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bookishwenchFor notes, please see Chapter 1:
Alad(insane!)din: Night Three
The trio came through the tent’s flap in near total silence. Harry suspected Ron wanted to say something since the telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth was there, but none of them had enough energy left after the disastrous day to do anything other than walk directly to the couch, collapse onto it, and stare into the void. A full hour passed during which Harry wasn’t sure whether he and the others had moved from torpor into actual sleep or not, but eventually one of the constants of their trip resurfaced in the form of Ron’s stomach growling loudly.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can’t help it.”
Hermione nodded dully, and Harry suddenly remembered he actually had a stomach himself, and that it was as empty.
“Anything left?” Harry asked, keeping words to a minimum.
“I think some rice, maybe a few kippers, and a tin of pickled beets,” Hermione said. “I intended to pick up something while we were out, of course, but…”
“But that wasn’t what happened,” Ron finished. “What did happen involved far too much running for my taste. I’m all in.”
“Yes, that wasn’t in the plan,” Hermione said tiredly. “Then again, neither was a confrontation with the Muggle police department.”
“How was I supposed to know they’d think a wand was a potential weapon?” Ron asked.
“Well, it basically is,” Harry pointed out. “They were actually right about that for once.”
“I’m wondering just how much the Muggle Prime Minister and Scrimgeour managed to communicate with each other before the Ministry fell,” Hermione said. “It’s almost like they really were on the lookout for wands.”
“Now that you mention it, it did sort of seem that way, didn’t it?” Ron said. “Bully for them if they are.”
“Yeah, but not when it’s us,” Harry said.
“I suppose we must have looked pretty suspicious, though,” Hermione said, “skulking around the Tower of London, probably spending far too long looking at the crown jewels, but it’s not like we had a choice if we were going to check if one of them was a Horcrux.”
“And they’re not,” Ron said. “Another one of my ideas winds up being useless.”
“Not useless,” Hermione said firmly. “It was an excellent idea. It just didn’t turn out to be right is all.”
“Yeah, it was a really good failure,” Ron said sarcastically, but he seemed slightly mollified that Hermione thought it had been worthwhile.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t Apparate out of there, though,” Harry said.
“It seemed like it had some sort of protective magic around it, like Hogwarts,” Hermione said, considering. “I wonder if magical prisoners were ever kept on the grounds. Ron, have you ever heard anything about that?”
“No,” Ron said, “but I suppose it’s possible. We could still use other spells, though, so the protection wouldn’t be that useful really.”
“Unless that part of the precautions has eroded over the year,” Hermione said. “I wonder how long they’re going to be looking for those three Muggles we looked like.”
“Not at all, I think,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure I got at least two of the officers with a Memory Charm, possibly three.”
“And I know I got a pair of them,” Ron said.
“I think we’re safe then as I got another two,” Hermione said, then frowned, “unless of course we were all hitting the same two multiple times.”
“Nah,” Ron said, but he looked a little uncertain, “otherwise there’d be a big to do about a silver otter, terrier, and stag running about in one of the nation’s most important landmarks, right?”
Conjuring Patronuses had been their last resort, but it looked like it had worked out all right in the end. After they had been detained with their wands (which Ron had tried rather creatively to explain away as being kebab sticks from their lunch), they had tried to make a run for it by using a variety of jinxes and hexes that allowed them to leave without causing too much damage, but when they’d been cornered by one particularly vigilant fellow, all three of them had called on their Patronuses, and he’d wound up knocked for a loop and unconscious, but thankfully unhurt. Then they’d run for blocks before risking Apparition again to where their tent was currently hidden under a bevy of protection spells in a run-down, abandoned building on rather dodgy looking street. Somewhere along the way, the Polyjuice had worn off, and they had come “home” looking like themselves again, exhausted but thankfully not followed.
“So ends our attempt at stealing the crown jewels,” Harry said, stretching against the cushions on the couch. “I suppose the up side of all this is we’re going to have fairly amazing stories to tell our children someday in the future.”
“Speaking of stories,” Ron said, looking at Hermione with a bit more energy, “care to tell us what happened to dear old Al?”
Hermione looked bone tired, Harry thought, probably far too tired to tell stories, so he quickly added, “You can always hold off until tomorrow night, you know.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling appreciatively. “I do think I might like just to forget about today for a while, though, so I’ll at least give it a try.”
“Oh, good,” Ron said, grinning and wriggling back against his own seat. “So, Aladdin married Princess Bad Droopy Drawers and was living in the gigantic and fabulous palace that the lamp genie had built him, which really does sound like it should be the end of the story.”
“It sort of does, doesn’t it, and many retellings do leave it there, but it isn’t actually the end. Aladdin was very happy with his wife and his riches, and he was very generous with all the people of the city, so they quickly learned to love him,” Hermione said.
“What about his wife, since she really didn’t have a say in all this?” Ron asked.
“There isn’t anything about her being unhappy at least, and she never does seem to figure out that Aladdin was the one who kidnapped her and her first groom for three nights straight, or if she did recognize him, she said nothing about it,” Hermione said.
“You know, when you think about it, that kid’s had a really rough time of it in this story,” Ron said. “Some bloke peeping on her in the bath, her father marrying her off to two different men without asking her, getting kidnapped by a demon on her wedding night three different times. She should probably be in counseling of some kind.”
“That’s very true,” Hermione said. “I wonder if the difficult situations she’s been put into are meant to parallel Scheherazade’s perilous challenge here. They do both experience hardship through powerful men who treat them as objects, so there are similarities.”
“Yeah, and nobody can spell either one of their names into the bargain,” Ron said.
Harry looked at Hermione, ready to see her about to roll her eyes at Ron’s point, but was surprised to see her thinking hard.
“Actually, I’m having a rather difficult time with spelling both of them myself at the moment,” Hermione said with a shrug.
“That’s saying something,” Harry said.
“More like borderline frightening,” Ron said, looking alarmed. “You really are tired.”
“I suppose that might explain it,” Hermione said. “I’m normally a fair speller.”
“If by ‘fair’ you mean ‘capable of spelling the name of every plant in Sprout’s greenhouses off the top of your head,’ then yeah, you’re fair,” Ron said. “Okay, so they’re happy. That should be it.”
“But it wasn’t, because Aladdin still had two enemies,” Hermione said, “and neither of them had forgot him.”
“Who? The guy who stuck Aladdin in a cave and ran off?” Ron asked.
“You’ve got it in one,” Hermione said, obviously delighted. “That man, who was indeed a magician, still lusted after the lamp, and after he returned home to Africa, he cast spells to see if there was any other way he might be able to retrieve it.”
“Africa?” Ron asked.
“Yes, but the story isn’t specific about what country, though,” Hermione said.
“Didn’t he try to pass himself off as Aladdin’s uncle?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” Hermione said.
“And Aladdin is Chinese, right?” Ron asked.
“Apparently, as that’s what the story says, though most of the details sound a great deal more like the Middle East,” Hermione said.
“Couldn’t exactly have been much of a family resemblance, could there?” Ron said. “It’d be about as likely as Dean being Cho’s long lost brother.”
Hermione paused for a moment, considering that.
“Unless there was an adoption involved or the magician only moved to Africa from China and was actually Chinese, despite being called the African magician from this point on in the story, someone really should have caught that point,” Hermione said, looking disturbed.
“Or Aladdin and his mum were just really desperate for money and weren’t going to question anything too closely,” Harry suggested.
“Or that,” Hermione said. “In any case, the magician soon found out through his spells that not only was the lamp no longer in the Cave of Wonders, but the same lazy and stupid boy he had abandoned there to die now had it and had discovered its secret, becoming wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.”
“I’m guessing he’s not the sort to shrug and let that be, what with the whole attempted murder thing,” Ron said.
“Indeed he was not,” Hermione said. “He desperately wanted the genie as his own.”
“Then he really shouldn’t have given away the ring with the other genie in it,” Ron said.
“Again, he doesn’t seem to know about the genie of the ring. In fact, the way the rest of the story goes, I’m pretty certain he didn’t,” Hermione said.
“And that’s why you should never just chuck stuff out without checking it first,” Ron said, nodding firmly. “I think I’ve found the moral of the story.”
“Seems a bit unlikely,” Harry said, but to his surprise, Hermione was looking astonished.
“We’ll get to that in a moment,” she said, eyeing Ron quizzically. “The magician immediately rushed back to China, intent on stealing the lamp, and that’s when Aladdin’s other enemy comes into play.”
“And that would be?” Ron asked.
“The vizier, who could never forgive the sultan for marrying the princess to Aladdin instead of his own son,” Hermione said. “He was always looking for some way to discredit him, and he began to suspect Aladdin may have been the one who foiled the earlier wedding. In addition, he was still convinced Aladdin was guilty of using sorcery to build his palace.”
“He’s not wrong there,” Ron said.
“So the vizier brought up to the sultan the incomplete window in the magnificent room that was the centerpiece of Aladdin’s marvelous home, and the sultan called his son-in-law to him and asked him why this one thing had been left imperfect in the whole of the palace,” Hermione said.
“You know, that’s been bothering me too,” Ron said.
“The vizier thought that Aladdin might have run out of magic or perhaps might use magic again in order to make it like the other fifteen magnificent windows with diamonds and rubies and emeralds. But what Aladdin did next surprised both the sultan and the vizier,” Hermione said.
“He turned bright purple, grew wings, whistled a collection of fourteenth century carols, then threw himself out the window?” Ron suggested.
Harry stared at him.
“That was random,” he said.
“So is everything else in this story apparently,” Ron said. “Fair is fair.”
“No, he did not transform into a giant purple finch with a penchant for Medieval music,” Hermione said in a tone that sounded so much like McGonagall it was almost frightening. “Instead, he told the sultan that he had left the window unfinished so the sultan himself could have the pleasure of completing the palace and therefore play a part in its glory.”
Ron and Harry looked at each other.
“So he’s basically saying he wants his father-in-law to give him loads of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies to finish off a window in his house, and the sultan should be really happy about that?” Harry asked.
“Yes, and the odd thing is, he was,” Hermione said.
“He was?” Ron said, looking completely confused.
“I suppose all the splendor of Aladdin’s wedding and home and treasures probably made the sultan feel rather insignificant in comparison, and this would be a way of proving he too had power and wealth and influence,” Hermione said.
“Uh-huh,” Ron said. “He’s a loony.”
“And how did the building project go?” Harry asked.
“Not well,” Hermione said. “He searched the kingdom for months and used up all the gems Aladdin had given him into the bargain, and he still couldn’t come up with anything close to enough jewels to finish the window. Eventually, he had to go to Aladdin and admit he couldn’t do it.”
“I’m feeling oddly sorry for him at the moment,” Ron said, then squinted. “Nope, it’s passed. Go on.”
“Aladdin returned all the gems to his father-in-law and said he would finish the window himself, and the next morning, when the sultan returned, the sixteenth window was indeed as splendid as the others,” Hermione said.
“He used the genie,” Ron said.
“Of course, not that the sultan knew that, though the vizier suspected it more strongly than ever,” Hermione said.
“And how did the sultan react to that?” Ron asked. “If finishing the window was making him feel powerful, and now he couldn’t but Aladdin could in no time at all with no effort, I’m guessing that wasn’t exactly great for his ego.”
“No, it wasn’t, though the sultan praised Aladdin for his wealth and wisdom, but he probably did feel more than a little angry under all that, which might explain why he behaves as he does when we next see him,” Hermione said. “In any case, by this time, the magician had made his way back to Aladdin’s city.”
“In Afri-Chi-Middle-East-istan,” Ron said.
Harry snorted loudly.
“Or wherever,” Hermione said. “He disguised himself in old clothes, then bought several brand new lamps.”
“He didn’t seriously think Aladdin would have sold the lamp and he could pick it up in a shop, did he?” Ron asked.
“No, that’s not his plan. Besides, Aladdin’s lamp, if you recall, was very old and battered and dented,” Hermione said.
“And it probably has a fair few rub marks on it as well by now,” Harry chimed in.
“Most likely,” Hermione said. “The magician waited until he heard that Aladdin was off on a hunting expedition, then he went through the streets, crying, ‘New lamps for old! New lamps for old!’”
“I think I see where this is heading,” Ron said.
“Probably. The people in the streets were laughing at the crazy man who was giving away perfectly good lamps in return for old ones, but a few were suspicious. When they asked him why he would do this, he claimed he was fulfilling an oath he had made, and that satisfied them. Soon the streets were full of clamor as he went on trading lamps,” Hermione said.
“That’s a weird oath,” Ron said. “That’s like promising to swap old manky shoes for new ones or something. Why would people even think he’d do that?”
“I grant you, it’s certainly odd, and I’ve never heard of one similar, but there you have it,” Hermione said. “People love the idea of getting something for nothing.”
“I guess if Fred and George have a buy one, get one free sale again, I should probably look a bit closer, then,” Ron said suspiciously.
“With those two, that’s probably wise,” Hermione agreed. “Anyway, a maid in Aladdin’s house heard the commotion and found out about the lamps, then went to her mistress, laughing about the silly man in the streets. Then the princess remembered seeing a battered old lamp sitting on a shelf in the bedroom, and she told the maid to fetch it and bring it to the man to swap it.”
“Aladdin never told his wife about the lamp?” Ron said.
“No,” Hermione said.
“And he also didn’t bother taking it with him when he left to go hunting?” Harry added.
“No,” Hermione repeated.
“What an idiot,” Ron and Harry said almost simultaneously.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “The maid did as she was told, and the magician recognized the lamp at once. He gave her a new lamp in return, and after she ran back to her mistress with what she thought was a much better lamp than the priceless one she had given away, the magician ran down the nearest alley, threw off his disguise, and rubbed the lamp.”
“That’s not going to end well,” Ron said. “What did he wish for?”
“He wished that he and Aladdin’s palace and everyone and everything in it should be carried at once back to Africa,” Hermione said.
“That’s actually not as dire as I thought,” Ron said. “I figured he’d wish Aladdin dead or something.”
“No, though that would have been sensible from a purely pragmatic viewpoint,” Hermione said. “Now that I think of it, the genies never actually harm anyone in the story. They move them about or frighten them or lock them up, but they don’t kill people. Perhaps they can’t.”
“It seems like,” Ron said. “I don’t think house-elves are allowed to kill people either, if it comes to that.”
“Possibly,” Hermione said. “If so, it shows another parallel between the story and the magical world.”
“So the genie did what the magician asked?” Harry said.
“Yes, in a single instant the whole palace disappeared along with all of its treasures and the princess and the servants inside of it,” Hermione said.
“Well, she’s at least familiar with that particular sensation,” Ron said.
“You know, she really should have put two and two together at that point if she hadn’t earlier,” Hermione said.
“But no one in this seems terribly bothered by extra brains, so I’m guessing she doesn’t,” Ron said.
“If she did, she never said anything about it,” Hermione said. “The sultan, however, who had a perfect view of the palace from his bedroom window, glanced outside and noticed it was missing. He immediately flew into a panic, sending his soldiers to look at the place where the building had been, and when they reported back that no sign of it could be found, he was enraged.”
“Did he finally figure out Aladdin wasn’t the most brilliant and speedy architect and builder of all time and had used magic?” Ron asked.
“Yes, though he of course assumed it was evil sorcery, just as the vizier told him. The moment that Aladdin came back into the city from his hunting trip, the sultan had him arrested and dragged into the palace. ‘What hast thou done with my daughter, vile sorcerer!’ he cried out, and it was only then that Aladdin realized the palace and his wife were gone,” Hermione said.
“Hard way to get the news,” Harry said.
“Yes, but further bad news was on the way, for the sultan decreed that Aladdin should be beheaded for using magic and abducting the princess,” Hermione said.
“Yep, he never got over that window thing,” Ron said, nodding.
“Probably not, but I think the disappearance of his daughter was most likely the last straw,” Hermione said. “However, the people of the city, remembering the generosity and kindness Aladdin had always showed them, climbed over the walls of the sultan’s palace and into the courtyard where the execution was to take place, rioting and chanting that if Aladdin was killed, they would kill the sultan in return.”
“I guess he was at least pretty smart about that, then,” Ron said. “Did it work?”
“Almost,” Hermione said. “The sultan agreed to let Aladdin live for another fortnight so he could hunt for the princess. At the end of that time, if she was not returned unharmed, Aladdin would still be executed.”
“Well, it bought him some time,” Harry said.
“True, but he still had no idea where the princess and the palace had gone,” Hermione said. “Remember, no one had seen the African magician without his disguise.”
“I suppose he could always put an advert in the local paper: ‘Lost: one gigantic palace with loads of treasure and a very hot princess with a name that’s nearly impossible to pronounce. If found, please return to original spot or I’ll wind up separate from my head,’” Ron said.
Harry laughed and even Hermione giggled a bit before continuing on.
“No, Aladdin began to wander through the wilderness, looking for any trace of the princess or the palace, but he couldn’t find anything at all. After a few days, in a fit of despair, he came to a river and considered throwing himself in and drowning rather than facing the humiliation of execution,” Hermione said.
“Suddenly it’s a lot less funny,” Ron said, frowning.
“Then as he was about to jump in the river, he accidentally tripped and fell down the riverbank instead,” Hermione said.
“Well, that’s just embarrassing,” Ron said.
“Yes, but it was also lucky since when he got up and dusted himself off, he accidentally rubbed the iron ring that was still on his finger,” Hermione said.
“No, he didn’t,” Ron said with utter certainty.
“Yes, he did,” Hermione said defiantly. “It’s right in the story!”
“I assumed the ring was in the palace since that’s where he was stupidly keeping his lamp,” Ron said. “Otherwise, wouldn’t he have just rubbed the ring immediately like any sane person would do?”
“He forgot about the ring again,” Hermione said with a shrug.
“This kid is completely hopeless,” Ron said.
“Gotta admit, I agree,” Harry said. “On a scale of stupid, that’s both Crabbe and Goyle combined.”
“We can try to chalk it up to his being distraught, but it does seem remarkably forgetful at the very least,” Hermione agreed. “In any case, the genie of the ring appeared again at once and asked what Aladdin wanted him to do.”
“Handy fellow to have about,” Harry said.
“Yes, this ring is a lot more useful than a certain other one that drives the wearer mad with power, ever if it does make him invisible into the bargain,” Hermione said.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Oh, right, the Dursleys wouldn’t have let your read Tolkien, I suppose,” Hermione said, giving him a deeply pitying look. “He wrote a book about a magic ring that made its wearer invisible, but was actually a trap by an evil character to enslave the wearer and make him the ruler of the world. You really should read that. It’s wonderful.”
“Sounds a bit too much like real life at the moment, what with the ring and the evil wizard and taking over the world,” Harry said, then noticed Hermione was frowning. “What?”
“No, I’m just realizing suddenly how much Aragog had in common with Shelob,” Hermione said. “That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”
“You mean Mosag,” Ron said.
“No, the spider in the story was named Shelob,” Hermione said. “Mosag was Aragog’s wife.”
“Yeah, that was her name when Hagrid first brought her into the forest from some faraway land,” Ron said. “He didn’t care for the name, though, so he renamed her after his Great-Aunt Mosag. She didn’t seem to mind. He told me about it once after Aragog died, reminiscing and trying to get me to think spiders weren’t all horrible. Fat chance.”
Hermione stared at him for a full minute before she finally shrieked, “Are you telling me that Legolas actually exists?!”
“What?” Ron asked, looking confused. “I’m talking about a great hairy spider. What’s a Legolas? Some kind of boot?”
Harry watched as Hermione looked like she was about to explode.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked carefully.
“Perfectly!” she said with a wide grin on her face. “Oh, do I have research to do when we get back to Hogwarts!”
“Must be some sort of a dessert,” Ron said to Harry as Hermione pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag and started writing at a furious pace. “Judging by the amount of enthusiasm, one with chocolate in it.”
A few seconds later, Hermione relaxed a bit and collected herself once again.
“Yes, sorry, where was I?” she asked.
“The genie appeared from the ring,” Harry said.
“Right,” she said. “Aladdin immediately told the genie to bring back his wife and his palace, but the genie said he couldn’t do that.”
“Why?” Ron asked.
“Because the genie of the lamp had done it, and the genie of the ring was much less powerful and couldn’t undo one of his enchantments,” Hermione said.
“That’s rotten luck,” Ron said. “So now what?”
“Aladdin asked if the genie could at least tell him who was now in possession of the lamp, and the genie explained completely about the magician and how he had got the lamp and where he was,” Hermione said. “As you might expect, Aladdin was furious.”
“I’d say he has a right to get a bit testy over this, yeah,” Ron said.
“Aladdin asked if the genie could instead take him to his wife, and that the genie could do, so Aladdin ordered the genie to take him to there at once,” Hermione said.
“There are weird rules for genies,” Ron said. “Ringo can’t undo Lampy’s work, but Ringo can take Aladdin there?”
“Ringo and Lampy?” Hermione said in disbelief.
“What?” Ron asked. “We’ve got to call them something. Genie of the lamp and genie of the ring are too much of a mouthful. Lampy’s obvious, and you said a fellow named Ringo was a drummer in some weird all-insect Muggle band, so that should be fine.”
“Great, now I’m picturing a highly powerful magical being dressed in the military costumes from the cover of Sergeant Pepper,” Harry said.
“What?” Ron said, completely confused.
“Never mind,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Before Aladdin knew it, the genie was setting him down beside the palace, and the princess was standing at a window, delighted to see him.”
“And they lived happily ever after?” Ron asked.
“No, not yet,” Hermione said. “The princess explained that the magician had told her that Aladdin was dead and that she should marry him instead, but of course she had rejected him.”
“Crikey, this kid does have a time of it, doesn’t she? Now a crazy magician fancies her,” Ron said. “What did Aladdin do?”
“He told her not to reject him any longer,” Hermione said.
“Wait, what?” Harry said.
“He told her to put on her most beautiful dress and to invite him to her chambers to dine, pretending that she had thought it over and she had decided to accept him, but that she was to secretly pour something into the magician’s cup that Aladdin would give her which would make the magician unconscious, and all would be well,” Hermione said.
“As a plan, I can see fifty things that could go wrong, but it’s still workable at least,” Ron said.
“It actually did work relatively well,” Hermione said. “Aladdin walked into the nearby village and bought old clothes from a peddler, then went to an apothecary to buy a potion and snuck back to the palace where the princess’s maid was waiting at a back door to receive it and deliver it to her mistress.”
“The same one who swapped out the lamp?” Ron asked.
“Maybe. She probably had a lot of maids,” Hermione said. “People did back then if they were royal or wealthy.”
“I hope she doesn’t swap it for a butter beer or something,” Ron said.
“No, the princess received it and hid it in her dress, and when the magician arrived she made him think she was in love with him, but she insisted that she wished to try an African wine as she had heard they were much better than Chinese wines, and he rushed to get her a bottle of the very best, but she insisted on pouring it into the goblets herself, which was when she added the potion,” Hermione said.
“You know, that’s pretty well done there,” Ron said. “This girl isn’t half bright.”
“She actually is,” Hermione agreed. “Then she told him it was a custom among her people for lovers to toast one another, and the magician enthusiastically lifted his goblet to toast the princess, took a deep drink, and then at once fell down dead.”
“I thought Aladdin said it would just make him unconscious!” Ron said.
“He did, but he was lying. He thought she might be too nervous to carry it out otherwise,” Hermione said.
“Of all the… if you’re going to have your wife kill someone for you, you should at least be up front about it,” Ron said indignantly.
“I… think I agree?” Harry said uncertainly.
“I suppose it does keep her free of any guilt for his death, but yes, it is horrid,” Hermione said.
“So what did she do?” Ron asked.
“She kept to the plan and had her maid let Aladdin in through the back door,” Hermione said.
“Then she told him off, right?” Ron said.
“No, apparently she said nothing about it,” Hermione said.
“She nothing about things an awful lot,” Ron said, shaking his head.
“She most likely was conforming to the traditional concept of wifely obedience found in most cultures, but some of the versions claim she hadn’t actually realized he was dead and still believed he was only sleeping,” Hermione said.
“Not that I’m all that fussed about his dying,” Ron said. “I mean, he did try to entomb Aladdin alive and then stole his house and kidnapped his wife, so this is very much not a nice person, so I may just let this one pass.”
“Yeah, but it was still rather low not to tell her the truth,” Harry said.
Ron thought for a moment, then said, “Agreed. Okay, Aladdin comes in the back door. Then what?”
“He told the princess to leave the room, then searched the body until he found the lamp tucked into the magician’s shirt. Then he rubbed the lamp, ordered the genie to bring them all home with the exception of the magician’s body, which was left where it was, and in a few seconds they were back where they started,” Hermione said.
“So he still doesn’t tell her about the lamp?” Ron said.
“No, apparently not, though he did vow to always keep it on his person from then on,” Hermione said.
“This guy’s an idiot,” Ron said.
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “We’ve established that, I think.”
“But do they at least all live happily ever after now?” Ron asked.
“No,” Hermione said.
“Okay, that’s good then, at least they can . . . wait, did you just say ‘no’?” Ron said.
“That’s right,” Hermione said. “The story isn’t quite over.”
“Seriously?” Harry said. “How long is this story?”
“Oh, this is the last bit,” Hermione said. “After the palace returned, the sultan was so happy that of course he didn’t have Aladdin executed.”
“And they all still think he isn’t using magic despite the palace appearing and disappearing and reappearing?” Harry asked.
“I suppose they blamed that on the evil magician,” Hermione said.
“Okay, that’s at least a reasonable explanation, I suppose,” Ron said. “But I still don’t get how this story isn’t over yet.”
“Well, the magician had a brother,” Hermione said.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Harry said. “This is like when Hollywood tries to make a movie go for far too many sequels.”
“Yeah, and we already know Aladdin’s dad wasn’t really the magician’s brother,” Ron added. “Wait, was he?”
“No, the magician was no relation at all to Aladdin, but the magician did have a younger brother,” Hermione said. “They usually met once a year to compare their lives and their magical accomplishments, but when he didn’t show up for their usual appointment, the surviving brother became suspicious. He researched what had happened, discovered his brother had died and that Aladdin was to blame, and he vowed vengeance.”
“So the brother is a wizard too then,” Ron said.
“Yes, it does appear that the pair of them may have inherited their abilities since they share a common talent for magic, even if it’s magic that doesn’t make much sense to us,” Hermione said. “I suppose this could be an example of a Muggle, in this case Aladdin, being able to best a family of pure-bloods. If so, I can see why it wouldn’t have been accepted in the magical world very readily.”
“Or at all,” Ron said, “although suddenly I like Aladdin a bit better if that really is what’s going on.”
“It does put a slightly different slant on things,” Hermione said. “In any case, the second magician went to China and found out that there was a certain old holy woman named Fatima who was very highly revered in the city as a miracle worker and for her great piety. He followed her to her home, then pulled a knife on her threatened to kill her if she didn’t exchange clothes with him.”
“Oh, this one’s a real peach,” Ron said. “Threatening to kill old ladies and stealing dresses. Very nice. So what happened?”
“The woman was terrified, so she gave the brother her clothes, which he put on,” Hermione said. “Then he dabbed his face with dirt and mud to match her own dirty face.”
“Why’s she so dirty?” Ron asked.
“Sometimes people do that sort of thing to atone for sin or show that they aren’t bothered by the vanity of the world,” Hermione said.
“So he’s going to pretend he’s Fatima?” Ron asked.
“Exactly,” Hermione said.
“But even with the dirt, won’t some people recognize it isn’t her?” Harry asked.
“Remember, she would be wearing a veil,” Ron said.
“Well remembered,” Hermione said, beaming at him.
“Well, it makes sense I suppose,” Harry said, feeling happier than he thought he could when he was so tired since his best friend was basking in Hermione’s praise. “Then what?”
“Then he killed her anyway,” Hermione said.
“Okay, I strongly disliked the first brother, but this one I just flat out loathe,” Ron said, irate. “That’s horrible.”
“It also sounds remarkably like Polyjuice,” Harry said slowly.
“Yeah, he keeps her alive so he can get a sample from her, changes into her, then kills her,” Ron said, shuddering. “There probably is a real backstory on this one, isn’t there?”
“There certainly could be, but if so, they don’t quite understand how Polyjuice works, as you’ll see from the next bit,” Hermione said. “The next morning, the magician went out, dressed as the holy woman, and all the people of the city crowded around him, hoping to be blessed.”
“Wait, the next morning?” Ron asked. “So he spent the night in the same room with the corpse of the woman he murdered?”
“I’d never really thought of it that way, but I suppose he must have,” Hermione said.
“I hope her ghost let him have it but good,” Ron said.
“If she was really a holy woman, I doubt she’d choose to stay around and torment someone rather than going on to wherever,” Hermione said.
“I would,” Ron said without a bit of doubt. “I think I’d be too tempted to use a few of the tricks Myrtle has done, moaning and groaning at all hours, following people around, just annoying the blazes out of him. He’d deserve a lot worse.”
“I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for Myrtle,” Hermione said, sounding guilty. “Did… did any of us ever thank her for, you know, anything?”
“Like what?” Ron said. “Getting a diary thrown through her head and complaining about it?”
“She did tell Harry about the egg in fourth year, didn’t she?” Hermione said.
“Yeah, and she pointed me towards the merpeople in the lake,” Harry admitted. “You may have a point there.”
“She was also smitten with Draco bloody Malfoy,” Ron said. “I’d say that cancels everything else out.”
“Well, regardless, the magician never mentioned anything about a ghost, and honestly I don’t know why no one found the woman’s body. The magician made sure to wend his way towards Aladdin’s palace, certain that the princess would hear all the commotion in the street and wonder what was happening,” Hermione said.
“Not unlike the lamp swapper,” Ron said. “This girl spends a lot of time listening at the window.”
“She may well have not been allowed to do much else,” Hermione said. “Royal women usually aren’t.”
“Then I can’t really blame her for that rather pathetic hobby, I suppose,” Ron said. “So she hears all the hubbub. Then what?”
“She told one of her eunuchs to go down and ask the woman to come up so that she might learn from her,” Hermione said.
“What’s a eunuch?” Ron asked, looking puzzled.
“Oh!” Hermione said, looking embarrassed. “Ehm, it’s one of her guards, specifically a male one who’s been, ehm, altered, so that he can’t pose her any sort of threat.”
“Like his hands are tied behind his back or something?” Ron said. “That’s fairly stupid for a guard. How is he supposed to protect her?”
“No, not that sort of threat,” Hermione said. “No, it’s so that he can’t, um, well, he can’t commit adultery with the princess.”
“Oh,” Ron said, nodding his head blithely, then stopping. “But, wait, how would…”
Hermione, blushing furiously, gave him a look.
“Ohhh,” Ron said, in a rather high voice.
“Right,” Harry said, sounding equally shrill. “Got it.”
“Seriously, you lot are just downright terrifying,” Ron said. “What is wrong with you people?”
“I sometimes ask myself the same question,” Hermione said. “The magician received the eunuch’s invitation and went up to the princess, thrilled that his plan was working thus far.”
“Uh-huh,” Ron said, still looking ill, and Harry heard him mutter under his breath, “poor bloke.”
“The princess asked the holy woman if she would consent to live in the palace so that she would be near whenever anyone in the household had an illness that needed curing or required good advice, and the magician agreed, moving into the smallest and poorest of all the chambers in keeping with the old woman’s humility,” Hermione said.
“Wow, that really is convenient,” Harry said. “Maybe a bit of the Imperius Curse there?”
“Possibly,” Hermione agreed, then shifted her gaze to Ron. “What do you think?”
“Uh-huh,” Ron said in the same not-quite-there voice before quietly mumbling, “that’s bloody barbaric.”
“I think we may have lost him,” Harry said to Hermione.
“Oh dear,” she said, still looking embarrassed. “Why didn’t I just say guard? I think I might have fried his brain.”
“What?” Ron said, looking like he’d just noticed they were there again. “What’s fried? Is it chicken? Did we find chicken?”
“And he’s back again,” Harry said.
“When in doubt, try food,” Hermione said. “Duly noted. In any case, the magician moved into the household, and one day the princess called upon her while she was in the magnificent room with the sixteen windows. She had a headache and wanted the holy woman to heal her.”
“Bit of an over-reaction to a headache, isn’t it?” Ron said.
“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “I’ve had a few while studying for examinations that just about knocked me out.”
“I knew studying was bad for your health,” Ron said.
“It’s not! It’s just that… oh, never mind,” Hermione said. “The magician came into the splendid room, and after looking in amazement at all the beauty of the decorations and gems and silver and gold, the princess asked if it was not truly one of the great wonders of the world.”
“And he said yes?” Ron suggested.
“Actually, the magician said it was very beautiful, but that it lacked only one thing,” Hermione said.
“What?” Ron asked. “A wireless? A fifty foot waterslide? A statue of Celestina Warbeck in platinum?”
“A minibar that never emptied and a Lamborghini?” Harry suggested.
“Why would she want a tiny bar and a lamb?” Ron asked.
“A minibar is a small refrigerator and snack station in Muggle hotel rooms where they charge about five times the usual price for the convenience of having things temptingly handy, and a Lamborghini is, well, think of a Firebolt if it were turned into a Muggle car,” Hermione said.
“Good call, Harry,” Ron said. “Now I want a tiny bar and a lamb named Nini too.”
“Not a… oh, skip it,” she said. “No, she said that the only thing the room lacked to make it the greatest marvel in all the world was a roc’s egg hanging from the center dome in the ceiling.”
“A rock egg?” Harry asked this time.
“No, the egg of a roc,” Hermione corrected. “A roc is a gigantic mythological bird, usually from Persia, that’s big enough to carry off people or even elephants, so its eggs would be simply enormous.”
“That’s incredibly random,” Ron said.
“It would seem so, but the idea entered the princess’s mind and put her entirely out of sorts, and when she next saw Aladdin, she asked him why he would mock her by building such a beautiful palace by not completing it by hanging a roc’s egg from the ceiling,” Hermione said.
“Because that’s an entirely mental idea to begin with and how could he have come up with it on his own?” Ron said.
“I’d tend to agree with you, but Aladdin, wishing to do whatever would make the princess happy, brought out the lamp and called forth Lampy, I mean the genie. When the genie asked him what he wanted, Aladdin told him to bring a roc’s egg and hang it in the center of the room from the ceiling on a chain of gold,” Hermione said.
“Do they glow?” Ron asked.
“What, the egg?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah,” Ron said. “Would it be like a lamp or something?”
“Not as far as I know,” Hermione said.
“Okay, for a second I thought I’d found a logical reason to hang a giant egg from the ceiling,” Ron said. “Apparently they just like hanging giant ova from their roof. So were they happy with the effect on their décor?”
“The genie didn’t bring it,” Hermione said. “Instead, he exploded in rage, shrieking so loudly Aladdin thought that his ears would bleed, and looking so fearsome most mortal men would have died at the sight of him.”
“Okay, that wasn’t what I was expecting,” Ron said.
“Yeah, but I’m starting to suspect that’s why the so-called holy woman made the suggestion,” Harry said.
“Precisely,” Hermione said, nodding at him. “The genie cried out, ‘How dare you ask such a thing! To hang the egg of my sovereign lord as a decoration in your home! And without a word of thanks from you for all that I have done! I am right well tempted to make this palace crash down upon the heads of everyone within it, killing you all!’”
“The roc is his ‘sovereign lord’?” Harry asked.
“Apparently so,” Hermione said. “Somehow the magician had found that out and figured that stealing from his master would be the one thing that the genie would take ultimate offense to, and on top of that he was already angry at Aladdin’s lack of gratitude for all he’d done for him.”
“Okay, the genie has a point,” Ron said. “Aladdin has been rude. Still, at least Auntie Muriel didn’t try to kill me when it took me over three months to send her a thank you note for the earmuffs she sent me for Christmas one year.”
“But the genie showed mercy. He said, ‘However, I know you would not have asked for this if it were not for the evil magician, the brother of he who stole your palace, who is now housed within your walls, dressed in the clothes of the holy woman whom he murdered. Because you knew no better and the evil begins with him, I shall spare you.’ And with that he disappeared back into the lamp with a puff of smoke,” Hermione said.
“Oh boy,” Ron said. “Well, the Kneazle’s out of the bag now.”
“Yes, the genie was wise enough to know he was being used to exact revenge, and he refused to play a part in it, especially since the person pulling the strings was a murderer,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, but he was also fine with just staying in his lamp and not saying anything about it until Aladdin asked for something,” Ron said.
“I’m not sure the genie actually can leave the lamp without Aladdin’s permission,” Hermione said, tilting her head and thinking. “He never does at any point in the story.”
“Okay, fine, so he couldn’t leave the lamp or was in the bath or what have you. So what does Aladdin do now?” Ron said.
“He called his wife to him and told her to bring forth the holy woman because he felt ill. At once, she sent for the woman, and the moment the magician walked into the room, Aladdin stabbed him a sword and he fell down dead,” Hermione said.
“I was expecting more of an epic battle,” Ron said, sounding disappointed.
“Well, if he really was a magician, the best way for a Muggle to deal with him would be a surprise attack, I expect,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, but it’s not much of a story,” Ron said.
“But wouldn’t you say it’s gone on long enough?” Harry said.
“Good point,” Ron said. “Are we getting near the wrap up?”
“Almost there,” Hermione said. “The princess was horrified and screamed, ‘Husband, thou hast murdered the good holy woman!’ but he told her all the genie had said, and when the veil was lifted, the magician’s face was all the proof that was needed. After that, Aladdin called on the genie only when he had great need.”
“And said please and thank you, I should hope,” Harry said.
“I would assume so,” Hermione said. “Eventually, the sultan died, and Aladdin became sultan in his place, and all considered him wise, merciful, and a good ruler, and they all lived happily ever after.”
“And that really is the end?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “What did you think of it?”
Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment, and then Ron raised his hand as if he were in school.
“Yes?” Hermione asked carefully.
“Whatever happened to Aladdin’s mum?” Ron asked.
Hermione looked startled.
“I have no idea,” she said. “She sort of just disappears from the story. A few versions mention her at the wedding, leading the bride into her new home, but then that’s it. I assume we’d hear if she’d died or something.”
“Maybe she decided to move back to their old house because the new one was just too weird,” Ron said.
“Maybe,” Hermione said. “She seemed terribly uncomfortable with all the nobles.”
“No fool, that one,” Ron said. “I’d say it was suitably mental enough for a good three nights of not getting killed by someone’s serial killer newlywed husband, though, and then some.”
“Completely,” Harry said. “Also, I’m making a point of thanking Myrtle the next time I see her.”
“Then my job here is done, and I’m all in anyway,” Hermione said, yawning. “It’s definitely bedtime.”
“It has been a very long day,” Harry said. “Any ideas where we should be off to tomorrow?”
“There’s a tiny little village in northern Scotland where Tom Riddle’s mother went to school,” Hermione said. “She was a Muggle, so I’m not sure it would interest You-Know-Who that much, but at least it’s something.”
“Fine by me,” Ron said. “I suggested this one, and look where that went.”
“It’s fine,” Hermione said, taking out her notebook again and flipping through pages. “It was a good idea, even if it didn’t turn out to be a Horcrux.”
“Thanks for that,” he said, leaning over her shoulder to look at the notebook. “Hermione, why does your To Do list start with ‘brush up on Quenya and Sindarin’? What’re those? Advanced defensive magic or summat?”
“Oh!” she said, snapping the book shut. “Just something pleasant to think about when everything’s done with and the world is back to normal.”
Ron shrugged and lumbered off towards his pajamas while Harry smiled over at Hermione, already half asleep himself. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if anything would ever be truly normal again.
Alad(insane!)din: Night Three
The trio came through the tent’s flap in near total silence. Harry suspected Ron wanted to say something since the telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth was there, but none of them had enough energy left after the disastrous day to do anything other than walk directly to the couch, collapse onto it, and stare into the void. A full hour passed during which Harry wasn’t sure whether he and the others had moved from torpor into actual sleep or not, but eventually one of the constants of their trip resurfaced in the form of Ron’s stomach growling loudly.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can’t help it.”
Hermione nodded dully, and Harry suddenly remembered he actually had a stomach himself, and that it was as empty.
“Anything left?” Harry asked, keeping words to a minimum.
“I think some rice, maybe a few kippers, and a tin of pickled beets,” Hermione said. “I intended to pick up something while we were out, of course, but…”
“But that wasn’t what happened,” Ron finished. “What did happen involved far too much running for my taste. I’m all in.”
“Yes, that wasn’t in the plan,” Hermione said tiredly. “Then again, neither was a confrontation with the Muggle police department.”
“How was I supposed to know they’d think a wand was a potential weapon?” Ron asked.
“Well, it basically is,” Harry pointed out. “They were actually right about that for once.”
“I’m wondering just how much the Muggle Prime Minister and Scrimgeour managed to communicate with each other before the Ministry fell,” Hermione said. “It’s almost like they really were on the lookout for wands.”
“Now that you mention it, it did sort of seem that way, didn’t it?” Ron said. “Bully for them if they are.”
“Yeah, but not when it’s us,” Harry said.
“I suppose we must have looked pretty suspicious, though,” Hermione said, “skulking around the Tower of London, probably spending far too long looking at the crown jewels, but it’s not like we had a choice if we were going to check if one of them was a Horcrux.”
“And they’re not,” Ron said. “Another one of my ideas winds up being useless.”
“Not useless,” Hermione said firmly. “It was an excellent idea. It just didn’t turn out to be right is all.”
“Yeah, it was a really good failure,” Ron said sarcastically, but he seemed slightly mollified that Hermione thought it had been worthwhile.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t Apparate out of there, though,” Harry said.
“It seemed like it had some sort of protective magic around it, like Hogwarts,” Hermione said, considering. “I wonder if magical prisoners were ever kept on the grounds. Ron, have you ever heard anything about that?”
“No,” Ron said, “but I suppose it’s possible. We could still use other spells, though, so the protection wouldn’t be that useful really.”
“Unless that part of the precautions has eroded over the year,” Hermione said. “I wonder how long they’re going to be looking for those three Muggles we looked like.”
“Not at all, I think,” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure I got at least two of the officers with a Memory Charm, possibly three.”
“And I know I got a pair of them,” Ron said.
“I think we’re safe then as I got another two,” Hermione said, then frowned, “unless of course we were all hitting the same two multiple times.”
“Nah,” Ron said, but he looked a little uncertain, “otherwise there’d be a big to do about a silver otter, terrier, and stag running about in one of the nation’s most important landmarks, right?”
Conjuring Patronuses had been their last resort, but it looked like it had worked out all right in the end. After they had been detained with their wands (which Ron had tried rather creatively to explain away as being kebab sticks from their lunch), they had tried to make a run for it by using a variety of jinxes and hexes that allowed them to leave without causing too much damage, but when they’d been cornered by one particularly vigilant fellow, all three of them had called on their Patronuses, and he’d wound up knocked for a loop and unconscious, but thankfully unhurt. Then they’d run for blocks before risking Apparition again to where their tent was currently hidden under a bevy of protection spells in a run-down, abandoned building on rather dodgy looking street. Somewhere along the way, the Polyjuice had worn off, and they had come “home” looking like themselves again, exhausted but thankfully not followed.
“So ends our attempt at stealing the crown jewels,” Harry said, stretching against the cushions on the couch. “I suppose the up side of all this is we’re going to have fairly amazing stories to tell our children someday in the future.”
“Speaking of stories,” Ron said, looking at Hermione with a bit more energy, “care to tell us what happened to dear old Al?”
Hermione looked bone tired, Harry thought, probably far too tired to tell stories, so he quickly added, “You can always hold off until tomorrow night, you know.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling appreciatively. “I do think I might like just to forget about today for a while, though, so I’ll at least give it a try.”
“Oh, good,” Ron said, grinning and wriggling back against his own seat. “So, Aladdin married Princess Bad Droopy Drawers and was living in the gigantic and fabulous palace that the lamp genie had built him, which really does sound like it should be the end of the story.”
“It sort of does, doesn’t it, and many retellings do leave it there, but it isn’t actually the end. Aladdin was very happy with his wife and his riches, and he was very generous with all the people of the city, so they quickly learned to love him,” Hermione said.
“What about his wife, since she really didn’t have a say in all this?” Ron asked.
“There isn’t anything about her being unhappy at least, and she never does seem to figure out that Aladdin was the one who kidnapped her and her first groom for three nights straight, or if she did recognize him, she said nothing about it,” Hermione said.
“You know, when you think about it, that kid’s had a really rough time of it in this story,” Ron said. “Some bloke peeping on her in the bath, her father marrying her off to two different men without asking her, getting kidnapped by a demon on her wedding night three different times. She should probably be in counseling of some kind.”
“That’s very true,” Hermione said. “I wonder if the difficult situations she’s been put into are meant to parallel Scheherazade’s perilous challenge here. They do both experience hardship through powerful men who treat them as objects, so there are similarities.”
“Yeah, and nobody can spell either one of their names into the bargain,” Ron said.
Harry looked at Hermione, ready to see her about to roll her eyes at Ron’s point, but was surprised to see her thinking hard.
“Actually, I’m having a rather difficult time with spelling both of them myself at the moment,” Hermione said with a shrug.
“That’s saying something,” Harry said.
“More like borderline frightening,” Ron said, looking alarmed. “You really are tired.”
“I suppose that might explain it,” Hermione said. “I’m normally a fair speller.”
“If by ‘fair’ you mean ‘capable of spelling the name of every plant in Sprout’s greenhouses off the top of your head,’ then yeah, you’re fair,” Ron said. “Okay, so they’re happy. That should be it.”
“But it wasn’t, because Aladdin still had two enemies,” Hermione said, “and neither of them had forgot him.”
“Who? The guy who stuck Aladdin in a cave and ran off?” Ron asked.
“You’ve got it in one,” Hermione said, obviously delighted. “That man, who was indeed a magician, still lusted after the lamp, and after he returned home to Africa, he cast spells to see if there was any other way he might be able to retrieve it.”
“Africa?” Ron asked.
“Yes, but the story isn’t specific about what country, though,” Hermione said.
“Didn’t he try to pass himself off as Aladdin’s uncle?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” Hermione said.
“And Aladdin is Chinese, right?” Ron asked.
“Apparently, as that’s what the story says, though most of the details sound a great deal more like the Middle East,” Hermione said.
“Couldn’t exactly have been much of a family resemblance, could there?” Ron said. “It’d be about as likely as Dean being Cho’s long lost brother.”
Hermione paused for a moment, considering that.
“Unless there was an adoption involved or the magician only moved to Africa from China and was actually Chinese, despite being called the African magician from this point on in the story, someone really should have caught that point,” Hermione said, looking disturbed.
“Or Aladdin and his mum were just really desperate for money and weren’t going to question anything too closely,” Harry suggested.
“Or that,” Hermione said. “In any case, the magician soon found out through his spells that not only was the lamp no longer in the Cave of Wonders, but the same lazy and stupid boy he had abandoned there to die now had it and had discovered its secret, becoming wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.”
“I’m guessing he’s not the sort to shrug and let that be, what with the whole attempted murder thing,” Ron said.
“Indeed he was not,” Hermione said. “He desperately wanted the genie as his own.”
“Then he really shouldn’t have given away the ring with the other genie in it,” Ron said.
“Again, he doesn’t seem to know about the genie of the ring. In fact, the way the rest of the story goes, I’m pretty certain he didn’t,” Hermione said.
“And that’s why you should never just chuck stuff out without checking it first,” Ron said, nodding firmly. “I think I’ve found the moral of the story.”
“Seems a bit unlikely,” Harry said, but to his surprise, Hermione was looking astonished.
“We’ll get to that in a moment,” she said, eyeing Ron quizzically. “The magician immediately rushed back to China, intent on stealing the lamp, and that’s when Aladdin’s other enemy comes into play.”
“And that would be?” Ron asked.
“The vizier, who could never forgive the sultan for marrying the princess to Aladdin instead of his own son,” Hermione said. “He was always looking for some way to discredit him, and he began to suspect Aladdin may have been the one who foiled the earlier wedding. In addition, he was still convinced Aladdin was guilty of using sorcery to build his palace.”
“He’s not wrong there,” Ron said.
“So the vizier brought up to the sultan the incomplete window in the magnificent room that was the centerpiece of Aladdin’s marvelous home, and the sultan called his son-in-law to him and asked him why this one thing had been left imperfect in the whole of the palace,” Hermione said.
“You know, that’s been bothering me too,” Ron said.
“The vizier thought that Aladdin might have run out of magic or perhaps might use magic again in order to make it like the other fifteen magnificent windows with diamonds and rubies and emeralds. But what Aladdin did next surprised both the sultan and the vizier,” Hermione said.
“He turned bright purple, grew wings, whistled a collection of fourteenth century carols, then threw himself out the window?” Ron suggested.
Harry stared at him.
“That was random,” he said.
“So is everything else in this story apparently,” Ron said. “Fair is fair.”
“No, he did not transform into a giant purple finch with a penchant for Medieval music,” Hermione said in a tone that sounded so much like McGonagall it was almost frightening. “Instead, he told the sultan that he had left the window unfinished so the sultan himself could have the pleasure of completing the palace and therefore play a part in its glory.”
Ron and Harry looked at each other.
“So he’s basically saying he wants his father-in-law to give him loads of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies to finish off a window in his house, and the sultan should be really happy about that?” Harry asked.
“Yes, and the odd thing is, he was,” Hermione said.
“He was?” Ron said, looking completely confused.
“I suppose all the splendor of Aladdin’s wedding and home and treasures probably made the sultan feel rather insignificant in comparison, and this would be a way of proving he too had power and wealth and influence,” Hermione said.
“Uh-huh,” Ron said. “He’s a loony.”
“And how did the building project go?” Harry asked.
“Not well,” Hermione said. “He searched the kingdom for months and used up all the gems Aladdin had given him into the bargain, and he still couldn’t come up with anything close to enough jewels to finish the window. Eventually, he had to go to Aladdin and admit he couldn’t do it.”
“I’m feeling oddly sorry for him at the moment,” Ron said, then squinted. “Nope, it’s passed. Go on.”
“Aladdin returned all the gems to his father-in-law and said he would finish the window himself, and the next morning, when the sultan returned, the sixteenth window was indeed as splendid as the others,” Hermione said.
“He used the genie,” Ron said.
“Of course, not that the sultan knew that, though the vizier suspected it more strongly than ever,” Hermione said.
“And how did the sultan react to that?” Ron asked. “If finishing the window was making him feel powerful, and now he couldn’t but Aladdin could in no time at all with no effort, I’m guessing that wasn’t exactly great for his ego.”
“No, it wasn’t, though the sultan praised Aladdin for his wealth and wisdom, but he probably did feel more than a little angry under all that, which might explain why he behaves as he does when we next see him,” Hermione said. “In any case, by this time, the magician had made his way back to Aladdin’s city.”
“In Afri-Chi-Middle-East-istan,” Ron said.
Harry snorted loudly.
“Or wherever,” Hermione said. “He disguised himself in old clothes, then bought several brand new lamps.”
“He didn’t seriously think Aladdin would have sold the lamp and he could pick it up in a shop, did he?” Ron asked.
“No, that’s not his plan. Besides, Aladdin’s lamp, if you recall, was very old and battered and dented,” Hermione said.
“And it probably has a fair few rub marks on it as well by now,” Harry chimed in.
“Most likely,” Hermione said. “The magician waited until he heard that Aladdin was off on a hunting expedition, then he went through the streets, crying, ‘New lamps for old! New lamps for old!’”
“I think I see where this is heading,” Ron said.
“Probably. The people in the streets were laughing at the crazy man who was giving away perfectly good lamps in return for old ones, but a few were suspicious. When they asked him why he would do this, he claimed he was fulfilling an oath he had made, and that satisfied them. Soon the streets were full of clamor as he went on trading lamps,” Hermione said.
“That’s a weird oath,” Ron said. “That’s like promising to swap old manky shoes for new ones or something. Why would people even think he’d do that?”
“I grant you, it’s certainly odd, and I’ve never heard of one similar, but there you have it,” Hermione said. “People love the idea of getting something for nothing.”
“I guess if Fred and George have a buy one, get one free sale again, I should probably look a bit closer, then,” Ron said suspiciously.
“With those two, that’s probably wise,” Hermione agreed. “Anyway, a maid in Aladdin’s house heard the commotion and found out about the lamps, then went to her mistress, laughing about the silly man in the streets. Then the princess remembered seeing a battered old lamp sitting on a shelf in the bedroom, and she told the maid to fetch it and bring it to the man to swap it.”
“Aladdin never told his wife about the lamp?” Ron said.
“No,” Hermione said.
“And he also didn’t bother taking it with him when he left to go hunting?” Harry added.
“No,” Hermione repeated.
“What an idiot,” Ron and Harry said almost simultaneously.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “The maid did as she was told, and the magician recognized the lamp at once. He gave her a new lamp in return, and after she ran back to her mistress with what she thought was a much better lamp than the priceless one she had given away, the magician ran down the nearest alley, threw off his disguise, and rubbed the lamp.”
“That’s not going to end well,” Ron said. “What did he wish for?”
“He wished that he and Aladdin’s palace and everyone and everything in it should be carried at once back to Africa,” Hermione said.
“That’s actually not as dire as I thought,” Ron said. “I figured he’d wish Aladdin dead or something.”
“No, though that would have been sensible from a purely pragmatic viewpoint,” Hermione said. “Now that I think of it, the genies never actually harm anyone in the story. They move them about or frighten them or lock them up, but they don’t kill people. Perhaps they can’t.”
“It seems like,” Ron said. “I don’t think house-elves are allowed to kill people either, if it comes to that.”
“Possibly,” Hermione said. “If so, it shows another parallel between the story and the magical world.”
“So the genie did what the magician asked?” Harry said.
“Yes, in a single instant the whole palace disappeared along with all of its treasures and the princess and the servants inside of it,” Hermione said.
“Well, she’s at least familiar with that particular sensation,” Ron said.
“You know, she really should have put two and two together at that point if she hadn’t earlier,” Hermione said.
“But no one in this seems terribly bothered by extra brains, so I’m guessing she doesn’t,” Ron said.
“If she did, she never said anything about it,” Hermione said. “The sultan, however, who had a perfect view of the palace from his bedroom window, glanced outside and noticed it was missing. He immediately flew into a panic, sending his soldiers to look at the place where the building had been, and when they reported back that no sign of it could be found, he was enraged.”
“Did he finally figure out Aladdin wasn’t the most brilliant and speedy architect and builder of all time and had used magic?” Ron asked.
“Yes, though he of course assumed it was evil sorcery, just as the vizier told him. The moment that Aladdin came back into the city from his hunting trip, the sultan had him arrested and dragged into the palace. ‘What hast thou done with my daughter, vile sorcerer!’ he cried out, and it was only then that Aladdin realized the palace and his wife were gone,” Hermione said.
“Hard way to get the news,” Harry said.
“Yes, but further bad news was on the way, for the sultan decreed that Aladdin should be beheaded for using magic and abducting the princess,” Hermione said.
“Yep, he never got over that window thing,” Ron said, nodding.
“Probably not, but I think the disappearance of his daughter was most likely the last straw,” Hermione said. “However, the people of the city, remembering the generosity and kindness Aladdin had always showed them, climbed over the walls of the sultan’s palace and into the courtyard where the execution was to take place, rioting and chanting that if Aladdin was killed, they would kill the sultan in return.”
“I guess he was at least pretty smart about that, then,” Ron said. “Did it work?”
“Almost,” Hermione said. “The sultan agreed to let Aladdin live for another fortnight so he could hunt for the princess. At the end of that time, if she was not returned unharmed, Aladdin would still be executed.”
“Well, it bought him some time,” Harry said.
“True, but he still had no idea where the princess and the palace had gone,” Hermione said. “Remember, no one had seen the African magician without his disguise.”
“I suppose he could always put an advert in the local paper: ‘Lost: one gigantic palace with loads of treasure and a very hot princess with a name that’s nearly impossible to pronounce. If found, please return to original spot or I’ll wind up separate from my head,’” Ron said.
Harry laughed and even Hermione giggled a bit before continuing on.
“No, Aladdin began to wander through the wilderness, looking for any trace of the princess or the palace, but he couldn’t find anything at all. After a few days, in a fit of despair, he came to a river and considered throwing himself in and drowning rather than facing the humiliation of execution,” Hermione said.
“Suddenly it’s a lot less funny,” Ron said, frowning.
“Then as he was about to jump in the river, he accidentally tripped and fell down the riverbank instead,” Hermione said.
“Well, that’s just embarrassing,” Ron said.
“Yes, but it was also lucky since when he got up and dusted himself off, he accidentally rubbed the iron ring that was still on his finger,” Hermione said.
“No, he didn’t,” Ron said with utter certainty.
“Yes, he did,” Hermione said defiantly. “It’s right in the story!”
“I assumed the ring was in the palace since that’s where he was stupidly keeping his lamp,” Ron said. “Otherwise, wouldn’t he have just rubbed the ring immediately like any sane person would do?”
“He forgot about the ring again,” Hermione said with a shrug.
“This kid is completely hopeless,” Ron said.
“Gotta admit, I agree,” Harry said. “On a scale of stupid, that’s both Crabbe and Goyle combined.”
“We can try to chalk it up to his being distraught, but it does seem remarkably forgetful at the very least,” Hermione agreed. “In any case, the genie of the ring appeared again at once and asked what Aladdin wanted him to do.”
“Handy fellow to have about,” Harry said.
“Yes, this ring is a lot more useful than a certain other one that drives the wearer mad with power, ever if it does make him invisible into the bargain,” Hermione said.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Oh, right, the Dursleys wouldn’t have let your read Tolkien, I suppose,” Hermione said, giving him a deeply pitying look. “He wrote a book about a magic ring that made its wearer invisible, but was actually a trap by an evil character to enslave the wearer and make him the ruler of the world. You really should read that. It’s wonderful.”
“Sounds a bit too much like real life at the moment, what with the ring and the evil wizard and taking over the world,” Harry said, then noticed Hermione was frowning. “What?”
“No, I’m just realizing suddenly how much Aragog had in common with Shelob,” Hermione said. “That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”
“You mean Mosag,” Ron said.
“No, the spider in the story was named Shelob,” Hermione said. “Mosag was Aragog’s wife.”
“Yeah, that was her name when Hagrid first brought her into the forest from some faraway land,” Ron said. “He didn’t care for the name, though, so he renamed her after his Great-Aunt Mosag. She didn’t seem to mind. He told me about it once after Aragog died, reminiscing and trying to get me to think spiders weren’t all horrible. Fat chance.”
Hermione stared at him for a full minute before she finally shrieked, “Are you telling me that Legolas actually exists?!”
“What?” Ron asked, looking confused. “I’m talking about a great hairy spider. What’s a Legolas? Some kind of boot?”
Harry watched as Hermione looked like she was about to explode.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked carefully.
“Perfectly!” she said with a wide grin on her face. “Oh, do I have research to do when we get back to Hogwarts!”
“Must be some sort of a dessert,” Ron said to Harry as Hermione pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag and started writing at a furious pace. “Judging by the amount of enthusiasm, one with chocolate in it.”
A few seconds later, Hermione relaxed a bit and collected herself once again.
“Yes, sorry, where was I?” she asked.
“The genie appeared from the ring,” Harry said.
“Right,” she said. “Aladdin immediately told the genie to bring back his wife and his palace, but the genie said he couldn’t do that.”
“Why?” Ron asked.
“Because the genie of the lamp had done it, and the genie of the ring was much less powerful and couldn’t undo one of his enchantments,” Hermione said.
“That’s rotten luck,” Ron said. “So now what?”
“Aladdin asked if the genie could at least tell him who was now in possession of the lamp, and the genie explained completely about the magician and how he had got the lamp and where he was,” Hermione said. “As you might expect, Aladdin was furious.”
“I’d say he has a right to get a bit testy over this, yeah,” Ron said.
“Aladdin asked if the genie could instead take him to his wife, and that the genie could do, so Aladdin ordered the genie to take him to there at once,” Hermione said.
“There are weird rules for genies,” Ron said. “Ringo can’t undo Lampy’s work, but Ringo can take Aladdin there?”
“Ringo and Lampy?” Hermione said in disbelief.
“What?” Ron asked. “We’ve got to call them something. Genie of the lamp and genie of the ring are too much of a mouthful. Lampy’s obvious, and you said a fellow named Ringo was a drummer in some weird all-insect Muggle band, so that should be fine.”
“Great, now I’m picturing a highly powerful magical being dressed in the military costumes from the cover of Sergeant Pepper,” Harry said.
“What?” Ron said, completely confused.
“Never mind,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Before Aladdin knew it, the genie was setting him down beside the palace, and the princess was standing at a window, delighted to see him.”
“And they lived happily ever after?” Ron asked.
“No, not yet,” Hermione said. “The princess explained that the magician had told her that Aladdin was dead and that she should marry him instead, but of course she had rejected him.”
“Crikey, this kid does have a time of it, doesn’t she? Now a crazy magician fancies her,” Ron said. “What did Aladdin do?”
“He told her not to reject him any longer,” Hermione said.
“Wait, what?” Harry said.
“He told her to put on her most beautiful dress and to invite him to her chambers to dine, pretending that she had thought it over and she had decided to accept him, but that she was to secretly pour something into the magician’s cup that Aladdin would give her which would make the magician unconscious, and all would be well,” Hermione said.
“As a plan, I can see fifty things that could go wrong, but it’s still workable at least,” Ron said.
“It actually did work relatively well,” Hermione said. “Aladdin walked into the nearby village and bought old clothes from a peddler, then went to an apothecary to buy a potion and snuck back to the palace where the princess’s maid was waiting at a back door to receive it and deliver it to her mistress.”
“The same one who swapped out the lamp?” Ron asked.
“Maybe. She probably had a lot of maids,” Hermione said. “People did back then if they were royal or wealthy.”
“I hope she doesn’t swap it for a butter beer or something,” Ron said.
“No, the princess received it and hid it in her dress, and when the magician arrived she made him think she was in love with him, but she insisted that she wished to try an African wine as she had heard they were much better than Chinese wines, and he rushed to get her a bottle of the very best, but she insisted on pouring it into the goblets herself, which was when she added the potion,” Hermione said.
“You know, that’s pretty well done there,” Ron said. “This girl isn’t half bright.”
“She actually is,” Hermione agreed. “Then she told him it was a custom among her people for lovers to toast one another, and the magician enthusiastically lifted his goblet to toast the princess, took a deep drink, and then at once fell down dead.”
“I thought Aladdin said it would just make him unconscious!” Ron said.
“He did, but he was lying. He thought she might be too nervous to carry it out otherwise,” Hermione said.
“Of all the… if you’re going to have your wife kill someone for you, you should at least be up front about it,” Ron said indignantly.
“I… think I agree?” Harry said uncertainly.
“I suppose it does keep her free of any guilt for his death, but yes, it is horrid,” Hermione said.
“So what did she do?” Ron asked.
“She kept to the plan and had her maid let Aladdin in through the back door,” Hermione said.
“Then she told him off, right?” Ron said.
“No, apparently she said nothing about it,” Hermione said.
“She nothing about things an awful lot,” Ron said, shaking his head.
“She most likely was conforming to the traditional concept of wifely obedience found in most cultures, but some of the versions claim she hadn’t actually realized he was dead and still believed he was only sleeping,” Hermione said.
“Not that I’m all that fussed about his dying,” Ron said. “I mean, he did try to entomb Aladdin alive and then stole his house and kidnapped his wife, so this is very much not a nice person, so I may just let this one pass.”
“Yeah, but it was still rather low not to tell her the truth,” Harry said.
Ron thought for a moment, then said, “Agreed. Okay, Aladdin comes in the back door. Then what?”
“He told the princess to leave the room, then searched the body until he found the lamp tucked into the magician’s shirt. Then he rubbed the lamp, ordered the genie to bring them all home with the exception of the magician’s body, which was left where it was, and in a few seconds they were back where they started,” Hermione said.
“So he still doesn’t tell her about the lamp?” Ron said.
“No, apparently not, though he did vow to always keep it on his person from then on,” Hermione said.
“This guy’s an idiot,” Ron said.
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “We’ve established that, I think.”
“But do they at least all live happily ever after now?” Ron asked.
“No,” Hermione said.
“Okay, that’s good then, at least they can . . . wait, did you just say ‘no’?” Ron said.
“That’s right,” Hermione said. “The story isn’t quite over.”
“Seriously?” Harry said. “How long is this story?”
“Oh, this is the last bit,” Hermione said. “After the palace returned, the sultan was so happy that of course he didn’t have Aladdin executed.”
“And they all still think he isn’t using magic despite the palace appearing and disappearing and reappearing?” Harry asked.
“I suppose they blamed that on the evil magician,” Hermione said.
“Okay, that’s at least a reasonable explanation, I suppose,” Ron said. “But I still don’t get how this story isn’t over yet.”
“Well, the magician had a brother,” Hermione said.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Harry said. “This is like when Hollywood tries to make a movie go for far too many sequels.”
“Yeah, and we already know Aladdin’s dad wasn’t really the magician’s brother,” Ron added. “Wait, was he?”
“No, the magician was no relation at all to Aladdin, but the magician did have a younger brother,” Hermione said. “They usually met once a year to compare their lives and their magical accomplishments, but when he didn’t show up for their usual appointment, the surviving brother became suspicious. He researched what had happened, discovered his brother had died and that Aladdin was to blame, and he vowed vengeance.”
“So the brother is a wizard too then,” Ron said.
“Yes, it does appear that the pair of them may have inherited their abilities since they share a common talent for magic, even if it’s magic that doesn’t make much sense to us,” Hermione said. “I suppose this could be an example of a Muggle, in this case Aladdin, being able to best a family of pure-bloods. If so, I can see why it wouldn’t have been accepted in the magical world very readily.”
“Or at all,” Ron said, “although suddenly I like Aladdin a bit better if that really is what’s going on.”
“It does put a slightly different slant on things,” Hermione said. “In any case, the second magician went to China and found out that there was a certain old holy woman named Fatima who was very highly revered in the city as a miracle worker and for her great piety. He followed her to her home, then pulled a knife on her threatened to kill her if she didn’t exchange clothes with him.”
“Oh, this one’s a real peach,” Ron said. “Threatening to kill old ladies and stealing dresses. Very nice. So what happened?”
“The woman was terrified, so she gave the brother her clothes, which he put on,” Hermione said. “Then he dabbed his face with dirt and mud to match her own dirty face.”
“Why’s she so dirty?” Ron asked.
“Sometimes people do that sort of thing to atone for sin or show that they aren’t bothered by the vanity of the world,” Hermione said.
“So he’s going to pretend he’s Fatima?” Ron asked.
“Exactly,” Hermione said.
“But even with the dirt, won’t some people recognize it isn’t her?” Harry asked.
“Remember, she would be wearing a veil,” Ron said.
“Well remembered,” Hermione said, beaming at him.
“Well, it makes sense I suppose,” Harry said, feeling happier than he thought he could when he was so tired since his best friend was basking in Hermione’s praise. “Then what?”
“Then he killed her anyway,” Hermione said.
“Okay, I strongly disliked the first brother, but this one I just flat out loathe,” Ron said, irate. “That’s horrible.”
“It also sounds remarkably like Polyjuice,” Harry said slowly.
“Yeah, he keeps her alive so he can get a sample from her, changes into her, then kills her,” Ron said, shuddering. “There probably is a real backstory on this one, isn’t there?”
“There certainly could be, but if so, they don’t quite understand how Polyjuice works, as you’ll see from the next bit,” Hermione said. “The next morning, the magician went out, dressed as the holy woman, and all the people of the city crowded around him, hoping to be blessed.”
“Wait, the next morning?” Ron asked. “So he spent the night in the same room with the corpse of the woman he murdered?”
“I’d never really thought of it that way, but I suppose he must have,” Hermione said.
“I hope her ghost let him have it but good,” Ron said.
“If she was really a holy woman, I doubt she’d choose to stay around and torment someone rather than going on to wherever,” Hermione said.
“I would,” Ron said without a bit of doubt. “I think I’d be too tempted to use a few of the tricks Myrtle has done, moaning and groaning at all hours, following people around, just annoying the blazes out of him. He’d deserve a lot worse.”
“I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for Myrtle,” Hermione said, sounding guilty. “Did… did any of us ever thank her for, you know, anything?”
“Like what?” Ron said. “Getting a diary thrown through her head and complaining about it?”
“She did tell Harry about the egg in fourth year, didn’t she?” Hermione said.
“Yeah, and she pointed me towards the merpeople in the lake,” Harry admitted. “You may have a point there.”
“She was also smitten with Draco bloody Malfoy,” Ron said. “I’d say that cancels everything else out.”
“Well, regardless, the magician never mentioned anything about a ghost, and honestly I don’t know why no one found the woman’s body. The magician made sure to wend his way towards Aladdin’s palace, certain that the princess would hear all the commotion in the street and wonder what was happening,” Hermione said.
“Not unlike the lamp swapper,” Ron said. “This girl spends a lot of time listening at the window.”
“She may well have not been allowed to do much else,” Hermione said. “Royal women usually aren’t.”
“Then I can’t really blame her for that rather pathetic hobby, I suppose,” Ron said. “So she hears all the hubbub. Then what?”
“She told one of her eunuchs to go down and ask the woman to come up so that she might learn from her,” Hermione said.
“What’s a eunuch?” Ron asked, looking puzzled.
“Oh!” Hermione said, looking embarrassed. “Ehm, it’s one of her guards, specifically a male one who’s been, ehm, altered, so that he can’t pose her any sort of threat.”
“Like his hands are tied behind his back or something?” Ron said. “That’s fairly stupid for a guard. How is he supposed to protect her?”
“No, not that sort of threat,” Hermione said. “No, it’s so that he can’t, um, well, he can’t commit adultery with the princess.”
“Oh,” Ron said, nodding his head blithely, then stopping. “But, wait, how would…”
Hermione, blushing furiously, gave him a look.
“Ohhh,” Ron said, in a rather high voice.
“Right,” Harry said, sounding equally shrill. “Got it.”
“Seriously, you lot are just downright terrifying,” Ron said. “What is wrong with you people?”
“I sometimes ask myself the same question,” Hermione said. “The magician received the eunuch’s invitation and went up to the princess, thrilled that his plan was working thus far.”
“Uh-huh,” Ron said, still looking ill, and Harry heard him mutter under his breath, “poor bloke.”
“The princess asked the holy woman if she would consent to live in the palace so that she would be near whenever anyone in the household had an illness that needed curing or required good advice, and the magician agreed, moving into the smallest and poorest of all the chambers in keeping with the old woman’s humility,” Hermione said.
“Wow, that really is convenient,” Harry said. “Maybe a bit of the Imperius Curse there?”
“Possibly,” Hermione agreed, then shifted her gaze to Ron. “What do you think?”
“Uh-huh,” Ron said in the same not-quite-there voice before quietly mumbling, “that’s bloody barbaric.”
“I think we may have lost him,” Harry said to Hermione.
“Oh dear,” she said, still looking embarrassed. “Why didn’t I just say guard? I think I might have fried his brain.”
“What?” Ron said, looking like he’d just noticed they were there again. “What’s fried? Is it chicken? Did we find chicken?”
“And he’s back again,” Harry said.
“When in doubt, try food,” Hermione said. “Duly noted. In any case, the magician moved into the household, and one day the princess called upon her while she was in the magnificent room with the sixteen windows. She had a headache and wanted the holy woman to heal her.”
“Bit of an over-reaction to a headache, isn’t it?” Ron said.
“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “I’ve had a few while studying for examinations that just about knocked me out.”
“I knew studying was bad for your health,” Ron said.
“It’s not! It’s just that… oh, never mind,” Hermione said. “The magician came into the splendid room, and after looking in amazement at all the beauty of the decorations and gems and silver and gold, the princess asked if it was not truly one of the great wonders of the world.”
“And he said yes?” Ron suggested.
“Actually, the magician said it was very beautiful, but that it lacked only one thing,” Hermione said.
“What?” Ron asked. “A wireless? A fifty foot waterslide? A statue of Celestina Warbeck in platinum?”
“A minibar that never emptied and a Lamborghini?” Harry suggested.
“Why would she want a tiny bar and a lamb?” Ron asked.
“A minibar is a small refrigerator and snack station in Muggle hotel rooms where they charge about five times the usual price for the convenience of having things temptingly handy, and a Lamborghini is, well, think of a Firebolt if it were turned into a Muggle car,” Hermione said.
“Good call, Harry,” Ron said. “Now I want a tiny bar and a lamb named Nini too.”
“Not a… oh, skip it,” she said. “No, she said that the only thing the room lacked to make it the greatest marvel in all the world was a roc’s egg hanging from the center dome in the ceiling.”
“A rock egg?” Harry asked this time.
“No, the egg of a roc,” Hermione corrected. “A roc is a gigantic mythological bird, usually from Persia, that’s big enough to carry off people or even elephants, so its eggs would be simply enormous.”
“That’s incredibly random,” Ron said.
“It would seem so, but the idea entered the princess’s mind and put her entirely out of sorts, and when she next saw Aladdin, she asked him why he would mock her by building such a beautiful palace by not completing it by hanging a roc’s egg from the ceiling,” Hermione said.
“Because that’s an entirely mental idea to begin with and how could he have come up with it on his own?” Ron said.
“I’d tend to agree with you, but Aladdin, wishing to do whatever would make the princess happy, brought out the lamp and called forth Lampy, I mean the genie. When the genie asked him what he wanted, Aladdin told him to bring a roc’s egg and hang it in the center of the room from the ceiling on a chain of gold,” Hermione said.
“Do they glow?” Ron asked.
“What, the egg?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah,” Ron said. “Would it be like a lamp or something?”
“Not as far as I know,” Hermione said.
“Okay, for a second I thought I’d found a logical reason to hang a giant egg from the ceiling,” Ron said. “Apparently they just like hanging giant ova from their roof. So were they happy with the effect on their décor?”
“The genie didn’t bring it,” Hermione said. “Instead, he exploded in rage, shrieking so loudly Aladdin thought that his ears would bleed, and looking so fearsome most mortal men would have died at the sight of him.”
“Okay, that wasn’t what I was expecting,” Ron said.
“Yeah, but I’m starting to suspect that’s why the so-called holy woman made the suggestion,” Harry said.
“Precisely,” Hermione said, nodding at him. “The genie cried out, ‘How dare you ask such a thing! To hang the egg of my sovereign lord as a decoration in your home! And without a word of thanks from you for all that I have done! I am right well tempted to make this palace crash down upon the heads of everyone within it, killing you all!’”
“The roc is his ‘sovereign lord’?” Harry asked.
“Apparently so,” Hermione said. “Somehow the magician had found that out and figured that stealing from his master would be the one thing that the genie would take ultimate offense to, and on top of that he was already angry at Aladdin’s lack of gratitude for all he’d done for him.”
“Okay, the genie has a point,” Ron said. “Aladdin has been rude. Still, at least Auntie Muriel didn’t try to kill me when it took me over three months to send her a thank you note for the earmuffs she sent me for Christmas one year.”
“But the genie showed mercy. He said, ‘However, I know you would not have asked for this if it were not for the evil magician, the brother of he who stole your palace, who is now housed within your walls, dressed in the clothes of the holy woman whom he murdered. Because you knew no better and the evil begins with him, I shall spare you.’ And with that he disappeared back into the lamp with a puff of smoke,” Hermione said.
“Oh boy,” Ron said. “Well, the Kneazle’s out of the bag now.”
“Yes, the genie was wise enough to know he was being used to exact revenge, and he refused to play a part in it, especially since the person pulling the strings was a murderer,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, but he was also fine with just staying in his lamp and not saying anything about it until Aladdin asked for something,” Ron said.
“I’m not sure the genie actually can leave the lamp without Aladdin’s permission,” Hermione said, tilting her head and thinking. “He never does at any point in the story.”
“Okay, fine, so he couldn’t leave the lamp or was in the bath or what have you. So what does Aladdin do now?” Ron said.
“He called his wife to him and told her to bring forth the holy woman because he felt ill. At once, she sent for the woman, and the moment the magician walked into the room, Aladdin stabbed him a sword and he fell down dead,” Hermione said.
“I was expecting more of an epic battle,” Ron said, sounding disappointed.
“Well, if he really was a magician, the best way for a Muggle to deal with him would be a surprise attack, I expect,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, but it’s not much of a story,” Ron said.
“But wouldn’t you say it’s gone on long enough?” Harry said.
“Good point,” Ron said. “Are we getting near the wrap up?”
“Almost there,” Hermione said. “The princess was horrified and screamed, ‘Husband, thou hast murdered the good holy woman!’ but he told her all the genie had said, and when the veil was lifted, the magician’s face was all the proof that was needed. After that, Aladdin called on the genie only when he had great need.”
“And said please and thank you, I should hope,” Harry said.
“I would assume so,” Hermione said. “Eventually, the sultan died, and Aladdin became sultan in his place, and all considered him wise, merciful, and a good ruler, and they all lived happily ever after.”
“And that really is the end?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “What did you think of it?”
Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment, and then Ron raised his hand as if he were in school.
“Yes?” Hermione asked carefully.
“Whatever happened to Aladdin’s mum?” Ron asked.
Hermione looked startled.
“I have no idea,” she said. “She sort of just disappears from the story. A few versions mention her at the wedding, leading the bride into her new home, but then that’s it. I assume we’d hear if she’d died or something.”
“Maybe she decided to move back to their old house because the new one was just too weird,” Ron said.
“Maybe,” Hermione said. “She seemed terribly uncomfortable with all the nobles.”
“No fool, that one,” Ron said. “I’d say it was suitably mental enough for a good three nights of not getting killed by someone’s serial killer newlywed husband, though, and then some.”
“Completely,” Harry said. “Also, I’m making a point of thanking Myrtle the next time I see her.”
“Then my job here is done, and I’m all in anyway,” Hermione said, yawning. “It’s definitely bedtime.”
“It has been a very long day,” Harry said. “Any ideas where we should be off to tomorrow?”
“There’s a tiny little village in northern Scotland where Tom Riddle’s mother went to school,” Hermione said. “She was a Muggle, so I’m not sure it would interest You-Know-Who that much, but at least it’s something.”
“Fine by me,” Ron said. “I suggested this one, and look where that went.”
“It’s fine,” Hermione said, taking out her notebook again and flipping through pages. “It was a good idea, even if it didn’t turn out to be a Horcrux.”
“Thanks for that,” he said, leaning over her shoulder to look at the notebook. “Hermione, why does your To Do list start with ‘brush up on Quenya and Sindarin’? What’re those? Advanced defensive magic or summat?”
“Oh!” she said, snapping the book shut. “Just something pleasant to think about when everything’s done with and the world is back to normal.”
Ron shrugged and lumbered off towards his pajamas while Harry smiled over at Hermione, already half asleep himself. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if anything would ever be truly normal again.
