Harry Rotter

by Gerrard Wllson

Harry, trying to fend off the attack Holdavort had instigated upon her, was far too busy to reply.

  “My wand, I must use it to help her!” Miocene screamed. Raising it, with hands trembling, pointing the garishly pink object at Holdavort, the girl tried to remember some words of Arcanum, any words to help Harry. “Fantastichi fantastichidd, hear my voice, my plea, my id. Smite this abomination – don’t let it be, fantasticnif fantasticniv.” That was all that she said, it was all that she could think of, and she was only too aware that is was, at best, a ‘mixed bag’ of Arcanumic words, with nothing of any real substance binding them together. But despite this, she desperately hoped that her chant would help...

  At first nothing happened, nothing at all, as Holdavort, landing before them, laughed at Harry’s meagre defence. “So,” he bellowed, “the girl mystic is struggling. I am disappointed, so disappointed. I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that.”

  “I defeated you before,” Harry shouted defiantly, “and I will do it again!”

  “It was luck, that’s all, just plain luck” Holdavort retorted dismissively.

  Harry wondered was that all that it had been – just luck?

  “It was more than luck!” Miocene screamed at the red skinned creature that called itself Holdavort, “and you know it!”

  Turning to face her, Holdavort’s piggy red eyes narrowed, and leaning closer, so close Miocene could smell the stink of his breath – raw fish and silage She wanted to puke, but she didn’t, because at that moment, the exact moment when Holdavort hurled a despicable attack upon her, her words of Arcanum, which she had almost forgotten about, kicked in. To say that she was surprised would be an understatement to beat all others – she was amazed, flabbergasted and totally shocked by what happened next. Yes, Holdavort’s attack was still screaming towards her, but her own attack was now screaming towards him. Then, in one huge fireball, the two opposing forces exploded, neutralising each other – gone.

  Speechless with anger and seething with rage, Holdavort hurled attack at attack at Miocene, and one of them, finding its mark, tore through her unprotected body. Screaming with pain, she lost her grip on her wand, and it dropped over the side of the balcony, useless.

  Storming in through the doorway, seeing her fall, Box shouted, “Miocene! What has he done to you?”

  “So the stupid Muddle has returned,” Holdavort bellowed in ecstasy, at the prospect of settling yet another score. “I had imagined you to have fled, ran away, but, no, a Muddle would not have the intelligence for such a thing. Be it upon you own head, then, because you now die…”

  “Two!” Harry shouted, jumping down from the balcony, joining Box. “There are two of us, and don’t you forget it!”

  “So, it’s two against one,” said Holdavort, a crafty smile creeping across his red face. “That is fine by me; I don’t want it to be too easy, do I?”

  “Three!” the mad ghost shouted, as he flew through the doorway, hauling a large sack behind him. “Three against one are better odds again, he, he!”

  “A crazed ghost is no threat to me,” Holdavort roared out in peals of robust laughter. “No threat at all…”

  “In that case you won’t feel this,” Larry chuckled, flying over Holdavort, and emptying the entire sack’s contents onto him. Ghostly silverware; plates, knives forks and spoons rained on Holdavort, but being ghostly items they passed harmlessly through him. Seeing this, Larry laughed nervously and returned to the ‘safety’ of the ceiling, where he began singing; “I am Laughing Larry, Laughing Larry today….” And he continued singing his little ditty over and over again, hoping, if nothing else, to distract Holdavort long enough to give the others a fighting chance.

  “Here, take these,” said Box, handing his cousin the two retrieved marbles.

  “Just in the nick of time,” said Harry, taking hold of them in her left hand. Then seeing the remains of his wand, she asked, “What happened there?”

  “My wand?” he said, looking forlornly at it. “It had a bit of an accident…”

  Picking up Miocene’s wand, Harry offered it to Box, saying, “Use this.”

  Box accepted it (though he glared un-approvingly the garishly pick hue).

  Ignoring the crazy mad ghost, Holdavort returned his attention to Harry and Box. “So,” he said, “you had the other two marbles after all…”

  “Yes,” she replied, clutching the two marbles like her life depended on them (and it did). “Insurance – they were insurance.”

  Laughing again, Holdavort said, “Insurance? What good can that be against – ME?” With that the twenty-one marbles embedded within his hard, leathery robes began to glow red.

  Despite being in a position of power, of superiority, Holdavort did something unexpected, most unexpected indeed – he offered Harry an olive branch. He said, “The old man, Tumbledown, offered you a chance to join him, and so will I. I will give you one last chance, to return the two marbles, and to unite with me. What say you?” he asked, offering Harry one of his huge red hands.

  Gritting her teeth, waving her wand and twirling the two magical marbles, Harry replied, “You know what you can do with your offer? YOU CAN TAKE IT TO HELL WITH YOU!” Pressing one of its buttons, Harry pointed her wand at Holdavort, sending a huge plume of fiery flames streaking towards him.

  “Very well,” he said, “if that’s how you feel, so be it.” His huge wings, bursting into life, whisked him away from the flames, as he unwittingly dropped something. And from his position, above, the twenty-one marbles spewed twenty-one fiery, flaming shafts of energised light at the two children.

  “DUCK!” Harry and Box shouted to each other. And they did, avoiding the massive attack by the slimmest of margins. “DUCK!” they shouted again, as the madman instigated another volley of attack upon them. “DUCK!” they shouted for a third time, as yet another volley screamed it way towards them. And so it went on again and again and again, until they had avoided, in total, nineteen such vicious, scathing attacks. While they had avoided them so brilliantly, they were unfortunately no closer to overcoming the madman, who appeared capable of continuing indefinitely. Something had to be done to gain the upper hand – but what?

  “I can’t go on like this, Harry,” said Box, “I’m worn out. I’m absolutely shattered.”

  “So am I,” she replied. “We need a distraction, something to take his mind off us.

  “Hell might freeze over before that happens,” Box groaned in dismay.

  “If only Larry had been better at doing it…” Harry whispered, “If only…”

  While this had been happening, above them, singing away like he might never stop, the mad ghost had been soaring through the air at breakneck speed. He had no intention of offering Holdavort an easy target… “I am Laughing Larry, Laughing Larry today…” And that was when he saw it, below him, the ghost saw – an opportunity. Whizzing down, with arms outstretched, he made a beeline for it.

  Reaching the mark, Larry, grabbing hold of the item, the small item, seized it like he might never let go. Whizzing away, returning to the relative safely of the high ceiling, he resumed his airborne display and singing.

  “Did you see that?” said Box, scratching his head, wondering what Larry had found.

  “I did,” she replied. Their eyes following the fast moving ghost, Harry and Box wondered what he was up to.

  Up above, the mad ghost opened his hand and inspected his find, the opportunity he had spotted from a height. After inspecting it thoroughly, he chirped with glee, “He he, I was right, it is one...it really is, he he.”

  Just then, another fiery, flaming shaft of blood red light screamed its way towards Harry and Box, “JUMP!” they shouted at the top of their voices. And they did, as yet another vicious attack narrowly missed its intended target.

  Changing tactics, Holdavort, his wings beating fast, flew in a beeline for the two children. There was no point in them shouting ‘duck’ or anything else, this time, because the creature
, which had once been the old man, Tumbledown, smashed into them. Knocked senseless, Harry and Box lay flat out on the floor, vulnerable to the superior might that was Holdavort.

  Zooming down from the rafters, fast and furious, the mad ghost aimed, kamikaze style, for the red skinned creature. WHAM! He smashed into Holdavort, knocking him to the floor. And he screamed, Holdavort screamed with pain, a pain so terrible he wanted to die.

  “He he,” the ghost giggled. “It worked, it really worked, he he.”

  “What did you do?” Box gasped, at the crazy mad spirit.

  “He he,” it worked, it actually worked,” Larry laughed blissfully again.

  “What worked?” Harry asked.

  “IT worked!” said Larry, laughing all the more. “He he…it actually worked!”

  “We know that, you mad ghost,” Harry chided, “but – WHAT”

  Landing close by them, the happy ghost said, “This worked. I found it. Holdavort dropped it. It’s magical...” Opening his hand, he showed them what he had found on the floor.

  “It’s only a nail,” said Box, in his ignorance. “A simple nail.”

  “No, no!” said Larry, pushing the ‘nail’ that bit closer. “LOOK AT IT!”

  Box inspected it further, but it was still only a nail as far as he was concerned.

  Pushing her way in (though keeping a watchful eye on Holdavort), Harry said, “Let me take a look.” The ghost offered her the ‘nail’. “Ah, I see,”