“As I was saying,” Bumblebore continued, “A Horcrux contains a piece of a wizard’s or witch’s sole.”
“Nay, verily,” the wizened wizard whispered conspiratorially. “Like the sole of their shoe.”
He plunked his size twelve dirty canvas sneakers, complete with a huge hole, which let his big toe out to look around, onto the tabletop. “A piece of the sole is torn away when the miscreant magician micturates on the law against jaywalking. Lard Wal D’Mart has jaywalked hundreds of times.”
“Wow, so that means—”
“You got it wizard breath,” Bumblebore finished his Long Island Iced Tea and pulled a stogie from under his Washington Wizards cap and fished for a match within his voluminous gravy-stained raiment that he eventually found on the table. He said an incantation, to Harry it sounded like, well we can’t say that otherwise this blog would be flagged and our little soapbox would be yanked from beneath our cyber feet, rubbed it against his robe and the match magically burst into flame. “His sole is in a Million Little Pieces.”
Bumblebore lit the stogie and blew rings of smoke, which magically grew ever larger until they disappeared. “Pretty neat, huh?” he asked enthusiastically.
“Plih,” said Harry derisively. “That nutter Doodley used to light his farts on fire—flames three to four feet sometimes. Why onetime—”
“Oi!” yelled Weasel as he and Hermione came back into the story. “You’ll never guess what Hermione taught me how to do wi’ me wand!”
Hermione followed a few paces behind Weasel straightening her robe. “Oh, I’m pretty sure they can,” she said demurely whilst trying to get her hair to smooth out in back.
“Well, gotta go,” called Bumblebore.
The group looked up to see the last of Bumblebore’s robe disappearing magically behind the corner of the terminal.
“There they are,” cried someone.
Harry, Hermione, and Weasel looked to their left to see security wizards bearing down on them.
“Exit stage right,” hollered Hermione and she grabbed the collars of her companions and hauled them away.