"This way," Zane said, pointing. James could see the glitter of moonlight on water through the trees. As quietly as possible, the boys threaded through the tree trunks and underbrush. Within a few minutes, they emerged at the perimeter of the lake. The island of the Grotto Keep could be seen further along the edge of the water. It loomed monstrously, grown to gothic, cathedral proportions for its ultimate night. The dragon's head bridge was clearly visible, open wide, both welcoming and threatening at the same time. James heard Ralph gulp. Silently, they made their way toward it.

        As they reached the opening onto the bridge, the moon slipped from behind a raft of wispy clouds. The island of the Grotto Keep unveiled fully in that silvery glow. There was virtually no hint of the wild, wooded nature of the island now. The dragon's head bridge was a carefully sculpted horror, yawning open before them. At its throat, the vine encrusted gate was as solid-looking and ornate as wrought iron. James could clearly read the poem inscribed on the doors.

        "It's closed," Zane whispered, rather hopefully. "Does that mean anything?"

        James shook his head. "I don't know. Come on, let's see if we can get in."

        Single file, the three boys tiptoed across the bridge. James, in the lead, saw the bridge's upper jaw open further as they approached the gate. It didn't creak this time. The motion was silent and oily, almost unnoticeable. The gates, however, remained firmly closed. James made to reach for his wand, and then stopped, hissing in pain. He'd forgotten about the splint on his fractured right arm.

        "Ralph, you'll have to do it," James said, sidling to the right to let Ralph in front of him. "My wand hand's no use. Besides, you're the spells genius."

        "Wh-what am I supposed to do?" Ralph stammered, pulling out his wand.

        "Just use the Unlocking Spell."

        "Whoa, wait!" Zane said, throwing up a hand. "Last time we tried that, we were almost tree food, remember?"

        "That was then," James said reasonably. "The island wasn't ready. Tonight's the night it exists for, I think. It'll let us in this time. Besides, this is Ralph. If anybody can do it, he can."

        Zane grimaced, but couldn't offer any argument. He took a step backwards, giving Ralph room. Ralph pointed his wand at the gates nervously, his wand hand shaking. He cleared his throat.

        "What is it? I always forget!"

        " Alohomora," James whispered encouragingly. "Emphasis on the second and fourth syllables. You've done it loads of time. Don't worry."

Ralph stiffened, trying to halt the shivering of his arm. He took a deep breath and, in a tremulous voice, spoke the command.

        Immediately the vines twining the gates began to loosen. The letters of the poem dissolved into curls and tendrils, contracting from the wooden shapes of the doors. After a few seconds, the doors swung silently open.

Ralph glanced back at James and Zane, his eyes wide and worried. "Well, it worked, I guess."

        "I'd say so, Ralph," Zane said, moving forward. The three of them stepped carefully into the darkness beyond the gates.

        The inside of the Grotto Keep was circular and mostly empty, surrounded by trees that had grown into the shapes of pillars, supporting a thick, domed ceiling of branches and spring leaves. The floor of the grotto was terraced with stone, forming steps that descended toward the middle. There, in the very center, a round bowl of earth was lit in a beam of bright moonlight that pierced a hole in the center of the domed canopy. The Merlin throne stood in that beam of moonlight, and in front of it, silhouetted against the moonlight, her back to them, was Madame Delacroix.

        James felt weak with fear. He froze in place, and only distantly felt Ralph's hand groping at him, tugging him backwards into the shadow of one of the tree trunk pillars. He stumbled a little, and then dropped down behind the bulk of the tree, next to Ralph and Zane. Carefully, slowly, James peered around the tree-pillar, his eyes wide and his heart thundering.

        Delacroix hadn't moved. Her back was still to them, and she was still staring motionlessly at the throne. The Merlin throne was tall, straight-backed and narrow. It was made of polished wood, but was somehow more delicate than James had expected. The mass of it was formed of carvings of vines and leaves, curling and tangled. The only solid parts were the seat and the center of the backrest. The throne looked as if it had been grown rather than carved, much like the Grotto Keep itself. No one else was visible. Apparently, Delacroix had arrived early. James was wondering how long she'd been standing there, motionless, watching the throne, when there was the sound of someone else's footsteps behind them, on the dragon's head bridge. James held his breath, and sensed Ralph and Zane hunkering down as low as they could next to him, hiding among the low underbrush lining the Keep.

        A man's voice spoke a low command in some strange language James didn't recognize. It sounded both beautiful and frightening. There was the sound of the gate's vines unfurling again, and then footsteps clacked hollowly on the stone steps of the terraced floor. Professor Jackson moved into view, walking resolutely down into the center of the Grotto Keep behind Madame Delacroix.

        "Professor Jackson," Madame Delacroix said, her heavily accented voice ringing in the stone bowl of the grotto, "you never fail to meet my expectations." She still hadn't turned around.

"Nor you mine, Madame. You are early."

        "I was savoring de moment, Theodore. It's been a long time coming. I'd be tempted to say 'too long', if I was a believer in chance. I am not, of course. This is how it was meant to be. I have done what I was meant to do. Even you have performed the role you were preordained to perform."

        "Do you really believe so, Madame?" Jackson asked, stopping several feet behind Delacroix. James noticed that Jackson had his hickory wand in his hand. "I wonder. I, as you know, am neither a believer in chance nor destiny. I am a believer in choices."

        "It matters not what you believe, Theodore, as long as your choices lead to the right ends."

        "I have the robe," Jackson said flatly, abandoning the pretense of polite conversation. "I have always had it. You will not get it from me. I am here to see to that. I am here to stop you, Madame, despite your best efforts to keep me away."

        James almost gasped. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling it. Jackson was here to stop her! But how? James felt a cold dread dawning on him. Next to him, Ralph whispered almost silently, "Did he say…"