Harry Rotter

by Gerrard Wllson

Holdavort turned on me, when I saw that red glow of his piggy eyes. Box, Miocene – it sent shivers down my spine, it really did.” Harry stopped talking, but this time Box stayed put right where he was. However, the tap that he had turned on began dripping water – drip drip drip.

  “Closer and closer that man/thing came towards me,” Harry continued, “until he was so close I could smell his breath. And it stank; it stank of raw fish and silage. Then he spoke, ordering me to tell him who I was. And I told him; I told it that I was Harry Rotter, a girl who was in no way intimidated by people such as him. I have no idea where I got the courage from, Box, but I got it anyhow.”

  “And then?” Box asked.

  “He threatened me. He said that if I didn’t bow down and grovel at his feet, right there and then, he would do the same to me as he had done to Larry – and then some.”

  “You didn’t grovel?”

  “Of course I didn’t,” she snapped. “What do you take me for – a Muddle?”

  To that remark Box made no reply.

  “I’ll tell you what I did,” Harry said, “I took out my wand and challenged him to a duel, that’s what I did.”

  “Really?” Box asked, in admiration for her tremendous gumption.

  “Yes, really,” Harry replied. “After that, however, it’s all a bit of a blur, if I’m to be perfectly honest…”

  “A blur?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I can remember some things, though, like energising my wand to fend off his first attack. I can also remember, but vaguely, hurling my best at him. It sent him falling to the ground... Can you believe that, Box, he actually fell to the ground from my fist strike?”

  “I can now,” Box admitted. “Please go on.”

  “But he was a hard nut to crack… And he returned with attack after attack; some of them finding their mark, striking me hard – and they burned, they burned me so much.” Rolling up her sleeve, Harry showed him the mark on her arm, saying, “That’s how I got this.”

  “I had thought that was some sort of a tattoo,” he said, in awe at her battle scar.

  “If only,” she replied.

  Pulling her sleeve down, Harry continued, “Like I said, Box, it’s all a bit of a blur. But from what I was told, later, I must have been fighting him – for ages, because no one saw anything of me until the next morning, when they found me unconscious.”

  “How come?”

  “Will you listen?” Harry snapped. “I must have blanked out, because the next thing I can remember was waking up in the school hospital, with nurse Winterbottom looming over me, holding a huge spoonful of castor oil, saying, ‘Ah, so you are awoke, now get this down and into you, it’ll do you good.’ It was horrible, Box – Yuk!”

  The ghost, Laughing Larry, a smile on his face again, began laughing.

  “And Holdavort? What about him?”

  “He’s hasn’t been seen since – not a sign of him.”

  “But you beat him,” said Box triumphantly, “you really beat him!”

  With that he grabbed hold of Harry and gave her a big hug.

  “Stop, stop!” she complained. “I might have won the battle, but the war is far from won.”

  “But you won the battle, you did, and I think it’s fantastic!” Box exclaimed.

  Laughing Larry, having returned to his original demeanour, began flying about the room laughing and giggling more crazily than ever.

  Her story over, Harry said, “Come on, we have a plan to work out, and a war to win…”

  Horrid

  “Where has everyone from out of the paintings gone?” Box asked, as they left the boys’ toilet (and Larry), and began making their way down the deserted corridor.

  Pointing to one of the paintings, Harry replied, “Look, and see for yourself.”

  Approaching the picture, a wonderful summer scene of harvest time, Box saw to his great surprise that everyone – both people and animals – had returned to their original positions. But this time, peculiarly, they took absolutely no notice of him. “Hmm,” he said, “curious…”

  “Satisfied?” said Harry.

  “Yeh, I suppose so,” he mumbled, scratching his head. Then he asked, “But how did they do it, you know, get back in without us hearing them?”

  “Magic?” Harry suggested.

  Pointing, changing the subject, Miocene said, “This is the way to the Great Hall.” And with that she began leading the way.

  “Harry, are you sure we must return to the Great Hall – again?” said Box.

  “I’m afraid so,” she confessed. “If there’s only one thing I’ve learned, during my time here at Hagswords, it’s that the old coot’s consistent. Believe me, Box, he will be there.”

  “Him being there isn’t my concern,” Box grumbled. “It’s what he’s been up to in the meantime that worries me…” After that the two cousins followed Miocene without saying another words.

  The closer Harry, Miocene and Box approached the Great Hall, the greater their fears grew as to what might be laying in wait for them; this time the Muddle had some company with his fears…

  With each painting they passed, where subject after subject religiously kept their eyes firmly within the confines of their particular painting, Box had a sense of foreboding that something terrible was about to happen.

  As Miocene walked on ahead, her thoughts returned to her onetime friend, Wan, and she wondered if he was still lying on the floor, or had he recovered and gone tearing off to find Tumbledown and McGonagain, to tell them what had happened? Perhaps, at this very moment, she thought, they were planning all sorts of nasty surprises to perpetrate upon them. An icy cold shiver ran down her spine.

  Harry said nothing, her mind, set firmly on retrieving the marbles, was thinking ahead to what she might do once she retrieved them…

  Stopping, pointing a finger, Miocene said, “The Great Hall is over there, across that lobby.”

  Their eyes following her finger, Harry and Box stared at the entrance, where the magnificent doors had until so recently stood. Planks of rough timbers were nailed across it.

  Laughing nervously, Box said, “It looks like they’re expecting us, then”

  “They’re barring our way,” Miocene said pessimistically.

  “Not barring,” said Harry, “but slowing.”

  “Slowing?” Box asked.

  “Yes, slowing,” she explained. “Slowing our progress… just long enough, methinks.” Slipping her hand into her jacket pocket, Harry withdrew the stump of her old wand. “Here,” she said, handing it to Box, “you take it,”

  “Me?” he asked, taken aback by this gesture of trust. “How do I use it?”

  “You’ll learn,” she replied, as she unfastened her shoulder bag and took out her new wand.

  Following Harry’s example, Miocene withdrew her own wand, a garish pink affair.

  Trying to ignore the flamboyant colour, Box said, “So we attack, and with all three wands we might be in with a chance?”

  “Attack?” said Harry, raising a disapproving eyebrow. “Not quite there yet, are you cousin?”

  With no idea as to how he was expected to take that remark, Box said, “Pardon?”

  “You persist in thinking aggressively,” Harry grumbled. “You must remember – and learn, that whatever you sow so shall you reap…”

  “Still dreadfully confused, Box repeated, “Pardon?”

  “Oh, those Muddle teachers have a lot to answer for,” Harry bemoaned. “If you think ‘attack’, the law of the Universe, the Mystic Law, will return it to you.”

  “Then how do we fight?”

  “Let him attack, first – that’s all. Then, in doing so, he will have empowered us,” said Harry, with a flourish of her wand.

  “Are you sure?” said Box, thinking it a big risk to be taking if she happened to be wrong.

  “I’m sure – believe me,” she insisted. “That’s what I did, before, when I faced Holdavort.”

  “I thought you cou
ldn’t remember?”

  “I can remember some of it…”

  Box didn’t like it, her idea, but with no better suggestion to offer, he reluctantly agreed. “So, how do we start,” he asked.

  “With you, of course” she said impassively.

  “With me?” he asked, bemused by the very suggestion. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the weakest.”

  “I’m as strong as an ox!” he protested with a vengeance.

  “”An ox – perhaps,” she replied, “but not as strong as a mystic, child or otherwise.”

  “But…” he complained, his words, however, falling on deaf ears.

  Now let me get this straight,” said Box, “you want me to go out there,” he pointed to the boarded up entrance, “and call Tumbledown? And get him to come out, to see me?”

  “That’s about it,” Harry concurred.

  “And when, or should I say if he comes out, I – we just wait until he makes the first strike?”

  “Yes, that’s it,” said Harry, “you’ve got it. Go on with you.”

  “Am I missing something?” Box asked, flabbergasted at how fast things were proceeding.

  “I don’t think so,” said Harry, her attention returning to the boarded up entrance. “Now go on – go!”

  Turning to Miocene, Box could see that she was concerned, but he knew, deep down, that she would side with another mystic, if push came to shove, so biting the bullet, he made his way across to the boarded up entrance. And if anything did happen, he thought – and he had to face facts that they wanted something to happen, he did have the short stump of a wand to protect him, didn’t he? Holding onto it tightly, he laughed, Box laughed as he walked across the lobby to the boarded up entrance…

  Watching, with a growing sense of