The Triumphant Tale of Pippa North

by Temre Beltz

  However, I’d also be lying if I didn’t let you know that your letter is the first one I’ve ever received. I hope your heart’s not sinking right now. I may be brand-new to fairy godmothering, but I feel as if I’ve been ready for ages.

  And so, if you’re willing, I’m willing. I would like nothing more than to help your friend find her way home. Note: I know you didn’t use the word “friend,” but only a friend would make a wish on someone else’s behalf, so friend it is. As far as first-time wishes go, “fix-it” wishes are the easiest and least controversial—meaning no special Council authorizations required—to grant.

  So let’s do this! Let’s meet this Wednesday at sunset on the South Peak of Triumph Mountain. I hope the Triumph Mountain part’s not too inconvenient, but work obligations are keeping me indefinitely away from the Merry Meadow. Triumph Mountain really is lovely this time of year (always, in fact), and I think you’ll agree the extra miles are totally worth it.

  Well, I guess that’s it. I’m so excited I could scream! I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do with myself until Wednesday. Twiddle my thumbs, count stars, or maybe bake a cake. It’s always a good time for cake, don’t you think?

  Thanks for trusting me, Oliver. Every fairy godmother has to have her first assignment sometime, and for the Winds of Wanderly to have delivered mine feels just about perfect.

  Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo (sorry, I’ve always wanted to write that),

  Fairy Margaret

  PS: I understand there’s a possibility that given your friend’s circumstances, she may not be able to travel. That’s okay. You can pick up the granted wish and deliver it to her. Also, you never told me your friend’s name. If you get the chance before Wednesday, can you send it to me? It would speed along the granting process. Thanks.

  Oliver slowly lowered the letter.

  When he’d decided to find a real fairy godmother for Pippa, one who could do the things he couldn’t, he thought that would be the end of it. He didn’t anticipate there being more problems.

  Fairy Margaret seemed nice enough. And it really didn’t bother him that she was a newbie fairy godmother—he knew firsthand what it was like to wait on magic—but one very glaring issue remained: How was either he or Pippa going to get to Triumph Mountain?

  Pippa’s whole problem was that she was stuck. Oliver’s was that he didn’t want to leave. He feared that the moment he set even a pinkie toe outside the Swinging Swamp, it would be all too easy for the magicians to shut him out forever. Not to mention—how would he even get to Triumph Mountain? He’d never gone anywhere without Syd, but there weren’t any waterways that could take him that far.

  Oliver sighed. He folded up Fairy Margaret’s letter and slipped it in his pocket. He felt like every time he took one step forward, he went scuttling back about twenty.

  “OLIVER!” a voice suddenly boomed down the hallway.

  Oliver gulped. That did not sound good. It was loud enough even to stir the other magician boys awake. And then, from outside the dormitory window came a sudden explosion of cawing. It was followed by the sharp tapping of beaks against the glass and a flurry of black feathers, as Master Von Hollow’s murder of crows fought for a prime viewing spot.

  Oliver couldn’t imagine what Master Von Hollow’s crows would find interesting about a roomful of bleary-eyed boys, unless—

  The door to the boys’ dormitory blasted open. It was Master Von Hollow! He stood poised in the doorframe with his face twisted into the most gruesome scowl Oliver had ever seen. While the other boys straightened quickly to attention, Oliver wanted to hide under his bed.

  Just behind Master Von Hollow, another door opened up and Headmaster Razzle emerged stumbling down the hallway. His hat was askew as if he’d hastily plunked it on his head, and he was still clad in his pajama shirt and pants, which looked quite rumpled.

  “Victor?” Headmaster Razzle questioned. “What is it? What is going on here?”

  Master Von Hollow lifted a shaking finger in Oliver’s direction. “He tried to ruin us all! He tried to ruin everything!”

  “Who—Oliver?” Headmaster Razzle asked. “I find that hard to believe. Oliver is annoying, but he isn’t capable. Why for the past three or ten days, he’s been locked in the dungeon as a piglet.”

  “Well, it wasn’t a piglet that snuck onto my property and opened the gate for my herd of horses. I’ve been chasing the dumb beasts around all night! If even one of them had been lost it would have been disastrous.” Master Von Hollow stormed at Oliver. He picked him up by the collar of his nightshirt and began shaking him violently to and fro. “Why? Why did you do it, boy? Did someone put you up to this?”

  The murder of crows tapped eagerly on the window, as if there were no greater pleasure than tattling on others. Oliver was certain they were the most hateful creatures in the swamp (which was saying a lot).

  “Now wait just a minute, Victor. Let the boy speak,” Headmaster Razzle said, a hint of panic in his eye.

  Master Von Hollow snorted in disgust before releasing his grip on Oliver so that he dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

  Oliver’s heart pounded in his ears. He didn’t know how he could deny the accusations, but admitting to Master Von Hollow and Headmaster Razzle that he’d tried to sabotage the showcase would be the end of him for sure.

  Master Von Hollow’s gaze swept impatiently around the room. A few of the younger magician boys cowered beneath their blankets, but Nicholas and Duncan nodded importantly while shooting looks of disdain in Oliver’s direction for good measure. “You all live with the rat,” Master Von Hollow said, gesturing at Oliver. “Have you noticed any suspicious behavior from him lately?”

  One by one the boys shrugged. Until Theodore, the seven-year-old who had recently received his magician’s hat and was still trying desperately to impress Master Von Hollow, piped up, “Oliver’s been sneaking letters. He thinks no one can see him reading late at night or early in the morning, but I peeked over his shoulder and saw it myself.”

  Oliver’s rock heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

  “Letters?” Master Von Hollow said sharply, whipping toward Oliver. “Letters from whom? Who could you possibly be exchanging letters with?”

  “I have never seen letters such as these!” Headmaster Razzle said. “How long has this practice been going on? The post doesn’t even delve into the swamp more than three times a year.”

  Sensing that he was on to something, Theodore began to bounce up and down. He jabbed his finger in the air, pointing toward Oliver’s mattress. “He keeps ’em under there. Yeah, I’m sure of it!”

  Master Von Hollow crossed the room in one giant leap. He tossed Oliver’s mattress toward the ceiling, and just as Theodore had said, the two letters Oliver had received from Pippa lay neatly folded. Master Von Hollow shot a venomous look in Oliver’s direction. He snatched the top letter and quickly scanned the contents.

  “Pippa North?” Master Von Hollow said with his mouth agape. He shook his head. He looked at Headmaster Razzle with a bewildered expression. “I—I can scarcely believe it. I don’t know how it’s possible, but he . . . somehow, Oliver has been writing to a Triumphant girl. And he’s been posing as a fairy godmother!”

  The boys began to shift about on their beds, sneaking curious glances at Oliver and whispering among themselves.

  Oliver cried out, “It-it’s not what you think. First of all, I didn’t get the letter from the post. It was delivered by the Winds of Wanderly. And Pippa can’t be a Triumphant, because all she wants is to get home to her family—and I never meant to hurt her!”

  “Oh, because you have the magic required to grant her wish? Is that right?” Master Von Hollow said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Oliver’s shoulders slumped. It sounded so awful coming from Master Von Hollow. “No, I don’t. And I was wrong to do what I did. I just thought that if she gave me some grubins in return—”

  “In return for nothing?” Headmaster Razzle interje
cted.

  Oliver nodded miserably. “In return for nothing, that I might be able to use those grubins to help me get a spot in the showcase.”

  Master Von Hollow’s eyes widened. For a moment, Oliver thought he might possibly understand. But then he crinkled his nose. “Not everyone is cut out to be a magician, Oliver. I’m afraid the more you try, the more you prove to us that we should have tossed you out long ago.”

  Oliver felt his chin begin to tremble. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and a wave of panic rose in his chest. Surely this was it. The moment he’d done everything to avoid. The moment Oliver would lose the only home he’d ever known. He could scarcely breathe.

  But a sudden poof signified the arrival of a third magician in the dormitory. Holding his own letter in hand, Council member Slickabee was hardly a welcome addition. He took one look at the somber faces in the room, rattled the paper in the air, and exclaimed, “So I take it you’ve already heard?”

  “Heard about what?” Master Von Hollow barked back.

  Headmaster Razzle, meanwhile, stared at Oliver with a bewildered expression. “Say,” he began slowly, “if Helga’s curse wore off enough for you to sneak over to Master Von Hollow’s mansion and tamper with his horses, did you happen to make a pit stop in my office along the way? Were you the one who smeared muck all over my desk, and what business did you have in there?”

  Council member Slickabee gasped. “Break into your office?” he said before whirling around to Master Von Hollow. “Tamper with your horses? Is this what those Triumphants meant about a new herd?”

  Master Von Hollow let out an exasperated sigh. “You mustn’t believe everything you hear, Gulliver. Anyhow, my horses are back where they belong—no thanks to you, Oliver.” Master Von Hollow sent a nasty look in Oliver’s direction before turning back to Council member Slickabee. “Now why have you so rudely interrupted us?”

  “Helga Hookeye,” Council member Slickabee said with his eyes narrowed. “She’s submitted an official complaint to the Council for suspicious behavior in the Swinging Swamp, specifically incessant hoarding of the Black Wreath!”

  “But Helga’s a witch!” Headmaster Razzle exclaimed. “Witches don’t care if people break the rules! Witches love when people break the rules!”

  “Yes, but Helga is a witch desperate to tangle with the Triumphants,” Council member Slickabee said. “She’d do anything to get on the Council’s good side, and apparently, it’s working. The Chancellor is already putting together a task force to come investigate the Swinging Swamp!”

  “No!” Headmaster Razzle said. “It can’t be! He—he simply mustn’t. Oh, we’re so close! We’ve waited so long to get out of this place and out of this humiliating role! We’ve—”

  “Enough!” Master Von Hollow bellowed. “Nothing of the kind is going to happen. In fact, as I believe the saying goes, we can kill two birds with one stone.” Master Von Hollow turned to Oliver with an eerie smile. “You don’t belong here, Oliver. And in the past twenty-four hours you’ve made some absurd decisions. But perhaps it is not too late for you to be of some use to our cause. We shall avoid the Chancellor’s inquiry by turning you in to the Council on charges of harassing a Triumphant and”—Master Von Hollow paused and licked his lips—“hoarding the Black Wreath.”

  “But that wasn’t me; that was you!” Oliver burst out.

  “To the contrary, I’m sure there are at least a dozen witnesses at the Twisted Goblet who would attest to your meeting with Helga. People might not notice you, Oliver, but they notice piglets.”

  “But I was only there because you sent me!”

  “And you think anyone will believe a bitter eleven-year-old—the oldest boy never to have received his hat—over the most distinguished magician in the entire swamp?”

  Council member Slickabee cleared his throat. “Although it is up for debate whether owning a mansion or holding a seat on the Council is actually more distinguished. . . .”

  Oliver stared glumly down at his toes and muttered, “But Pippa’s not a Triump—”

  “Silence!” Master Von Hollow chided. “Gulliver, what are the names of the two newest students admitted to Peabody’s Academy for the Triumphant?”

  Council member Slickabee slipped his hat off his head. “Um, let’s see here. Wait, just one second, it’s on the tip of my tongue. . . . Uh, oh yes! Another Bumble boy and—surprise, surprise—my nominee, Pippa North. Though I still don’t know exactly why they picked her, to be honest. Anyhow, why do you ask?”

  Oliver’s feet swayed beneath him. He couldn’t imagine why the magicians would lie about Pippa being a Triumphant, but neither could he imagine why Pippa would lie to him. He’d felt so bad about ruining Pippa’s plans, but was she, meanwhile, ruining Oliver’s? It took Oliver only a half second to realize that couldn’t possibly be true. Pippa didn’t even know Oliver the hatless magician existed—if she was lying to anybody, she was lying to Fairy Dash. What a mess.

  “Do you see, Oliver?” Master Von Hollow went on. “Everything you touch ends in disaster. Well, now you’ll be the Chancellor’s problem, and he can decide what to do with you.” He turned to Council member Slickabee. “Gulliver, do you have those handy cuffs Council members tote about? You know, the ones that zap treasonous citizens to the Capital for questioning?”

  Oliver took a step backward. He glanced frantically toward the window, wondering how much of a running start he would need to break through it, but while he was calculating, the ground beneath them began to shake. Then it began to quake. And one of those nasty sinkholes that plagued the Swinging Swamp opened up right under the dormitory of Razzle’s School for Meddlesome Boys!

  The meddlesome—whoops, I mean the magician—boys all screamed. The superior looks fell right off Nicholas’s and Duncan’s faces as they leaped away from their beds, which were the first things to tumble into the exceptionally large hole.

  “My school!” Headmaster Razzle cried. “Oh, it has happened! This horrid swamp has finally sunk to a new low!”

  Council member Slickabee shook out the folds of his Council cloak as if preparing to conveniently pop right out of the chaos, but Master Van Hollow caught him on the shoulder with a snarl.

  “You mustn’t always disappear when things get messy, Gulliver!” Master Von Hollow hissed.

  All the while, the ground surrounding the sinkhole continued to split into an intricate network of cracks. The walls and the ceiling groaned at the disturbance, and Oliver wondered if the entire school would cave in.

  He also knew that maybe, for once in his life, he had been dealt a rare hand of luck. And so he didn’t squander a moment. When Master Von Hollow turned to deal with one of the littlest magicians, who had attached himself to his leg and was wailing and smearing his nose all along Master Von Hollow’s fine pants, Oliver crept toward the door.

  He scooted right past Headmaster Razzle, who was busy bringing his fingertips to his hat and casting illusion after illusion as if it were possible to intimidate a sinkhole. It wasn’t, of course, but it proved surprisingly helpful to Oliver as he ducked alongside a growling grizzly bear and made it to the door entirely undetected.

  Oliver bolted through the doorway and sprinted down the hall. Even though he heard the others calling after him, he didn’t stop until he burst through the school’s front doors and gulped in breath after breath of muggy air. Then he continued his escape down the wobbly sand hill, leaping spectacularly off the boat dock and landing on Syd’s middle bench. Syd shimmied a greeting, but the knot in Oliver’s throat was so large it was hard to talk.

  After eleven years of trying desperately to fit in, Oliver realized at last that he’d been trying to hold on to a home that he never had in the first place. Oliver wasn’t going to be homeless, Oliver already was homeless. And he had been for years.

  Oliver hadn’t a clue where he was going to go. He still had that appointment with Fairy Margaret, of course, but he was hardly feeling eager to help Pippa after finding out s
he’d (sort of) lied to him. Of all places, she had to be on Triumph Mountain. How could she possibly want to leave a place like that?

  Suddenly, Oliver gasped.

  Pippa was on Triumph Mountain. How did he miss it? Why didn’t it hit him immediately? In less than a few days’ time, the magicians were going to perform their ill-fated showcase on Triumph Mountain on the night of the Triumphant Fall Picnic. Pippa and her family were going to be in the audience. What if something terrible happened to them? If Pippa wanted to have any real chance of getting home, wasn’t it more important than ever that it happen now?

  Oliver couldn’t see any way out of his doom, but maybe not all was lost. Maybe one person could still find their way home. Even if it didn’t get to be him.

  Oliver couldn’t believe he was actually considering it, but he could think of only one way to make it to his appointment with Fairy Dash and secure Pippa’s wish. He’d have to go back to the Creeping Corridor and, more specifically, the Twisted Goblet.

  Oliver briefly shut his eyes and imagined the row of broomsticks leaning brashly against the cabin wall. A row of broomsticks no one in Wanderly would dare to touch, except perhaps a boy with nothing left to lose. When he opened his eyes, his chin was set.

  He reached down and gave Syd a small pat. “Are you ready, buddy?” he asked.

  Reader, I’m hardly certain that I am.

  Thirteen

  Dueling Fairy Godmothers

  Mistress Peabody and the Triumphant students were gathered together in the dining hall for breakfast. The sun poured gloriously through the windows, which was a stark contrast to the epic rainstorm a mere two nights ago and the still-pouting faces of Bernard and Prudence Bumble. Indeed, despite their worst intentions, when a frazzled Pippa and Ernest had returned to Castle Cressida after their chilling magician encounter, they discovered Ernest’s beloved loyal companion, Leonardo, safe and sound, cheerfully scraping his buck teeth along Castle Cressida’s famed golden steps. Remarkably, despite all the very many other ways in which Castle Cressida seemed to be fragile, its paint was apparently goat proof.