A Magical Split
“It seems we’ve been carting around in the double-decker deathtrap for months,” said Der Weasel.
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look, I told you about the ‘bookmark spell’ didn’t I?” she asked exasperatedly. She opened The Year of Magical Thinking at the place that she had bookmarked previously.
“Actually,” Bumblebore interrupted gravely, “I was explaining that the time we’ve been away, which seemed like weeks or months, was rather like the time period that occurs when you put a bookmark between pages and then set it aside. When you return to it, you open it to the bookmark and the characters are right where you left them.”
“Well, technically, but tha’ was ages ago,” cried Der Weasel. “You can’t expect me to remember all that without my magic crib notes on my arms do you?”
Bumblebore’s eyebrows danced like two caterpillars doing the rumba. “Aha!” he exclaimed. “I knew it! I knew you were using some sort of magical device to cheat!”
“It’s not cheating—it’s—”
“Cheating! Tha’s what it is,” gloated Bumblebore triumphantly.
“But you use a pensieve to remember things,” said Harry “What about—”
“Immaterial, to our discussion—”
“What about me arms,” wailed Randolf the Burnt Sierra.
“Shut up about your bleedin arms, you stupid git,” growled Bumbelbore. “Don’t see me complaining about not having any arms, do you?”
Bumblebore moved slightly. “Hermione would you be a love and scratch under me robes?”
Hermione scratched Bumblebore’s back.
“Lower,” he said contentedly. “Lower still, even lower my sweet.”
“Ewwww, you’re a disgusting old goat, you are,” Hermione said resolutely.
“I suppose I am,” said Bumblebore sheepishly.
“What about me arms?” cried Randolf the Wrinkled.
Harry tapped Shun Standpipe on the shoulder. “Shun, could do me a favor?”
“Depends,” said Shun suspiciously.
“Would you open the double-doors to the bus?”
“You called?” asked Bumblebore confusedly.
“Well, for once, that stupid joke works,” Harry said amazedly.
Shun magically opened the doors with a handle attached to the doors. The sound of the evening’s traffic came in.
“Professor Bumblebore, do you see what I see on the street there?” asked Harry with a grin.
Bumblebore bent over to look. “What is it, Har—”
Harry magically removed Bumblebore with a swift kick of Harry’s foot.
“Brilliant!” cried Der Weasel
Harry grabbed Randolf the Warped by the robe. “Weasel, gi’ me a hand would you?”
“Hey, get your ‘ands off me, you little—”
Harry and Weasel magically threw Randolf the Red off the bus.
They put their arms around Hermione.
“Now,” said Harry satisfactorily, “let’s go find those other Horcruxes.”
“Horcruxii,” yelled Bumblebore and Randolf the Road Rashed.
“Garroff me,” Bumbore yelled just before he and Randolf the Mauve were left behind in the wake of the bus’s magical exhaust.