Harry Rotter

by Gerrard Wllson

to erase this writing?”

  “I dunno?” Box admitted.

  “Miocene?”

  “Was it Tumbledown?” she replied, ever so quietly, afraid that she was wrong.

  Smiling, Harry said, “No, not Albert J Tumbledown, but his great, great grandfather Alfred K Tumbledown, the very man who was behind the rise of Holdavort. It was his idea to kill and to banish Laughing Larry.”

  “So, is Tumbledown in the boys’ toilet?” said Box, hoping that he was finally on the right track.

  “Yes,” said Harry, “he most certainly is – and he’s after Larry!” Walking out of the hall, she turned and said, “Come on, we have a ghost to save.”

  To Face Their Foe

  On the way to the boys’ toilet, Harry explained to Miocene and Box what Albert J Tumbledown was actually doing there. “We’ve boxed him into a corner,” she said. “And we all know what a rat does when hemmed in. It lashes out – and with a vengeance!”

  Miocene gulped hard. Box listened intently.

  “He wants rid of anything that connects him with the past, he wants to move on,” Harry continued. “That’s why he tried to erase those words from the plaque, and why, even now years later, he wants rid of Laughing Larry.”

  “I still don’t really understand why?” said Miocene, feeling quite foolish for having to ask. “What difference can it make – after all this time?”

  “It makes a difference to Laughing Larry,” Harry replied, without bothering to explain any further.

  “Do you think he will be expecting us?” Box asked.

  “You can bet your bottom dollar he will.”

  “Will Professor McGonagain be with him?” Miocene asked.

  “I am sure of it.”

  “And the pupils?” said Box, remembering them.

  The pupils, Harry had forgotten about the pupils. Would they be there, with Tumbledown? The truth, the plain truth was that she had absolutely no idea. But hiding her ignorance, she said, “I would imagine so.”

  Approaching the toilet door, Harry signalled for them to stop.

  “What is it?” said Box.

  “Did you hear something?” Miocene asked, listening intently for sounds.

  Thinking, wondering, fearing what lay in wait behind that innocent looking door, Harry offered no reply. “Wands at the ready!” she ordered.

  There was no need for her to have said this, because Miocene and Box, already holding their wands, and so very tightly, had them aimed directly at the door.

  “It’s awfully quiet,” Box whispered.

  “I can’t hear Laughing Larry,” said Miocene.

  “It’s too quiet,” Harry replied. “GET BACK!”

  No sooner had she said this did the door burst open, blown clear off its hinges, the tremendous blast hurling the three friends across the floor.

  “Who did that?” Box bemoaned, getting up and rubbing his soreness.

  “Whom do you think?” Harry quipped, reverting to her usual bad manner.

  Then they heard them; they heard the sound of the children, the pupils they had been so worried about. They heard them running, coming closer and closer and closer, as every last child came tearing out from the toilets, in a mad, desperate dash for freedom. Shouting, squealing, shrieking and yelling they rushed headlong towards their would-be liberators.

  “We’ll be killed!” Miocene screamed.

  “That’s what he’s hoping for,” Harry growled. Thinking fast, she waved her electro magical wand, saying, “Mal for ramlos, mal for rot, dispel us from this danger brought, transport us through, and with no harm, inside that room, to face that man.” No sooner had she had finished speaking, something strange began to happen. The three friends losing substance, becoming increasingly translucent, were fading away.

  The panicking children continued to dash out from the room, but they passed right through Harry, Miocene and Box as if they were not even there.

  “Did you see that?” said Box. “They passed right through us!”

  Making an effort to touch him, Miocene’s hand passed effortlessly through Box’s chest. “This is weird,” she said, “really weird.”

  Then, as the remainder of Harry’s chant kicked in, something even stranger began to happen. Slipping, sliding, slithering and gliding Harry, Miocene and Box were drawn though the doorway, into the boys’ toilet, without turning as much as a toe.

  “Wow!” said Box in absolute amazement, as they began to re-materialise. “Now, that’s what I call an entrance!”

  “You might think that impressive, Muddle, but it’s nothing, nothing at all!” Albert J Tumbledown said in tersely in reply.

  In that room, the toilet, Albert J Tumbledown, with Professor McGonagain at his side, stood before the new arrivals like he was king of all he surveyed. “So we meet again,” he croaked scornfully.

  Her eyes locked on all three wands trained upon them, Professor McGonagain said nothing.

  “What have you done to Laughing Larry?” Miocene asked, her eyes scanning the room for the mad ghost.

  “Him?” Tumbledown said disdainfully, “Why you are so concerned with someone who has been dead for so long is a mystery to me. How long has he been dead, anyhow?”

  “Too long,” Harry yelled contemptuously, “far too long!”

  His eyes narrowing, Tumbledown spoke quietly, and he said “So we cut to the quick, I wondered how long it might take, for the girl mystic, the girl hypocrite.”

  Shaking with anger, Harry struggled with her wand, desperately wanting to smite the man she so despised.

  “Have I touched a raw nerve,” he asked, in the same smooth tone Harry so hated. Seeing that he had unnerved her, Tumbledown continued, “Oh, she let’s on to be so honourable, the girl mystic, but did she tell you that she is – a thief?”

  Miocene and Box both nodded that she had.

  “Hmm,” he replied, seemingly taken aback by her newfound honesty. “At least she has done that right.”

  Waving her wand menacingly, Harry spoke coldly, calculatedly, as she too asked, “What have you done with Laughing Larry?”

  “It’s of no use you waving that thing at me, whatever it happens to be,” said Tumbledown, patting the pouch of marbles strung from his belt. “I don’t make the same mistake twice… If you want a fight, this time you will have to cast the first stone…”

  “Just because you have the Philosopher’s Marbles,” Harry snarled, “it doesn’t mean you are invincible!”

  Tumbledown smiled. Harry said nothing.

  “We only want to know if Laughing Larry is alright,” said

  Miocene, hoping to get on his good side (assuming he actually had one).

  Raising an eyebrow, Tumbledown said, “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” Miocene lied (she would have said anything to save the mad ghost).

  “The girl’s a liar,” said Professor McGonagain, whispering into the old man’s ear, “and a bad one at that.”

  Feeling they were getting nowhere, Box raised a hand, and he asked, “Can I say something?”

  “The Muddle would like to speak,” the professor crowed derisively.

  “I have no time for your foolishness,” said Tumbledown, waving his hand dismissively, like he was shooing away a bothersome cat or dog.

  Having no intention of being fobbed off that easily, Box said, “So you don’t want to hear about Harry’s new wand?”

  Don’t try our patience,” McGonagain replied with a hiss. “You heard what he said, Muddle.”

  “In that case,” Box continued, folding his arms in defiance, “you will have to learn the hard way, like when Harry defeats you.”

  “I warned you!” McGonagain hissed. “Go on, Albert; give him a taste of your anger!”

  “Let him speak.”

  Shocked at hearing these words, the Professor protested, “But he’s a foolish Muddle?”

  “I said let him speak.”

  McGonagain remained quiet, but she watched, determined to find fault
in whatever Box happened to say.

  Having considered Tumbledown to be a much harder nut to crack, and especially now, Box was temporarily at a loss for words.

  “Well? Are you going to speak?” he asked, one of his hands resting on the pouch of marbles, ready for deception or trickery.

  “I thought you might be interested in how I made Harry’s wand….” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “You made it? A Muddle?”

  “Yes.”

  Stroking his long beard, Tumbledown said, “Might I be so bold as to ask why you are telling me this?”

  Searching for words, Box stammered, “I, I thought...that if you knew what you were up against, you might agree to resolve our differences amicably.”

  “Paying no heed to this suggestion, Tumbledown said, “When I had it in my protective custody, earlier, I thought it little more than a toy. Perhaps I was mistaken… Go on; tell me more about this wand you have created…”

  “I made it in my bedroom,” Box told him proudly.

  You must dismiss this Muddling child,” McGonagain insisted. “He is an imbecile!”

  Raising a hand, Tumbledown signalled for silence.

  “Well, of all the!” the Professor huffed in disgust.

  “I made it in my bedroom,” Box repeated, “from Harry’s original wand.”

  Turning his attention to Harry, Tumbledown asked, “Is this true?”

  “It is,” she replied, “for all the good that it will do you.”

  “So, you have only the one wand?” he said, appearing to lose interest in it.

  “One, two – they’re only numbers,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

  Tumbledown’s eyes inspected the three wands that were still pointing at him.

  “So, Muddle,” he said with a smirk, “you have only a remnant.”

  “It might be only a remnant,” Box admitted, with a quip, “but