"McGonagall's up there with… him?" Ralph asked. "How, er, good is she?"
"She's the Headmistress," Sabrina answered seriously. "She's good."
"I hope so," James said quietly.
They climbed the rest of the way in silence. It took quite a long time, and James was feeling remarkably tired and achy by the time he reached the top. Ralph was wheezing behind him, pulling himself up with both hands on the thick banister. Finally, however, the stairs opened onto a room that filled the top of the tower. It was low, thick with heavy rafters and dust and centuries of owl and pigeon guano. Narrow windows marched around the perimeter of the room, revealing slices of morning sunlight. There were several people present, although none of them appeared to be the Headmistress or Merlin.
"James," a thick voice said, and a hand fell on his shoulder, "what are you doing here? This is no place for you, I'm afraid."
"He was summoned, Professor Slughorn," Sabrina said, following the others into the room. "The Headmistress herself asked us to bring him, as well as Ralph and Zane. They are to go up right away."
"Up?" Ralph wheezed. "There's more? This isn't the top?"
"Ah, Mr. Deedle," Slughorn said, spying Ralph. "Yes, I am afraid there is, but only a bit more. It is directly above us. Are you quite sure about this, Miss Hildegard? This is hardly the place for children." James thought Slughorn seemed a bit ruffled that he, Ralph, and Zane might be expected to go up while Slughorn himself was not.
"You were in the room when the Headmistress sent us to find them, Professor," Ted said, allowing a hint of sternness to creep into his voice.
"So I was," Slughorn acknowledged, as if the fact proved little.
"Let them proceed, Horace," Professor Flitwick said from a bench near the window. "If they are summoned, they are summoned. They are hardly any safer with us here if that savage prevails."
Slughorn stared at James, and then, with an apparent force of will, softened his expression. He turned to Ralph and clapped him stiffly on the shoulder. "Represent us well, Mr. Deedle."
Ted motioned toward a short stone staircase that protruded through the wooden floor and up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. James, Ralph, and Zane approached and climbed the worn steps slowly. The trapdoor wasn't locked. James pushed it open and sunlight poured in, blinding him momentarily as he climbed onto the surface above.
It was almost exactly the same size and shape as the Grotto Keep, made almost entirely of stone but for the wooden floor in the center, from which the trapdoor opened. Marble pillars surrounded the space, but there was no roof. The morning sunlight filled the top of the tower, dazzling on the white marble and stone terraces. Merlin sat only a few feet away, facing the three boys as they emerged into the soft wind and warm sunlight. His face was stony and immobile, only his eyes moving to watch them.
"Mr. Potter," the Headmistress' voice rang out in the stillness, "Mr. Walker, and Mr. Deedle. Thank you for joining us. Please, find your places on my left. We will come to your tale shortly."
James turned as Zane lowered the trapdoor closed. McGonagall was seated behind them, across from Merlin. She was dressed in a flame red robe both far graver and more ostentatious than James had ever seen her wear. It made her look both younger and dreadful, like a sort of tyrant queen. The chairs that she and Merlin sat upon were embedded in the stone of the lowest terrace so that both looked at each other across the wooden floor in the center. On McGonagall's left, arranged along the rim of the highest terrace, were four more carven seats, although they were much less ornate. Seated on them were Neville Longbottom, Professor Franklyn, and Harry Potter.
"Dad!" James breathed, a smile of relief and joy surfacing on his face. He ran up the steps toward his father.
"James," Harry said quietly, his face grim, "I was told you had gone missing. You had us very worried. I would have gone after the three of you myself, except that we received word you'd been found only moments after I arrived."
"How did you find out?" Ralph asked, furrowing his brow.
Harry allowed a crooked smile and held up a Weasley rubber duck. On the bottom, Ted's handwriting was scrawled: Found them! Be there straight off! "This is Petra Morganstern's, but she said they got the idea from you three. Very handy."
"I'm sorry I took the map and your cloak, Dad," James said in a rush. "I know I shouldn't have. I really made a mess of things. Merlin's back and it's all my fault."
Harry darted his eyes meaningfully at the chairs in the center of the space. "Don't be too hard on yourself, my boy. We'll have loads of time to discuss this later. For now, I think we have other matters to attend to."
James turned back toward the Headmistress and Merlin. He'd nearly forgotten about them in the excitement and relief of seeing his dad. "Sure. Sorry." The three boys remained standing along the top terrace, next to Harry, Neville, and Franklyn. James noticed for the first time that the opposite side of the terrace was occupied by a surprising number of birds and creatures, all of which were staring hard at Merlin. There were owls and pigeons, ravens and even a few falcons, all arranged on the ledge of the railing, on the four carven seats, and on the floor of the top two terraces. Sitting incongruously among them, also staring at the bearded man, were a variety of creatures James recognized as house animals. Frogs and rats jostled slightly among the birds. Even Zane's cat, Thumbs, was there, sitting near the front, his black and white nose twitching slightly.
"You were saying, Professor Longbottom?" McGonagall said, her gaze still locked on the huge, unmoving form of Merlin.
Neville stirred and stood. "I simply wish to register my objection to your speaking to this… this intruder, who has violently entered this school with who knows what nefarious purpose in mind, in a language that we, your long time associates and friends, cannot understand or follow. Between that and your, I must admit, surprising attire… well, surely you must know how this looks to us."
"I apologize, Mr. Longbottom, and the rest of you," McGonagall said, finally looking away from Merlin and meeting the eyes of those gathered to her left. "I had forgotten myself. This gentleman comes from a time of formality and ritual. I am meeting him as he expects to be met, in the ceremonial robe of my station. I am afraid that when he first found us, he assumed that all of us, including myself and the faculty, were peasants who had somehow managed to overrun the castle. It was extremely unbecoming in his time for the Pendragon to appear in the sort of colorless sacks that he mistook our robes for. As for the language…"
"I can speak in the language of your servants, if you wish it, Madam Pendragon," Merlin interrupted in his low, carrying voice. "Although why you deign to speak to them as equals when they should be stropped for such impertinence, I cannot guess."
McGonagall sighed and closed her eyes. James had the sense that these sorts of misunderstandings had been going on for some time. "These are my associates, not my underlings, sir. This is a different time, as I fear I must keep reminding you. I am not the Pendragon of a kingdom. I am Pendragon only of a tiny portion of land, all of which is within sight of this tower. But yes, please do speak so that all of us may understand."