Today’s episode comes to us from Lexi, writer, silversmith, repairer of rocking horses.
Bumblebore’s eyebrows knitted furiously, till it seemed they might produce a small sock or even a scarf. Following his gaze, Harry saw an elderly, upright man in brown flowing robes holding a staff, striding towards them.
‘You know who that is,’ gasped Ron, ‘it’s Randalf the Sepia!’
‘Randalf the Ridiculous,’ muttered Bumblebore.
The man had drawn level with them, and fixed his deep-set eyes on the glowering headmaster.
‘I am no longer Randalf the Sepia,’ he intoned gravely, ‘henceforth I shall be known as Randalf the Russet! I have been reborn, and besides, I always felt my name lacked something in the alliteration department.’
‘Be off, you old fraud!’ cried an incensed Bumbledore, rising on shaky legs and waving whatever container the Long Island Tea had come in at him, ‘there’s only room for one wise mentor in this narrative, and that’s ME!’
Randalf ignored him magnificently, and his piercing green eyes seemed to bore into Harry’s innermost being.
‘Harry, I am apprised of your quest for the Horcruxes…’
‘Horcruxii!’ shouted Bumblebore.
‘…and you must know, you face a terrible and dangerous journey. For The Eye will be upon you, and as you near Morrdorr…’
‘He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!’ yelled Bumblebore.
‘AS YOU NEAR MORRDORR…’ Randalf repeated louder.
‘Clear off out of here! Go and morris dance with some hobbits! Take up jewellery making with elves! Get back where you belong!’ Bumblebore was jumping up and down. Suddenly he swung a fist at Randalf.
‘Noooo!’ shrieked Hermione. ‘Do something, Ron!’
But it was too late; the two mentors were already rolling around on the ground, punching and kicking, robes and beards flying.
‘Let me handle this,’ said Harry. He pulled out his wand.
‘Harry,’ said Hermione, ‘neither of them are using wands.’