Harry Rotter

by Gerrard Wllson

concern, Miocene asked, “Is he all right?”

  “He is,” Harry replied. “Unfortunately, that’s his normal way of behaviour.”

  Standing in front of the entrance, Box tried to see through the planks barring his way, but it was almost impossible, there were simply too many of them for him to have any hope of seeing clearly. All that he could see were a few vague shadows moving about inside the hall. Gathering what little courage he had left at his disposal, Box shouted, “Hey, you old coot!”

  “What did he call him?” said Miocene.

  “Harry laughed, and she said, “He’s learning, the Muddle is actually learning.”

  Box waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming, so he called out again, “Hey, Tumbledown, I’m talking to you! Or are you afraid to show yourself?”

  Hearing this, Harry laughed again.

  Box listened, thinking he was surely going to get a response from that outburst, but he heard nothing. Becoming ever more riled, Box shouted for a third time, saying, “Tumbledown, I think you’re hiding behind a woman’s skirt! That’s it,” he continued, “you’re hiding behind Professor McGonagain’s skirt, you old buzzard!”

  With absolutely no warning, the planks of timber barring the entrance exploded with such tremendous force they knocked Box clean off his feet.

  Seeing this, Miocene made an effort to go help, but holding her back, Harry said, “No, leave him be, we must do this the right as planned.”

  A dazed and confused Box tried to pick himself up, only to be struck by a blast of pure energy, screaming out of the newly liberated entrance, hurling him across the lobby like he was no more than a piece of brushwood.

  “He’ll be killed!” Miocene yelled. “Harry, we must go help him!”

  “We can,” she replied, much to Miocene’s relief, “now that the first blow has been struck…” And with that Harry raced to the aide of her fallen cousin.

  “Wait for me!” Miocene shouted, running after the troublesome girl mystic.

  Helping Box up to his feet, Harry asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I, I think so,” he replied. Then noticing the gaping hole in the doorway, he asked, “Who did that?”

  “Our old friend, of course.”

  “Tumbledown?”

  “Yep, it seems you really rattled his cage.”

  “I suppose I did get a bit carried away,” Box admitted sheepishly.

  Catching up, Miocene said, “Box, are you okay?”

  “Yes, it appears so,” he told her, then pointing through the entrance, he said, “It looks like I’ve touched a raw nerve.”

  “Hmm,” she grumbled, “I think he’s got plenty of them.”

  Coughing, drawing their attention, Harry asked, “Are you both ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Box declared.

  “And me” Miocene added.

  Walking through the entrance, Harry said, “Then let’s go do it…”

  Inside, within the Great Hall, there was no sign – of anybody. “I thought you said he’d be here?” Box grumbled.

  “I did,” Harry replied.

  “Then where is he?”

  “Somewhere?”

  “Somewhere?” said Box, frustrated yet again by Harry’s abstract use of the English language.” Glancing around the hall, he mumbled, “This place is spooky.”

  Too afraid to speak, Miocene said nothing.

  From the very second the first blow had been struck fairly against them, Harry had been itching for a fight – she always loved a good scrap, but seeing no one, she hissed, “Where is the old coot?”

  “And McGonagain,” Box added, “I don’t trust that woman.”

  Picking up enough courage to speak, Miocene asked, “Where are all the pupils?”

  “There’s no one,” said Box. “No one at all…”

  “Not everyone has gone,” a voice suddenly boomed out.

  “W, who said that?” Miocene stammered in fright.

  “You might well ask,” the voice boomed out again, “considering I will be the last thing you will ever see.”

  “See?” Harry roared into the seemingly empty hall. “We can’t see – anyone. Perhaps you are as frightened to show your face as Tumbledown and his Misses are.”

  Although he was shaking with fright, Box laughed hearing this, and he imagined Albert J Tumbledown and Professor McGonagain walking down the isle on their wedding day, wearing their long school robes, hats and all. And whispering to Harry, he asked, “They’re not really married, are they?”

  Giving him a particularly cold stare, Harry gave Box her answer – of course they were not.

  “Well?” Harry roared out again. “Are you going to show yourself?”

  Materialising out of thin air, an enormously tall, bearded man, wearing open toed sandals and the brightest coat you could ever imagine, appeared before them. And he was huge, at least twenty feet in height, perhaps more. His coat was so bright they were forced to shade their eyes. “So,” he laughed, “Yous think I am frightened – of pipsqueaks.”

  The three children, dumbstruck, said nothing.

  “Ah, has the cat gut yours tongues?” he asked, laughing and bellowing with delight.

  Finding her courage, Miocene yelled, “The cat has got nothing, and nor will you, after we have finished with you! – And who are you, anyway?”

  Still laughing, but this time it was a deep belly laugh, the giant enjoyed the moment of fine entertainment. In fact he enjoyed it so much tears of laughter ran down his face. “Stops,” he said, “I haave to speaks with yous.” Trying to hold back the laughs, he said, “My name is Horrid.”

  “Horrid?” said Miocene, “What sort of a name is that?”

  His laughing coming to a abrupt halt, the giant said, “A nasty, grimy one, I am sorry to be informing yous.” The atmosphere suddenly changed from warm to decidedly chilly. The giant continued, “Now I haave to tell yous,” he said. “That I am not a liking to yous very much.”

  “Why?” Box asked, stepping closer to the huge figure. “Why don’t you like us?”

  “Yeh,” said Miocene, rubbing her hands trying to warm herself, “Come on, and spit it out.”

  Scratching his chin through the dense tangle of his grey beard, Horrid, said, “I am not a liking to yous – because I haave been told not to be a liking to yous.”

  “Do you always do everything that you are told?” Miocene asked, feeling braver by the second.

  “Yes, always,” he replied, scratching his beard for a second time. “I don’t wants to be a hurting to yous, but I must do it. I am sorry, but that is just the ways that it happens to be.”

  “By whose orders?” said Harry, speaking up, surprising them all, for you see she had been strangely quiet until then.

  Turning to face her, the giant began laughing again, “So this is the pipsqueak,” he chortled, “who is causing all the commotions and the mayhems!”

  Standing firm, stretching her arm to full length, Harry pointed her electro magical wand defiantly at Horrid.

  “So yous thinks a pipsqueak thing like that make the harms to me?” he asked, taking out his own wand, a huge affair, over three feet in length.

  Having no intention of letting him get away with so threatening an act, Miocene and Box pointed their own wands at the giant.

  “Ha, ha,” Horrid laughed when he saw this, “I so enjoys a good fight!” Then waving his wand in a loose arc, he created a shimmering mass of bright sparklies that fell ever so gently to the floor around Miocene.

  Having no experience of such things, Box saw no danger in it, and for a moment he even admired the beautiful display. But when it encircled her, and began tightening around Miocene’s body, capturing her within its deadly embrace, his heart skipped a beat. “Harry!” he yelled. “Harry – do something!”

  “So, the Muddle boy is to be learning,” said Horrid. “But it’s too late, because Muddle is next one on the big agenda!” With that he waved his huge wand, and another sho
wer of sparklies descended onto Box.

  “Harry!” Box yelled, “Do something! Harry!”

  Unbeknown to Box, Harry was already doing something. Slowly, calmly and quietly she was chanting in Arcanum…

  To Fight a Giant

  “Crioninous crionan shrahfularmo skryfulamd, attack this Horrid giant right now, scryfularmo scry – it’s done.” Standing back, Harry waited for the terrible vengeance that she had summonsed, to begin. She waited and she waited and she waited, but nothing happened, nothing at all. Raising her wand, she inspected it, thinking there might be a loose connection, and then shaking it, she bemoaned, “Stupid Muddle technology! I must have been out of my mind, thinking I could depend on such a primitive tact!”

  Horrid, on the other hand, had no such need for Muddling skills. He had his own wand, all three feet of it, with which he was about to reap his own terrible vengeance. “The pipsqueak is so funnys,” he boomed. “So funnys it is almost a pity to be snuffing her out.” Waving his wand, though this time in a circling motion, the giant created a ring of glowing white light that began drifting menacingly towards Harry.

  Powerless to help, but still able to speak, Box shouted, “Harry – watch out!”

  Ignoring his cries Harry concentrated on what she was, unbeknownst to Box, now doing. Whilst she had no idea why her chanting – the Arcanum – had failed, she still believed in its power – and so much. Thinking fast, she shook her new wand yet again, and growled, “You had better work this time.” Then pressing the fourth button, she whispered, “Mal for rino, mal for ram, create another giant man, of blood and bone, and skin and teeth, to fight, protect and destroy that heap.” Pressing the very same bottom for a