Falkman Residence, Torsby, Sweden.
1986, February.
It had been storming all day. When he woke up, snowing. When he ate his breakfast, still snowing.
It snowed on the way to preschool. The drive wasn't long. But still, when he got there and one of the teachers helped him take off his shoes, he could feel the wet squish in his socks, even though he had only been outside for a little time.
When thunder began to rumble later, one of the teachers said, ''God must be angry today. You all better be good, or he'll strike us with his thunder.'' It was a rare thing to happen, apparently. Snow and Thunder. Some of the kids believed her. Even the ones who were usually naughty. But Fredrik knew it wasn't true. His Uncle Anders had told him why thunder happened. He forgot the reason exactly, but he was sure it had nothing to do with God.
During the drive home after preschool, thunder was still growling in the sky. And when they had dinner that night, it rumbled again.
Despite all of that, it wasn't the thunder that woke him up. It was the scream. It tore and threw him out violently from the land of dreams right onto the comfortable leather couch. One moment he was sleeping, the next, he was sitting straight up on the leather couch. Fredrik didn't even have to blink the sleep away. That's how loud it was. He looked around fast, trying to figure out where the sound came from.
But the first thing he saw was the TV.
''...and his wife, Lisbeth, had just left the Grand cinema. A 35-year-old man shot the Prime Minister twice in the chest. He was taken to Sabbatsberg Hospital, where he died shortly after arrival. Lisbeth Palme was also injured, but has been released from the hospital and is now safe at her residence. Police say they still have no leads on the killer, and the motive for the Prime Minister's murder remains unknown.''
''I can't believe it!'' Fredrik's dad said, staring at the screen, ''Honey! Come here!''
''What? What is it?'' His mom's voice had come from the kitchen. Fredrik knew that for sure.
''He is dead!''
''What? I can't hear you!''
''HE IS DEAD!'' Pappa's shout was going to annoy her, his mother never liked when he shouted.
Fredrik flinched. That's when he noticed the cans. Three empty ones sat on the table, while his dad was holding another one tight in his hand.
''My god, watch your mouth. Fredrik is sleeping!'' His mother hissed as her footsteps came closer. ''What is it, then? What's got you so angry?''
''Look!'' Fredrik's dad didn't even turn his head when she entered. He couldn't take his eyes off the screen.
''...Unofficially, however, the Swedish embassy here in Washington, D.C. has already received several condolences. Among them was Vice President George Bush, who called Ambassador Wilhelm Wachtmeister and expressed his dismay. The fact that Olof Palme had no bodyguards at the time of the murder is also of great concern here.''
''Christ! The Prime Minister's dead?'' His mother was stunned.
''Yeah, murdered.'' Patrik took a sip from his can and glanced at the TV again, then scoffed. ''Expressed his dismay, did he? My arse. It's probably the Yankees who did it! Still bitter about him helping the Viet Cong, bloody imperialists…''
''Do they know who did it?'' His mother, Malin, whispered.
''Some unknown guy. they've got no leads!'' His father didn't whisper. Not even close.
''Even in London, Olof Palme had many friends, both in the Labour Party and in the Social Democratic Party. David Owen, the SDP leader and personal friend of Olof Palme, says the news of his death came as a severe shock. 'Few people have put in as much energy and effort to achieve peace as Olof Palme. It is a tragic loss for the world and for European social democracy, which has now lost a friend and a strong champion,' says David Owen tonight, leader of the Social Democratic Party in England.''
''England?'' Fredrik perked up properly this time. He knew that place. ''That's where Uncle Anders lives, right?''
''Fredrik?'' His mum came around from behind the couch so she could see him properly. ''Yes, honey. That's where he lives. But he is not there right now; he's in Greenland, remember?''
He did, in fact, not remember that at all.
Malin sat down on the armrest of the couch and gently brushed his hair with her fingers. Then she gave his dad a look. Fredrik wasn't sure what kind of look it was, but it made his dad blink like he'd been caught doing something wrong.
''I'm sorry I woke you up, buddy,'' said Patrik.
''It's okay,'' Fredrik said, smiling softly. He didn't get why his dad looked so sorry, he could just fall back asleep if he wanted. No big deal.
''In Cuba, Fidel Castro has now declared three days of national mourning. Olof Palme became the first Western leader to walk on Cuban soil since its revolution when he visited the country in 1975.''
''Come on,'' Malin said gently. ''let's get you to bed.''
''I'm not tired,'' Fredrik declared bravely. He was six now. He could stay up late. Besides, his dad looked really into whatever was going on, and that didn't happen often.
''You may not be tired, but it's still midnight,'' she said, standing up. ''And sleep makes children grow. If you don't sleep properly, you'll start shrinking until you're as small as Mr Nilsson in Pippi Longstocking. Forever.''
Patrik snorted, but Fredrik's eyes widened.
''Really?''
''It's true, young man,'' his dad said now. ''I've got a coworker with a daughter who looks like one of the dwarfs in Snow White. She just turned twenty-seven.''
Fredrik gasped and launched off the couch, sprinting toward his room. He wanted to grow taller. He and his dad even measured his height every two weeks and marked it on his doorframe.
He made it about five steps.
''Hey!'' Malin scolded. ''No running in the house, and where do you think you're going?''
''…To bed?'' Fredrik answered, unsure. That's what she wanted, wasn't it? And he definitely wanted to grow. But her tone made him think he'd missed something.
''Have you brushed your teeth then?''
''Right! I forgot,'' he said, lighting up. He turned quickly and walked to the bathroom without another word.
''UN Secretary-General Pérez de Cuéllar has sent a telegram of condolence to Foreign Minister Sten Andersson tonight. 'Olof Palme has made a lasting contribution to peace and cooperation in the world. He will be remembered with gratitude and deep respect within the UN organisation,' says the Secretary-General.''
As Fredrik brushed his teeth, he heard Mamma and Pappa talking about a funeral. He didn't know whose funeral it was, but he guessed it was for the man on TV, the one that made Pappa sad. He really hoped they didn't have to go. He hated funerals. The only one he'd ever been to was for Grandma last year. Everyone had been quiet and crying. He remembered how strange it felt, like even the walls were sad. That had made him sad too.
His chest felt heavy just thinking about it.
He glanced out the window beside the sink. It was still raining.
That meant no playing outside tomorrow either. Too wet.
That's when it happened.
CRACK!
Fredrik jumped so hard he nearly swallowed his toothbrush as the loud thunderclap struck outside. All the toothpaste foam that had built up in his mouth went straight down his throat. He gagged. Leaning over the sink, he coughed and spat, trying to get it all out. You weren't supposed to swallow toothpaste. Mamma had said so. It could make you sick.
''MAMMA!'' he shouted. ''I SWALLOWED TOOTHPASTE!''
''What?!'' she called back.
''TOOTHMUSH!'' Fredrik yelled even louder.
''Hold on! I'm coming!''
Fredrik spat again. His mouth still tasted weird. But as he looked up from the sink, he froze. The mirror in front of him was broken. A long jagged crack ran across it like a lightning bolt. Shards had fallen to the floor near his feet. He blinked. He hadn't touched it. He'd just been brushing like he was told. The thunder must've done it.
But could thunder break a mirror? No. That didn't make sense. The thunder was outside, and he was inside. But he hadn't done it! He hadn't! His chest started to squeeze tight. Mamma would think he broke it. So would Pappa. Mirrors cost money, and he didn't have any money! Not even a single crown!
Then came the footsteps, they grew heavier with each second, coming right toward the bathroom. He panicked. There was only one thing to do. He shut the door and locked it. CLICK.
''Hey!'' Mamma knocked. ''Don't shut the door on me like that!''
''Sorry!'' Fredrik squeaked. His mind raced. What do I do? What do I do?
''Is something wrong?'' Her voice was softer now, but still serious.
''No!'' Fredrik blurted. ''...uhm… nothing's wrong!''
''I know you're lying, honey. Open the door.''
Don't do it. They will yell at you. ''The... uhm...'' His voice cracked.
''Fredrik,'' There was concern in her voice now. ''Open this door. Right now.''
He stared at the mirror again. At the crack that cut across the glass like a scar. At the missing chunks that were gone. With the cracks, the mirror now looked like one of those piece puzzles they had at preschool, only this one had ten or so pieces from completion.
''The mirror is broken.'' His throat felt tight as he said it, but saying it out loud made him feel… better.
There was silence. For a moment, just silence, and then. ''How bad?''
''Pretty bad,''
He could hear the sigh through the door. ''It's alright, honey. Just open the door.''
CRACK!
Fredrik jumped at the thunderclap, his whole body jolting in terror. He stumbled backward, trying to get away from the window. But in his haste to do so, pain—raw and sharp pain. It rushed through him form the bottom of his left foot.
''OW!'' he yelped, jerking his foot off the floor.
He tired to lift his foot up further and grab it to see what happened, but the sudden movement made him lose his balance. and with a THUNK!, he crashed to the cold tile floor.
''Fredrik! What's happening? Open this door now!'' His mother's voice rang out, tense and worried, just outside the door. But the pain in his foot was so sharp, so shocking, it took a few seconds for her words to even register.
When he tried again, only now from his laying position, he saw the shards. Broken mirror pieces, scattered across the bathroom like pieces of ice. He saw red a second later, his blood. His foot was leaking it.
''My foot!'' he cried. ''It's bleeding, Mom!''
The door handle to the bathroom began to rattle and jiggle.
Boom! The door thudded as her mum pushed against it. ''Fredrik! I need you to open the door for me, can you do that honey?!''
The bathroom light flickered. Once. Twice. Then again. Fredrik began to freeze completely; the light, the pain, the mirror, the thunder, everything was too loud. It was too much, too wrong. He couldn't move. Ghosts, he knew then. Ghost's are here, haunting us.
''Mamma, please help! There are Ghost's inside with me, they are going to hurt me.'' Because that is what they will, what Ghost's do.
But Fredrik could not move, it hurt too much. His foot throbbed. The bleeding got worse. The light buzzed overhead, blinking like one of those broken traffic signals that were stuck on yellow. He was too scared. He needed help.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The door shook with each push. Muffled voices overlapped; Pappa's now, too, shouting with Mamma behind the door. Fredrik couldn't make out the words anymore. His heart was beating so loud in his ears it sounded like thunder inside his chest.
He was scared. So scared. He doesn't know what was happening, what the Ghost's want.
The door handle rattled again. Boom! Boom! Boom!
''Help me!'' Fredrik cried out.
BOOM!
He screamed in terror. That's when the glass shards moved.
But this time, the boom wasn't the thunder. It was the door. Pappa had burst through it. The door had been locked, but he'd forced it open.
The broken mirror pieces scattered like they were alive, whipping through the air in all directions. One piece struck the wall near Fredrik's head. Another clanged against the sink. Three more hit the bathtub with a metallic ting-ting-ting.
The sixth one, though, had been the one to make his Pappa start gurgling. Fredrik watched it slice across his father's neck, and then the same dark red that had dripped from his foot began to pour from Pappa's throat.
Mamma screamed. It was a sound that almost made Fredrik cry, he had never heard it from her before. It was high and broken and filled with panic.
Fredrik could only stare, wide-eyed. ''Pappa?''
But his father could not hear him, he clutched his neck, but the blood still seeped through between his fingers. He looked confused, like he didn't understand what was happening. Fredrik felt the same way, but he was more scared, whereas Pappa was more puzzled. He kept reaching for something, frowning. He looked lost and weak, and it terrified Fredrik. His father was always strong.
Then, he collapsed. Sideways, hard, onto the bathroom floor.
''Patrik! Patrik!'' Mamma shrieked, falling to the floor beside him. She shook him again and again. ''Please!'' When he didn't move, she turned toward her son. ''Fredrik!''
But Fredrik couldn't hear her. Not properly. Everything sounded far away, like he was underwater. He just stared at his father's body. He's getting up, right? He has to get up. He's just resting, right? Right?
His Mamma reached out to grab her son.
SWISH!
The moment her hand touched him, something threw her. It was like a blast of wind, but there was no wind inside a house. She flew backward through the broken door and slammed into the hallway wall with a terrible boom.
''No!'' What is happening? Why is this happening? Please, stop!
His voice broke as he crawled across the floor toward her, dragging his foot behind him, it hurt so much.
''Mamma!'' he sobbed, grabbing her arm. ''I don't know what's happening. I'm scared!''
Her mother moaned. ''Ho-... Honey…'' Her voice was rattling. ''Ninety thousand… Call…''
Then, silence. No flickering light, no booms, no cracks, no thunks. Just complete, utter silence.
She didn't say anything. Not another word. For a moment, Fredrik just stared at her, frozen. Then, his eyes widened. The phone. She meant the phone!
He was so stupid! Why hadn't he thought of that immediately? Stupid! He pushed himself up and bolted out of the bathroom, his foot screaming in pain with every step. The kitchen was dark, but he could still see the bright red telephone sitting on the cabinet. He ran to it.
CRACK! Another thunderclap.
He stretched himself with all his might and even stood on his toes. Nothing. Too high. He couldn't reach. He jumped once, twice. Each time, pain hissed as his cut foot hit the kitchen floor. Then he saw the red cord. It slinked down the wall like a snake, plugging into a socket near the floor. Without thinking, Fredrik grabbed the cord and yanked.
The phone hit the floor and bounced once. Fredrik scrambled forward and flipped it over with trembling hands. He pressed his finger into the number nine and turned the rotary dial all the way around. Then zero, then zero again, and two more times until the number dialled became ninety thousand.
''SOS 90 000. What has happened?''
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
''...a murder of this kind has never before occurred in our country. Gunvor Hildén?''
''Yes. It seems as if our long period of political innocence is about to come to an end. When the Prime Minister is murdered in the street, in his own hometown... well, then the extremely open society we've had until now is probably over. It will become necessary to have more surveillance, more vigilance, and more armament than we ever wanted…''
''Do you know where in Greenland your uncle is?'' the woman asked gently. ''Maybe in Nuuk?''
Fredrik shrugged. ''I don't know. Mamma never said.''
''I see,'' she said sadly. ''Why is he in Greenland?''
''He works there. He works with the ice, I think.''
The woman nodded slowly, turning her attention back to the television while Fredrik fidgeted with the small toys she had given him. Everything seemed more calm now, still strange, but calm.
''Nuuk?'' Fredrik asked curiously.
''Hmm?'' The woman looked back at him.
''That's what you said, Nuuk. What is that?''
She smiled. ''It's the name of Greenland's capital. Like Stockholm in Sweden, or Oslo in Norway. Do you understand?''
''No,'' he answered.
''Oh,'' she seemed surprised by that. ''Well... uhm, every country in the world has cities. But the city where the people in charge work—that's the capital.''
''People in charge?''
''Yes. The government. It's where the country is run. A lot of grown-ups work there, kind of like your uncle with the ice. Only, instead of working with nature, they work with laws and rules.''
Fredrik frowned in thought. ''I thought the King was the one who ruled?''
The women laughed softly. ''He used to, a long time ago. Now the Prime Minister is in charge, or…'' Her smile faded slightly. ''Well... he was in charge.''
The nurse looked at him for a moment. There was still a faint smile, but her eyes seemed sad. ''God,'' she said, almost a whisper. ''What terrible tragedies. I'm so sorry, sweetie.''
''Fredrik Falkman?''
Fredrik turned toward the voice. It was a police officer standing at the half-open door. The hospital was quiet. Only he and the nurse were in the guest room right now.
''There are people here who'd like to meet you. Is that okay?'' the officer asked.
Fredrik nodded softly. He'd already met a lot of new people. Most of them were police officers, and they'd asked him all kinds of questions.
He remembered standing outside his house, wrapped in a blanket. Two officers had gone inside, and a moment later, one of them came back out and threw up in the little garden next to the parking lot. He had told them everything. About the thunder, the mirror, the flickering light, and how the shards had flown through the air. He thought if he told them everything, they could help his parents. They had to know what had happened, they were the police. Mamma told him that they were supposed to fix things. But an hour later, they told him they couldn't fix them, that no one could fix them. They were… gone. He would never see them again.
He had cried so hard that he forgot to breathe at one point. The pain in his foot had been forgotten over an even larger pain in his chest and throat. Oh, how much it had hurt. But still not as much as it hurt now.
Now it felt like there was a stone in his stomach. A big, heavy one pressing down on everything. He didn't know how to get rid of it. The nurse said he should try to sleep. And he did. he'd slept the whole night and a large part of the morning. But when he woke up, the stone was still there. Deep down. Still heavy.
The officer had already left the door, and after a minute, two new men entered the room. The first thing he noticed was that they looked similar to the regular police. But they both wore long brown coats instead of short black ones. And one of them had a red tie, like the one Pappa used to wear. Fredrik's heart sank at the memory.
''Mr Falkman?'' one of the men asked. He looked at Fredrik with careful eyes.
Fredrik nodded
''I'm Ludvig Gyllenberg, and this is my partner, Oscar Stark,'' he said. ''We're here to ask you some questions… and maybe give you some answers. If you're up for it?''
Fredrik glanced over at the nurse. She gave him a warm smile and nodded. He liked her. She had fixed his foot and given him soft toys to play with. If she thought it was okay, then maybe it was.
''Okay,'' Fredrik said.
Ludvig smiled. ''Excellent! If you would follow me?'' He gestured toward the open door.
Fredrik stood up slowly from the floor and walked toward him.
As they reached the doorway, Ludvig turned slightly toward his partner. ''Oscar, if you'd be so kind as to assist the kind lady?''
''Yes, sir,'' Ludvig's partner, Oscar, replied.
Fredrik didn't know exactly what the kind nurse needed help with. But just as the door closed behind him, he heard Ludvig's partner say something, a word he had never heard before.
''Obliviate…''
Ludvig moved quickly. That was the first thing Fredrik noticed. So quickly, in fact, that Fredrik almost had to run to keep up. Yet, even with his brisk pace, Ludvig was polite. He nodded and said ''Good day'' to everyone they passed in the hallway.
Halfway there, Ludvig had stopped abruptly. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a lollipop. Then, as Fredrik caught up beside him, he held out the candy for him to take. All without speaking a single word.
Fredrik looked at the lollipop. It did look tasty, but he was unsure. He wasn't supposed to take candy from strangers; that was a rule. But when he glanced up at Ludvig, the man only smiled reassuringly. That helped him decide. He was a police officer, right? That meant he was safe. The nurse had said it was okay. And Fredrik liked the nurse. Fredrik reached out hesitantly and took it. As soon as he did it, Ludvig started walking again, faster than before. Or at least, it felt faster.
Eventually, they reached a door.
''In here, Mr Falkman. If you would be so kind?'' Ludvig asked kindly.
Fredrik followed, but something just felt wrong. The room inside was small, with four white walls. But there were no windows, no chairs, no pictures. It was scary.
''Ludvig?'' Fredrik asked softly.
''What is it, Mr Falkman?'' Ludvig turned to face him.
''There's nothing in here.''
''No, there isn't,'' He seemed oddly sad about it. ''But we won't be here long. We're just waiting for my partner to finish his business. It shouldn't be more than ten minutes or so.''
Ten minutes? That was pretty long, wasn't it? It sounded like it. It wasn't seconds.
''What am I supposed to do in the meantime?''
Ludvig seemed confused. ''I gave you a lollipop, didn't I?''
That was a strange answer. Not reassuring. Fredrik frowned to himself, he just wanted to go home. But he can't go home; the police had told him so. They were investigating, trying to find out what happened. That was another thing that confused him, had he not already told the officers what had happened? Maybe they too, had never seen anything like that happen before for real. Fredrik had never seen anything like that before, only once, but that was on a movie, a scary movie his Pappa had stayed up to watch. When Fredrik had slept on that same leather couch.
''Oh, and Mr Falkman,'' Ludvig added; he looked more serious now. ''It's very important that you don't call me by 'Ludvig' or 'you there', or 'du'. It's Mr Gyllenberg. And my partner is Mr Stark, or 'sir' will suffice. I don't hold it against you, but where we're going, they take such things quite seriously.''
Fredrik looked up at him. ''Where are we going?'' He thought this was the room they were going to.
''To a place where you can get some answers,'' Gyllenberg said. ''I apologise for how late we were and how confused you must be. Things have been quite hectic back at the Ministry. We're understaffed as it is, and with Mr Palme's untimely death and the quick vetting of the new Gomp Prime Minister, Mr Carlsson…''
Fredrik stopped listening then. He didn't want to think about Palme. Or the scary movie with his dad. Or what had happened at home. Thinking about that made the heavy lump in his stomach crawl up into his chest. He tried to think of nice things instead; Mamma always said that helped when he was sad. But it didn't help now. It only made it worse.
CRACK! Thunder. Mirror.
THUNK! Shards. Lights.
BOOM! Blood. Screams.
SWISH! Rattle. Call.
SOS 90 000, what has happened?
''Mr Falkman, calm down.''
Fredrik hadn't even noticed how fast his heart was racing until Gyllenberg knelt down in front of him.
''The lollipop, Mr Falkman.''
''Huh?'' Fredrik managed. The lump just wouldn't go away.
''I understand your fear, but I must insist that you try the lollipop. It will make you feel better. I promise,'' said Gyllenberg gently.
Fredrik looked at the lollipop in his hand. The plastic wrapper was already off. When had that happened? He didn't remember unwrapping it. Still, he placed it in his mouth and suckled. At first, it was a little bitter. A lemon lollipop—that's what he had thought. But the bitterness vanished so quickly, he wasn't sure anymore. It didn't taste like much now, but he did feel better. The pressure in his chest had started to fade.
''Better, right?'' Gyllenberg grinned. ''It's a calming lyf. Gompare often need it once they are first introduced, but it's understandable you should need one already. You've been through a lot, Mr Falkman.''
''A calming lyf?'' Fredrik echoed, frowning.
''Yes,'' Gyllenberg said simply. He was still grinning, but Fredrik kept looking at him, waiting for more. After a moment, he seemed to realise it. ''Oh, yes, of course.'' The grin was gone now. ''A Gomp would call it a 'mixture' or a 'potion', I suppose. It makes a person calmer.''
Fredrik didn't know what a Gomp was. But he felt calmer now. Much calmer, almost at ease.
Then the door opened.
''Mr Stark,'' Gyllenberg acknowledged. ''Everything went smoothly?''
Stark nodded. ''It did. If only we had been here sooner. The scrubbing would have been a lot less time-consuming.''
''Yes, well… it's done anyway.''
Gyllenberg turned to Fredrik and extended his hand. ''Take my hand, Mr Falkman.''
Fredrik hesitated only a second now, then reached out and took it. Stark, standing before them now, reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a small blue stone. He held it in his palm for a moment, then gently closed his hand around it.
''The Ministry,'' he called. Then, he let his palm open.
The second the stone struck the ground, the floor began to crack like an egg.
Fredrik's eyes widened, sparkles of blue, red, violet, yellow and green began to seep through the cracks.
Then the floor shattered completely, and Fredrik fell.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Swedish Ministry of Magic, The Old Town, Stockholm.
1986, February.
''Well done, Mr Falkman,'' Gyllenberg said with a firm clap on Fredrik's back. ''A few more tries, and you can probably manage it without me holding your hand. First-timers tend to fall uncontrollably unless someone more experienced guides the landing.''
It had all happened in just a few seconds. They had landed on their feet, but Fredrik's grin could not leave his face. It had been exciting, like that one time when Fredik had been snow sliding down that enormous hill. His stomach had jumped up to his chest back then, just like now.
''Can we do that again?'' Fredrik looked up at the two men, grinning.
The two men laughed in reply. They were both wearing robes now, suddenly, not a trench coat. ''Maybe later; now come with me,'' Gyllenberg said.
Only then did Fredrik realise that the room they were in looked exactly like the one they'd just left. But when he followed Gyllenberg and Stark through the door, there was no hospital waiting on the other side.
His mouth dropped open slightly. His eyes widened. He had never seen anything like it. He realised it then, and only then. The floor cracking into rainbow colours, how Gyllenberg and Stark had changed their coats into a robe. What has seeing now. Magic. Just like in the movies and books. Just like in Peter Pan and The Brothers Lionheart. Real magic.
There were people everywhere, all of them rushing about like they were late for something. Some walked fast; others ran. Everyone wore robes in all kinds of dark colours. But the hall… it was the hall that made Fredrik feel so stuck.
There were no lamps. Instead, candles floated along the stone walls. The walls and ceiling looked like they belonged inside a cave with dark, rough stone. But the stone was painted with carvings, strange symbols, people, and animals. And as the candlelight passed it, the symbols of people and animals began to move.
Gyllenberg and Stark had already began walking, so Fredrik had to rush his pace to fall alongside them. As they walked, Fredrik kept seeing new things he had never seen before. So many that he didn't know where to look.
He passed a man sitting on a bench in robes wearing a tall pointed hat. The man read a newspaper, but Fredrik saw the picture on the front page was moving.
GOMP MINISTER MURDERED — MINISTRY REFUSES TO RULE OUT WIZARD INVOLVEMENT.
Next, they passed a big and tall set of double doors with a statue of a big moose on both sides. Or were they mooses? They looked different from the moose he had seen at the zoo. In front of the door stood two men. They were massive, grey-skinned men with ugly faces and axes nearly as tall as Gyllenberg. Fredrik frowned in thought; they looked like…
''Trolls. Tough beasts. An Incredible resilience to match their incredible stupidity.'' Stark said, Fredrik had not even noticed that he had stopped walking. ''These ones are trained, though. Let's move; they don't like being stared at.''
Fredrik quickly looked away and hurried after Stark. He didn't want to make them angry. But still, trolls? They only existed in stories. Didn't they? What was this place? He felt like he was in a movie.
Later, they passed another strange sight: two small figures standing under a floating sign that read:
LETTERS, PACKAGES AND DOCUMENTS — INTERNATIONAL DELIVERY (NORWAY, DENMARK AND FINLAND EXCLUDED)
Embargo on the United Kingdom lifted.
The two figures were shorter than any grown-up he had ever seen. They had a pointy nose, bat-like ears, and big eyes. They looked... sort of like bats
Fredrik knew that they had walked enough when Gyllenberg reached for the handle on a doorway carved directly into the stone wall. Without a word, Gyllenberg opened it.
''Inside, Mr Falkman,'' he said gently.
Then he turned to his partner. ''Oscar, thank you for your help. Give my regards to the Minister. Odin knows that he'll need it with that new Gomp Prime Minister.''
Stark gave a crooked smile. ''Of course, sir.''
The room inside was small, but not white like in the hospital. They were black, etched with golden patterns that ran like small rivers. As soon as Fredrik stepped inside, the gold in the walls shone and lit up the whole room.
''Please, take a seat,'' Gyllenberg said.
Fredrik did so; the chair was incredibly comfy, soft as a couch.
He glanced around the room again in awe. Gold glittered in the walls. Paintings hung neatly. He noticed a window beside the door they'd entered through, the window looked out over the grand hall they had just come from. Fredrik's eyes widened when he realised. There had been no window on the other side. Just a solid cave wall. How?
''We've contacted the Danish Ministry for help reaching your Uncle,'' Gyllenberg said, sitting across from him. ''Greenland is their jurisdiction. But we will reach him, it's just a matter of waiting a few days. Don't worry.''
Fredrik heard him, but had not really listened. He kept looking around, kept observing. Why hadn't Mamma and Pappa shown him any of this? Why had they hidden it? The thought of them brought the lump back to his stomach, but it wasn't as strong this time. The lollipop, Fredrik remembered. It had been magic too, a magic mixture. Like Snow White's apple. Only it was not making him go to sleep, it made the lump do it.
''Mr Falkman, you are an extremely rare case. We, and all of Europe for that matter, don't usually show people with your background all this until they have reached a certain age. None of them are six. I wonder if you are the youngest Gomp-born ever.'' Gyllenberg said.
''Is my uncle here?'' Fredrik asked. He kept looking around. Was that painting moving?
Gyllenberg sighed. ''Like I said, no. But you'll see him soon. He lives in the United Kingdom, correct?''
''England,'' Fredrik corrected.
Gyllenberg looked slightly irritated now. ''That's the sa–... never mind.'' He took a sip from a smoking cup from the table. ''Then I'll assume you'll move there too, which means you can't attend Blåkulla.''
That got Fredrik's full blown attention. ''Blåkulla?'' Fredrik asked.
''Yes, Blåkulla Magic Academy.'' Gyllenberg's brow furrowed. ''I suppose I could send a letter to Mr Flitwick, but I haven't spoken to him in years. And they've only just recovered from their war with the Namnlöse. And I'm not sure how much money your family had, either… Oh, we'll sort that out when your uncle arrives.''
He paused, just staring at Fredrik for a moment, then placed the cup gently back on the table. ''What happened to your parents was a terrible tragedy. But also… very rare. Accidental Magic almost never manifests with that much force.''
The lollipop did nothing this time; the lump just grew and grew. ''It was me who did it? It was my fault?''
''It was your abilities that did it, but they are abilities you have no control over. it's not your fault, Mr Falkman.''
Fredrik stared at his shoes. He didn't lift his eyes.
The mirror. The flickering lights. The shards. The…
He clenched his fists.
''You see, you're a wizard, Fredrik.''