The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix

by Nathan David Ward

  The

  PROFESSOR

  And The

  STARLIGHT PHOENIX

  The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix

  Copyright © 2019 by Nathan David Ward

  Cover design copyright © Nathan David Ward

  The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix by Nathan David Ward

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Dedicated to Barbara Leadbitter,

  Who passed away during the writing of this novel.

  Barbara was my mums much loved Aunt, who sparked the initial inspiration for this story when she bought me the wonderful Prisoner of Azkaban book as a young lad. That book will forever be treasured, along with the many fond memories of her life.

  CHAPTER 1

  Endearing Beginnings

  A small boy came running, panting, gasping for air as his tiny wire-like frame emerged from behind the shadows of the narrow side alley. His cheeks were glowing bright red from the cold that clung to his tender flesh as he came to a sudden stand still, glaring up towards the evening sky which was filled with oranges and swirly pink clouds while the sun was setting, descending beyond the distant mountain tops - tops which were covered by a thick layer of fluffy whiteness, like the village that surrounded the young boy, who was dressed appropriately, wrapped within a multi layered duffle coat and hand knitted bobble hat which matched, even down to the teenie fluorescent orange threads swirling around the seams.

  The boy began to follow the long cobbled street ahead, glancing up towards the tall cylindrical chimney stacks as they passed on by with every stride, disappearing behind him amongst the white, with only a foot length of clarity until everything became consumed by the frosty mist that was sweeping through the frail village.

  Billboards seemed to have warned about the coming wintry storm but it was the first time in ten years that it had actually been accurate, which took most of the locals by surprise as they peered out of their windows, sat in the comfort and warmth of their homes, unexpecting and wide eyed to the icy flakes which were falling against the young boy's face as he ran past their window sills, crunching in to the spotless blanket of snow as he headed towards a frozen metal stairwell, attached to the street corner, beside the Reeds bakery, leading down to another row of shops where villagers suddenly appeared en masse.

  They must have been stocking up on essentials before the shutters closed permanently for the Christmas period, the boy thought as he carefully climbed down the stone steps, avoiding the slippery patches of ice which were dotted along the slabs, while glancing at the people that happened to look like ants from a distance, blurred by the mist, darting in and out of shop fronts clutching onto their baskets and bin bags, all filled to the brim with luscious mouth-watering foods and novelty toys.

  “Oi! Charlie!,” called a voice from a distance, which immediately stopped the boy dead in his track. He quickly turned as a small group of children appeared in the middle of the misty cobbled street, stood underneath the orange warming glow of a street lamp as snow crystals settled upon their hats and hoods, fluttering down on the gentle evening breeze.

  The skies darkened and pinks diluted against the vastness of the night. They waited for a moment, then Charlie, the small boy with the knitted bobble hat, emerged back on to the top step with his right hand grasped around the cold silver handrail of the stairwell, cowering ever so slightly.

  “Oliver, I told you not to follow me...this could be dangerous!,” said Charlie with his eyebrows raised, staring back at his friends awkwardly.

  “We know, that’s why we told you not to go out alone!”

  “But you never told me why, I had to find out the hard way.”

  “You shouldn’t have found out at all,” claimed Oliver, staring with disappointment reflecting in his eyes.

  “But why, why am I never included? It’s not fair!,” cried Charlie, still clung to the handrail as his so called friends remained at a distance.

  “Charlie, you have no idea what you’re dealing with here, rules are put in place for a reason, we’ve already been over this.”

  Charlie looked down at the ground, reminded of how he had always felt, never being included, falling between the cracks of friendship and having to persevere to discover the secret enchantments surrounding the frail village of Vinemoore, but it never stopped him even with the constant warnings from the others, he just couldn't understand what made him so different, so unworthy of an equal opportunity to have fun like the other children. They didn't mean to sound nasty, they were just following instructions, instructions passed down by their guardians, but Charlie had never been told anything - his parents ran the local bakery, they were always up at the crack of dawn to get the dough in the ovens. Everyone loved a fresh loaf of bread with their morning brekkie in Vinemoore, but they had never told Charlie to keep a secret from his friends, they always told him that “Honesty will always make you the greater man, Charlie Reed, as long as you’re fighting for the right cause, honesty will always prevail and you can trust that,” they had stood by those words since his earliest memory of childhood, he was nine years old now and still abided by it, as much as he could, not knowing any better but Oliver insisted that he stopped. Charlie could tell that the ordeal was reaching the end of its tether, Oliver was no longer smiling, concern now glistened in his eyes as he patiently waited for Charlie to make his way back towards them, back in the direction of his home.

  “You know what has to happen now, don’t you?,” Oliver asked rhetorically, slowly reaching into his deep jacket pocket.

  Charlie looked across from the steps as a teardrop fell from his face and against the snowy surface with a splutter.

  “Please, it'll only happen again...”

  “Oh, I'm counting on it,” replied Oliver, pulling a long wooden object from his coat. He held on to it tightly as if his life depended on it, slowly raising it and pointing it towards Charlie who stood opposite him with tear trails wet along his cheeks. knowing what had to come next. He glared at the pointed tip of the shaft, admiring its vine-like detailing spiralling from the handle area which had a subtle trace of ivory that glistened as it remained clenched by Oliver, while Charlie tried to recollect his memories, remembering how it had felt the last time - trying to, at the very least, as figures of his imagination began to cloud, then vanish as if by magic an alluring turquoise glow begun to illuminate the frosty night sky that had fallen into darkness...

  “It’s here! I told you I was telling the truth!” yelled Charlie, with his face all a blaze, wide eyed as trails of blue pulsated around the clouds overhead, dancing, and twirling to the rhythm of the winter wind that whistled by. The mass of children revolved and Oliver turned his head to look beyond his shoulder with his arm still outstretched, wielding the pointed stick of wood like a weapon. His eyes suddenly widened like Charlie's had. They were astonished and frozen like waxwork as it passed, casting its ray of light through the endless blackness, like a beacon of hope, or perhaps a statement of terror as the very same expression transitioned on to the children's faces that were watching as
the large winged creature descended under the path of moonlight and faded beyond the falling snowflakes that littered the distant landscape, vanishing with all but a sprinkle of turquoise sparkle that lingered like twinkling stars.

  “We have to tell Papa!,” cried Oliver, turning and grabbing on to his younger brother beside him, “Run along now, inform Papa, tell him what you saw!” he concluded, watching as he scampered away in the direction that they had originally come, hopping over the mushy ice and disappearing inside, slamming the hard wooden door behind him.

  By the time Oliver had turned back around to deal with Charlie, he was nowhere to be seen. He had seized the moment but at the price of being seen as the others pointed towards the icy stairwell. Oliver frowned, before signalling with a wave of his hand, giving chase like a pack of rodents, scrambling over to the handrail and glancing down as Charlie hastily ran out of sight, delving in to the horde of oncoming villagers with their overflowing baskets of goodies and oblivious to the mystical creature that had just flown dangerously overhead, flapping away from the village with its entourage of youngsters just a few blocks behind in hot pursuit, scuttling along the market stalls and weaving in and out of shoppers, narrowly avoiding collision as they stepped out into the cold festive street.

  Charlie came to a halt and clung on to the corner of a market stand, glancing back at his pursuers as they scrambled out of the crowd, snowballing to the floor in search of Charlie as he made his daring escape.

  His legs had begun to tire and ache, but his heart empowered him onwards as he picked up the pace to his own discomfort, racing down a dim lit side alley with his sights set on the night sky as the turquoise glow strayed into the distance, towing Charlie forward with every heavy flap of its enchanting wings.

  The pathway was free of ice, snow had begun to melt against the corners of the brick work as Charlie made a point of reverting his gaze, checking back on the cobblestones that lay ahead of him as he followed the direction of the winged creature that was now disappearing beyond the distant chimney stacks. Where the energy faded, so did the guiding light, returning the narrow streets into twilight once more, suppressing Charlie's ability to see as he stepped out from the alley and into the centre of the Vinemoore courtyard.

  Here the odd shaped benches looked like gravestones from afar and the lack of lighting wasn't exactly helping as he held out his hands to feel his way towards the middle of the opening where he knew a rather tall and beautiful oak tree stood. It had been there all his life - and a few lifetimes before that. It was a magnificent peaceful tree, Charlie could tell it apart from the simple touch. It’s grain was unlike any he had studied before, so as he bumped his snout against the solid bark and wrapped his arms around its trunk, he knew he was headed in the right direction, even its sap smelt like no other, it was natural and fresh, much like the crystallized spell that was whistling through the long spindly branches of the tree.

  The boy continued on his way, guided by what was left of the shards of moonlight rays as they softened the sight of oncoming foliage and shrubbery that leant out from their resting places like the risen dea - who commonly rose within Charlie's nightmares, but he was certain they didn't exist as he pushed aside his fears and broke his way past the frozen greenery that was blocking his path. There was no sign of Oliver and his followers. This part of the village seemed unusually deserted as Charlie nervously wondered what the time could have been, disregarding the watch that was strapped around his wrist, because truth be told he knew his parents would offer some extra allowances, it was Christmas Eve after all and they’d be busy around the house preparing for the festivities that Christmas Day would bring. Another thirty minutes wouldn't hurt, Charlie decided as he broke in to a comfortable jog, observing the snow veiled vehicles and weary labourers closing up shop as he passed on by, sporting a heartwarming smile while the raw adrenaline and excitement raced about him, prompting him to catch the back of the turquoise trail that sparkled in the sky up ahead.

  Charlie leapt, his legs bounced like springs along the frozen pavement, slipping and sliding, dashing and weaving around the statue pedestrians as they flocked from one window to another, glaring at all the gifts and jewellery that sat seductively in their luxurious velvet cradles, brainwashing the typical human minds with their elegant charm. They sighed intently, dazzled by the shop display as Charlie pushed his way past, mistaking Mr.Occamy for a shadow as he stepped out from behind the pharmacy porch and into the path of Charlie, who was beyond the point of return as he collided with the man, knocking the brown paper bag from his hand and crashing at his feet.

  “Ouch!,” Charlie remarked, rubbing his hand against the back of his head which was thankfully cushioned by the heavy knit hat.

  “Where are you headed in such a hurry, does your mum know you’re this side of the village?” asked Mr.Occamy as he knelt down beside Charlie to make sure he was okay, disregarding the medication that was sprawled all over the pavement in little plastic bottles.

  “I’m sorry Mr, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble, I was just chasing the bird, didn’t you see it!?” he asked, reaching for the bottles that rattled as he dropped them back inside the brown paper bag.

  “I didn’t, what did this bird look like?”

  “It was enormous! It’s wings were the size of a house, Mr.Occamy!” Charlie's eyes lit up as he painted the image of the enchanted bird back against his mind, “It made the skies sparkle with stars of turquoise,” he added, as he climbed back on to his feet. “I shouldn’t really let it get away, I was right on its tail, might never get the chance to see it again!”

  Mr.Occamy smirked.

  “You enjoy yourself, Charlie. Just don’t do anything or go anywhere silly,” he advised as he picked the paper bag off the ground and ruffled Charlie's hat.

  As the boy scurried away, the tall slender man stood observant, at one with his responsible instinct of being a parent, just making sure the coast ahead looked safe and clear enough for Charlie before he turned back towards his home, clutching tightly to the paper bag and pulling his scarf up around his mouth.

  “He had better look after himself,” he thought silently as he traipsed his way up the village, through the heavy downpour of icy flakes.

  Robin Occamy was a pharmacist. He had built quite the reputation in and around the village of Vinemoore, making it his sole duty to aid and assist the unwell to the best of his unprofessional ability. Occamy had his own concoctions, experiments that were frowned upon by most, but there was always the select few who simply couldn't get enough, like an unhealthy addiction. It kept the pains at bay where all else failed, it was a necessity they could no longer live without, besides, relying on a drug was far more easier than attempting self discipline. But while stocks thinned and Christmas Day drew near, the users were left to other means of obtaining them, ways that forever put Robin's life in danger as he resorted to the shadows, disguising his face with the lip of his scarf.

  Robin Occamy was quite a distinct man, tall, slender with slim fitting tweed coats that fell to the knees, he was the hay bale on a mountain of needles, his shiny brown brogues twinkled under the rays of moonlight and his slicked dark hair shined like a simmering river on a summer's day, but he couldn’t risk a day without the medication, no matter how blatant his image appealed, he had to get it home, Kirsten was relying on him.

  The alley seemed clear at first, but as Robin continued, he sensed as if someone was following him, he could almost feel their determination breathing down the back of his neck as he picked up his pace, knocking aside the leaves and branches, arriving at the courtyard where a thin layer of snow had begun to settle peacefully.

  The village was silent for a moment as Robin came to a halt, stood beside the oak tree, looking back in the direction he had come...but no one was there, it must have been his imagination?

  “I’m going mad!” he confirmed, turning into the path of a dirty short man whose face remained sheltered by darkness. Robin gave a gasp in shock.<
br />
  “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he stuttered, stepping back towards the tree, carefully drawing the bag of medication towards his chest.

  “You know what I'm after, hand it over!” the man yelled, still hidden by the shadows being cast by the moon.

  “You know I can’t do that!”

  “Pig! I said hand it over!” he repeated, becoming more and more aggressive in nature. “If...If you don’t step back, I'm warning you, I will...”

  “You’ll what? What are ya gonna do, Pharmacist…”

  Robin took a breath as the vile man snatched away the brown paper bag from his possession, spitting down at the ground he stood upon as he stepped back to peer inside.

  “Who’s all this for then? There’s tonnes in here…” the man asked, glaring up at Robin as he stood patiently, ready to knock the thief into next Christmas, and the one after that!

  “It doesn't matter now, anyway. It’s all coming home with me,” he added, just as another silhouette figure appeared, descending down a flight of slabs and headed in their direction.

  “Oi you! Yes you!” The mysterious figure called, distracting the attention of the thief who was suddenly victim to a swinging fist, as Robin knocked him to the ground - he fell like a sack of potatoes, knocked out cold.

  Robin quickly knelt down beside him to make sure he was still alive as the third figure arrived at the scene, panting, short of breath - It was Oliver's dad, Kenneth, armed with his wooden cane and military great coat complete with brass buttons.

  “Robin, it couldn't have been anyone else. Only you can pack a punch like that. Is he okay?”

  “He’s alive, I guess that’s always a good sign,” Occamy chuckled, sliding his arm from his sleeve and placing his coat over the thief's unconscious body.