Harry Rotter

by Gerrard Wllson

was capable of agreeing to such an unholy alliance, remained strangely silent.

  “Well?” Tumbledown asked, stroking his errant beard, with a growing sense of satisfaction that his long-time plans were finally coming to fruition.

  “I’m still thinking about it,” Harry replied.

  “As long as that is all you are thinking of,” he warned, patting the pouch of marbles, letting her know, and in no uncertain terms, that it was he who was the boss.

  Seeing this, knowing full well how headstrong his girl cousin actually was, Box snapped out from his quandary. “She won’t like being told that,” he whispered, “she won’t like it one bit…”

  Unfortunately, whether or not Harry liked it never came into the equation, because, offering Tumbledown her reply, she said, “I will tell you what you can do with them…”

  “Yes, child. What is it?” he asked.

  “You can let me deal with them.”

  “You?”

  “Yes,” she insisted, “I’ve wanted to get even with that old bag – for ages. And as for that mousy Measly, I know exactly what I would like to do with him.”

  There was another pause as Tumbledown, stroking his beard yet again, studied the girl mystic. In the end, after several minutes of intense scrutiny, he agreed, saying, “Very well, it’s a deal.” Offering Harry his hand, he said, “Shall we shake on it?”

  This time it was Harry’s turn to be doing some scrutinising, and she gazed thoughtfully into the timeworn old hand stretched out before her. Then placing hers against it, she shook it with vigour. “It’s a deal,” she said. Seeing this, Box’s heart sunk. Miocene’s almost broke.

  “Albert, what are you doing?” the Professor cried out, as she watched Harry and her beloved Principal continue their discussions about her (and the boy’s) impending demise.

  “Wan, go over to Miocene, “said the Professor, in sheer desperation, pushing him away from her, “and see if you can get through to her. Perhaps she will listen and persuade Harry to see reason.”

  Following orders, Wan approached his fellow pupil. “Miocene,” he said.

  “Get away from me you, you – traitor,” she shouted, fighting to control her anger and contempt with him. “GET AWAY!”

  Turning towards McGonagain, Wan also suffered from her fury. “Don’t you dare come back here,” she hissed, “until you have done what I asked you.” Turning to face Miocene, Wan suffered another mouthful of abuse from his fellow pupil. Frightened, confused, a mere shadow of his earlier self, Wan dithered in between the two furious females, unable to come up with a way out from his predicament.

  “We have wasted far too much time on fighting,” said Tumbledown, who, pointing to the Professor and Wan, then added, “Finish them off by whatever means you prefer, but I warn you – make it good!”

  Make it good, that’s what the old man had said, to make it good. Harry had every intention of making it good; she had every intention of showing them just what she was capable of doing, of achieving, when given half a chance… And the old man had given her far more than half a chance, he had offered her a golden opportunity, to gain that which she had always wanted, had always craved for – power!

  Standing, facing Tumbledown, Harry watched the undiluted anticipation creep across his face. She watched him evolving, becoming far more than a power-hungry megalomaniac, she watched him become – her allie!

  Turning away from the old man, to the Professor and the traitor pupil, Wan, Harry said, “Any last requests?”

  “Don’t do it, Harry,” Miocene pleaded. “Show them compassion.” But Harry stonewalled the girl, totally ignoring her cries for leniency.

  “Well?” she asked, a second time. “Any last requests?”

  “Please don’t do it,” the boy pupil cried, sobbing his heart out. “I am so sorry, please forgive me!”

  “Don’t be such a wimp,” McGonagain chided. “She has no intention of harming us. The girl mystic – how I hate calling her that – has no guts, no guts at all, I tell you.”

  “No guts, have I?” said Harry, as she began waving her wand in a most agitated manner. “We shall she who has no guts,” she said, as she began chanting in Arcanum.

  Unable to remain silent for a second longer, the ghost, Laughing Larry pleaded, “Please don’t do it, Harry!” Harry cast him a glance so cruel it would have curdled butter. Undaunted, the ghost cried out for a second time, “NO, DON’T DO IT, HARRY!” But she already had. Wan Measly was gone, vanished in a puff of smoke.

  Turning her attention to the Professor, Harry pointed her wand at her, saying, “That only leaves you.”

  This time the Professor was remarkably less vocal. Gulping hard, she squeaked, “Harry, child, perhaps I was a little bit hard on you. Perhaps we can begin again, to make amends, to start anew? How say you? How do you feel about this, huh?”

  She liked it; Harry enjoyed being in the driving seat, in control. “What makes you think I will believe even one word that you say?” she asked.

  Squeaking again, the Professor, said, “Child, Harry, when you reach the midterm break you will look back on all this,” she fluttered a few fingers in front of her, “and you will see what a mistake it was.”

  “You call that an answer?” Harry stormed, “Box’s cat could have thought up a better one than that!” Waving her wand ever faster, Harry recited a few words of Arcanum. There was another puff of smoke, larger than the previous one, and the Professor disappeared into nothingness – gone.

  In the corner of the room, the ghost, twitching momentarily, laughed uneasily.

  Stowing her wand, Harry wiped her hands like she was wiping off a nasty substance. “That showed her,” she said, satisfied that McGonagain had got what she deserved.

  Box and Miocene, having watched this whole episode with incredulous eyes, could hardly believe what they had just witnessed, that the girl mystic, Harry, had actually done away with two people, both of them admittedly bad, but still two living, breathing beings.

  “Hmm,” said Tumbledown, who had been watching Harry’s performance, with an intense interest. “Excellent. Perhaps a bit theatrical, but you are young, so that is to be expected. I can see that we are going to have an interesting time together, a most interesting time indeed.” Harry offered Tumbledown a watery smile.

  To Have Designs on the Marbles…

  “Would you like me to dispose of these two?” said Tumbledown, pointing dismissively to Miocene and Box.

  “No,” Harry replied, “I have something altogether more dastardly planned for those, than simply being rid of them.”

  Relishing the thought, he said, “I’m intrigued...”

  “However, for the time being,” Harry continued, “I’d prefer to keep them close by, where we can keep an eye on them.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Tumbledown said, “I do hope that you are being totally honest with me...”

  Also raising an eyebrow, Harry replied, “As honest as I’ve ever been.”

  Apparently satisfied, the old man withdrew one of the marbles from his pouch, and then twirling it in the palm of his hand, he sent a binding spell winging its way towards Miocene and Box, embracing them within its powerful embrace. They were going nowhere.

  “What are you doing?” said Harry.

  “Just securing them,” he explained. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. We don’t want them running all over the place, now do we?”

  “When I get my hands on you!” Box yelled.

  Twirling the marble for a second time, Tumbledown dispatched another spell, gagging Miocene and Box. They would be saying nothing for the foreseeable future.

  Returning the marble to his pouch, Tumbledown said, “Now that that has been attended to we must discuss our plans for the future.”

  Looking quite peeved, Harry said, “Hold on a minute! Have I missed something?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said have I missed something?” she asked him again.

  “I’m sorry, but I
have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Harry,” the old man honestly replied.

  “No idea?”

  “No – none,” he said, extending his hands for added emphasis.

  Looking put out, very put out indeed, Harry explained, “If I said Philosopher’s Marbles, would that jog your memory?”

  “The Philosopher’s Marbles, what about them?” he asked, protectively patting the little pouch strung from his belt.

  “Just that,” she explained, nodding at his hand that was now resting upon it.

  Then the penny dropped, and he understood Harry’s annoyance. Unfortunately, understanding can be a world away from compromise, a fact that Harry was about to witness first hand. “I thought we had an understanding, that we are partners – a team?” said Tumbledown. “Am I to understand you are not happy with this arrangement, that you have designs on these?” He patted the little pouch once again.

  “You know full well that I want those marbles,” Harry hissed. “That I have wanted them from the first moment I laid eyes on them.”

  “But that is impossible,” he replied. “The very suggestion is ridiculous, it’s a none runner – you know that.”

  “None runner – bah, humbug,” Harry spit out, as the mood between the two partners became decidedly chilled.

  Although immobilised and gabbed, Miocene and Box watched this development with interest and mixed feelings; of hope but also a great deal of fear.

  All but forgotten, Laughing Larry continued to stare doggedly into the corner of the room.

  This stalemate seemed to go on forever, with neither Harry nor the