JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

       Merlin sighed somberly. 'Alas, the Aquapolis is the lone survivor of the great Republic. The others have long since settled to their watery graves, having exhausted their magic as their populations dwindled, drawn to the fixed lands. Such is the course of history. All great things, even the most wondrous, must meet their ends.'

       'Did you see it?' Albus cried suddenly, grabbing James' shoulder and shaking him enthusiastically. 'Did you see it come up out of the water?'

'It was pretty hard to miss, Al,' James laughed, turning. 'Where were you?'

       'The first mate took me up to the pilothouse to watch!' Albus exclaimed, beside himself with excitement. 'Me and Petra and Izzy. Mum and Lil too! It was bloody awesome!'

       'Don't say that word,' Ginny said mildly, following Albus across the deck with the others at her side. 'But it was, really. I had no idea.'

       'Well,' Harry announced grandly, turning to face the travelers, 'all ashore who's going ashore!'

James grinned and turned to look back at the great island again. Its countless windows sparkled gently as the sun lowered, painting the city bronze and gold. A crew of men in neat red tunics was piloting a ferry toward the Gwyndemere, apparently prepared to transport everyone aboard to their home for the night.

'It's gorgeous, isn't it?' Ginny said, sighing. 'Almost makes the whole trip worthwhile.'

       James smiled up at his mother. For the moment, not knowing yet what was still to come, he agreed with her completely.

       James lay in his bed and stared up at the low ceiling, unable to sleep. The Aquapolis' lodgings were clean, ornate, and well-maintained, but very, very old. The entire city, spectacular as it was, smelled vaguely damp, which was, of course, perfectly understandable. Uncle Percy, who apparently suffered from mold allergies, had had a rather difficult time of it, especially as evening had set and the city had once again sank into its watery habitat. Eventually, Aunt Audrey had asked one of their Atlantean hosts, a pretty, plump young woman with thick black hair and olive skin, if Percy might be offered a particular brand of medicinal tea. The woman, whose name was Mila, had taken one look at Percy's red nose and eyes, and returned minutes later with an empty cup and a small steaming pot. Upon drinking the pot's contents, Percy no longer sneezed or sniffled, but had nevertheless remained in a rather irritable mood throughout the evening.

       Merlin, as was usually the case, was treated with great fanfare upon his arrival in the city, even as he disembarked from the ferry with James and Ralph at his side. Men in long white robes and curiously carved staffs met them on the steps of the city's reception hall, which was hewn directly out of the stone of the mountain. While the city's leaders and Merlin exchanged formal greetings, Lucy and Albus had caught up to James and Ralph, and all four of them had stood looking about with undisguised wonder. Water still ran over the intricately patterned marble floor and dripped from the high vaulted ceilings, and James understood that the reception hall, grand as it was, was filled with seawater most of the time. A great stone column dominated the entryway to the space, topped with a monumental statue of a bearded wizard in flowing toga-like robes, a staff in his left hand and his right hand raised, pressed to the base of one of the ceiling's vaulted supports, as if he was holding it up.

'Soterios,' Lucy had said, reading the inscription that wrapped around the base of the statue's column. 'The Hero of Atlantis. He was the one that unified the wizarding populous of Atlantis and created the network of magic that kept the cities intact, even as their foundations eroded away. I read about him in the wizard library at home. 'Poios Idryma sozo para magica dia magikos'.'

'What's it mean?' Albus had asked, walking around the column to read the inscription.

       Izzy, Lily, and Petra had gotten off the ferry by then and joined the others near the base of the statue. Petra had peered at the ancient carved words. 'It means, 'who saved the foundations of magic, by magic'.'

'So,' Ralph had said slowly, 'this whole place is held together by, what…?'

Petra had shrugged. 'The collective magical will of the witches and wizards who live here.'

       'Makes sense, really,' Lucy had commented. 'After all, the Greeks did invent the concept of democracy, which is really just the idea of the city being supported by the people who live in it. Granted, this takes it to a rather new level.'

       Ralph had shaken his head and looked around at the massive, dark ceilings. 'I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm a little iffy about the idea of willpower as structural bedrock.'

'That's because you're thinking of your willpower,' Lucy had sniffed.

'It's held up for centuries, Ralph,' Albus had said, shrugging. 'What could happen?'

       Ralph had glanced back at Albus, then at Merlin, who was still chatting with the Aquapolis elders some distance away. 'I don't know,' he'd replied. 'Why don't you ask the other six cities of Atlantis?'

       Later, as the sun had set on the horizon amidst a flaming cauldron of colourful clouds, an Atlantean elder named Atropos had taken the travelers on a tour of the city, leading them along broad, sweeping staircases and bridges, through enormous colonnades, past ornate oceanic gardens, statues and arches. Many of the city's myriad, enormous windows had been cranked open, letting in the cool, ocean breeze.

       'The city has remained virtually unchanged since its descent into the depths,' Atropos had explained. 'When the waters began to rise, our ancestors had enough forewarning to design and construct a system of watertight crystal valves, which you see all around us. They are virtually unbreakable, and are reinforced by a unique alchemy that makes them less brittle.' To illustrate, Atropos had approached one of the tall copper-framed windows that fitted between a set of herculean columns. He leaned on the crystal with one hand, and then gently applied his weight. Instead of breaking, the crystal bent slowly around his hand, almost like a very large, very thick soap bubble. Finally, Atropos' hand had pushed entirely through. He'd wiggled his fingers in the dying sunlight on the other side of the crystal, smiling thinly back at his attendees. Merlin had nodded slowly, impressed.

       'Remarkable,' Denniston Dolohov had enthused. 'Tell me, is this proprietary magic? Or would the Atlanteans be willing to share it? I can think of dozens of security applications for such a thing.'

'Doesn't he ever go off duty?' Aunt Audrey had muttered to her husband, who shushed her.

       'That's why he's here, dearest,' he'd replied quietly. 'His new post at the Ministry places him in charge of a whole new department of anti-Muggle defensive magic and technomancy. These are uncertain times, as you well know. And growing more uncertain every day.'

       At that point, Percy had shared a meaningful glance with Neville Longbottom and James' dad. Harry had shrugged slightly, raising his eyebrows and nodding toward Atropos, as if to say not now.

       After a lavish dinner of strange, deep-sea fish and crustaceans, some of which were as large as hippogriffs and more bizarre than James was prepared to taste, the Aquapolis had sunk again. James, Ralph, and Lucy had watched from the broad crystal portals of a Parthenon-like structure built atop one of the island's curving peninsulas. The sun had finally dipped beneath the rim of the horizon, leaving only a faint pinkish glow at the edge of the star-strewn sky. For a while, the Gwyndemere had been visible in the bay far below, rocking gently on its own reflection. Presently, the marble floor had begun to rumble beneath the observers' feet and the bay had begun to rise, pushing up and out, slowly overtaking the Aquapolis' lower reaches. Silently, water had poured into the reception hall, far below and halfway around the bowl of the great city. James had glimpsed the statue of Soterios, tiny with distance, as the ocean rushed around it, swallowing it up. As the island sank away, the Gwyndemere had risen higher and higher, until it was nearly eye-level with James, Ralph, and Lucy where they watched, breathlessly. The pink light of the dying sun had painted the ship on one side while the faint blue glow of the new moon lit the other. And then, so suddenly that it had made all three