“Oh man,” Zane said, shaking his head and grinning. “Hold onto your wands, then, guys. This is gonna blow your minds.”
The view finally opened before them as James, Zane, and Ralph stepped out into the lowering sunlight. Before them, a paved thoroughfare led through an ornate arched gate. Wroughtiron letters crafted into the arch spelled out the words ‘e magicus pluribus unum’. Beyond the gate, looming high into the sunset, James was not surprised to see the shapes of glittering skyscrapers and steel towers. What did surprise him, however, so much so that he stopped in his tracks, his mouth dropping open, was the swarm of flying vehicles, broomed witches and wizards, and glowing magical signs and moving billboards that overlaid the buildings, reaching high up into their narrow, urban canyons.
For the first time, James noticed that nearly every skyscraper was topped with another building, smaller and older, as if a much more antiquated city had been pushed upwards by the newer buildings, like birds’ nests in trees. Witches and wizards circled these buildings, perching on elaborate wooden scaffoldings that extended from, and even connected, most of the skyscrapers. In the center of it all, dominating the entire skyline, was a building so bright and transparent that it appeared to be constructed entirely of glass. As James watched, he could see people moving about inside it, riding in shimmering elevators or working over tiny semi-transparent desks.
“Welcome, friends,” Franklyn said, looking up and smiling proudly. “Welcome… to New Amsterdam.”
6. UNDER THE WARPING WILLOW
As it turned out, the group was traveling the rest of the way to Alma Aleron via train. Franklyn led everyone underground through a Muggle subway entrance. Near the turnstiles, James saw Muggle New Yorkers mingling freely and apparently obliviously with witches and wizards in all manner of robes and costumes. A very tall black wizard wearing white robes walked regally with a Bengal tiger at his side, led by a length of gold chain. A small child in a stroller blinked at the tiger and pointed.
“Mom! Tiger!” the boy cried out, grinning with delight.
The mother, a harried-looking woman in a business suit, was talking on her cell phone. The boy called again, and she finally glanced down at him, patting him on the head. “That’s nice, honey,” she said. “Mommy loves your imagination. Tigers in the subway. You should draw that when we get home.”
James craned to watch as Franklyn led the troop though a special turnstile set into a tiled wall. “She doesn’t even see the tiger,” he said to Ralph, pointing. “It’s right there in front of her! It almost stepped on her foot!”
“The kid sees it, though,” Ralph commented.
“See what I mean?” Zane said, stepping through the turnstile. “The spell only really starts working when you’re about three years old. That’s why, when I was a kid, I always sort of knew there was something magical about this town, even though I didn’t really remember the details.”
James opened his mouth to ask another question, but at that moment he caught his first glimpse of the train that they were about to board. It rested between two elevated platforms in its own special terminal. The engine compartment was long and sleek, made from shining steel and glass, so streamlined that it appeared to be moving even as it stood still. Stylized letters along the side announced it as the Lincoln Zephyr. Double doors along the train’s cars shuttled open and James felt the throng of travelers surge toward them. In the lead, Franklyn and Merlin stepped into the brightly lit interior of the engine’s seating compartment.
“Sure beats taking a cab,” Zane announced. “The Zephyr line is the fastest way around the city. Even faster than a broom, especially at rush hour.”
James glanced aside as he approached the open doors. Petra, Izzy, and Lucy were entering a passenger car further down the train, following James’ mum and dad and his Aunt Audrey, who was herding Molly and Lily ahead of her. Finally, the noise of the terminal fell away as James passed through the car’s doors, finding himself in a richly upholstered and furnished interior. The walls and fixtures gleamed with brushed aluminum and there didn’t seem to be a single hard angle in sight.
“Cool,” Ralph said, finding a seat in the center of the lead car. “Looks like the entire train grew out of some kind of crazy dream.”
“It’s called Art Deco,” Zane pointed out. “These were designed by some wizard artist named Mucha a long time ago. I learned about him in Magi-American History. Even the Muggles knew about him, although they didn’t know he was a wizard, of course.”
The train filled quickly and James peered forward, toward the engineer’s post under the train’s sloping nose. A very thin goblin with a very large bald head stood before the broad windows, which looked out into darkness. A set of gleaming levers were embedded into the train’s control panel. The goblin engineer gripped them and then leaned toward a brass tube that extended from above.
“Lincoln Zephyr, five-twenty, now departing the terminal,” he announced, and his voice echoed along the length of the train. “Proud to be on time for the eight thousand, three hundred and twenty-first departure in a row. Thank you for patronizing the New Amsterdam Mass Transit Railway System.”
There was a loud click as the public address system shut off. The goblin engineer leaned forward and pressed both levers up at the same time. Immediately, the train began to glide forward, so smoothly that James could barely tell that they were moving at all except for the sight of the terminal outside the windows, which began to recede past, accelerating swiftly.
“So how is all of this done?” James finally asked, turning back to Zane and Ralph. “I mean, a whole magical city built right into a Muggle city. How’s it work?”
Zane shook his head and raised his hands, palms out. “Don’t ask me. I tried to get Stonewall to explain it to me one time and I finally had to ask him to stop because my brain was about to explode. Ask Chancellor Franklyn if you want an answer you can wrap your head around.”
“What’s that, boys?” Franklyn asked from across the aisle. “A question?”
James’ face reddened, but Zane prodded him, gesturing at the old rotund wizard across from them.
“We were just wondering, sir,” James said, raising his voice over the increasing drone of the train’s engines, “how is it that New York and New Amsterdam can exist in the same place, at the same time?”
Franklyn nodded appreciatively. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t ask, Mr. Potter. The wizarding metropolis of New Amsterdam is, as you can imagine, quite old. It began as a mere alley, not unlike your Diagon Alley, hundreds of years ago, back when the Muggle city of New York was, itself, barely a port village on the Hudson River. As both cities grew, it became apparent that the various Disillusionment and Fidelius Charms put in place by the magical community within the city were simply too haphazard to manage such a large-scale secret. Eventually, the New Amsterdam Department of Magical Administration requested assistance from a foreign ally in the guise of a very unique and gifted witch. Agreeing, this foreign ally sent her, and she has resided with us ever since. This witch, you see, is content to perform one single spell, a very specialized bit of magic that requires nearly all of her prodigious attention—that of casting the most powerful and complete Disillusionment Charm in the entire world.”
Ralph let out a low whistle, impressed. “Wow. So she’s been here for a long time? How old is she, then?”
“Old,” Franklyn laughed, “although not quite as old as I.”
“So why does she need to stay here?” James asked. “Why couldn’t she just cast the spell and go back home, to wherever she came from?”
Franklyn took off his square spectacles and wiped them on his lapel. “It is complicated, I admit. Some spells need only be cast once, of course, and their effect is satisfied… others…”
“Others require constant support,” Merlin added from the seat next to Franklyn. “They dissipate over time. Some have lives of hundreds or thousands of years. Others, however, evaporate nearly instantly. I suspect
that such might be the case with a spell as powerful and pervasive as the one which hides this wizard city from the Muggle city that lies beneath it.”
“Indeed, and well put,” Franklyn agreed. “Thus, our friendly witch remains with us, performing her solitary duty, even as she sleeps.”
“Sounds like a rum job if you ask me,” Ralph said, shaking his head. “I sure wouldn’t want to do it.”
“Where does she live?” James interjected, leaning forward. “Have you ever met her?”
“I have spoken to her many times,” Franklyn said carefully. “Although, alas, I myself have never heard her voice. Few have. Frankly, I am not sure she speaks English, and my foreign languages are rather woefully rusty these days.”
Suddenly, the train shot out of darkness and into the light of the lowering sun. James turned in his seat and squinted out the window.
“Wow,” he said, pressing his hands to the glass. “How fast are we going anyway?”
Zane leaned over James’ shoulder and shook his head. “Who knows? Fast. I don’t think the Zephyr even has a speedometer. No point, really.”
Outside, the great blocks and towers of the buildings rolled past the windows with shocking speed. Rivers of yellow taxis and silver buses clogged the Muggle streets while the air above was crowded with streams of witches and wizards on brooms as well as flying trolleys and buses and even the occasional sphinx and hippogriff. The wizarding metropolis of New Amsterdam seemed to occupy many of the second floors of Muggle New York City, with grand entryways that opened atop Muggle theater marquis and awnings. Magical signs and billboards flickered past, announcing all manner of wizard products, businesses, and entertainments, not all of it quite fit for young eyes.
“So does most of New Amsterdam sit up on top of the buildings of New York?” Ralph asked a little breathlessly.
“Yeah, most of it,” Zane said. “But there are wizard stores, offices, and secret entrances all over the place. Almost every building in New York has a wizard space in it on the thirteenth floor. Muggle elevators just skip right over it because they’re superstitious about the number thirteen. Convenient, eh?”
“What about that skyscraper over there?” James asked, pointing. “The huge one that looks like it’s made out of glass. Don’t tell me that’s a Muggle building!”
“That,” Zane said proudly, “is the center of the American wizarding world. It’s the headquarters of the Department of Magical Administration, the Worldwide Wizard’s Alliance, and the International Magical Bank. People just call it the Crystal Mountain.”
“Oh!” Ralph said, smacking his forehead. “I’ve heard of that! That’s excellent! But how do Muggles not see that?”
Zane shrugged. “Same way they don’t see the rest. To them, it’s just a three-story parking garage that’s always full. It’s the sort of thing they expect to see on nearly every corner anyway.”
James glanced back at him, unsure if his American friend was joking or not. Zane shrugged and smiled.
A loud click sounded throughout the train as the public address system turned on again. “Attention passengers,” the goblin engineer said in a businesslike voice. “Please secure all loose objects and find a handhold. Remember, the M.T.R.S. is not responsible for lost or damaged goods during Muggle railway interactions. Thank you.”
“What’s that mean?” James said, peering forward. The Zephyr was currently rocketing along an elevated section of track that curved around a bank of industrial buildings. “What are ‘Muggle railway interactions’?”
“Oh, this is the best part,” Zane said, climbing to his feet. “Come on with me. Grab onto the ceiling handles here along the middle aisle.”
“What?” Ralph said suspiciously, but standing nonetheless. “Why?”
“The Zephyr uses most of the same tracks as the Muggle subway,” Zane explained, adjusting his stance on the ribbed metal floor. “So, occasionally, the Zephyr and the Muggle trains have… er… interactions.”
“What sort of interactions?” James asked, frowning and peering ahead as the tracks flickered past, dim in the shadows of the buildings.
Zane thought about it for a moment. “Have you ever seen a squaredance?” he asked, glancing back at James and Ralph.
“Er,” Ralph said, perplexed, “no. How does a square dance?”
Zane shook his head and grinned. “It’s called a do-si-do. Never mind, Ralphinator. Just hang onto the handle. Keep your other hand in the air when we go over. It’s fun!”
“When we go—” James began, but the words choked in his throat as he saw another train come barreling around the track in front of them. He could tell by the blunt nose and spray-painted graffiti of the approaching engine that it was a Muggle subway train. Its headlight shone on the Zephyr’s windows. It zoomed toward them, occupying the exact same track.
“Geronimo!” Zane called out, shooting his free hand into the air.
James gasped, certain that they were all about to die, when the engineer of the Zephyr suddenly jerked the steering levers, forcing the left one all the way up, yanking the right one down. Instantly, the world turned sickeningly outside the windows of the Zephyr. Daylight and shadow switched places as the train spun into the air, following a new set of ghostly, curving tracks. James was immediately disoriented, but remembered not to let go of the ceiling handle. A moment later, there was a massive shudder as the engine landed again, pulling the rest of the passenger cars behind it.
“You really should’ve warned your friends, Mr. Walker,” Franklyn said with some reproach. “And it is unsafe to stand up during an interaction unless there is no other option.”
“But it’s more fun that way,” Zane proclaimed, unfazed.
“What just happened to us?” Ralph said, plopping back into his seat. “And why is it so dark outside all of a sudden?”
“You probably don’t want to know the answer to that question, Ralph,” Zane said sincerely. “Trust me.”
James moved to the window and peered out. Sure enough, the sunset sky seemed to be gone, replaced by a blur of blocky, shadowy shapes. Dots of lights flashed by, along with complicated metal struts and girders. He leaned forward and peered down. A moment later, his knees weakened as he saw nothing but empty space below the train. Dim blue space fell away to distant clouds, lit with the waning sun.
“We’re upside-down,” Zane announced soberly, clapping James on the shoulder. “We’re on the underside of the track now, letting the Muggles go by on top. Seems only fair, since they built the tracks in the first place.”
“That’s…,” James said faintly. He glanced ahead, past the Zephyr’s front windows, saw that they were, indeed, rocketing along on the underside of the elevated railway. Ghostly tracks glimmered ahead of the Zephyr, cast magically by the train itself. “That… is completely excellent!”
“Ralph,” Zane said, glancing up at the train’s ceiling. “You forgot to secure your stuff, dude.”
Ralph peered at Zane, his face pale. “What do you mean? How can you tell?”
“Because,” Zane replied, smiling and plopping into the seat next to his friend, “your cauldron cakes are stuck to the ceiling now. Sorry. The magical gravity only works on living things.”
James turned and looked up at the sticky buns plastered to the ceiling. He laughed.
Outside, a flash of bright purple light exploded with blinding force, rocking the train so hard that James collapsed onto Ralph. The train jerked violently, slewing back and forth under the elevated tracks and the interior lights flickered wildly. In the rear of the car, a window shattered, spraying glass and letting in a howl of rushing wind. Commuters screamed and covered their heads, jostling away from the blast.
“What’s happening?” James yelled, trying to scramble up. “Is this part of the ride?”
Zane shook his head, his eyes wide. “No! That was magic! Somebody attacked us!”
Another bolt of purple light slammed against the side of the train, rocking it over onto its right
wheels. A curtain of sparks flew past the windows as the roof screeched against the elevated track’s steel supports.
“Hold on!” the engineer shouted. James turned to look and saw him jerk the steering levers again. The train lurched to the right, slamming back down onto the ghostly tracks and spinning up into the dying sunlight. The Muggle subway train was past now, fortunately, allowing the Zephyr to thump back down onto the main tracks with a rocking crash. It continued to hurtle forward, careening between buildings and over bridges.
“Who is attacking us?” Merlin asked Benjamin Franklyn, climbing to his feet in the swaying train.
“I—I don’t know!” Franklyn stammered, struggling to stay upright in his seat. “I can’t see anything!”
James looked up as the big man moved behind the row of seats, pushing through the frightened passengers toward the side of the train that had been battered. James followed Merlin’s gimlet gaze. There were three figures flying alongside the train, black against the blurring cityscape. Another purple flash shot from one of the figures, shattering more windows and forcing the train to vibrate on its tracks.
“Mr. Engineer,” Merlin commanded loudly, producing his staff. “Now would be a good time for us to take evasive action.”
The goblin engineer glanced back at Merlin over his shoulder, his eyes bulging. “What d’ya expect me to do? We’re on a train, if ya haven’t noticed!”
“A magical train,” Merlin corrected quickly. “One that can apparently make its own tracks. I’d suggest that you do so, sir. I’ll do what I can with our pursuers.”
“There’re more on this side!” Franklyn cried out, pointing. He fumbled for his own wand as two more blasts erupted, one on each side. The train leapt off the tracks and then crashed down again, screeching horribly. Passengers scrambled over one another, crying out in fear.
“Here goes nothin’!” the engineer called, gripping the steering controls. A moment later, the train leapt off the tracks again, following its own set of ghostly rails. The rails curved sideways and down, leading the train completely off the railway bed.
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