G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

"Behold," Merlin proclaimed, raising his chin against the increasing wind. "The wonders of the lost city. Behold Aquapolis, grandest of the seven cities of the continent of Atlantis."

Slowly, the island rose, pushed upwards by a great, dark shelf of stone. The foundation widened as it elevated, as if the island were merely the topmost peak of a huge undersea mountain. Water thundered down the faces of broad cliffs, coursing out of dozens of deep crags and caverns. James watched, dumbstruck, as the landmass grew, extending great rocky arms out to embrace the Gwyndemere , creating a bay around it. Regular shapes became visible as they pushed upwards through the waves: peaked roofs, domes, and spires first, and then monumental stone columns, arches, and colonnades. Soaring bridges and stairways crisscrossed the mountain, connecting the structures and enclosing walled courtyards, ancient statuary, and bright, colourful gardens of coral. Sunlight shimmered over the city as it revealed itself, reflecting as if from innumerable, enormous jewels. With a thrill of wonder, James realized that the shining shapes were not jewels, in fact, but glass windows and doors, fitted into exquisitely crafted coppery frameworks. The windows glittered like rainbows as the seawater coursed down them, glinting from every opening and doorway, from between every pillar and column, completely enclosing the city in rippling, briny brilliance.

"I've heard of this place," Harry Potter said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, "but I never imagined it would be like this."

"Are the other six cities of Atlantis like this too?" Ralph asked in an awed voice.

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.