~The Book of Abraham the Mage~

Chapter 11

In Which Langdon Sees a Castle in the Air, Ponders the Meaning of Sticks, and Encounters a Formidable Lady.

...

Author's Note: Thanks for all reviews and comments! DarkBuddha, I love your idea that the Spear of Destiny could be Fawkes' cage. But, alas, no. I like the way you think, though... (*grins*)

Wizarding Nerd Note: When describing the Beauxbatons shield of arms, I am following the book rather than the film. The book Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire describes the Beauxbatons shield of arms simply as two crossed wands shooting out stars, whereas the film version of the coat of arms is a shield surrounded by stylized golden flowers and leaves, with two wands on top.

The precise location of Beauxbatons is difficult to determine. There is little evidence in the books, except for a passing reference to bouillabaisse, which is a dish characteristic of Southern France. J. K. Rowling stated during her reading at Maggie's Cancer Caring Centre in Glasgow on December 9th 2000 that she believed that Beauxbatons was located somewhere near Cannes, but she also said that she was not entirely certain of this. For the purposes of this story, Beauxbatons is not located near Cannes, but rather in Montségur, which is also in Southern France, but further to the west, up in the Pyrenees.

...

"Are you all right, Robert?" Septima Vector bent anxiously over Robert Langdon, who was still vomiting miserably into the lush grass of the French countryside. "Was it something you ate?"

"Fine," gasped Langdon. "I'm just… great. Apparating just doesn't seem to agree with me. Watch out, Septima!"

Septima stepped back just in time, and Langdon caught a distinctly amused glint in Snape's eye.

Ron Weasley regarded Langdon with an expression of great sympathy. "You know, I have heard of Muggles getting sick on buses. Maybe this is the same thing, Professor. Except worse."

"Repello nauseam," said Hermione firmly, waving her wand at Langdon.

"Oh, good idea, Hermione," whispered Septima. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Langdon sat up in the grass, blinking slowly as the nausea began to abate. Hermione Vanished the remnants of the excellent lunch Langdon had so unwisely consumed before apparating, and Langdon scrambled slowly to his feet, breathing in large lungfuls of the almost preternaturally fresh air of the Pyrenees.

They were standing at the foot of a steep hill, fringed by blue-green pines and glossy dark green firs. All around them, wild rugged mountains rose into the clear, blue-tinged air. Above them loomed the outline of a fantastic structure Langdon recognized as the ruins of the Château de Montségur, impossibly perched on the very top of the steep hill. Langdon was of course familiar with the history of the fabled Cathar stronghold where over 200 faithful had been burned alive for refusing to abandon their mysterious faith, but he had never had an opportunity to visit the site. But after the massacre it was rumored that some of the initiates, the Perfecti, had escaped a few days before, carrying with them a mysterious treasure, the trésor cathare. Perhaps it was a sacred book, or a collection of gold and jewels. But some say it was an object of immense power, perhaps the Grail itself. Or the Lance of Longinus...

"Splendid, isn't it?" whispered Septima.

"Magnificent," agreed Hermione in a hushed voice, and even Snape gave a brief appreciative nod. Harry and Ron were standing silently, gazing up at... At what, exactly? To Langdon's bewilderment, all the others seemed to be looking at something slightly to the east of the Cathar castle.

"Er... What are you-?" He followed Septima's gaze. No, there was nothing there.

"Oh." Septima flushed slightly. "I'm so sorry, Robert. I sometimes forget that you can't see half of what's in front of you. Never mind, Dumbledore taught me a few spells that will help you see." She muttered a few words under her breath in something that appeared to be mangled Etruscan of some sort. Her words were followed by slight disturbance in the air to the east of the Château de Montségur. Slowly, something began form itself in the clear September air. The blurry outlines of a vast castle were visible now. Tall turrets and graceful parapets flickered into view, and soon a whole new hill, even steeper than the one they were standing on, was visible next to the one that held the Cathar ruins. This other hill was crowned by a castle of breathtaking proportions and beauty. It seemed to hover in the air like some fantastic illusion made out of clouds and sunshine.

"That's... Beauxbatons?" Langdon stared at the castle in fascination.

Septima turned to him with a smile. "Oh, good, you can see it! Yes, that's Beauxbatons, the French school of magic. It's similar to Hogwarts in many ways, although the curriculum is slightly different." She flicked her wand in the direction of the castle: "Expecto patronum!"

A little gasp came from Harry. "Professor Vector! Your patronus! It's... It's..."

Septima turned to him with a little smile. "Not what you expected, Harry?"

The Boy Who Lived shook his head. "Not... not really, no."

"Wicked!" Ron gazed into the air, apparently deeply impressed by Septima's invisible patronus, but Hermione frowned ever so slightly. Langdon sighed. Apparently, even the Etruscan language didn't have the power to make him see a patronus. There was a slight glitter of amusement in Snape's eyes again. Langdon pursed his lips. He was rather curious to find out what just happened, but he did not want to make Snape's day any more perfect by reminding everyone yet again of the appalling depths of his... Muggleness? Muggledom?

"I've sent my patronus to Madame Maxime to announce our arrival," said Septima softly. "They should send the carriage for us in a moment."

Langdon looked doubtfully at the dizzying steepness of the hill. "A carriage?" A carriage didn't strike him as the most obvious way to travel up a hill so steep it hurt his neck to look up at the top.

"We could of course apparate up if you'd rather, Professor Langdon," said Snape quickly.

"No, thank you," said Langdon stiffly.

They all stood in silence for a few moments and gazed up at the fairy-tale castle in front of them. Langdon couldn't help but wonder what sort of carriage they were waiting for, but he did not want to ask.

Snape busied himself with collecting samples of the local flora, which was rather lovely at this time of year. The beech trees were already aglow with autumn colors, and the hillsides were covered in patches of autumn crocus in delicate hues of mauve, pink, and white. Snape gave a small exclamation as he came upon some spiky thistles with little burr-like flowers in a strange shade of metallic blue, and several of the odd little flowers disappeared into his robes.

"Sea holly," breathed Hermione next to Langdon. "Rumored to be a rather powerful aphrodisiac... Oh, dear, I hope Snape won't brew any love potions..."

"Let's hope not," agreed Langdon quietly. He glanced rather nervously at Snape. Unless he intends it for a lady at Beauxbatons...

"Curious name, Beauxbatons," Langdon mused to himself, watching Snape out of the corner of his eye. "Beaux bâtons? "Beautiful sticks"? I wonder how they came up with that?"

"I suppose they have pretty magic wands." Ron peered up at the magnificent castle. "I seem to remember that the Beauxbatons students who came to Hogwarts in our fourth year were very elegant, the girls especially..."

Hermione sighed. "A bâton is a stick, not a wand, Ron." Her voice sounded rather chilly. "A magic wand would be baguette magique in French."

"Magic baguette? Are you sure about that?" Ron looked doubtfully at Hermione.

"Of course I'm sure, Ron. The word bâton can also mean "club", or "spoke", as the spokes in a wheel. But I suppose the bâton in Beauxbatons must refer to a wand, even if the word choice is a little odd."

"Hm." Langdon looked thoughtfully at Hermione. "It is a strange word to use for a wand. I wonder... Perhaps bâton refers to something else altogether?"

"Like a spear?" Harry lit up. "Could you call the shaft of a spear a bâton?"

"Come, come, Mr. Potter," said Snape softly, stepping up behind them. "I am certain that Professor Langdon expects you to dig deeper than that. By interpreting the bâton in such a conventional way, you are merely buying into a larger cultural hegemonic metanarrative, which in turn..."

"Severus!" Septima shot him a dirty look.

"I was merely trying to take an interest in Professor Langdon's type of work, Septima. I made a perfectly legitimate observation."

"Legitimate?" Langdon stood for a moment, lost in thought. "Now, there's an interesting idea..."

"What's that, Professor?" Hermione turned to him eagerly.

"The bâton, or stick, is a common heraldic symbol, used in traditional coats of arms. The baton, also called the baton sinister, "or left stick" is used to signify illegitimate descent."

"Why would somebody put that on their family coat of arms?" Ron blinked in confusion.

Langdon smiled. "Oh, you wouldn't, if you were the illegitimate child of a common farmer. Usually, illegitimacy was not something people liked to talk about in the Middle Ages. But if you were the illegitimate child of someone very powerful, like a king, you may very well choose to indicate that on your coat of arms by adding a baton."

"Beaux bâtons - the "beautiful sticks", the lovely illegitimate heirs?" Hermione glanced thoughtfully at Langdon. "Interesting... Oh." She wheeled around as the sound of massive wings filled the air.

Langdon turned towards the sound and gasped in disbelief. An enormous pale blue carriage came swooping through the clear September sky. The flying carriage was pulled by what appeared to be a dozen winged golden horses of massive proportions. Their coats glittered so brilliantly in the sunlight that Langdon had to avert his glance.

As the carriage came closer, he Langdon could make out a crest on the side of it: Two crossed golden sticks, each emitting three golden stars. The carriage landed on the ground next to them with a soft thud, and a young man with long yellow ringlets peered out. He was dressed in an elegant, old-fashioned powder-blue suit with knee-length trousers and white stockings.

"Visitors for the château?"

"Yes, please." Septima stepped forward.

The young man nodded gravely and waved a wand. The next moment, golden steps descended from the carriage. The visitors climbed silently into the fantastic vehicle and sank down into soft seats of light blue velvet. The driver spoke softly in French to the horses, and the carriage floated up into the clear sky.

"Better than apparating, isn't it?" Harry smiled at Langdon as they soared up to the castle.

Langdon smiled and glanced out of the window at the magnificent view. "Yes, Harry. Much better. So, did you get to know many of the Beauxbatons students when they came to Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. They were always sitting at the Ravenclaw table at dinner and going to the Ravenclaw common room at night."

"Really?" Langdon frowned. "Why was that, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. The Durmstrang students all spent time in Slytherin House. Some sort of ancient connection between Ravenclaw and Beauxbatons and between Durmstrang and Slytherin, I suppose."

"I see," said Langdon slowly. "That's... interesting, Harry. Very interesting indeed..."

...

"The headmistress is ready for you," said the driver gravely as they stepped out into a lovely courtyard hedged with fragrant pink roses and some curious plants whose tall, spear-like stalks were covered in large white blooms.

"Roses and asphodels? Still in bloom in September? Remarkable..." muttered Snape. He reached out and touched one of the star-shaped white flowers. "So lovely, almost like lilies..." For some reason, an odd hectic blush suddenly crept over his pallid features. He pocketed one of the blooms hastily.

Two pretty little girls in identical blue silk dresses greeted the visitors sweetly in French and begged them to follow. The travelers followed their guides in awed silence through some of the most splendid hallways Langdon had ever seen. The walls were beautifully decorated with frescoes, and the ceilings appeared to be made of pure gold.

"Watch out, Professor," whispered Harry in Langdon's ear. "I need to check with Hermione, but I'm pretty sure asphodel is used in some sort of death potion. I'd watch my drink really carefully this evening if I were you."

"Thanks, Harry." Langdon's glance flittered uncertainly to Snape. No, he wouldn't... Would he?

Finally, the little girls stopped in front of an enormous oak door and knocked on it, surprisingly loudly.

"Entrez!" came a rather deep, musical voice from within.

The little girls pushed the door open for the guests and disappeared without another word. The visitors stepped into a lovely study. A figure rose from behind a massive mahogany desk.

"This is Madame Maxime, Robert," whispered Septima.

Langdon gasped. The lady who stood in front of them was a vision of elegance, dressed in black satin robes and adorned with shimmering opals that complemented her brilliant dark eyes. She was also about ten feet tall.

"Yes?" Madame Maxime fixed her luminous glance on Langdon. "You seem - surprised?" There was a distinctly cool note in her voice.

"I..." Langdon glanced up at the formidable beauty. He was about to say: "I have never met a giant before", when he suddenly recalled, with perfect clarity, the words of his first grade teacher on that disastrous day long, long ago, when he had been foolish enough to enquire about her weight: One should never comment on a lady's size, Robert. Ever.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "I beg your pardon, Madame. I... was just overwhelmed for a moment." He whispered: "Vous êtes très belle, Madame."

"Ah." She smiled at the compliment. "Please, have a seat, my friends." She gestured at a row of upholstered chairs in front of her desk, which fortunately were of a more standard size than the massive one she occupied.

Langdon quickly introduced himself; Madame Maxime already knew both Septima and Snape from a previous visit to Hogwarts. "And these are three of our students, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger. You may have seen them during your stay at Hogwarts."

Madame Maxime regarded the three students with a smile. "But of course I remember you! You are friends of Hagrid's, are you not?"

"That's right." Harry nodded enthusiastically. "In fact, when Hagrid heard that we were coming here, he asked us specifically say hello to you."

Madame Maxime's dark eyes glittered. "Ah! He still thinks of me, then!"

"I believe he thinks of you a lot, Madame," said Hermione softly.

Madame Maxime turned to Langdon with a melancholy smile. "Hagrid and I became very close friends during my visit to Hogwarts, Mr. Langdon. Very close friends, indeed. At one time, there was perhaps even something more than friendship between us, but, alas, it did not last." She sighed. "He is a complicated man, you see, Hagrid, and a more lasting romance would have been too emotionally difficult for him, I am afraid."

"Hagrid is complicated?" Ron sounded surprised.

Madame Maxime nodded. "Yes, indeed. He confided in me, you see. So sweet... Hagrid has... how do you say this?... abandonment issues. His mother left him when he was quite young, and his father's family never accepted him. So after his father's death, Hagrid sought refuge in his beloved animals, his faithful companions..."

Langdon leaned forward, curiously. "Hagrid's father was a human wizard, wasn't he, Madame?"

Madame Maxime nodded. "Yes, he was. He was born into one of the most ancient pureblood families in England. Unfortunately, the Black family was always given to prejudice..."

"The Black family?" Harry stared at her. "But... Hagrid's not a Black, is he?"

"Oh, yes, he is." Madame Maxime blinked rapidly, as if to rid herself of a sudden tear. "Hagrid is a true and legitimate heir of the ancient House of Black. But they would never acknowledge him. Never! He did not even assume his father's last name, which was rightfully his, out of fear of reprisals from the Black family. Oh, they would have been after him, all right, if he had dared to call himself by his true name Rubeus Black..."

"But... But who's Hagrid's father, then?" Harry sounded completely baffled. "I mean, Hagrid can't be Sirius' brother, can he?"

Madame Maxime sighed. "Hagrid's father was a certain Marius Black. As far as I know, he did not have any other children than Hagrid."

"Marius Black?" Harry pondered for a moment. "I remember that name! He was one of the people the Blacks had basted off the family tree. Wait, wasn't he a squib or something?"

Madame Maxime shook her head slowly. "That was just a rumor spread by the Black family to explain why they had broken off all contact with him. Apparently, they would rather have people think that Marius Black was a squib than have anyone suspect that he had married a... a giantess..." She swallowed.

"Marius Black was Hagrid's father?" Harry frowned. "Then Hagrid must be... Wait a minute... Marius Black was Alphard and Cygnus and Walburga Black's uncle. That makes Hagrid's father Sirius' great-uncle! So Hagrid is... Sirius' uncle? Sort of?"

"Maybe that's why Hagrid had Sirius' motorcycle? Because Hagrid was the only person in his family Sirius could trust with it?" Hermione thought for a moment. "I had always wondered how Hagrid ended up with Sirius' motorcycle, but Hagrid was terribly evasive about it when I asked..."

"Hagrid and Sirius were related?" Ron seemed to have a hard time grasping this.

"Why not, Ron?" There was a note of eagerness in Harry's voice now. "I never thought about it before, but they actually look quite a bit alike."

"Alike? You've got to be joking, Harry!"

"Apart from their size, I mean. "They've both got the same dark curly hair..."

"Fascinating as all this may be," interrupted Snape irritably, "I believe we had a few other things to ask Madame Maxime while we are here?" Langdon noted, with some amusement, that the mention of the name "Sirius" appeared to annoy Snape a great deal. "There is an ongoing murder investigation, is there not?"

A shadow fell over Madame Maxime's face. "Ah, yes, I have heard rumors of an unfortunate incident at your school. Such a tragedy!"

Langdon leaned forward. "One of the unfortunate young victims, Sally-Anne, used to spend her summers at Montségur. I believe the family has a cottage here. The Perks family..."

"Ah. The Perks family." Madame Maxime's face was expressionless.

"Do you happen to know where the cottage is located? We wouldn't mind seeing it for ourselves, to see if there are any clues there," said Septima softly.

"The Perks cottage. Yes, it's down in the village." Madame Maxime pulled out a piece of parchment and pointed her wand at it. "Ostendo domum Corvorum!"

Dark lines began to spread across the parchment, slowly forming a map of the village.

"Domus Corvorum? The House of the Ravens?" Langdon stared at her.

"Yes. It's what the locals call their cottage. I have no idea why." Madame Maxime handed the parchment to Langdon. "Some of my students were friendly with the poor little Sally-Anne and spent some time with her during the summers; I will make sure you get to meet them while you are here. Now, you will all stay here at the château for the duration of your stay, of course. I will have rooms prepared for you. Dinner will be served at eight o'clock."

"I have heard that the food here is excellent," whispered Harry to Langdon.

Madame Maxime had apparently heard him, for she beamed at them. "Ah, yes. I think that you will find our food to be quite exquisite. Much lighter, of course, than the very heavy British food. All that lamb!" She wrinkled her large nose delicately. "We serve no meat or eggs here at Beauxbatons, only fresh vegetables, grain and fish. So much easier for the digestion, don't you think?"

"Absolutely." Langdon smiled up at her. So the students and teachers at Beauxbatons are vegetarians who sometimes eat fish, he thought to himself, just like the ancient Cathars... How very interesting... I wonder where the Cathar Perfecti who escaped the massacre did go with their mysterious treasure? Perhaps they went no further than the next hill over?

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Madame Maxime regarded them all with a benign glance.

"Just one question, Madame." Langdon cleared his throat. "Would you happen to know anything about an old book called The Book of Abraham the Mage? I believe it describes the whereabouts of a strange magical artifact, a sort of spear..."

Madame Maxime looked at him with inscrutable black eyes. "I am afraid I am not familiar with that book, no." She rose to her feet, and the visitors thanked her politely for her time.

"Any time, of course," she said graciously. She extended a large delicately manicured hand to Langdon. "It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Langdon." As she spoke, she pressed Langdon's hand, and to his surprise, he could feel a small piece of parchment being passed into his palm. He slid it rapidly into his pocket, unobserved by the others.

"Enchanté, Madame." Langdon bowed slightly.

The visitors exchanged a few more polite phrases with the headmistress before stepping out into the hallway, where their small blue-clad guides had reappeared in order to show them to their rooms. As they walked through the lovely corridors, Langdon glanced surreptitiously at the piece of parchment Madame Maxime had given him. It read:

Some things are for ravens' eyes only. Come to the west tower at midnight, and bring the raven lady only. Tell no others.