protego Maxima!” Just a split second before the flames enveloped them, a glittering shield appeared in a bubble, protecting the trio from the worst of its effects. Scorpius had cast a second Shield Charm within the protective bubble that James cast, which spared them from the holes punched into the first shield.

All of them breathed a sigh of relief. James turned to Gryffindor. “Perhaps you should either tell us how to make this thing go away or get back into your book.” Nodding profusely, the ghostly Gryffindor disappeared into the book inside James’s pack.

Scorpius regarded James. “Any ideas? How the hell does one get by a dragon?”

“I do have one idea.” Scoping out the dragon’s current position, James continued. “Next time it opens its mouth, send the most powerful Body-Bind you can muster right into its mouth. It’s one of the only areas of its body not plated with some sort of armor.”

“Do you think it will work?” Scorpius remembered hearing that it normally took about six dragon wranglers to take one down, and they were professionals. This plan was shaky at best.

James shrugged. “It’s the best I’ve got. Unless you want to take your chances at running between its legs while invisible, the only alternative is to try to at least stun it a bit.”

His mind finally clicking, Scorpius added, “Perhaps we should try to Apparate behind it if we do succeed in stunning it.” He frowned. “Problem is, which tunnel do we take?”

“No clue. Should we split up or brave the dragon twice?” The dragon sent another hot burst their way, and in their distracted state, they were not able to respond as quickly or with the same amount of power in their shielding. Small licks of flame penetrated the inner shield, nearly setting Scorpius’s cloak on fire. “Ah, bollocks! We need to watch it better.”

This instance prompted a decision for James. “We can’t split up, because if this thing blasts one of us alone, we wouldn’t stand a chance. How about sticking together and taking the left tunnel first?”

“Fine. Let’s just get on with it before there isn’t enough of us to send home to our wives in a takeaway box.” With that, they lay in wait, both to attempt putting a temporary Body-Bind on the dragon and to Apparate behind it if they succeeded.

Finally, the golden opportunity presented when the Horntail drew in a great breath in preparation for another flaming jet. Both James and Scorpius bellowed, “PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” Their aim was true, and both curses hit the back of the monstrous mouth, rendering the creature momentarily motionless. Not wasting a second, the duo Apparated with a loud crack behind the dragon, and they ran as fast as their legs could carry them into the darkness of the first tunnel.

Twin beams of light expelled the blackness as they both gasped, “Lumos.” When the dragon was blessedly out of sight, they slowed their pace to a brisk walk, both of them winded from their sprint.

Scorpius stopped and leaned against the wall of the tunnel, still breathing hard. The heavy respiration soon gave way to a slow, hysterical laugh. Unable to stop himself, he tilted his head back and his amusement came forth in gales. James joined him, just glad to be alive and unscathed.

Once the jocularity subsided, James raised a brow. “Shall we?”

Gesturing into the seemingly endless dark that lay ahead of them, Scorpius made a mock grandiose gesture. “After you.”

“Coward,” James chortled as they continued along the path. After a while, he asked, “Do you think we should let Godric back out?”

“It seems pretty safe.” Once James produced the golden book and released Gryffindor, Scorpius then rounded on the specter. “What was the idea with the bloody dragon? Was the false wall not enough for you?”

Gryffindor replied, “I didn’t put it there. I’m guessing that, since the Visibility Charm only works on humans and part humans, it probably wandered in there all on its own.”

Glaring, Scorpius growled, “That’s likely.” Reigning in his annoyance, he continued, “Any chance you’ll just tell us where the runes are in here?”

“Ah, there are no runes here. You’ll have to follow this tunnel up to city of Braşov.”

James sputtered. “But…but that’s all the way in Transylvania! You expect us to walk over a hundred kilometers?”

Shaking his head, Gryffindor answered quickly, “Of course not! That would be madness. Once you get the proper key, you can follow this tunnel out to the surface. The Muggle rail, if I am not mistaken, runs just over a kilometer to the east of here. You should take that.”

“Wait a minute…how do you know about trains?” James could not possibly see how a ghost could know where rail lines in Romania would be located.

Smiling sheepishly, Gryffindor supplied, “I, well, used that little gadget in your bag while we were in Bucharest. The one named after the fruit.”

“You took my phone? How in the name of Merlin did you know how to use it? I barely know how�”“

Scorpius crossed his arms angrily as he interrupted. “So you’re saying that there is an alternate entrance to this tunnel, and we just about got toasted by a damned dragon for nothing!”

“Well, I told you I didn’t know it was there!” Gryffindor and Scorpius were staring down one another. “Just like Slytherin, you are. Ready to jump to conclusions. And here I thought the Hat had made a mistake.”

James had enough. “Will you two quit arguing! Merlin’s knickers, you’re like an old married couple.” He angrily brushed past the bickering pair, who had the good grace to be abashed.

Mumbling, Scorpius said, “Sorry, mate.” Gryffindor issued a similar apology, and the next segment of the journey was passed in silence.

After what had to be an hour of trekking, James asked, “So, where is this key?”

“We should be coming near it here pretty soon. Start looking for something shiny.”

Scowling, Scorpius quipped, “Something shiny? Is that the best you can do?”

Gryffindor swished the hem of his robes. “That’s what it is. Shiny. There is no other word.”

“Enough! How in the name of Merlin are we supposed to find anything if you two don’t shut it and look!” James was rapidly losing his temper with the sniping between his friend and his guide. Apparently, neither of them were driven by the urgency of, oh say, Albus dying. This whole fiasco was enough with which to deal; more problems were wholly unnecessary. I swear I’ll curse the next one of them that starts up again, he vowed to himself.

A glint caught Scorpius’s eye, and he immediately pointed it out to his companions. Gryffindor’s grin confirmed that they had, indeed, found the elusive key. When James examined it, though, it did not look like any key he had ever seen; it more closely resembled a music box without a turnkey. The box was crusted with rubies, much like the pyramid’s hidden gateway had been in Egypt.

Holding it up to the wandlight, James asked, “So, how does this thing work?”

Gryffindor rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a musical key. Play it at the entrance we’re looking for in Braşov, and it will open the doorway.” He looked at James as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

James squinted at the golden key box. “How do you turn this thing on?”

This time, it was Scorpius’s turn to scoff at the seemingly infantile problem. “Here,” he said, snatching it. He smartly tapped his wand on the very center of the top, and a sprightly melody began playing. Scorpius was smirking in triumph.

“What song is that?” James inquired.

Smiling, Gryffindor replied, “Oh, that’s the Hogwarts School Song.”

Scorpius interjected, “But no one knows the tune to that! The Headmasters over the years just let the students sing it to whatever melody they wish.”

“Well, you know it now. Can we get moving, gentlemen? I don’t know how far behind us that dragon is, and I’m not sure I want to find out.” He gestured toward an expanse of wall and added, “I’m sure you remember the magic words, Mister Potter.”

With a swish and flick of his wand, James chanted, “Homenum Passus.” The rock wall began to peel back and form an archway to the outside. Desperate for clean air, James and Scorpius hurriedly clambered out of the dank tunnel and filled their lungs greedily.

After Gryffindor returned to his book, James and Scorpius hiked the distance to the rail, which was a little over a kilometer, and waited over an hour for a train to arrive. According to Scorpius’s pocket watch, they had little over two hours of daylight, most of which would be occupied with the journey on the train.

Once they finally arrived in Braşov, James and Scorpius found a base of operations outside of town after mailing compensation for the abandoned ATV. Along with Gryffindor, they walked to an ancient stand of trees, unfettered by loggers and settlements.

After every scrap of their daylight had been used, the trio identified the object of their search, which was an ancient stone hut that had fallen into a pile of rubble, much like the temple had appeared on Ras Dejen.

James, curious about the parallel, asked, “Is this another illusion, or is this what it actually looks like?”

Gryffindor scanned it carefully. “No, this is what it is, but that’s not important. This is just a marker; what you need is underneath.”

With the assistance of several Levitating Charms by wandlight, Scorpius and James managed to remove the piles of ancient sandstone from the foundation. Sure enough, there was a floor made of rough-hewn timbers, still intact and magically preserved. A trap door was barely discernable underneath the centuries of dust.

Just as James was about to open the hatch, he halted. “Wait a minute. There aren’t, you know…vampires in here, or anything?”

Scoffing, Gryffindor replied, “That’s ridiculous. They don’t live in old ruined buildings! Shows just how little wizards are willing to learn about other species.”

When the hatch was open, the resulting gush of foul air prompted James and Scorpius to cast Bubble-Head Charms before they lowered themselves into the dark hole. With simultaneous Lighting Charms, the pale glow illuminated what looked like a mirror, but with some key differences. The glass, if one could call it that, rippled like water in a pond, but it was still reflective. The frame was much more like a doorway, but there was no handle. Both James and Scorpius looked at Gryffindor in askance.

The ghostly guide looked meaningfully at James’s bag, where the music box lay. Understanding the cue, the golden box was withdrawn and held in the palm of James’s hand. “So, now what do we do with it? Just play it next to this wavy mirror thing?”

At the affirmative nod, Scorpius tapped the box with his wand, and the melody filled the atmosphere. Immediately, the rippling of the mirror changed to resonate in time with the music. When the song stopped, the sparkling waves disappeared altogether and gave way to the vision of a completely different land.

James asked, “So, is this it, or do I need to jump through some more of your insidious little hoops?”

Grinning, Gryffindor supplied, “You’ll see.”

The three travelers crossed the threshold of the mirror portal into yet more of the unknown.

“Merlin’s pants, it’s cold! Where are we?” James could barely feel his extremities from the stinging cold. There was snow as far as the eye could see, and mountains covered in the frosty powder thrusted up to the sky all across the horizon. Had he been better prepared for the weather, it would have been quite beautiful.

Gryffindor rubbed his hands together in glee. “Ah, Norway.”

Scorpius, whose hands were tucked into his underarms in a feeble attempt to ward off the frigid climate, glared. “You, old man, have a most unfortunate taste for haunts in the history of mankind. Why would you want to set foot in his heat-forsaken wasteland?”

“How can you say that? Look at the mountains! Look at the sky! Look everywhere! This is nature in its most raw and rugged beauty.” Grinning slyly, Gryffindor added, “Besides, would you look for anything here?”

He has a point, James thought mentally as he observed Scorpius barely check his annoyance. However, time was running out, and they only had two more days with which to complete the journey before Albus could no longer be helped. “Where are we going? We need to move.”

Gesturing to the distant sierra, Gryffindor said, “To the mountains, of course.”

“You have got to be kidding me! If I have to climb one more bloody mountain, I may throttle someone.” James could feel himself rapidly losing patience. “Could you at least tell me what I’m looking for? A cave, a temple, a building, a person?”

Shaking his head, Gryffindor responded, “We are looking for none of those things.” Sensing James was reaching the end of his rope, he quickly added, “We’re looking for a tree.”

Apparently, this was the last straw for Scorpius. “A tree. A tree! You have us looking for one bloody tree on a bloody mountain covered in bloody trees! Are you completely insane?” This rant was punctuated by Scorpius kicking a snowdrift, only to slip and fall on his rear. The laughter that ensued only saw his anger and indignation intensify. “That’s it! That is it! I can’t take this anymore.” Pointing his wand at the golden book, which had been in his possession last, he hissed, “You either lead us right to the very tree or I’m going to toast your Horcrux.” When Gryffindor attempted to protest, Scorpius snapped, “I mean it, old man.”

Gryffindor sighed. “I see patience is not a virtue you share with your friend here. However, as my demise would be most upsetting, I will do this thing you ask, but in turn, you are not allowed to set foot in our final destination.”

James shook his head. “I can’t let him agree to that. I’d still be in jail in Athens if he had not come to let me out, and you’d be the Greek Ministry’s newest plaything.”

Scorpius hissed. “Done. Now, let’s move. I grow tired of your games, Gryffindor.”

The trio trudged in the knee-deep snow in stony silence, and James did not want to provoke either of them. Scorpius was too angry to say anything other than insults at Gryffindor, and the ancient shade looked disappointed that his challenges were not received as well as he had hoped.

After hiking kilometers across the Norwegian tundra, the group finally reached the mountains, and more importantly, the forests that grew upon it. Through the thick wood, Gryffindor led them past every sapling, every tree, every rotting stump. James started thinking that the specter did not even know where he was going, but after passing through the younger growths, the trees through which they navigated became older and older.

Finally, after hours, Gryffindor stopped at one particularly large tree and perused it for quite some time. Around the trunk he paced and paced, seemingly looking for one particular detail, but he did not seem to find the object of his search. Instead of continuing his fruitless scrutiny, the ghost instead stuck his incorporeal head into the tree for a closer look.

When he retracted himself from the trunk, Gryffindor was smiling. “This is it.” Indicating James, he continued. “Young man, if you would place your wand here,” indicating a particular gnarled portion of bard, “and say the spell you know so well.”

James did as he was instructed, and the tree opened like a door, behind which lay a staircase leading down into the depths of the earth. He could not help but be in awe that such an unassuming tree had hidden some of the secrets of Godric Gryffindor for over a millenium.

Turning to Scorpius, Gryffindor’s smile evaporated. “You must leave us now. Your impatience and hostility has proven you unworthy of fulfilling this task.”

Scorpius, his jaw steeled resolutely, arms crossed defiantly, stated matter-of-factly, “No.”

In an effort to appeal to his friend’s more reasonable nature, James pled, “Mate, please just go. I don’t want this to get ugly, and I’m sure whatever is waiting for the ‘unworthy’ is horrible and deadly. Please, just go.”

When Scorpius did not relent, Gryffindor waved a hand, which banished the angry blond man from the premises. James, however, was aghast. “What did you do to him?”

“I sent him back to Addis Ababa. He has no idea where we are in Norway, plus he can easily find his way home from there.”

James narrowed his eyes. “You knew this whole time he would never make it, didn’t you?” The petty bickering between Gryffindor and Scorpius had made him uncomfortable from the beginning, but for the specter to allow his friend to travel with them, not revealing him as someone who was never intended to make it to the final destination, was low and underhanded.

Gryffindor shrugged. “You needed the help, and I was willing to give him the chance to redeem himself, but in the end, he proved to be Salazar’s own.” Seeing that James was still upset, he added, “I did really want to let him come with us, but the wards would have killed him on the spot. Does that not prove that I meant your friend no harm?”

“I guess. Can we just go? It’s already noon and I’m already on borrowed time as it is.” Together, James and Gryffindor descended the wooden stairs. Instead of getting darker, the ambient light grew brighter as they walked further into the underground lair.

At the bottom was a spectacular, glowing lake of magma. It was a real, honest-to-goodness volcano lair. In addition to the awesome surroundings, the temperature was so comfortable that James, whose jaw was slack in amazement, contemplated removing his cloak.

However, Gryffindor seemed unmoved by the unusual environment as he walked about the place and checked various nooks and crannies that seemed to be empty.

James was confused, wondering what he was supposed to do. “Er, I hate to rush whatever it is that you’re doing, but is there something I should be doing, or am I supposed to wait for you to finish looking for, um, whatever it is you’re looking for?” The question came out much more awkwardly than he had intended, and his companion found it amusing.

“Potter, you are not going to get yourself tossed from the hunt for asking a question. Yes, you can proceed now, if you like.” Gryffindor reached into a corner and produced a goblet that James had not noticed before.

Gryffindor gestured for James to come to him, who complied, and handed the younger man the cup. He then led James to another slot in the wall, where a large stone basin with liquid rested. James now knew that he was not imagining things, because he was absolutely sure that nothing had been there just a minute before. He looked at Gryffindor in askance.

“Now, in order to proceed to the final destination, you must drink from this basin with that goblet.” The ghost pointed his fingers for emphasis. “If you are truly worthy to find my treasure, you will be allowed to pass. If not, well…let’s just say that it will not end well for you.”

Looking rather uncomfortably at the goblet and the basin, James dared ask the question in his mind. “How will I know that I’m worthy? What will happen if I’m not? Where am I supposed to go from here?” The questions flowed out of him rapidly before he could stop himself.

Chuckling, Gryffindor replied, “I believe you are worthy, but if you are not, you will not live through the task.” Gesturing toward the pool of lava, he added, “After you drink from the cup, you will walk into the Lake of Fire.” He ignored James’s gasp of dismay and continued. “You will sink, which will transport you to the final destination. Do you understand?”

James nodded woodenly. “I see what you mean about the price of failure.” Frowning at the magma, he asked, “Are you sure I’m supposed to do this? This is rather bizarre.”

“Of course, my boy.” Gryffindor elbowed James in the ribs and chortled, but the amusement was not shared. “I made it that way so that only those who seek my treasures for just reasons and are pure of heart can pass. Young Malfoy did not have the, er, proper disposition to make it through. That is why I sent him away. “

Though he did not know how, James began to understand more and more about the insane journey on which he had embarked. Though it had not seemed like it at times, Gryffindor really had been helping him every step of the way by forcing him to use his mind instead of his heart. He may not have understood the reasoning at that point for visiting so many places, but he knew he would before he went back to London.

Tentatively, James took the wooden goblet and scooped a very generous portion of the fluid, which was supposed to keep him from burning to a crisp in the molten lava, and gulped it down in one swallow. A curious warmth tingled in every millimeter of his body, even down to the very tips of his toes. Instantly, he knew that he would not be harmed by the magma’s intense heat. He stowed the golden book, into which Gryffindor had already retreated, and prepared himself.

James strode confidently to the Lake of Fire, and, with remarkable self-assurance, walked into its depths.

Looking around at his surroundings, James noted the balmy breeze, the stretches of blue water, and the warmth of the sand radiating into his clothing. He summoned his guide from the book for answers. “Where are we now?” he asked.

Gryffindor smiled. “This is the Isle of Nocho, off the coast of France. It is home to the oldest known civilized wizarding settlement known to man. Helga learned magic here from some of the greatest wizards of our age, rivaling even the masters of the temple in Ethiopia.

“Her uncle owned much of this island, and when she inherited it upon his death, she generously split the land parcels, giving them to whomever she felt was a loyal and true friend, and I was lucky enough to be a recipient.”

James was still slightly baffled. “So, if you had a magical island that no one knew where it was, then why didn’t you just bring me here straight from Egypt?” It just did not make sense to him that Gryffindor could have just taken him there and spared nearly a week of hardship.

“Alas, that’s the tricky part,” Gryffindor responded. “This part of the island is more than Unplottable, I’m afraid. I cast a series of spells after I hid my treasure, assuring that only the most worthy were able to find it, but also, one has to traverse each destination, starting with my crypt. That is why no one has ever found my treasure; no one ever thought to look underneath my body. Each of them followed the false trails I set in my mausoleum, but you were the only one that would even consider violating a dead man’s sarcophagus, and the only one with a good reason.”

Finally, the pieces were starting to click together in James’s mind. “So, you mean that, if anyone did happen to find these places by accident, that person would have never found this place, because they didn’t start from the beginning?” When Gryffindor nodded, James inquired, “So, is that why you kept telling me that the journey is more important than the destination? Because I never would have found it otherwise?”

“Right you are, my boy! Each one of the places you have visited was significant to me. I chose Egypt to hide my Horcrux, because it would be guarded by intense magic and even by the locals’ fear of curses. It was on the mountain in Ethiopia that I learned nearly everything I know of magic, not to mention where Salazar became a friend to me. It was also where I learned of the strength and power of the mighty lion, which I chose as the symbol of my House.

“Greece was the home of some of the most prolific wizards of the ancient world. They were so powerful, the local Muggles built temples to honor and worship them; it was only fitting to include it in the quest. It was in Romania that I honed my wandless magic skills, and Transylvania was where I learned of acceptance and tolerance of other magical beings that are different from us.

“As for Norway�”“ Gryffindor chuckled. “Would it be remiss if I said I just really wanted a hideout in a volcano?”

James could not believe what he had just heard. Not only was he the first to ever complete the journey to Gryffindor’s treasure, he had visited some of the roots of the magical world’s very foundations. To say it was an accomplishment was an understatement, but despite all that, a single thought resonated in his brain. “So, when can we go find that Griffin?”

Gryffindor wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders. “Never fear, my boy. Your brother is in good hands, for he is in yours.” Without another word, Gryffindor led James into a cave, barely visible from the shore of the island.

“So no one can enter this cave unless they’ve been deemed ‘worthy’?” James asked once inside.

“Correct. It is not visible or tangible to anyone else but you and me. I have been waiting for a millenium for someone to prove to be truly worthy. I had thought Dumbledore was, but power was his weakness, much of which is found below.” Deeper and deeper into the surprisingly dry tunnel they marched, passing torches that lit in a cascade as they approached the landing. At the bottom of this underground repository stood a creature�”half eagle, half lion, but completely magnificent. James knew immediately that it was the Griffin.

The Griffin stood taller when it realized that it was no longer alone. It ignored Gryffindor completely, presumably because it already knew him; instead, it turned its attention to James. It came as a surprise to James when it spoke. “Who dares tread in this sacred place?”

James steeled his quaking nerves and willed himself to reply with dignity and poise, not like a child afraid of the dark. “I, James Sirius Potter, humbly request that you accompany me back to London on a mission of mercy.”

“You do not seek the treasure?” The Griffin’s voice held a certain measure of incredulity.

Shaking his head, James replied bravely, “No, I do not. I only seek your assistance in saving the life of my brother.”

Subsequently, the Griffin asked, “What service could I possibly perform?”

More calmly than he believed himself capable, James recounted the story of Albus’s illness and the extinction of the rest of the Griffin population. The magical creature seemed to consider this information for a long while�”too long for James’s comfort. Once it finally answered, it was definitely not what James had hoped to hear. “And why should I do this for you and abandon my post of over a thousand years?”

Before James could speak for himself, Gryffindor interjected. “You will because I ask you to. In all these centuries, not one man has proven up to the task of finding this place. Not one man has been worthy enough, nor selfless enough, to be permitted access to my treasure, at least until this man. I bid you to let him pass and to go to London. This gold means nothing to either of us, so let it be.”

“Master, are you certain that this is what you want? Every item in this cavern will remain unprotected until the day I can return to my post.”

Gryffindor crossed his arms. “I have known that this is what I wanted from the moment I first spoke to this young man. His heart is just, his soul is true, and his intentions are pure. He may have anything in here he desires or requires, and that includes you, my friend.”

The Griffin seemed to take this command in stride. “Very well. James Sirius Potter, I am at your disposal.” At this, it bent its head and knelt at James’s feet.

James’s heart felt as it is would burst with the speed of its pulsation. The Griffin was now his, and Albus was going to live. Raw emotion raced through him as he fought to gather his composure. After all, there was still the journey back home to consider. He turned to Gryffindor. “So, do you have any ideas about how to get him back to London?”

“I’d try a Portkey to France and then a boat across the Channel. The French are much more lenient about unlicensed Portkeys than the English, I’m afraid. Dumbledore did seem to run into that particular snag a lot.”

Now more confident, James strode into the yawning cavern that held Gryffindor’s treasure. To his surprise, there was little gold to be found; instead, massive quantities of ancient books and scrolls were stacked neatly along the walls and on shelves. He looked at his spectral companion in question.

“There are many treasures, James. Some are made of gold, some are made of precious stones, and some are even biological, like being a member of a family. This, however, is the treasure of knowledge. On these pages, I have recorded almost every single bit of magic I had ever learned, and this trove of knowledge is now yours.”

Awe apparent in his voice, James stuttered, “I, um, are you sure? Am I truly worthy of all of this?”

Gryffindor smiled. “The fact that you believe yourself unworthy proves that you are. Rowena always felt that natural acumen was necessary for knowledge, Helga thought knowledge was for all, and Salazar held that only those of pure ancestry were worthy of it. I, on the other hand, know in my heart that it is for those who are brave enough to seek it. You, James Potter, are brave enough to claim the contents of this room.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” The statement was inherently true. While James knew he had done things in the past that one could classify as ‘brave,’ he was not certain that he was truly the only man amongst the millions of wizards that had lived and died before his time that was well and truly ‘worthy’.

Grinning, Gryffindor replied, “How about ‘thank you’ and ‘let’s go’?”

Though it was nearly impossible to tear himself away from the vast expanse of documents, which contained more than one person could possibly remember, James relented. The duo led the Griffin to the surface and prepared a Portkey to take them to the all-wizard village of La Joyeux in France.

“Why there?” Gryffindor asked.

James smirked. “Because my wife’s family owns a summer home there, so they know me. More importantly, though, it’s probably the only place in France I know of that I could pop in with a Griffin and not be shot on sight.”

Perplexed, his companion inquired, “Shot?”

“Muggle projectile weapon; very primitive.” After Gryffindor returned to the golden book, which was stowed in the pack, James looped the shirt he used as a Portkey onto the Griffin’s beak and gripped the sleeves for himself. The familiar sensation of a hook wrenching his navel started the world swirling around him. As it finally subsided, he found his feet just in time to keep from tumbling to the ground. The Griffin, however, soared gracefully to its feet by virtue of its eagle’s wings.

Addressing the Griffin, James commanded, “Stay here. I’ll arrange transport in the village.” The creature did as it was told as James ran into La Joyeux and booked passage on a barge heading to London within hours. As he arrived in Paris, hauling the Griffin in a very large but discreet crate and assisted by two volunteers from the village, James supervised the loading and eventual unloading of the precious cargo before boarding the ship himself, left alone in his passenger’s cabin with his only thoughts for company.

Hours turned into days for James, as well as the rest of the family. Their parents were mad with worry, and Anne spent more time pacing than any one person should. As for himself, James spent a majority of those agonizing hours in the library of the house as he read Albus’s favorite book, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. He read it to feel closer to Albus in the moments not spent by his side, telling him stories about nothing in particular, just to keep him engaged.

Finally, one of the Healers, none other than Susan Bones, emerged from Albus’s room, beaming. James had sat vigil outside the room on the most uncomfortable chaise known to mankind, but the fog that had permeated his brain in the relentless boredom lifted immediately at her expression.

“Is it good news?” He almost dreaded the response, but James knew that Susan would not have been smiling if the news was not positive.

Susan’s smile broadened. “The alchemization is almost completely reversed. Once the poisoning is cleared up, Albus is going to be fine.”

The news rocked James to his very core. His little brother was not going to die! There were no words for the relief, the pure joy, he felt. He jubilantly flung his arms around the older woman. When he realized that he was behaving like he was insane, James pulled back, but the grin on his face would not abandon its post. Instead, James ran through the house and actively sought any member of the family with whom he could share the incredible news.

After days and days of traveling the world in search of a creature deemed extinct, James had not only found one of the largest repositories of history in the wizarding world since Merlin’s tomb was discovered, he had brought his brother back from the brink of death.

That night, as James lay next to his sleeping wife, the smile plastered to his face still had not left, nor would it in the subsequent days. Life was too good, too short, not to forge ahead, happy to just be alive.