‘You don’t need magic,’ Alex insisted, sitting forward. ‘It comes from within.’ As if to prove his point he added, ‘Look at me.’
He did. Alex oozed confidence, but that was more to do with the fact that he was good looking with thick brown hair slicked forward and large almond-shaped brown eyes. His tanned skin gave him a healthy glow whereas Jebediah’s looked like it had once ventured out into the sun and run back indoors screaming, never to do something so stupid again.
He also had nerves of steel, which he proved when at the tender age of nine he asked a surly dinner lady at school with a face like a constipated pig whether the yet to be confirmed meat in the metal tray attempting to break free from its incarceration was from the bottom of someone’s shoe or just something they had found scampering round the kitchens. It had resulted in a thick ear, but as he was marched ceremoniously out of the hall he had been given a standing ovation from his peers.
Jebediah zipped up his bag and asked as he lifted it onto his shoulder, ‘So what do you suggest?’
Alex hunched his shoulders and lifted his hands into the air, making him appear more Italian than ever. ‘Maybe lighten up a bit, especially about your Wizards Certificate?’
Despite knowing his friend’s words were right, he couldn’t quite see it like that. Each day that passed brought the test closer, plaguing his every waking hour.
As he reached down for his broomstick, Alex leapt forward and grasped the handle. ‘I’ll take that for you,’ he said helpfully.
‘Thanks,’ Jebediah said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
Anyone picturing the scene now would think that he was going to the gallows, with his long face and morose air, instead of summer camp.
‘Meeting up with anyone?’ asked Alex brightly.
‘No,’ he replied over his shoulder. ‘We’ve been banned from flying in groups because people have seen the lights from the underside of the brooms and phoned the police insisting they’ve encountered UFOs.
Stifling a laugh Alex struggled to say, ‘I can just imagine them sending up a jet to intercept a blip on their radar only to find it’s a kid on a scabby old broom.’
Jebediah chuckled at the image that Alex had conjured up.
Grimble was still in the kitchen when they entered. He didn’t acknowledge them but neither did Jebediah attempt to engage him in conversation. Opening the back door he stepped out into the cool, July evening air. The smell of freshly mown grass mingled with the aroma of the sweet smelling flowers set out at either side of the path.
Swinging his leg over his broom he looked back at the house and said in a pleading tone, ‘I’d be really grateful if you could call in and make sure that Grimble’s fed Rotten.’ Without pausing he added, ‘If you could take him for a walk as well that would be great.’
Alex screwed his face into a grimace. ‘You know, if you weren’t my best mate I wouldn’t go near that stinking mutt.’
‘I know,’ Jebediah commented over his shoulder as he pushed off hard from the ground.
The sudden rush of air as he soared into the sky flattened the hair that he had spent so long trying to spike. Alex watched the disappearing form of Jebediah, his hand cupped above his eyes until he was completely out of sight.
Opening the back door he said to Grimble, who was now sliding a very dry piece of cucumber onto a plate, ‘I’ll be coming round each day to take Rotten out for a walk, okay?’
‘Jus keep art ma way,’ the Kobold growled at Alex like a vicious dog preparing to pounce.
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ Alex hissed back through gritted teeth as he stormed out of the room and slammed the back door shut behind him.
Jebediah made good progress as he flew southwards, but staying hidden among the clouds was a wet business and before long his clothes had stuck to him and his hands were frozen to the handle of his broom. His face was stinging as the wind brushed against his cheeks, drying the ice-cold cloud water.
As flying was not his strong point, he veered off course somewhat until he dipped below the cloud level and spied the cars as they sped along the M1 motorway like little toys being pushed around a playmat by a small child.
Checking the clock on his broom, he calculated that it would be another ten or fifteen minutes before he reached Curzon Manor.
There were five houses in total, belonging to Wizarding families, that were large enough to accommodate the summer camps each year. Whenever a house hosted a camp, the general public were informed that the house was closed for essential structural repairs or refurbishment. Nobody thought to question or query the fact that these houses needed more upkeep than most.
With only a few miles to go he spied in the distance another broom, its rider bent low over the handle as it swept down from the east at considerable speed. Squinting hard, he recognised the features of Montgomery Wolfe riding his unmistakably expensive, ebony-handled broom with hand-picked twigs for extra streamlining.
‘Ahoy there,’ Monty called in greeting as he drew alongside. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked adopting, an upright position.
‘Not bad I suppose,’ Jebediah answered a little frostily while all the time keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon ahead.
Monty smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white, pearly teeth. His tall, athletic build and fair hair stood in stark contrast to Jebediah’s features. ‘Have you heard they’ve got old Ambrose Snodgrass back this year teaching Wandwork?’
This piece of news he hadn’t heard and it certainly came as a nasty shock. It wasn’t that he was particularly bad at Wandwork, but more that Ambrose Snodgrass held a long-standing grudge towards him, going back to when Jebediah was in Imps and Snodgrass was teaching Beasts. The class had congregated in the underground caves of Kendon Hall to study a colony of bats. Jebediah had lost his footing in the dark and fell forward, sending luminous yellow sparks flying out of the tip of his wand. All the previously sleeping bats flew into a frenzy of activity. Between the sound of flapping wings, children ran in all directions screaming, either colliding with one another or banging their heads off the cave walls in a panic to escape. Snodgrass had opened his mouth to call order when a bat flew into it, jamming itself and locking his jaw where it continued to flap vigorously. The bat was eventually removed with no detrimental effects on either party, but the damage had already been done.
In an attempt to put a brave face on the matter, he said casually, ‘I’ve already got my advanced badge for Wandwork so I don’t think I’ll come into contact with him much.’
Monty glanced sideways, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Curzon Manor may be large but it’s not large enough to hide from someone, especially when that person is Ambrose Snodgrass.’
Jebediah didn’t respond to the bait but slid his eyes in his direction sneakily and out of the corner of his eye saw Monty raising one of his hands and running it through his hair. Why on earth don’t you just fall off your broom? he thought to himself as the delectable image flashed through his mind, bringing an evil grin to his face.
‘Let’s descend,’ Monty called out, cutting through the wonderful daydream.
Shaking himself back to reality, he found that Monty was already nearly fifty feet below and circling as he prepared to land. Tilting his handle, Jebediah swooped down and made a somewhat heavier landing leaving, two deep ruts in the gravel where his heels dug in.
Students of all ages and sizes milled around the entrance of the imposing red-brick Elizabethan manor house, exchanging stories about what they had done in the past year or showing off new wands and broomsticks. From the region of the lawn area he thought he heard his name being called. Swivelling round he craned his neck and sought out the voice in vain but found himself being dragged along by a throng which now surged forward in an attempt to pass through the arched, stone doorway.
Once insi
de he made his way to one of the numerous queues that had sprung up inside the entrance hall and waited patiently to give his name to the elderly Witch sat behind an oak desk with a quill dripping blobs of emerald green ink while a long curved nail like a hawk’s talon traced the names on a sheet of parchment.
‘Jebediah Humphries,’ he said quietly, stepping forward.
The Witch lifted her head, wobbling the small, black, conical-shaped hat that perched precariously atop a silver-grey bun. A pair of steely blue eyes surrounded by fold upon fold of drooping skin fixed on him. The hand that had previously sought out the names moved the small, round, tortoiseshell spectacles forward until they pressed tightly against the end of her nose.
‘Ah, Mr Humphries, back again I see,’ she said in a frail but firm voice.
Jebediah stood as still as he could and swallowed hard, searching the farthest recesses of his mind for any recollection of an incident in which he had caused any type of injury to her, or perhaps she had just heard of him by reputation alone.
‘Boys section, room three,’ the unknown Witch said briskly and scratched out a large green tick next to his name. ‘Next,’ she called pushing the spectacles back onto the bridge of her nose.
Ambling slowly towards the enormous sweeping staircase, he halted with his foot on the first step as his name was called out again. Rising up onto the balls of his feet he peered over the heads of the other students and saw Cordelia Cribbins dodging and weaving in and out of the groups huddled together chatting.
‘Jeb, I thought I saw you coming in earlier,’ Cordelia said breathlessly, joining him on the stairs.
‘How are you?’ Jebediah asked with genuine interest, a broad smile breaking across his whole face and threatening to split it in two.
Cordelia wrinkled up her snub, pert nose. ‘Not bad, but I’d be better if I wasn’t here.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Jebediah said sympathetically. His stomach had been twisting in knots for weeks at the thought of coming to Curzon Manor.
As people pushed past she said brightly, ‘I’ll wait for you in the library okay,’ and dashed off again.
Jebediah’s feet clipped against the oak stairs, darkened to a rich brown hue from age and use. Catching his foot he slipped and fell forward, hitting his chin and biting his tongue. Quickly jumping to his feet he looked round to see if he had been spotted by anyone before carrying on his way.
Reaching the top he turned to his right and walked down a long, narrow corridor where pictures of each Curzon family member over the past four hundred years stared down on him from gold, ornate frames. Each one wore an expression somewhere between a scowl and a sneer, the suits of armour and array of weapons a testament to the heroic battles fought; most of which they had instigated themselves.
The rooms were not in any sequential order and so number three was the first one he came to. Opening the door he stepped into a room with faded blue flock wallpaper. Two beds were immediately along the wall to his left while one bed sat at the end and three lay opposite. They were all made of the darkest of woods with high head and footboards intricately carved with a flower motif.
Looking round the room he saw that the two beds had been taken by Thomas Armitage and Jonathan Pearson while Chester Pinkerton lounged lazily on the one at the end.
Walking over to one of the beds immediately opposite, he passed a mahogany desk situated under a small mullioned window, perfectly positioned to catch the sun’s light. Pots of ink, blotting paper and books had already been laid out in encouragement and anticipation of homework.
‘Hiya,’ Thomas called out as Jebediah slung his bag onto a bed.
‘Allright?’ he called back, removing his damp jacket and placing it over the foot of the bed to dry.
A muffled greeting came from a single wardrobe that stood at the side of each bed which was soon followed by the appearance of Jonathan.
Chester merely lifted a hand in idle greeting from the bed.
Well, so far so good, he thought to himself. At least he had some good room-mates. Thomas, a small freckle-faced youth from Worcester, was decent enough and Jonathan, a tall-sallow looking youth, was a laugh despite being a scatterbrain. Chester, however, was different. He, like Montgomery Wolfe, was from an exceedingly rich and distinguished Wizarding family. His two older brothers had mapped out successful careers for themselves in the Council while his younger brother had been the only person since Berkeley Baskerville to gain all his beginner’s badges by the age of eight. Unlike his siblings, Chester’s heart was set on a job in television, maintaining that the people in charge of the Witches and Wizards Broadcasting Corporation were a set of sad old duffers who should have been rounded up and put in the nearest retirement home years ago.
Pushing his broom under the bed, he set about unpacking his clothes, hastily stuffing them into the wardrobe.
Racing back downstairs, he found Cordelia seated in a large, leather, winged armchair by an open fire, reading a book she had on her knee. As he pulled up another chair, Cordelia looked up and smiled, sending his heart into a series of summersaults. Her eyes were the shade of blue cornflowers in a meadow and the red glow cast by the fire sent shimmers rippling through her auburn locks, which he noticed had been cut considerably since the last time they met.
Cordelia caught him staring at her and asked anxiously, ‘I haven’t got anything on my face have I?’
‘No, no,’ he answered quickly. ‘I…I noticed that you’ve had your hair cut, that’s all.’
‘Oh yeah,’ she said enthusiastically, her hands flying to it. ‘Do you like it? I thought it suited me just to my shoulders.’
‘It does,’ he replied dreamily.
Jebediah had developed a crush on her in his first year of Imps when she had reversed an enlargement spell that some older students from Goblins had put on his lips so they could stick him to a window.
‘Anyway,’ she began excitedly, leaning forward in her chair, ‘have you heard the gossip?’ she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
Jebediah had not heard any unless you counted the fact that Ambrose Snodgrass was back. ‘No,’ he said, raising his eyebrows.
‘Well,’ she started in a hushed manner, ‘you remember last year when Cynthia Thorpe turned up with hardly any of her equipment and what she did have was not just second-hand but more like third or fourth?’ Before he could either agree or disagree she continued, ‘She’s only turned up tonight with the most expensive broom ever and a complete set of robes from London - probably Parcelus or maybe even Napper,’ she added almost to herself as she pondered the retailer of Cynthia’s apparel.
Listening to what she was saying, his brows drew further together in puzzlement. ‘I’m not really following you.’
Cordelia sighed at his failure to grasp the situation. ‘It seems her father has come into a heck of a lot of money and it’s not from the Witches Lottery I can tell you.’
Jebediah was still at a loss. ‘So what are you saying?’
Lowering her voice still further so he had to bend closer to hear, she furtively glanced around before saying, ‘Rumour has it that he’s done a deal with the Trolls and supplied them with tons of silver ore from his mines.’
‘What!’ he exclaimed in horror.
‘Shush,’ Cordelia admonished. ‘Keep your voice down or everyone will hear you.’
‘Silver is on the contraband lists because it can be used for weapons,’ Jebediah said, still astonished by what she had imparted. Before Cordelia could say anything else he added, ‘It can’t be true or else the Department of Trade would investigate him.’
Pursing her lips, she raised an eyebrow in scepticism. ‘There’s always someone willing to turn a blind eye if the price is right.’
A sudden anger welled up inside him, sending a flush to his cheeks, and before he could stop himself he spat,
‘I hope you’re not including my dad in that remark?’
‘No!’ Cordelia cried, aghast that he could have thought such a thing. Her eyes lowered and a worried expression crossed her features.
Cursing his rashness, he tugged at a loose thread on his jeans and mumbled an apology.
Cordelia smiled wanly and changed the subject. ‘So how are your mum and dad then?’
Glad that the tense atmosphere between them had vanished, he replied a little more brightly, ‘Oh you know,’ he shrugged, ‘the Council is keeping my dad busy as usual and mum is still giving advice in her column whether people want it or not.’
‘Hello there you two,’ a silky voice drawled from above. Monty perched on the arm of Cordelia’s chair and perused the page she was reading.
Snapping the book shut she said testily, ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder?’
Monty smiled benignly, oblivious to her rebuke. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.’
The gong in the hall sounded, calling everyone to dinner and halting any further conversation. The trio made their way through to the dining room which was the size of a ballroom. Tables for four draped with white cloths had been spread out randomly, making it cosier, while fires had been lit for cheeriness rather than warmth.
Choosing a table that was central, they were soon joined by Thomas Armitage. ‘I see we’re in the same room,’ he said to Monty shuffling his chair closer to the table.
The three others failed to notice the look of disappointment on Jebediah’s face as the room filled up with Kobolds carrying trays of delicious food. Viewing the array of tempting dishes on offer, he picked a bowl of piping hot stew with rolls of crusty white bread followed by treacle sponge and custard.
The chips that Alex had brought round earlier had hardly filled a corner. He tucked into the food gratefully. The rich red wine sauce made his mouth water while the succulently tender meat crumbled into pieces.
Sitting back after polishing off the sponge, he ran a finger round the waistband of his jeans that had now grown uncomfortably tight after pigging out. Jebediah watched as Cordelia delicately picked the flesh from the bones of the fish she had chosen, each time inspecting the morsel closely before popping it into her mouth.
S.N.O.T. Page 2