Harry came to, his head pounding, his body shaking and shivering. He was lying face down on cold stone. He opened his eyes and it was dark — not utterly black, but far too dim to make out anything other than the floor he was lying on. He could hear low voices muttering and occasional hearty, high-pitched laughter. He tried to sit up, but the pounding in his head grew much worse, and dizziness struck him, and he fell back again.

“The Boy Who Lived has woken up!” cried the high-pitched voice. For a terrible moment, Harry wondered if that were Voldemort’s voice… but no, it was actually too high, too fluting. It was almost childlike, and actually sounded quite pleasant and good-natured. Was it a house elf? He tried to look again and found that his eyes were starting to adjust, but he couldn’t see much other than a few hazy figures standing nearby, and some kind of a ruddy, fire-like glow a little further off. The voices were echoing slightly as if they were in a large cavern.

“The famous Harry Potter!” cried the voice, and Harry was conscious of someone standing over him. “Such a pleasure, such an honor to meet you, young sir! And of course your very extraordinary companions. It really was terribly kind of you to come and visit.”

“What,” said Harry. He had tried to say “what did you do to me” but he ran out of breath.

“I must apologize for the rudeness with which you were brought to our caverns,” said the voice. “Allow me to help you up. Would you like some water?”

Harry felt a small hand grasp his firmly and gently lift him up to his knees. He shook his head to try and clear it, and blinked and looked around. He was holding the hand of a small, round elf, almost perfectly rotund, with twinkling eyes and a great flowing white beard. He was wearing a simple grey outfit, the color of granite, and had a long flowing white beard. His eyes were twinkling in the semidarkness, and he was holding a long, intricately carved stone pipe. It was as if he were confronted by the house elf version of Santa.

“Water would be good,” said Harry. He released the elf’s hand and stood up carefully. His feet seemed somewhat steadier now. “Where are my friends?”

The elf gestured expansively over to one side, where Harry could make out Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and the others sitting together on various pillows and blankets. They waved, but it was too dark to see their expressions.

“Are you ok, Harry?” asked Hermione, sounding worried.

“I’m ok,” said Harry. He came over and sat next to them. He could see now that they were indeed in the middle of a large cavern, and what little light there was was coming from some sort of large ball-like sculpture nearby, which glowed softly and redly, as if it were made of forge-hot iron. In the shadows around them, he saw half-glimpsed figures and furtive motions; it was clear that there were many other elves — or Nomes — around them.

“Are you guys ok?” he asked.

“We’re all right,” said Ron. “The Nome King here gave us hot cocoa and biscuits, and he’s apologized for kidnapping us and whatnot.”

“You’re the Nome King?” asked Harry, turning to the round Nome again.

“I am,” said the Nome. “And this is my kingdom. And if you are all comfortable and somewhat rested and ready to talk, I would be most interested to hear what brings you here, and if there is anything I can do to make you happy.”

His smile was so pleasant and genuine Harry felt a surge of hope. Tiktok had warned them against the Nome King, and King Rinkitink had listed any number of terrible things the Nome King had tried to do to him and his friends, and the Nome King clearly was some kind of fairy or elf… But who knows? Maybe the Nome King just disliked Tiktok and Rinkitink for some reason. That didn’t mean that he would automatically be Harry’s enemy.

But it might not be wise to tell him the whole truth… Harry tried to think quickly.

“We are from a faraway country called Britain,” he said. “Our country is… suffering from a… curse. A curse. And we think Ozma of Oz may be responsible. We are trying to reach Oz and talk to her about this.”

The Nome King listened intently, nodded, then sighed and shook his head sadly.

“I wish I could tell you that such behavior would be out of character for Princess Ozma,” he said. “Unfortunately, she is well known for meddling in the affairs of other nations. Why, the very first time I ever met her, she marched an army into my kingdom and demanded that I give her some of my greatest treasures! And she attacked us with terrible weapons. I ended up giving her the tribute she demanded, and I barely escaped with my life.”

“She wasn’t demanding tribute!” said Ginny. “Those were —“ But Hermione shushed her.

“Ah, my dear young lady,” said the Nome King. “No doubt you have already heard Ozma’s side of the story. But I assure you I am speaking only the truth. The second time I encountered her, she cast a terrible spell of forgetfulness upon me, so that I was rendered as ignorant as a baby, and could not remember my family or even my own name. I had to relearn everything over the course of many years. Can there be any more terrible fate?”

“That does sound a bit like being struck squib,” whispered Luna. “Like forgetting how to use magic?”

“It’s lies,” said Ginny firmly. “I mean, technically it’s true, but — “

“So you will help us reach Oz?” asked Harry.

“Perhaps,” said the Nome King. “Any foe of Ozma’s is a friend of mine, I believe. If you truly intend to confront her and defeat her, then I am happy to help you in any way I can. But I have two worries. Well, not worries, perhaps — concerns, really.”

“And what are those?” asked Harry.

“Firstly, how do you intend to defeat Ozma? You must have some terribly strong magic at your disposal. You understand: she is probably the most powerful fairy in the world.”

Harry looked at the others. He, Ron, Hermione, and the others did have a lot of power between them. They had defeated Voldemort, hadn’t they? But they were only half a dozen wizards and house-elves, when you got right down to it. And Ozma was the ruler of an entire nation of fairies… who knew what she could do? For all they knew, they could arrive in Oz, and she would just wave a finger and strike them all squib at once.

“We know very little about her,” he admitted. “So first we will try to persuade her to stop what she is doing. But if she refuses, and we cannot defeat her by ourselves, we will return home and get more help.”

“We’ll come back with an army if we have to,” said Ron. “She can’t just go on striking people squib. That’s war, that is.”

The Nome King studied their faces and nodded slowly. “It might be wisest for you to save time and simply go back for your army now,” he said. “But who knows, my dears? Maybe you can convince her to leave you alone. But that brings me to my second concern. It seems to me that you have the means to go to Oz immediately, if you so chose. And yet you do not. Why?”

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione.

The Nome King gestured towards the Kreacher and Coddie. “Are these not subjects of Ozma? They are fairies, surely.”

Kreacher and Coddie looked at each other, and then looked at their feet.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

The Nome King’s eyes twinkled. “I believe that there are some things your friends have not been telling you,” he said. “Ask them if they have been in contact with Princess Ozma.”

“What?” said Harry.

Hermione rounded on Kreacher. “Have you been in contact with Ozma? Is this true?”

Kreacher’s face wrenched up into a terrible picture of guilt and shame. He shuffled his feet. “Kreacher hasn’t,” he said. “Hasn’t not.”

“Kreacher hasn’t not?” said Ron. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kreacher mumbled something inaudible. Coddie just stared at her feet, shaking.

“How have you been contacting her? What have you told her?” demanded Hermione. “And why didn’t you tell us about this?”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” cried Harry.

Kreacher dropped to his knees, raising his hands in entreaty. “Please, please, Kreacher meant no harm,” he wailed. “Harry Potter please forgive Kreacher. Ozma is his Princess, is everyone’s Princess. Of course we have to do as she says. Of course we have to tell her.”

“How did you contact her?” asked Hermione.

“Ozma’s Magic Picture,” said Kreacher miserably.

“Ah yes, the Magic Picture,” said the Nome King. He sighed, shook his head, and smiled ruefully. “She can see anything in the world, just by wishing it. One of the most powerful magical objects on Earth, or under it.”

“So she has known,” whispered Neville. “She has known everything. She knew we were coming, she knew that Rinkitink helped us, she knew everything.”

“Surprise,” said the Nome King, “was your only hope. One time I tried to gather some allies, to go to Oz to recapture some of the tribute she stole from me. I nearly succeeded, but only because I managed to keep our attack a secret. As soon as she found out about it, she defeated us easily. You, my friends, never had the element of surprise, because of these spies among you. I fear your journey is in vain.”

“But you said we had the means to travel to Oz already?” said Hermione. Her voice was shaking with fury. “Kreacher, is this true also?”

Kreacher dared not look at her; he groveled at her feet, whimpering. “It is true, it is true,” he said. “Please be not angry. It wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t do any good.”

“Explain!” said Hermione.

“Ozma’s Magic Belt,” said Kreacher.