it sure packs a powerful wallop.”
“But it is still only a remnant,” Tumbledown repeated ever so thoughtfully.
Beginning to feel threatened, Box thought it might be safer to change the subject, and returning to the matter of the missing ghost, he said, “As a gesture of goodwill, could you bring it upon yourself to tell us where Laughing Larry is?”
“Perhaps, if I felt so inclined…”
“And – you will?”
“I might – if you were to offer me a gesture of goodwill, first.”
Pointing at himself, Box asked, “Me?”
“Yes, by you, Harry or even the girl. A gesture might sway me to offer that information – assuming that I actually have it.”
“Don’t do it, Box!” Miocene implored. “It’s a trick!”
Turning away from Box, to Harry, Tumbledown said, and in his sweetest tone of voice, “And how do you feel about this suggestion, Harry?”
“What sort of a gesture?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing really,” he replied, “just something small, like showing me that new wand of yours.”
“No, that’s absolutely out of the question,” she snapped, holding on tighter to it.
“I am so sorry to hear that,” he replied, in the same tone of voice she so hated. “And Miocene so wanted to know what happened to – what was his name, again?”
“Laughing Larry!” Miocene yelled in disgust, at the man, the school Principal she had, up until so recently, trusted implicitly. Thus incensed, she began waving her wand from side to side.
“No, Miocene, DON’T DO IT!” Harry implored. But her words fell on deaf ears. Miocene had already begun chanting. She said, “Ondo-os-equalo, ondo-os-equant, seize the pouch and marbles now, ondo-os – it’s done.”
“Miocene, what have you done?” Harry whispered in dispear.
He smiled; Tumbledown smiled, because the first strike had just been made against – him! Wasting not one second more than he had to, he slipped his hand into the pouch and withdrew a Philosopher’s Marble.
“Ah, the first one,” he said, turning the marble round in his bony old fingers, “and such a pretty, pretty thing.”
Trembling, realising the dangerous position she had put them all in, Miocene stood frozen, with fright.
“You chanted, did you not?” Tumbledown asked the would-be girl mystic.
Miocene said nothing; she was silent with shame and fear.
“Did something happen?” Tumbledown asked, looking around himself. “Did I miss it?”
“You know full well that her words were at nothing, against those marbles!” Box yelled.
“Hmm, perhaps you are right,” he replied. “What do you think, Professor?”
Relieved that Tumbledown was on the offensive, trusting her opinions once again, she said, “That one will never by a girl mystic. Her manner is all wrong.”
“Her manner may well be wrong,” said Harry, fuming at the Professor, “but her heart is in the right place. She will be a girl mystic – and a good one at that, perhaps the best – ever!”
Paying no attention to Harry’s rants or the Professor’s spiteful words, Tumbledown studied the shiny glass bauble, with interest. He watched as the colours began changing, shifting and shaping into so many wondrous new combinations, offering a hint, just a hint of the magical powers therein. Then he whispered into it…
“The gesture?” Harry asked, chancing her arm like never before.
“His attention distracted, Tumbledown said, “Pardon?”
“You said that you wanted a goodwill gesture?”
“So I did,” he replied, his eyes returning to the marble.
“Well?”
Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the marble, Tumbledown spoke softly, saying, “Unfortunately, things have changed.”
“Changed?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Goodwill gestures, however noble, are now low on my list of priorities.”
On hearing this, Harry raised her wand.
“You can try, but do you really think you have a chance – against every last marble?” the old man warned.
“No, no I don’t” she admitted. Turning away, as if she was about to leave, to walk out from the toilet, leaving Miocene and Box to their own devices, Harry swung round again, letting rip with her wand, spewing a torrent of smoke, fire and razor sharp lightning bolts the likes of which had never been seen.
Seeing her chance, Miocene attacked with her own wand, sending a beam of pure power hurtling at the school Principal.
Box, being new to the ‘magical malarkey’ business, struggled to get his stump of a wand into gear, but when he finally managed to start it, to get it going, he sent a torrent of lightning bolts streaking towards Tumbledown.
Despite this terrible onslaught aimed against him, not even one hair on Tumbledown’s head was touched let alone harmed, the Philosopher’s Marble having shielded him from every last vestige of it. And then it returned their attacks sevenfold.
“Jump!” Harry shouted the very second she realised this was happening.
They jumped; Miocene and Box leapt high into the air, narrowly evading the returning attack.
“Hmm, if you were Irish,” said Tumbledown, in mock humour, “I’d say it was the luck of your race. However, since you’re not of that origin, I can only surmise that it was a fluke. His eyes narrowing, he said, “You will not be so fortunate the next time.”
Trembling with fear, Miocene said, “Harry, what are we going to do?”
Box might have asked the very same question, but being a ‘silly Muddle’ he saw things in a different light – a laser light. Pulling the pen like instrument from out of a pocket, he whispered, “Would I dare to try it, again?” He would. He did. Hiding the instrument from sight, Box yelled at Tumbledown and McGonagain, daring them to bring down their worst upon him.
“So, you were right, Professor McGonagain,” Tumbledown gloated, in his power, “He is an imbecile.”
“And a bigger one than I had imagined,” she concurred, nodding her head enthusiastically.
After removing a second marble from his pouch, Tumbledown held one in each hand. “It’s your funeral,” he said, with no hint of emotion to his voice.
“Go on, you old buzzard!” Box yelled, “Or are you afraid?”
Although she was so scared for him, on hearing this Miocene almost choked with laughter.
Raising his hands, Tumbledown clenched the two marbles tightly. Then speaking ever so slowly, he said, “Be away with you.” That was all he said. He thought it more than enough…to finish off one stupid Muddle.
Box, however, stood firm with as much determination as Tumbledown – daring to confront the power of the Philosopher’s Marbles. And for a second, a split second he actually believed that his bluff had worked, that Tumbledown had abandoned his attack. Mind you, it was only for a split second, because the old man’s hands glowing white-hot signalled his approaching demise…
Moving faster than he had ever moved in his entire life, ducking under the beam of pure power screaming towards him, Box revealed his hidden instrument – the laser light, and clicking its switch, he prayed that it had enough power left in its battery.
“What?” McGonagain shouted, when she saw that he was up to something.
“Huh?” bemoaned Tumbledown, querying her half spoken utterance.
Sending out its wide-angled beam of pure laser light, the little instrument blinded Tumbledown and McGonagain for a second time.
Although blinded, the old man had no intention of halting his attack. Gripping the two marbles ever tighter, he shouted, “BE AWAY WITH YOU!” With those words, the light, the white-hot light erupting from the old man’s clenched fists, shot out with an almighty fury, but instead of screaming towards Box it peculiarly missed him by yards.
“Is that the best you can do, you old fart?” Box yelled, trying his best to anger him, and thus hold the advantage.
“What are you doing, Alber
t?” McGonagain asked in her blindness.
“Be silent,” he commanded, “I cannot see.”
“Nor can I,” she replied (as if he didn’t already know).
With a growing anger, and a great deal of frustration, Tumbledown ordered, “I said BE SILENT!”
Thus admonished, McGonagain said no more.
After transferring the two marbles to the same hand, Tumbledown opened the pouch, delved a hand in and withdrew another two. With two marbles to each hand, clutching them ever so tightly, he yelled out to his foe, the Muddle who had dared defy him – and with such impunity. He said, “Muddle, Box, if that really is your name. See how you cope with this…” Then speaking low, hardly audible, he whispered, “Go…and find your true mark.” This time Tumbledown’s hands glowed red hot and, dispatching the tremendously powerful assault towards Box, he laughed.
Clicking the switch on his laser, Box prayed that the battery was still up to it, that it might work for another, last time. But nothing happened, nothing at all. In desperation, panicking, he clicked it again and again and again, but the battery was completely and utterly flat.
Stepping into the breach, Harry shouted, “Duck, Box!” as she sent her own attack hurtling at Tumbledown. And finding its target, it struck him square on the chest. He staggered, the old man staggered. Losing his balance he stumbled and fell, dropping the four marbles in the process. His attack, veering off course, cut a huge swathe through the ceiling.
“What’s happening, Albert?” the Professor cried out in her blindness, “Albert! Speak to me!”
Albert J Tumbledown, the Alchemist and would-be Philosopher had more important things on his mind than the