The next morning dawned unseasonably cold and foggy. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood wearing muggle clothing in an abandoned corner of Hyde Park with Hagrid, Luna, Neville, and Ginny. Fortunately the fog was quite thick, rolling in off the Thames in great billowing curtains, so that unless a muggle came quite close indeed, Hagrid’s bulk would appear to be nothing more than a large boulder or bush.

The house elves with them were completely hidden in the shadows and mist. Kreacher was there, along with Coddie, another member of HELF; and nearby was Ungitink and his companion Kelebrink. When Harry had declared his intention to find Ozma and work out a solution, they had readily agreed to help the wizards travel with them to Rinkitink.

“We do not know why our Queen is dying,” said Ungitink. “But if you can find a way to help her, we will be forever in your debt. And it will be very easy to bring you back to Rinkitink with us. We have a Portkey placed in Hyde Park.”

After arranging for a dozen Ministry agents to be placed permanently on guard at the Time Room to do what they could to prevent other house elves from trying to destroy the Hourwicks, and making sure that Ungitink and his companion were under careful watch for the night, the wizards had hastily grabbed a few hours of sleep and a quick bite to eat before reconvening.

Harry was a bit nervous, but mostly excited. He’d told Ginny about everything that had happened, not sure how much she would believe, and she had immediately demanded to come along.

“I used to love the Oz books so much!” she said. “I had no idea they might be real. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“I don’t really know much about them,” said Harry. “The Dursleys weren’t really much for reading and didn’t have a lot of books around. I might have seen the movie once, a long time ago. It’s the one with the scarecrow and the tin man?”

“I never saw the movie either,” said Ginny. “I’ve only ever seen one or two muggle movies. The people in them can’t talk with you, or hear you, can they? They just ignore you?”

“Right,” said Harry. “It’s just, you know, a recording of actors.”

“But I read the books,” said Ginny. “The Scarecrow and the Tin Man, Nick Chopper. And the Cowardly Lion, and Dorothy and Toto, and Glinda and the Wicked Witch and Ozma and the Nome King…”

“Those are some really odd names,” said Harry. “What’s a Toto?”

“Toto is Dorothy’s perfectly ordinary little black dog,” said Ginny. “Honestly, I loved the scenes of Kansas just as much as the ones of Oz. Both places seemed so strange and alien to me. And yeah, they were weird. I loved them though. When you’re young, there aren’t as many books with female protagonists as you might think. At least, there weren’t when we were growing up. Dorothy and Alice and Hortunia, that was mostly it.”

“Alice? Alice in Wonderland? I know that one. Who’s Hortunia?”

“Hortunia the Wee Witch? I guess you wouldn’t have known about it, it was a wizard’s book. Hortunia was a completely normal witch but never grew more than an inch tall. Loads of adventures with mice and worms and butterflies and such. — Anyway, you clearly need an Oz expert on this expedition. I’m coming.”

Harry was not inclined to argue; there was no question that having an expert on Oz would be a huge help. Ginny pulled a dozen old hardback books out of a chest and pored over them for the next hour, refreshing her memory and occasionally squealing with excitement.

When he and Ginny had arrived at the park that morning, silently Apparating next to the others, she had a sizable pack on her back, stuffed with four or five books for reference, and wearing a huge grin.

“All right,” said Hermione. “I think we’re ready. We’ve got our provisions and our broomsticks, right? Ok. Where’s this Portkey, Ungitink?”

The little old elf bowed slightly, took his walking stick, and carefully poked around in a bush. After a moment he raised the stick out, and on its end was a tarnished old watch on a chain.

“This will take us to the central square in Gilgad,” said Ungitink. “Then we can go to the palace and seek an audience with the King.”

“Sounds good,” said Ron. His teeth were chattering. “This is the coldest August morning ever. Let’s get going. Warm in Gilgad, is it?”

“In Gilgad,” said Ungitink proudly, “the sun is always shining, the sea breezes are always comfortable, song fills the air, and the people are always filled with gladness.”

“…Okay,” said Hermione, sounding very uncertain.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of it,” said Neville. “I mean, I guess that’s all fine, but does the sun shine all the time? Like, it never rains at all? And what is everyone so glad about? …And are we going to have to sing?”

“Agreed,” said Harry. “Sounds dangerous. Wands ready, everyone.”

“Just so long as it’s warm, I’m in,” said Ron. “Let’s go.”

Harry had never undergone a Portkey journey like this one. The swirling and rushing and discomfort was completely normal, and the sensation of being dragged bodily by his navel was absolutely expected, but it just went on, and on, and on. Seconds passed, and then minutes, and still Harry was buffeted and hurled about, getting dizzier and dizzier. He tried to shout out, but his breath was blown from his lungs.

Finally, and very abruptly, it was over, and they were rolling over and over and crashing into each other on a hard cobblestone ground. Harry made sure his wand was whole, then got up on all fours and tried to look around quickly.

It didn’t work: he was far too dizzy. The ground spun under him and he fell flat on his face. He wasn’t the only one having trouble; the others were moaning and grumbling as well. After a moment or so he tried again, and this time made it all the way too his feet, although he was still very unsteady.

It was indeed warm, with a wonderful sea breeze, but the sun was down, and it would have been quite dark if not for the hundreds of lights and lanterns surrounding them on the square. Shops and restaurants were lit, and brightly dressed people were everywhere; apparently it was shortly after dusk on this side of the world. Harry had been expecting a city of house elves much like Ungitink, but instead most of the people he saw were just… people, as far as he could tell. To be sure, they did vary a great deal in height, and they were uniformly healthy and handsome, and they wore outfits that looked like one-piece polka-dot pajamas with knee-high boots… but otherwise, just people.

“Invaders!” cried a man, pointing in horror. “See how they come without warning!”

“Warriors!” cried a woman. “See their terrible stick weapons!”

“Wait, hold on,” said Harry.

“Giants!” cried a child, pointing in Hagrid with unbridled glee. The child was quickly hushed and hustled away.

“We’re not warriors,” said Harry quickly.

“Well, we are Aurors,” muttered Ron.

“Call the guard! Call the guard!” cried the people. The shout was quickly taken up and carried through the crowd.

“Good people! Good people!” cried Ungitink, his high voice carrying easily over the shouting. “We are not attacking you! It is only Ungitink, the High Grending of the Elves! With friends from the other side of the world!”

“Ungitink!” shouted a man. “It is Ungitink! The traitor Ungitink! He’s returned with an army!”

“Traitor?!” cried Hermione. “Is there something you needed to tell us, Ungitink?”

“Ungitink does not know,” said Ungitink, sounding completely confused. “Ungitink is not a traitor, Ungitink only — “

“Seize them!” cried a loud, deep voice, and before the wizards could react, burly guards emerged from the crowd, each of them at least Hagrid’s size, wearing brightly shining silver armor, reaching for them with massive hands. Harry managed to shout Expelliarmus!, but the guard wasn’t carrying a weapon. Bare-handed, he snatched the wand and broomstick from Harry’s fingers, and grappled Harry into a vice-like grip, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Well, that could have gone better,” said Ron, as they were carried off to the dungeons.