Today’s episode comes to us from Lexi, writer, silversmith, repairer of rocking horses.
Episode 11
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.
‘Expelliarmus!’
‘Harry,’ said Hermione, ‘neither of them are using wands.’
Nullius in Verba 
Truly one of the more inspired Harry Splutter episodes. Nicely, nicely done. I laughed at “Randolph the Russet” till my sides ached.
I’ve just read Alan’s blog piece, which somehow I missed before, about his amusing the conference audience.
Sounds good. Wish I could be there. (Via magic carpet, so no hanging around in airports or jetlag, and home for a proper cup of tea).
Will he be back today?
I suspect the conference may be done around noon local time.
Very funny, Lexi. I enjoyed reading that.
Best wishes to you both,
Annie
Just got back home. Got to do laundry and mop the floors and get ready to take my lovely wife out for an evening to make up for being gone for four entire nights. I will catch up with ya’ll (I have a couple of Texas lads who work for me) tomorrow I hope.
I did do a quick check to see if the advertised serialization of “Close Enough” got ANY hits this past week. Looks like I won’t need to put all those br’s inside <>‘s after each paragraph in the book after all.
Oh, and I will have to see if I can contribute to the Harry Splutter epic. You may be sorry you invited interlopers!
Gee, what trouble could I have if I said, “bring it on!”?
I trust you.
Who knows? We might be able to have our own “Bored of the Rings” thing with Harry Splutter.
Just borrowing your comments site, Norm…
Alan, what IS that picture on your blog? It looks like a harvest festival display that’s morphing into a scary alien.
As an INFP you will be the leaven in the lump. Still can’t quite see you in retail. If I had to guess, I’d have put you as a literature teacher in high school. Or am I being too obvious?
However, a fish up a tree has a more interesting take on life.
(Did you notice my stab at a metaphor there?)
I like the “fish up a tree” image. Neatly done. Leaves me gasping for oxygen and rather desperately flopping around on the floor, but I’m dealing with it.
Your contribution to the Harry Splutter epic is quite wonderful!
Sorry, I neglected to answer your question about the pic on my blog (there, I’ve given in to using that word). On the one free evening we had, five of us “over fifties” folks took a low stress wander around a portion of the Las Vegas Strip, which, if you are unfamiliar, is the street along which all of the big, new, mostly theme type hotel/casino combinations are located. It is a rather dazzling sight at night. During the day all of the pseudo this and pseudo that is, to my eye anyway, rather depressing.
Anyway, amongst the pyramids and King Arthur castles and fake Eiffel Towers and ersatz New York skylines (complete with encircling rollercoaster) there is a place called The Bellagio, which, surprise, has a bit of French theme going on. The ceiling in the lobby is covered with an upside down garden of glass sculptures by Dale Chihuly (there may be a spelling issue here). It is a real neck craner. And just off the lobby is a sort of fantasy greenhouse/conservatory thingie. There is a cascade of apples, sparkling trees, lots of water bubbling here and there, giant carved pumpkins, and the Ent-like fellow you saw. I messed with the photo a bit to get a bit more contrast and alter the color, but the light inside the place changes pretty regularly so I have no idea what his actual color is anyway. In a way the whole big room put me in mind of Willie Wonka. All it needed was for the flowing water to be chocolate.
But the flowing chocolate is just down the way at a fancy, pricey chocolate shop. A twelve or fourteen foot tall fountain of three varieties of the stuff pouring from one leaflike shaped basin to another to another. It was a good place to stand and inhale.
Sorry about taking all this space on your comment board, Norm.
It is good to be back. The weather has finally turned enough for us to sit outside this morning. Love it.
A jolly good description of the Las Vegas Strip. I was right there with you. Now I do not need (or indeed desire) to check it out for myself.
How do they stop people dipping fingers into the chocolate fountains?
Re metaphor; I meant one of those goggle-eyed fishes which have taken to walking around on the land. So you can breathe again.
The metaphor brings to mind a very Seussian image. I love Dr. Seuss.
The fountain is surrounded by glass. There is a tiny bit of space between the panels, but not enough for finger invasions.