“But—” Jenna hesitated.
“Go on, Jen. Please.” Septimus flashed Jenna a smile. “Go on.”
Jenna reluctantly started up the silver stairs to the potions cupboard. Once she was safely out of the Robing Room, Septimus took a deep breath to steady his nerves.
Then he looked into the Glass.
At first he could see nothing. The Glass was dark, like a deep marsh pool. Septimus leaned closer, wondering why he could not see his own reflection and, despite doing his best not to, imagining all kinds of horrible Spectres at his shoulder, Waiting for him.
“Are you okay? Have you looked into the Glass yet?” Jenna's voice came from the cupboard.
“Um ... yes. I'm looking now...”
“What can you see?”
“Nothing ... nothing ... it's just dark ... oh, wait ... I can see something now ... it—it's weird ... an old man ... staring at me. He looks kind of surprised.”
“An old man?” asked Jenna.
“Oh, that's odd...”
“What?” Jenna sounded worried.
“Well, if I raise my right hand he does too. And if I frown, he frowns too.”
“Like your reflection would?”
“Well, yes. Oh, I know what it is—it's one of those Yet-to-Come Glasses. They were very popular in the old days. Traveling fairs used to bring them. They show you what you're going to look like just before you die.”
“That's horrible, Sep,” Jenna called down.
“Yeah. Don't ever want to look like that. Ugh. Oh, look, if I stick out my tongue, he— hey! ”
“What?” Jenna could bear it no longer. She hurtled down the steps and arrived in the Robing Room just in time to see Septimus spring back from the Glass, slip on the shiny marble floor and fall. As he scrabbled to get up and away, Jenna screamed.
Reaching out of the Glass were two old, wizened hands. With long bony fingers and curved yellow nails, they snatched at Septimus's tunic, grabbed hold of it, then wrapped themselves around his Apprentice belt, dragging him toward the Glass.
Frantically Septimus tried to pull away, kicking out at the clutching talons.
“Jen! Help, Je—” he yelled, and then there was silence. Septimus's head had disappeared into the Glass as though sinking into a pool of ink.
Jenna ran down the steps and skidded across the floor, horrified at seeing Septimus's shoulders rapidly disappearing into the Glass. She leaped forward, grabbed his feet and pulled with all her strength. Slowly, slowly Septimus began to come out of the Glass. Jenna hung on like a dog with a bone, determined never, ever, to let go of Septimus. Little by little, as if emerging from one of the black Marram Marsh pools, Septimus's head broke free. He twisted around and yelled, “Careful, Jen! Don't let him get you!”
Jenna glanced up and saw a face that stayed with her for the rest of her life. It was the face of an old man—an ancient man—with a great long nose and sunken, staring eyes that looked at Jenna with surprise, as if he knew her. Long wisps of yellowish white hair hung down and caught over his enormous old ears. His mouth, which contained three great tombstone teeth, was fixed in a wide grimace of concentration as he tried to pull Septimus away from her. Then, suddenly, with a tremendous heave, he succeeded. Septimus shot through the Glass and Jenna was left alone in the Robing Room, staring in disbelief at all that was left of Septimus—his old brown boots, empty in her hands.
With toes stubbed from kicking the Glass and her throat sore from screaming at it to give Septimus back, Jenna fled up the steps, clutching Septimus's boots. Once she was safely in the Unstable Potions and Partikular Poisons cupboard, she slammed the trapdoor closed and opened the bottom drawer under the empty shelves. She heard the familiar metallic click, and then, trying to catch her breath, Jenna waited impatiently until something in the cupboard shifted and she smelled the familiar scent of cabbages cooking.
Jenna pushed open the door and stepped out into Aunt Zelda's cottage.
“Oi!” A startled voice came from the rug beside the fire. A boy with long matted hair, wearing a simple brown tunic fastened with an old leather belt, leaped to his feet with a look of alarm. On seeing Jenna, Wolf Boy relaxed and said, “Hey, it's you again. Can't keep away, huh?” And then, noticing Jenna's expression: “Jenna, what's the matter?”
“Oh ... 409,” gasped Jenna, who had picked up Septimus's habit of addressing Wolf Boy by his old Young Army number. "Where's Aunt Zelda—I've got to see Aunt Zelda.
Wolf Boy needed no excuse to leave his early reader potion book by the fire and come over to Jenna. He had never mastered the art of reading, having been completely terrified of his reading and writing instructor in the Young Army. And now, no matter how hard he tried and how patient Aunt Zelda was with him, the way the letters stuck together to make words—or not—still made little sense to Wolf Boy. “She's not here, Jenna,” he explained. "She's out gathering marsh herbs an'
stuff. Hey, aren't those 412's boots?"
Jenna nodded miserably. She had been sure that Aunt Zelda would know what to do, but now ... She leaned against the cupboard door, suddenly exhausted.