Harry Rotter

by Gerrard Wllson

attempts to conceal what she was doing, breaking and entering, Box saw this, and he asked, “What are you doing? I thought this was a common study room, open to all!”

  “Will you ever grow up?” she replied.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, will you ever grow up?” she hissed. “Even a Muddle, one as stupid as you, must have realised I wasn’t telling the whole story, that this is really Tumbledown’s private study.”

  Wiping away the blood from his cheek, Box was shocked, gob smacked at what he had just heard. “I am a Muddle and I am proud of it,” he cried out. “I trusted you, and if trusting my cousin makes me stupid in your eyes, then so be it. But, remember, that is only your opinion.”

  “Yes, my dear cousin, it’s only my opinion,” she replied slowly, dryly, like she was savouring every word, “an opinion that I value more than yours.” Then reaching into the cabinet, she withdrew a black felt pouch, secured at the top with a golden coloured pull cord. “Now let’s get the hell out of here,” she said, as she waved her wand at the door, instantly opening it.

  “Why didn’t you do that, before?” Box asked.

  “Oh, grow up!” Harry snapped.

  Ahead of Box, while retracing her steps, Harry furtively undid the clasp on her bag, took out the Philosopher’s Marble and carefully slipped it into the pouch before putting it into her bag.

  Seeing none of this, Box found himself having to trust his troublesome, devious cousin yet again to have any hope of escaping Hagswords...

  A Time for Truth (Captured!)

  At first Box thought they were simply retracing their steps, through the maze of halls, rooms and hidden passageways they had taken on their way in, but when Harry took an unexpected deviation, a digression from this route, he knew that she was up to something. And within seconds, instead of being in an antiquated old building, he found himself within a shiny new room, a room that he felt surprisingly comfortable in.

  This room, this extraordinary room filled Box with wonder and amazement, and he began studying it with as much interest as Harry and her pouch. Box felt so at ease in this room, because it was remarkably similar to his bedroom, at home. Yes, of course it was far greater in size and, yes, it had many more pieces of equipment within it, but after taking these differences into consideration it was amazingly similar. Box knew there and then, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was an electrical experimentation workshop to beat all others. Box wanted so desperately to ask Harry what it was doing in a school where mysticism and magic were, apparently, all-important, but fearing yet another rant about his ‘Muddlesome stupidity’, he decided to say nothing. Instead, he studied the room for himself, determined to work it out for himself.

  Unlike her Muddling cousin, Harry knew exactly where she was and, more importantly, what she was doing there. Retrieving the pouch from her shoulder bag, she loosened the cord securing its top and stared in at its consents…

  Outside, the sound of pandemonium could be heard – everywhere. There were people running about in all directions, up and down stairs, along dimly lit corridors, through dormitories, houserooms and all the communal areas. There was also shouting, so much shouting, with orders being given, taken and argued about – confusion reigned. But despite this intent, this intent on finding and apprehending the intruders, peculiarly, no one entered the room where the cousins were secreted.

  Although they appeared safe from pursuit, Box was unable to shake off the feeling that at any moment they would be discovered, found, and weeded out once and for all...

  After going over the entire room, inspecting it in minute detail, Box thought he had some idea of what had been going on. Glancing over to Harry, to tell her, he watched as she delved a hand into the pouch, the felt pouch that she was so intrigued with. In complete silence, thinking no one was watching her; she withdrew a handful of marbles.

  “It contains more of those Philosopher’s Marbles!” Box blurted out, unable to contain his utter contempt at what she had done.

  “Yes, yes it does,” she replied smugly. Cupping the marbles with both hands, she said, “And you have no idea what this entails, do you?”

  There was a long pause before Box replied, but when he did, when next he spoke, Harry was shocked by what he said, “Yes,” he said slowly, painfully, “I most certainly do…”

  “What? How could you?” she asked, stunned by his admission.

  Box smiled.

  Unnerved, she shouted, “Answer, or so help me, I’ll brain you.”

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll tell you – but on one condition…”

  Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “And what might that be?”

  “On condition, that from now on, there will be no more secrets between us.”

  There was another long pause, much longer than any before it. Finally offering her answer, Harry whispered, “All right, no more secrets – but I warn you…you might not like some of the things you will hear.”

  This time it was Box who raised an eyebrow, as he said, “Try me.”

  Returning the marbles to the pouch, Harry pulled on the cord and secured its opening. Then inviting Box to pull up a chair, she began, saying, “Box, my dear cousin, you might think you have worked it all out, but you are barely scratching the surface. You see, these marbles,” she pointed to the pouch, “have no part in the order of Mysticism and Magic, so championed here at Hagswords.”

  “I do realise that,” he replied. “I can see from this room that, just as you used me to charm your wand, to combine electronics and magic, someone has been experimenting along the very same lines.”

  Harry searched deep into his eyes, to see how much he might know and, more importantly, understand.

  “That’s why you stole it,” he said, “the first marble. You knew there was something about it.”

  “I was drawn to it – to them all. And, yes, I stole it,” she admitted proudly. “I would have taken them all.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I made lucky, was at the right place at the right time. Old Tumbledown had left the door of his study room open. It was easy. I simply looked in when I was passing... I saw the pouch unguarded on his desk… So I snuck in, took a look-see, and had just enough time to grab one of the marbles. Studying it later, I knew, I sensed there was something special about it, something more than magic… I searched the entire school library, from top to bottom, trying to find some information – any information about them. But there was nothing, not one single reference to magical marbles.”

  “Then how did you find out?”

  “I don’t give up that easy,” she replied. “I just kept on looking. I knew there had to be a book or a manuscript – something – secreted, hidden away that told of such things. And I found it; I found it all right – right here, in this very room!”

  “Here? How?”

  “Yes, here,” she replied. “I staked out this place; I watched it, that’s how. And do you know who comes along – the only person who ever comes here?”

  “No…”

  “The old coot himself – Tumbledown!” she said. “It’s his room – he set it up!” she said, with a flourish of a hand. Loosening the clasp on her shoulder bag, she opened it, and taking out a dusty old book, handed it to Box, saying, “Here, take a look at this.”

  Box studied the book; it was hand written, the words in a strange language he failed to comprehend.

  “You won’t understand it?”

  “What language is it?”

  “Arcanum,” she replied.

  “Arcanum?”

  “It’s a secret language, used by mystics, wizards and so forth.”

  Closing the book, Box asked, “Is that the language you spoke in, earlier?”

  “The language is of no consequence,” she said. “What matters is the knowledge this book contains, some of which old Tumbledown has retrieved.” Taking the book, she began shaking it, saying, “Within this book is knowledge, long time ago forsaken kn
owledge – banned knowledge – on the melding of electronics and magic.”

  “That can’t be right,” said Box, “electronics are only a recent discovery.”

  “Recent?” asked Harry. “Perhaps a recent discovery for your world, but not for ours…”

  Hearing this, Box was at a loss for words.

  “And more than that,” Harry continued, “it also contains the instructions, the full details for the Philosopher’s Marbles!”

  Box was now totally speechless.

  Harry continued, “From the very first moment I laid eyes on those marbles, I somehow knew there was something special about them, don’t ask me how, Box, I just knew. It was only after I had read that book did I realise the full extent. And I wanted to go back, Box, right there and then, to take all of them, but it was far too dangerous, especially since I had spirited off with his book.” She shook it again. “I knew that it was only a matter of time until he worked out who had stolen it – and the marble, so I had to get away, to somewhere – safe, from where I could plan my next move. That’s why I came to your home – to gain time.”

  “Nice to hear it, I think,” said Box. Then scratching his head, he added, “What bugs me is who charmed them in the first place?”

  “God! Their name should have told you that – Philosopher’s Marbles! Who is the Philosopher here? Come on, even you should be able to work that one out!”

  “I don’t know,” he replied, scratching his head yet again.

  “If I were to say alchemist – would that help you?”

  “Tumbledown!” Box cried out. “Tumbledown is an Alchemist. And a Philosopher and an Alchemist is near enough the same thing!”

  “Hurray, for the Muddle,” Harry said mockingly.

  “But I still don’t understand why he did it!” Box moaned. “And, more importantly, why you wanted them?

  “Why does any despot do such things?” she asked, “Power, of course. The old codger simply did it for power.”

  “And you?” She smiled. “You c, can’t?” Box stammered, afraid to even consider the fact that his cousin had the same intentions.

  “And pray tell me why not?” she asked. “Considering how badly they treated me.”

  “But…”

  “No ifs or buts,” she said. “Let me tell you something… Did you know that once enrolled, and mind you it’s almost always against their will, no student can leave this school?” She waved an arm as if showing him the school for the very first time, “They have to stay here until they have passed every exam, test, trial and tribulation set before them, until they have been so indoctrinated by it’s teachings they are little more than servants, slaves to those who are in control, namely the lord and master, himself, Albert J. Tumbledown?”

  “But this makes you as bad as him,” said Box.

  “As bad? I doubt it! With me, what you see is what you get.”

  “Really?”

  Well, admittedly, not always, but I’m nowhere near as bad as him!”

  “I wonder…” Box mumbled, “I wonder…”

  Ignoring this, Harry continued, “You were right when you said these marbles were charmed – and right here in this room – by the man, the alchemist we all trusted – Tumbledown. That is why he wants to quieten me, and why I must take control of them…”

  Fearing for the future, whether it was controlled by the, allegedly, mad despot Tumbledown or his, perhaps, equally mad cousin, Box struggled with his conscience for the best direction to take. Finally, deciding the devil you know is better then the devil you don’t, he agreed to help Harry, but only until they were safe from the clutches of the Alchemist/Philosopher. “Okay, I’ll go along with you…” he said, “…but only for the time being. Now tell me what do we must do to get away from here…”

  “Don’t worry,” said Harry, “there’s no hurry. The old coot has put up a charm, a spell to conceal this room’s whereabouts, no one will find us.”

  “He might remove it…”

  “He might,” she agreed, “but if he does, everyone will know what he’s been up to. No. We are quite safe in here.” As if to prove her patently wrong, someone or something began banging upon the door.

  “Who’s that, then?” Box asked, shaking with fright, “Father Christmas?”

  For the first time in a long while Harry was openly afraid, and whispering, she said, “That can only be the one person – Albert J Tumbledown himself.”

  “But why all the noise?”

  “Effect, the older they get the more noise they enjoy making, just look at your own parents, to see what I mean.”

  Being reminded about his parents brought it all home to Box, and he wondered where their struggle might end – in happiness ever after or in misery and pain?

  With one last, tremendously loud bang the door came crashing down, and Albert J Tumbledown – The Alchemist/Philosopher – stood at the entrance, his red hair and beard clashing horribly with his crimson hued robes.

  “Seize her,” he ordered, “and also her bag and wand.” A burley teacher grabbed hold of Harry, while another one, confiscating the said articles, handed them to Tumbledown. Harry growled.

  Removing the pouch from Harry’s bag, Tumbledown laughed, and said, “Ah, the Philosopher’s Marbles I presume?” Releasing the cord, he glanced in at its contents. “And all of them accounted for?” Harry growled again. “I am impressed, I am most impressed.” Harry growled for a third time. Satisfied, believing that all of the Philosopher’s Marbles were present and accounted for, Tumbledown secured the pouch to the belt of his robes.

  Although he was so afraid of this man, the Alchemist/Philosopher, Box uttered a small laugh, thinking his name – Tumbledown – so apt, having just tumbled down the door.

  “I said it was foolhardy, Harry bringing a Muddle,” said Tumbledown to the Professor who was standing behind him, “and this proves it, the imbecile is actually laughing!”

  For a second time Box held back on the urge to punch the old man in the face.

  In the hallway, behind Tumbledown and McGonagain, every last child in the school was assembled, and all of them craning their necks to see if the famous Harry Rotter was going to get her comeuppance.

  Turning her attention to Harry, in a shallow semblance, a mockery of carrying out her professional duty, Professor McGonagain asked, “Well, Harry, what you have got to say for yourself?”

  Harry said nothing; she remained stubbornly silent, staring at them in utter contempt

  “And as for you, boy, Muddle,” said the Professor, returning her attention to Box, “what on earth are we going to do with you?”

  What a Fine Mess!

  “What a fine mess you’ve gotten me into!” Harry groaned, when the door of the room they had been thrown into, a dark dungeon, slammed shut behind them.

  “Me? How can you say that?” Box asked, “I never had a day’s trouble in my entire life, before you came along!”

  “Never?”

  “No! Well…apart some of the kids at school teasing me about my height...and how thin I was,” with that his voice trailed off.

  “Perhaps its better like this,” said Harry, “getting it all out in the open, as it were... At least we know what we’re up against.”

  “Up against?” said Box, in despair with his crazy cousin. “We have our backs up against the wall – Is that clear enough for you?”

  “Like up the creek with no paddle?” Harry added, with a laugh.

  “I don’t know what has you so happy,” Box retorted. “We’re locked away in this dungeon, with your wand, bag and the Philosopher’s Marbles having all been seized. And if that were not enough to be worried about, Tumbledown and Goneagain are planning our imminent demise. So if you still think it’s still funny, go on and have a good laugh.”

  She did; Harry began laughing again. “Oh, by the way,” she said, “It’s McGonagain, not Goneagain….”

  Box glared at her crazily.

  “Just though I’d let
you know,” she added.

  “Arrgh!” Box yelled, infuriated by her cavalier attitude to the predicament they were in. Wandering across to the corner, he sat on the floor and lowered his head into his hands.

  “That’s no way to behave,” Harry chided. “Don’t you want to get out?”

  Lifting his head, Box saw his troublesome cousin standing in front of him, smiling, holding something that looked incredibly like a matchstick.

  “What are you going to do?” he said, “Burn the place down, maybe?”

  Smiling all the more, she replied, “Burn – no, magic – perhaps!”

  Then he realised what she had; Harry, his fantastic, stupendous, wonderful cousin was holding the remains of her original wand, and he laughed, he laughed at the sheer good of it. “You’re a genius,” he said, “a bloody genius!”

  “I already knew that,” she replied.

  After waiting for nigh on ten full minutes for Harry to do something – anything – with the remnants of her old wand, Box said, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  “All in good time,” she whispered, her ear hard against the cell door, like it was glued to it.”

  “What are you listening to?” he asked, thinking she was carrying the cloak and daggers stuff a bit too far.

  “Listening for,” she explained, “you should have asked me what I was listening for.”

  “To – for, what’s the difference?”

  “A lot if there happens to be someone out there and nothing if there isn’t anyone. Now will you please be quiet?”

  He was, standing in complete silence, Box waited patiently another five minutes for Harry to begin. Finally raising her hand, she said, “Its okay, they’ve gone.”

  Pulling a face, Box said, “Are you sure you don’t want to wait a bit more, like another hour or two?”

  Ignoring his snide remark, Harry waved her stubby little wand, saying, “Open Ses Me.” And the door opened; like magic, by magic, it creaked slowly open, inviting the cousins out – to freedom.

  Creeping surreptitiously out, Harry glanced back over her shoulder and noticed that Box was still standing inside. “Come on, what you are waiting for?” she asked, confused by his strange behaviour.

  Making his way over to the door, looking out, but remaining stubbornly inside, Box appeared in no hurry to escape.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Harry hissed.

  “I was just thinking…”

  “A Muddle, thinking? – You surely jest?”

  This time it was Box who ignored the snide remark. Speaking quietly, he continued, “Are you really going to use those Philosopher’s Marbles, you know, for your own means?”

  “Yes, I’ve already told you that,” she replied coldly.

  “Then, that being so, I’m staying put, right here.”

  “Her jaw dropped at the sheer stupidity of her Muddlesome cousin. “Okay,” she said, “if that’s how you feel, I’ll leave you here with your precious morals for company.”

  “It is, and that’s fine with me,” Box retorted, folding his arms defiantly.

  “Good, then I’ll be off,” she said, and with that she began creeping down the corridor – alone.

  Box watched his troublesome cousin walk down the corridor and disappear round