“The last one is out!” he shouted to the others. “Now all that we have to do is guide them.” All that they had to do was to guide them. It was an easy enough thing to say, so much easier than actually trying to do it...
“Guide them down the passageway, and on to the Great Hall,” Harry shouted, hoping she was heard above the tremendous din.
“I’m trying!” Miocene screamed, still panicking at the sheer weight of numbers she was expected to deal with.
Numbers is a small enough word, so much smaller and also pitifully inadequate in describing the huge number of people and animals charging down the stairs and along that corridor. The people, ranging in age from six to ninety-six, dressed in the style of clothing that had been in fashion while they had been of this earth, from frocks to frills, knickers to knickerbockers, suits to sacks and every conceivable variation in between, spanned the entire range of social classes. There were lords and ladies, knights and noblemen, artisans and artists, and even farmers and servants.
The animals? Well, they were of an even more diverse variety than the people. There were lions and tigers, wilder beasts and zebras, monkeys and baboons, dogs and cats and even a few cows. Then there were the other animals; the ones that were of the mythological kind, like Griffons and Gargoyles, Unicorns and Monoceroses, and even Trolls and Trollbardons – all of these and more were rushing headlong towards the Great Hall.
The terrible din, which had begun only a few minutes earlier, with the mass exit of animals and humans from out of their paintings, was paled into insignificance, when the doors of the Great Hall came tumbling down. WHAM!
BAM! CRASH! The ornately carved doors exploded in a million tiny splinters, as the excited conglomeration burst through, and into the Great Hall.
Albert J Tumbledown, the Alchemist/Philosopher, was aghast, shocked, frozen to the spot, as the animals, both real and imaginary, accompanied by humans, long dead humans, galloped crazily around him.
McGonagain, although also quite shocked, having a more pragmatic approach when dealing with such crises, quickly took charge, ordering the pupils to form a circle around them, buying them time to formulate their counteroffensive.
Meanwhile, far away from the Great Hall, Harry, Box and Miocene, having taken full advantage of the chaos they had created, were heading for the Alchemist/Philosopher’s private study…
“Do you think that ruckus has bought us enough time, Harry?” Box asked.
“Hopefully,” she replied, turning a corner and leading them down yet another wood panelled corridor.
This time Harry had chosen the direct line of approach, having forsaken the secret passageways that would only serve to slow them. If they were to have any chance of success, speed was a vital, all-important part of their effort, to reach Tumbledown’s study room and thus secure their prize.
Turning another corner, the last corner before their final objective, the band of three was confronted, challenged by a most unexpected development. Standing directly in front of them, in the centre of the corridor, blocking their way was Wan Measly himself!
“So,” he said arrogantly, “you have finally managed to get here!”
A Traitor!
“You’re not getting past me!” said Wan. “You’re not getting into his study room…”
“Wan, what on earth are you doing?” Miocene asked, hoping she might talk some sense into the wayward boy.
“Don’t patronise me,” he replied, one of his hands edging towards his jacket pocket.
“What can you possibly mean?” she asked.
“I said don’t patronise me – and I won’t say it again!” he warned, moving his hand that bit closer to his jacket pocket.
“Calm down,” said Box, “we are all friends here.”
“Friends? Hah!” Wan laughed. “The Muddle is making merry. Oh what a stupid, stupid Muddle you really are.”
Although she was saying nothing, Harry was taking it all in, listening, and etching every last word onto her brain. Then speaking, thoughtfully, carefully, she said, “Wan, I won’t beat around the bush...”
Wan eyed her intently, suspiciously, his hand inching higher, ever closer to his jacket pocket.
“Wan,” Harry continued. “I knew it was only a matter of time until you betrayed us…”
“You did? How?”
“You were comfortable, too comfortable; you knew too much, back there in those passageways…”
“You suspected?”
“Of course,” she replied. “What do you take me for – a Muddle?” Her demeanour changing, becoming ever more serious, Harry continued, “We must pass – you know that. Whether or not our progress will be easy or difficult is entirely up to you. But rest assured WE WILL PASS!”
“That is a matter of opinion, ‘girl mystic’,” he replied smugly. “And don’t you forget that it is entirely up to you, to forget about the Philosopher’s Marbles, and to leave Hagswords… Nothing more will be said on the matter… You can trust me.”
“Trust?” Harry laughed mockingly. “You have no inkling of its meaning! How can you, when you side with – that, that man?”
With his fingers creeping into his jacket pocket, Wan said, “That man, Albert J Tumbledown, has promised me something no one else could or, indeed, would…”
“And what might that be?” she asked him contemptuously.
“POWER!” he said, “I trust that!” With those words he pulled out a wand, sending a bolt of sparkling red lightning shooting it way towards Harry.
“DUCK!” Box shouted in alarm.
She did; Harry ducked, and the streak of powerful red lightning screamed harmlessly past her. Miocene also ducked; she had absolutely no wish to be struck by lightning, no matter what colour it happened to be.
Wan, having no intention of failing Albert J Tumbledown or, indeed, his beloved Blytherin House, sent another streak of lightening, this time of a vivid green hue, screaming towards his three antagonists
“DUCK!” they all shouted, as the dangerous green light came screaming towards them. And they did; Harry, Box and Miocene ducked, evading a second deadly attempt on their lives.
By now, Harry had had enough, had seen enough, so retrieving her wand, the small remnant, she waved it threateningly from side to side…
“What do you call that?” Wan asked, laughing hilariously at it. “A matchstick?”
Smiling confidently, Harry replied, “I call it my second wand, of course.”
His jaw dropping in sheer disbelief, Wan said, “The second wand? “I thought you were only joking, earlier, when you told Tumbledown and McGonagain that you had a second one…”
“That just goes to show how wrong you can be,” said Harry, as she sent off a volley of blue coloured lightning towards him.
He shrieked; Wan shrieked with acute surprise and a great deal of frustration, as the lightning hurtled down the corridor, towards him, at a breakneck speed. He didn’t duck; Wan was far too slow in his reflexes. And he was struck; the blue flash of lightning, striking him squarely on the chest, sent him crashing to the floor.
Leaning over, staring down at him, Miocene said, “He’s not dead, is he?”
“No, he isn’t, I’m sorry to say,” Harry replied, showing yet again how hard she could be, when it suited.
“Oh,” said Miocene, at a loss for words, after Harry’s shockingly callous remark.
Stepping over the motionless body, Harry led Miocene and Box on the final few yards to Tumbledown’s study room. Having reached it, she waved her wand remnant, and said, “Open Ses Me.” The door of room duly creaked open.
After giving the ceiling a once over for owls or anything else that might be lurking there, Harry entered the room. “Come in,” she said, “it’s perfectly safe.”
Box stepped tentatively through the doorway, also looking upwards.
“I have already done that,” said Harry, shooting a disapproving look at him. Then turning to Miocene, she asked, “Miocene, are you coming in?”
“That’s okay,” said Harry, returning her attention to her Muddling cousin. “Box,” she said, “I’m sure the old coot hid my bag and wand somewhere in here, so let’s get cracking and find them.”
Over the following minutes Harry and Box turned the room upside down. They searched it from top to bottom, looking absolutely everywhere, into every nook and cranny, but they were still unable to find what they were seeking.
“Stop it, stop it!” cried Harry. “It’s useless; we’re at nothing, searching this way.
“Stop?” Box asked. “You said they were here, so why stop looking for them?”
“Because, my dear cousin, they have obviously been hidden.”
“Hidden? I know that,” said Box, “that’s why we’re searching for them!”
Annoyed at his Muddlesome way of thinking, Harry explained, “They are hidden – by magic.”
“Oh, by magic,” Box replied, pretending to understand what that entailed.
Seeing his dilemma, Harry continued, “The old coot, Tumbledown, must have used magic to conceal them. So I, in turn, will have to use magic to reveal them – Now do you understand?”
“I suppose so,” he replied, scratching his head. Then pointing to her hand, he said, “Your wand… Are you going to use it to find them?”
“Of course I will use it,” Harry replied tersely, “but to reveal them, not to find them. Now stand back, I need some space.” Box
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