Nullius in Verba

Episode 10

“As I was saying,” Bumblebore continued, “A Horcrux contains a piece of a wizard’s or witch’s sole.”

“S-O-U-L, right?”

“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.

Episode 9

“One Long Island Iced Tea coming up.”

Harry watched as the man pulled strangely shaped bottles from in front of a magical mirror that reflected the man’s opposite side than the one Harry could see, mixing different colored liquids together that magically changed into a blend of the colors they had been.

He set the drink in front of Harry. The surface of the glass magically misted with wetness and water trickled down the side.

“How much is it?” Harry asked quietly.

The aproned man blatantly* blew into a handkerchief, “That’ll be five quid Mac.”

“Five quid for a glass of iced tea?” Harry cried shrilly.

“Long Island Iced Tea, kid. The best tea in the world.”

Harry picked up the magically sweating glass. “Effing better be,” grumbled Harry glumly.

“Whud you say, you little twerp?”

Harry pulled out his Olivander 6000 XL wand and wiggled it. “Stupidfly!” Since it had been quite sometime since the running gag about misquoted spells had been trotted out to take a bow.

The aproned man flew into the air flapping his arms madly. “WTF, Mac?”

Harry set the magically sweating glass on the table in front of Bumblebore. “Ah, Larry—“

“Harry.”

“Harry, my boy. You’re a wonder.” Bumbelbore took an enormously big swig of the brownishly potion then smacked his lips flagrantly and trembled slightly. “G—oo—ood. Darn that’s fine as Mississippi mud on a Louisiana day.”

“What are you yammering about?”

“Horcruxii, or have you forgotten?”

* Note: See a previous post for the difference between blatant and flagrant.

Episode 8

Here it is by popular demand of my reader, the continuing saga of Harry Splutter and the Never Ending Story….

“When a wizard does something bad, like jaywalking, a piece of the sole is torn away and can be placed in a container. Making the wizard, as it were, immortal…if he or she can remember his or her shoe size.”

“And, that’s a bad thing?”

“Oh yes. Who’d want to live forever? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Harry knew that Bumblebore had now lost the screw that had been loose. Living forever sounded pretty groovy to him. If he did so, he might even be able to make some money in the stock market. Analyzing trends and such.

“Anyway,” Bumblebore continued, “I’m sure that you’re going to want to know how to destroy a Horcrux.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. sure.”

“Could I trouble you to get me an iced tea from over there?” Bumblebore pointed vaguely to a rather seedy place next to the Three Broomsticks Express. It was called The Rusty Cauldron Nail. “They make the best ones around Long Island, or so I hear.”

Harry walked toward it or towards it, he wasn’t certain. Anyway, he walked over and went inside the dark interior. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. There was a very long bar and a man behind it, wiping the wooden surface with a magical rag that left everything damp after it passed.

The man was tall and wore a spotted white apron. His black hair was combed straight back and unguentined into place. He had a sharp beaky nose and squinting eyes as
though he was always trying to focus on something. He had a toothpick that danced magically in his mouth when he spoke.

“What can I get you runt?” the man grumbled with a voice as if a well could speak. The toothpick did the rhumba.

“Do you have the iced tea like they make in Long Island?” Harry asked timidly.

“Sure. Anything else, bub?”

Harry shook his head.

The man turned and began pulling strangely shaped bottles from in front of a magical mirror that reflected the man’s opposite side than the one Harry could see and the bottles on the wall. “One Long Island Iced Tea coming up.” The man mixed different colored liquids together and the magically changed colors and became a blend of the colors they had been.

And so it goes…

Episode 7

A short riff today. A mere 270 words…

After Bumblebore magically cleared the table of detritus, Harry went off to find the boozehound something to drink. Next to a Scarf and Barf he found a Three Broomsticks Express and ordered two butterbeers.

He carried them back to the table and put one in front of the wizened wizard. “Okay, speak,” he said.

Bumblebore picked up the flagon of flavor and downed half of it with one big gulp.

“Thank you my boy.” He wiped foam from his face with an iffy sleeve. “Where were we?”

“The Horcrux, you mangy magician.” Harry twirled his wand like a light saber.

Bumblebore downed the dregs of his buterbeer. “Uh…huh. Horcrux, Horcrux…hmmm, I seem to have a faulty memory.”

“Oh, okay,” sighed Harry despondently. “I’ll get you another butter beer you olde boozehound.”

“Who you calling a boozehound?” retorted the red nosed wizard.

Harry came back with the drink and set it on the table. All the butter beers had magically emptied.

“Now,” Harry growled menacingly. “Horcruxii or I’m reporting you to AA.”

“Amalgamated Alchemists? I doubt they’ll do much.”

“Horcruxes!!!!!”

“Horcruxii, are a portion of a magical person’s sole.”

Bumblebore sipped contentedly at his drink while wondering if he could get Harry to buy him something stronger like a Sloe Gin Fizz or Long Island Iced Tea. He might be able to con a tea out of the little weenie if Harry thought it didn’t contain booze.

“When a wizard does something bad, like jaywalking, a piece of the sole is torn away and can be placed in a container. Making the wizard, as it were, immortal…if he or she can remember his or her shoe size.”

To be continued…

Episode 6

Ron trailed behind Hermione, whining as usual.

“Look who I found lurking about the little witches room.” Hermione said hooking her thumb in Ron Weasel’s direction.

“Shoot, don’t blame me, I don’t understand wha’ these funny runic symbols next to the doors mean.”

“You are such a weasel, Weasel,” shrieked Hermione.

“Please, my throat is parched from extemporaneousising upon Horcruxii,” Bumblebore blustered futilely, since the two kept up their incessant bickering.

“Would you two get on with it and snog or shag or something?” Harry yelled exasperatedly, in the way that JK uses adverbs for every bit of dialogue.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way about it,” Hermione sniffed. “Come, Weasel.”

“Now you’re talking!” exclaimed Weasel excitedly waving his wand. He scooped up Hermione and carried her off to a dark corner in the parking garage.

“Now, where were we?” asked Bumblebore. Obviously not able to scan the previous paragraphs to find his place.

“Drink, the Horcruxii,” moaned Harry.

“I know the way.” Bumblebore charged off across the street. Cars magically missed him by inches. Harry, however, was another matter. Harry had to dodge, weave, parry, and thrust to make it to the other side.

Bumblebore shoved the double doors open like a new gun coming into the saloon. (Like that? Bumblebore & double door. Get the poetry of it all? Never mind.)

They walked into a food court filled with wondrous things—Wizard King, California Pizza Wizard, a bar that served miners (no minors allowed), McWizards, Long John Wizards, Dunkin’ Dowitch, and Starbucks.

Bumblebore wiped off a table with his robe sleeve making the table dirtier than it had been though less crowded. Cups and paper plates went flying magically to the floor.

To be continued….

Episode 5

“Yeah,” said Harry, “And for purposes of plot exposition I need you to explain what Horcruxii are.”

“Horcruxii are thingamajiggies that contain the whozeewhatsis of you know who—“

“Don’t get technical on me you mangy gasbag.”

“Who are you calling mangy?” asked the disheveled wizard wearing worn robes as he played with a moth eaten hole in the robe.

“Forget it. Get back to your polysyllabic dissertation. Just put it into plain English.”

“A Horcrux contains a piece of a person’s sole.”

“You mean S-O-U-L, right?”

“Whatever,” Bumblebore said making a dismissive gesture with his wand. Four cars in the loading/unloading zone were thrown into the air.

“Whoops. better put this away,” he said sheepishly. Several sheep driving by in a Renault gave him the hoof.

“Go on, get on with it,” said Harry peevishly. Fortunately for the author, Peeves was still ensconced in the the bewitching Smogworts School of Wizarding.

“Right, where was I?” Bumblebore took a moment to read the preceding page. “So, Count Wal D’Mart has—“

“Count Wal D’Mart? I thought he was Lord Wal D’Mart.”

“He was. He needed money so he pawned his title for the needed scratch and dropped down to a Count.”

“Huh. Well okay.”

“You know my boy, all this talkifying dries out the vocalization cords.” Bumblebore made disgusting smacking sounds with his lips and tongue. “D’ya s’pose we might retire over to yon libation station for a liquefied refreshment?”

“You mean go over to the bar for a drink?”

Bumblebore put one foot behind the other and did an ‘aw shucks’ move though, since it was under his robes, this was blocked from view of anyone but the omniscient narrator and a couple of mice that fell out of an inner pocket.

“Well, yes, I would love a drink,” Bumblebore said. “I would gladly pay you Tuesday for a Harvey Wallbanger today.”

By this time Hermione had made it through the line in the little witches room and washed her hands. She walked quickly toward the two wizards, that is toward Harry and Bumblebore—a length of toilet paper trailed behind her, stuck to her foot.

To be continued…