others said nothing.
Hissing, growling, spitting blood the demon-beast set its ruddy black eyes upon Harry. And for someone in so dangerous a situation, she was surprisingly calm; in fact she was so calm she began to whistle.
“What is she doing, Miocene?” Box whispered, in puzzlement.
“I have absolutely no idea, she replied. “It’s certainly not anything we’ve learnt at Hagswords.”
Looking backwards, to Tumbledown, to see if he had any idea what she was up to, Box saw him lifting his hands, in surprise.
Harry continued to whistle, in fact she whistled so beautifully her impromptu audience, enjoying it tremendously, began to relax, forgetting entirely about the demon-beast and the threat it posed. Harry continued whistling the beautiful tune for a full five minutes, until she came to a sudden, abrupt stop.
“Wha?” Box mumbled, opening his eyes again, feeling dreadfully confused.
“What’s happening?” asked Miocene, yawning.
Behind them, Tumbledown, also yawning, stretched his bony old arms, wondering if he had really fallen asleep while standing up.
Then they saw it; Box, Miocene and Tumbledown saw the demon-beast mere inches away from Harry – fast asleep. Turning to face them, with a finger on her lips, Harry whispered, “That appears to have done the trick.”
“What did you do to it?” Box asked, scratching his head in amazement at what he was seeing.
“A little bit of magic,” she replied with a wink.
“A little bit of magic – more like a whole LOT of magic,” he said, shaking his head in admiration at what she had done. Approaching the beast, and tentatively touching it, Box asked, “Will it remain asleep?”
“As long as we need it to,” she replied.
“I still don’t understand how you did it,” Box rumbled.
Tapping the side of her nose with a finger, making sure that no one else heard what she was saying, Harry whispered, “Let’s just say that I was able to do it with the some of the knowledge I gleamed from reading a certain old book.”
“Oh,” he replied. “Why didn’t you say that before?”
Tapping the side of her nose again, Harry smiled, and said; “I can’t be telling you everything – now can I?”
“Well,” said Miocene, feeling braver, daring to approach the sleeping behemoth (though stopping short from actually touching it), “what happens next?”
“We get rid of it, of course,” said Harry with a flourish of her wand.
“Just like that?” Box asked, gently patting the beast as he spoke. Although it was still asleep, the beast emitted a low, grumbling sound. On hearing this, Box jumped back in fright.
“No,” Harry laughed, “nothing worthwhile is that simple, Box. I thought you above all people would realise that. In order to return the beast and to reseal the gates of Hades once and for all, we must use all of the powers at our disposal. Let me explain…”
When they were ready, Harry began waving her wand, so also did Miocene and Box. With the four marbles, two to each hand, Tumbledown joined in. This time Harry was absolutely, deadly serious – they were all absolutely, deadly serious as the words of Arcanum began flowing… Speaking together, Harry, Miocene and Tumbledown said, “Crioninous crionates shraholarman skryolait, return the beast and reseal the gates. Crioninous crionocked forever closed, forever locked.”
Waking up from its slumbers, the creature made a lunge for the easiest target – Tumbledown – tearing a bloody gash on his face and knocking him to the floor casting the four marbles far and wide. But unlike the first occasion, the beast made no attempt to pin him down, instead it made a beeline for Box.
Screaming with fear, Miocene shouted, “BOX!”
Thus distracted, the beast turned its attention to her.
Screaming even louder, the would-be girl mystic feared for her life.
“Repeat the words!” Harry yelled to the others. “Come on, WE MUST REPEAT THEM!” she ordered.
It was so hard to do this, with the demon bearing down on Miocene, but they tried, they tried so desperately, saying, “Crioninous crionates shraholarman skryolait, return the beast, reseal the gates, to be forever closed and forever locked – Crioninous crionocked.”
Growling and snarling, feeling the terrible hurt from the Arcanum chant, the demon-beast lashed out at Miocene, striking her, hurling her across the floor, where she was knocked unconscious against the far wall.
“Come on!” Harry yelled. “Your wand! USE YOUR WAND!,” she shouted. Two wands, one electro magical and one stumpy, were trained upon the beast.
“Tumbledown, use the marbles!” Harry shrieked. “USE THEM – NOW!”
Struggling to his feet, and then settling his gown, the old man leant down and began searching for the lost marbles.
“Use some of the others,” Harry shrieked, “TAKE OUT SOME MORE!” Tumbledown began fumbling with the pouch. “What’s wrong with him?” Harry hissed.
“Concussion,” Box explained. “Seen it, before, when dad got a nasty bump on the top of his bald head.”
“Tumbledown has got plenty of hair.”
“Yeh, he has,” Box agreed, “but he’s a lot older than dad.” Saying this, Box wondered just how his parents were faring.
“I, I think I’m ready,” Tumbledown mumbled, stroking his wayward beard, trying to tame it.
“Come on, then!” Harry shouted, fearing for the very real danger they were facing.
Retrieving six marbles from his pouch, Tumbledown clutched three in each hand.
“That reminds me…” said Harry, delving a hand into a pocket, taking out the four marbles Tumbledown had given to her, earlier, “…we need everything at our disposal.”
Sensing they were at an important juncture, that something significant was about to happen, Laughing Larry was unable to contain his excitement, and shooting through the air, he began singing, “I am Laughing Larry-“
“I’M WARNING YOU, LARRY!” Harry barked. Thus chastised, the ghost returned to ground level where, and retreating to a corner of the room, he sat down in silence.
Turning her attention to their fallen comrade, speaking in her usual abrupt manner, Harry said, “Miocene will have to wait. We have more important things to be doing before we can attend to her.” Turning round, she asked, “Box, Tumbledown, are you both ready?”
“Yep,” said Box, holding on tightly to his stumpy wand, and wishing that he had been offered a marble or two.
Seemingly recovered from his recent ordeal, Tumbledown said, “Yes, I am ready.”
Stimulatingly pressing three of the small buttons on her wand, Harry yelled, “THEN DO IT!” and with that, the mother of all attacks was sent screaming towards the demon-beast.
Having no intention of being outdone by a child, Tumbledown, with the use of the six marbles, sent his own attack hurtling at the dark creature.
Box was a Muddle, a silly Muddle with precious little experience of such magical things, but he tried anyhow. Copying, trying to emulate his troublesome cousin, he waved his stumpy wand from side to side, hoping he could to do something to help them smite the beast. And he did, he certainly did, as wave after wave of lightning, flames and blinding flashes of pure energy, shooting out from his wand, attacked the beast with an awesome vengeance, knocking it for six.
“Wow!” Harry whooped. “Where did you learn to do that?”
Like a cowboy with a gun, Box raised the wand to his lips and blew away the last vestiges of smoke filtering from its tip. “Got lucky, I suppose,” he said drolly, feeling incredibly proud for having done his bit.
The war, unfortunately, was far from over, and the beast, shaking off the effects of the three combined attacks, returned with a little surprise of its own. Tears, blisters, balls of concentrated burning fire shot out from the beast, to those who would dare try and stop it. Undaunted, on a roll, each member of the trio returned with another volley of attack, finishing it off once and for all. With eyes wide open, adrenalin pu
mping through veins standing proud, Harry, Tumbledown and Box watched as the demon-beast and the gates of Hades finally faded into nothingness.
“Is it over?” Box asked, not daring to admit it, himself.
“Is it?” said Tumbledown, stroking his errant beard.
Harry wanted to say yes; she wanted so much to say that everything was going to be fine, but she still had the same niggling feeling that she had felt earlier, that something just wasn’t quite right. But being unable to put a finger on it, to say just what it was, she said, “I hope so.”
“You hope so?” said Box, feeling dreadfully disappointment with her reply. “You hope so?”
A Most Unfortunate Turn of Events
“Is she okay, Harry?” Box asked, as she knelt beside Miocene and began checking her over.
“She has a nasty bump on the head,” Harry replied, “but apart from that I’d say she’s just fine.”
Relieved, Box exhaled. “Look, I think she’s coming too.”
Opening her eyes, trying to focus on them, Miocene mumbled, “What are you looking at?”
“A very lucky girl,” said Harry. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” she insisted. “Now, can I get up?”
Lending her a hand, Harry and Box helped Miocene to her feet. She wobbled a bit.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Miocene?” Box asked.
“Yes, I’m fine – really,” she insisted. “Apart from a throbbing headache, that is.” Raising a hand, she felt the bump on her forehead. Wincing with pain, she asked, “Where is that beast-thing, anyway?”
“Gone. We defeated it,” said Box, ever so proudly.
“Gone – how?”
Butting in, bursting Box’s little bubble of triumph, Harry said, “The power of three overcame it, that’s how.”
“So, what happens next?” she asked.
Before Harry was able to offer a reply, a voice from behind, said, “You must now face us – and be defeated.”
Turning round, Harry, Miocene and Box were shocked to see Wan Measly and Professor McGonagain, as thick as thieves, standing side-by-side.
“Are you all right, Wan?” asked Miocene, still feeling rather guilty for having left him lying unconscious upon the floor.
“How did you get in here?” Box asked them suspiciously.
“Never you mind, Muddle,” said the Professor, chipping in with her own ten-penneth worth.
Wondering where she had left her wand, Miocene asked, “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” said Wan, waxing lyrical, enjoying his moment of surprise. “What do we BOTH want?” he said, turning to McGonagain. “Ah, there’s a question...”
“Well?” said Harry. “What do you want?”
Eyeing them with a deep-seated suspicion, Wan’s expression changed from enjoyment – to anger, and raising his voice, he said, “We want revenge, of course!” Then lowering it again, he added, “Oh, and of course, Tumbledown.”
The old man, although glad to see that he still had a chance of winning, was embarrassed that the fulfilment of his ambitions, his dreams, depended upon a mere child and a woman.
“Hah, a fat chance you have of that!” said Harry.
“A fat chance, you say?” Wan whispered slowly, confidently.
“Yes, I do,” said Harry, pulling out her wand, waving it from side to side.
Producing the four misplaced marbles and also his wand, a miserable, brown wooden affair, Wan also began waving it. “Do you think you are up to it?” he asked, as equally threatening.
Producing the four marbles that she had in her possession, Harry hissed, “I’ll always be ready for scumbags like you.”
“In that case,” said the Professor, “it’s fortunate that I have this,” With that she produced her own Philosopher’s Marble; the one Tumbledown had given her, earlier. “And also this,” she added, withdrawing her own antiquated wand, a dismally grey affair.
“Have you forgotten that Harry is not alone?” said Miocene, as brave as she was able, considering she had nothing with which to threaten them.
“The would-be girl mystic is so very brave,” the Professor mocked. “Would you like your wand back?” she asked tauntingly.
Swallowing hard, Miocene said, “You have it?”
“No, I do not,” the Professor, admitted. Then pointing to Wan, she said, “But he does.”
Turning to Wan, Miocene saw him holding two wands, his own dismally dull affair and her bright pink one, and both of them pointing at her.
“In case you have forgotten,” said Box, waving his stumpy little wand, “I am still here!”
“And so you are,” the Professor replied condescendingly, dismissing his threat like so much hot air.
Without wasting another second on talk, Box gave his stumpy little wand a shake, sending a flurry of bright sparklies heading towards the woman.
“So, he is playing,” said the professor, admiring the pretty display that settled like so much shiny snow around her.
“I am not playing,” Box contemptuously replied, shaking his wand for a second time, this time producing a small cloud that also drifted across to the Professor, where it began raining upon her.
Ignoring both sparklies and the rain, the Professor mocked him, saying, “More silly games.” Turning away from him, she turned her attention to Tumbledown. This was a mistake, a big mistake; the Professor had yet again underestimated the ‘silly Muddle’.
As the rain continued to fall upon the Professor, the rain that she had assumed was just water, something strange and most peculiar began to happen. You see, the ‘rain’ was actually a special ingredient, an ingredient that, once combined with the colourful sparklies, turned into incredibly powerful glue, glue so strong it posed a serious threat to her continued wellbeing.
“Wan!” help me,” the Professor, McGonagain, cried out. “My feet are stuck to the floor.” She tried desperately to move them, but her feet were stuck fast. “Wan, hurry!” she cried out, forgetting about her own wand in her panic, as the gluey, sparkly substance began inching its way up her scrawny old legs. “Wan, can you hear me? Wan! I am speaking to you!”
“Wan heard her all right; he heard her loud and clear, but he had other things on his mind, like two wands and four Philosopher’s Marbles threatening his own wellbeing. Yes, he had four Philosopher’s Marbles in his possession, and also two wands, but, being basically a coward, he knew when he was outmatched, so lowering his marbles and wands, he said.” I can’t help you, Professor, I’m sorry…”
Turning to Tumbledown, the Professor called out, saying, “Alfred! You must save me!” Tumbledown, however, having no wish to enter the altercation did nothing. He was quite happy to stand on the sidelines, to see how things played out... Though he did nod at her; he furtively, stealthily nodded at the Professor’s hand, the one grasping that lone marble…
As well as forgetting all about her wand, in her blind panic the Professor had also forgotten about her Philosopher’s Marble, but now that she had been reminded, she remembered them both. Ignoring the sparkly, gluey substance, she tapped the marble with her antiquated old wand, saying, “Falsify my beam, my brain, my foe, and renew my aims my dreams my goals.” Then she tapped it again, letting out a yell so loud it left no one in doubt that she still meant business.
The last word had barely departed the Professor’s thin lips, when her Philosopher’s Marble began to glow. And it continued to grow in brightness until it had completely enveloped her, dissolving the sticky, gluey, sparkly substance inching its way up her legs, and binding to the floor. In little more than a few seconds it had vanished into nothingness – gone.
Smiling, feeling tremendously confident, the Professor said, “Now that that has been attended to, I think it’s about time we sorted this little episode out once and for all. Tapping the marble, she said, “Remove their wands, their means to kill, and return the marbles – head my will.”
The marble, glowing brightly, su
cked both Harry and Box’s wands right out of their hands – depositing them under McGonagain’s evil control.
“Now that’s more like it,” she brooded with satisfaction. Calling the boy, she said, “Wan, come closer.” He obeyed, following her orders without question. “Stand next to me,” she ordered.
“Albert,” the Professor said gently, lovingly. “See what I have done for you,” she waved an arm, presenting the subdued children for his inspection. Remembering the four marbles Wan had in his possession, she said, “Hand me those marbles, Wan.” He obediently gave them to her. Adding the four marbles to her one, the Professor said, “Here you are, Albert. These are rightly yours.” She handed him all five marbles.
After accepting them, the old man returned the marbles to his pouch. Having done that, he did something unexpected, something most unexpected indeed. Addressing the girl mystic, he said, “Harry, child, come closer. I have something to ask of you…”
Bosom Buddies
“Why?” McGonagain cried out, in her utter confusion. “Why speak with her?”
“HUSH, WOMAN,” Tumbledown barked defiantly. Then calmly, quietly, he said, “Harry, please come closer.”
Harry tentatively approached him.
“Harry, it’s a trick! It has to be!” Box whispered, fearing the worst.
“Oh, do be careful, Harry,” said Miocene, edging closer to Box.
McGonagain and the boy, Wan, watched this new development with a growing unease.
“Harry,” Tumbledown spoke slowly, carefully, “it need not be like this…”
Like what?” she asked, in full openness.
“Like we were enemies… See how we have worked together. It was a good experience, was it not?”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose it was,” she admitted cautiously, “…considering how old you are.”
Tumbledown feigned a laugh, and he continued, “Harry, you are like me... You are destined for greatness, for a life far above anyone here.”
Box growled his annoyance at the alluring words Harry was being fed. “Don’t listen to him,” he warned.
Studying Tumbledown’s face, for signs of deception, Harry asked, “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“Hmm,” the old man replied, a hint of a smile creeping onto his wrinkled old face, “you are interested. That’s good.”
“I’m waiting!”
“And impatient, that’s also a good sign. Very well, I will tell you…I propose an alliance – you and me – where anything will be possible.” Harry continued to listen. Tumbledown continued to speak. “And to prove my sincerity,” he said, “I will help you to defeat these.” He pointed to the Professor and Wan.
“Albert, how could you?” the Professor cried out, betrayed.
Looking at Wan, Miocene could see him visibly shaking with fright, all signs of his earlier cockiness having gone – vanished.
Avoiding eye contact with everyone bar Tumbledown, Harry asked, “What do you intend to do with them?”
“I will do anything you want me to do,” he replied, returning the question to her. There was an uncomfortable pause while the girl mystic considered her options.
“Don’t do it, Harry!” Miocene pleaded.
Box, in denial that his troublesome girl cousin
Harry Rotter Page 27
