difficulty in understanding some things.
With eyes glued to the object, Box stretched out his hand, and asked, “Can I hold it?”
“No!” she warned slapping it.
“No?”
“No means no, it’s far too dangerous for the likes of you.”
With his eyes still glued to the marble, Box asked, “Where did you get it?”
“Never you mind,” she replied tersely. “Your only concern should be of what use it can be.”
“Oh,” Box mumbled, “Well, what can it do to help us?”
Walking on a bit further, Harry found a secluded part, an alcove cut deep into the wall, safe from prying eyes. Opening her hand, displaying the marble, she said, “It can do this…” The marble began to glow radiantly.
“Wow!” said Box, inching away, for fear of being blinded. Thinking there had to be more than just a wonderful light show, he asked, “What is it doing?”
“Hmm,” Harry whispered, “Can’t that Muddle brain of yours work out anything?”
Hurt by yet another one of her slants against Muddles, yet also expecting it, Box shrugged it off, and he said, “Can it get us inside?”
“Of course it can get us inside,” said Harry. “But the trick, the skill is to achieve this it undetected. Take a look around, will you?” she said. “And make sure no one’s about.”
Looking both ways, Box saw no one, not even an owl. “The coast is clear,” he whispered. “All systems are go.”
“All systems are go?” said Harry. “What do you mean, all systems are go?”
Feeling stupid for having said such a thing, he explained, “It’s something I heard in a movie, once. Forget I ever said it.”
“I already have,” she said, cupping the Philosopher’s Marble with both hands and beginning to chant, “Crioninous crionan shraholarman skryolamb, let us into the school select, scryoumeno scry – it’s done!”
“What language it that?”
“Shush,” Harry chilled, “and watch!”
As Box stood there in silence, bathed in the intense light emanating from the Philosopher’s Marble, he thought nothing was happening. Then hearing a sound, a low grating moan, like stone sliding upon stone, he knew that something was indeed beginning to happen. But it was only after the bright light had faded, and the marble returned to its original condition, did he realise what it had done. Rubbing his eyes in amazement, Box saw a breach in the wall. One of the huge stone blocks had slid inwards, allowing them safe passage into Hagswords.
Harry stepped through the opening, took a quick glance around to make sure that it was safe to proceed, and then beckoned her cousin to enter.
Stepping inside, Box heard the sound of water dripping somewhere in the dark interior. Glowing again, the marble signalled the wall to repair itself. That being done, Harry returned it to the safety of her shoulder bag. Retrieving her wand, she pressed one of the buttons at its base. It glowed brightly, as bright as any light bulb designed by a Muddle. Seeing this, a practical use for his melding of magic and electronics, Box smiled.
With light to guide them, the two children could see where they were; a damp, dreary and utterly dismal basement, little more than a dungeon, really.
“Where do we go from here?” Box asked.
Raising her eyes, Harry signalled the only way they could go – up.
Owl, Owls and Yet More Owls!
Because she was a student of Hagswords – even an escaped one – Harry knew her way about the rambling old building, so taking the lead she opened the mouldy old door in the corner and began ascending a spiral staircase behind it.
“It’s awfully rusty,” said Box.
“Keep close behind me,” Harry ordered, ignoring his remark about rust.
And he did, Harry’s Muddling born cousin shadowed her every move until they arrived safely on a small landing. After sweeping away a low-slung cobweb with the back of his hand, Box struggled with its remains. “It’s a dismal old place, isn’t it?” he said, “I’d choose my grammar school, at Gunnersbury, anytime to this dump.”
“Appearances can be deceptive,” Harry replied. “Now listen carefully to what I am about to say…” Craning his neck, Box cocked an ear. “Once we have gone through this door,” she pointed to another dilapidated old door in front of them, “we shall be inside the school proper.”
“Like in classrooms?”
“Yeh, something like that,” she said. “Most of the students should be in their Houserooms by now, but that doesn’t mean we can drop our guard…”
“You can depend on me,” Box whispered, “I shan’t be dropping my guard, or anything else for that matter.”
“Okay, that’s good,” she said. Then placing a finger over her lips, to show that she required complete silence, Harry took hold of the door handle and began turning it. The door creaked as it opened, and the two cousins, creeping furtively through, entered the school proper. Despite some lights being on, the school was dimly lit, so Harry left her wand glowing.
“It’s much nicer in here,” said Box, inspecting the vestibule they had entered. “And look at all of these wonderful paintings, why, they must be worth a small fortune!”
For a second time, Harry warned, “Remember, appearances can be deceptive.”
Ignoring her, getting carried away with the moment, Box began ascending a grand staircase, along which so many of the magnificent paintings were mounted. “Look at them,” he whispered, as he inspected the wonderful pictures. And they were indeed wonderful; covering a huge variety of subjects, from portraits to landscapes, from wild life to still life and then so much more. “They are all so lifelike,” he said, amazed at the fine detail they contained. Running his fingers along the surface of one of them, a still life composition of a bowl of fruit, Box was blown away by what he then felt, by what he discovered. As his fingers ran over the picture, stopping at an apple, and a big red one at that, he realised to his utter astonishment that it was real. The apple was so real he grabbed hold of it and removed it from the painting, then giving it a quick rub on his shirtsleeve, he bit into it. “You will never believe what I have just done,” he said, munching on the juicy morsel.
Seeing the apple, Harry knew exactly what he had done, and scolding him, she hissed, “Everything we do in life has repercussions, and that, unfortunately, also includes stealing food from paintings.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled by her words.
Pointing to the paintings, she said, “Look, look at them again, and tell me what you can see.”
Spitting out the juicy morsel, Box’s jaw dropped, and he cried out, “They’re looking at me! Harry, the people, even the animals in the pictures – they’re all staring at me” Stop them, Harry, stop them!”
“Only you can do that,” she whispered.
“But how?”
“By making amends.”
“Amends? What amends?” Box asked in his confusion.
“Ask them, not me.”
“Ask the paintings? Which one?” he pleaded, eying the many faces staring out, and showing their utter displeasure with what he had done.
Harry made no reply.
Speaking to the paintings, Box apologised, saying, “I, I’m sorry that I took the apple. When I saw it was real, I couldn’t resist it… Is there anything I can do, to make it up to you?”
All the faces, both animal and human, studied Box with an acute interest. Then one of them, an old man dressed in a suit of armour – a knight on horseback, said, “To make amends is no easy matter. In my day, when I was of the outside world, you would have had to fight me in a jousting contest…”
“L, like with lances?” Box asked, stuttering nervously.
“Yes,” he replied. “And perhaps even to the death…”
“T, to the d, death?”
“Yes,” he replied, “to the death. However, times have changed since then, and jousting is no longer an option.”
“What is?” Box asked, yet afrai
d to hear his reply.
Letting out a long sigh, the knight said, “A promise.”
“Pardon?”
“You must make us a promise, a promise that, upon your return home, after your quest is over, you will do everything in your power to integrate all of the spirited paintings here at Hagswords, into the outside world.
For the first time in his life Box felt embarrassed at being a Muddle, and he said, “But I’m a Muddle, are you sure that you want to be integrated in my world, the Muddle world?”
A heated exchange of opinions (both human and animal) could be heard amongst the paintings, as they discussed all the pros and cons of such an undertaking. Finally, answering him, the knight said, “Yes, if that is what it takes, then so be it. And who knows what good may come from it. Muddles and Mystics have been segregated for far too long.”
“Okay, if that is what you want, I promise that I will do all in my power to carry this out,” said Box, relieved that he had got off so easily. Having received the promise the paintings returned to normal.
“You think you got off easily, don’t you?” said Harry, who had been listening to every word. Box nodded. “Hmm,” she said, “Time will see if you are right… Come on, let’s keep moving.”
Remembering something the old knight had said, Box asked, “How did he know I was on a quest?”
“The paintings know about everything that goes on, at Hagswords,” Harry replied.
Guiding the way, Harry led Box on what he would later describe as a right royal tour of the school. She brought him upstairs, through huge halls and stately rooms, downstairs through sumptuous vestibules and
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