128. Vivis Exion

Contest winner: greyniffler

Spanky hummed to himself as the hoverchair floated along the corridor. Ilona followed behind, fondling the hair on the back of his head.

The chair stopped in front of a shiny golden plate, fixed to the wall next to a door. There were four large words printed on the plate: "THE LEWIS BELL WARD." Under them a dense block of text was engraved in a thin, curling script:

"Dedicated to the memory of Lewis 'Cannon' Bell, beater for the Chudley Cannons from 1921 to 1938, holder of six all-time records: most spectators hit by bludger in a single game (17), season (124), and career (1,227); most mascots struck by bludger (18 to his own side's mascots and 49 to the opposing side's, including two on one shot), and most bludgers put through a scoring hoop (11 in his career, though no one started counting these until 1929). In spite of the danger to spectators, he was considered the best beater of his time because of his record for protecting his side from the bludgers, though he was less successful at interfering with the opposing team. The Daily Prophet announced his retirement with the headline: 'Quidditch Now Safer to Watch than to Play.' Later in life, as head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, 'Cannon' crusaded against the use of performance-enhancing spells and potions. Upon his death, Mr. Bell left his considerable fortune to the Hospital, with the express desire that it be used 'to help athletes and other witches/wizards recover from the use of, and dependency on, magic-altering potions.' This ward is the result of Mr. Bell's generous gift."

Engraved at the top of the plate was a small, golden image representing a bludger in flight. When Spanky reached toward it, the tiny bludger popped out of the plate, knocked into the side of Spanky's head, and slammed back into the wall from which it had come. Spanky yelled, rubbed his sore head, and scowled murderously at the golden bludger.

At that moment the door of the ward opened, and a short, stocky wizard emerged, gowned in Chudley Cannons colors and beaming at the Spankisons. "Gets them every time," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Mr. and Mrs. Spankison, I presume? I'm Healer Higgins. Let me show you in."

Healer Higgins led them through what appeared to be a long corridor lined with doors. The odd thing about it was that, between the doors, there were no walls separating the rooms within from the corridor without. Beyond the doors were rooms that seemed to have no walls around them. In one room, witches and wizards sat around small, round tables, eating toast and yogurt while an orderly handed out cups of pills. In another room across the corridor, several people were seated in a circle of chairs, one of them standing and talking to the others. The Spankisons could not hear what was being said, however.

"Magical walls," Healer Higgins said with a sweeping motion of his hands.

"I believe we know the gentleman who set them up," said Ilona, while Spanky went back to humming cheerfully. "Friend of ours. His family has been in the magical wall business for generations."

"Oh yes," agreed Higgins. "Mr. Harvey. Such a sad case, what happened to him. You know him, do you? Then I expect he will enjoy having you in his recovery group. It might be good for both of you."

Ilona shivered. This was the first she had heard about Harvey's fate since last Christmas, when he had supposedly taken a draught of Essence of Merlin and began living backward in time. Had he, in fact, been here all this time?

They passed more rooms with transparent walls. One was occupied by a pair of thin, wan youths playing table-tennis with a snitch whose wings were held down by a strip of sticky-tape. Healer Higgins stuck his head through the invisible wall next to the door and said something to the young men, to which they replied with shrugs. He did the same to a room where a blindfolded lady was painting a picture, and another room where a house-elf was trying to spoon porridge into the mouth of a thin, elderly man who was standing on his head. Ilona and Spanky could not hear what the Healer said to these people, but he explained afterward that he was just saying good-morning and making sure everybody had taken his meds.

Still another room contained a simmering cauldron guarded by a massive, shaggy, apelike creature with enormous fangs. Healer Higgins walked past this room without pausing.

"Aren't you going to say good morning to that one?" Ilona asked.

The Healer's cheeks reddened. "Mr. Faberhorn? Er...I don't like to disturb him at this hour. He can be a little grouchy before he's had his first cuppa."

Ilona looked back and saw the monster stretch in its sleep, licking its considerable chops.

"I quite understand," she said nervously.

"We'll get you started in here," said the Healer, reaching through the wall and turning a doorknob from the other side. "Mind you, the walls are bespelled so that only healers can do this. Everyone else has to knock on the doors and be invited in. Please, after you!"

Ilona followed her husband's gliding chair into a small, brightly lit laboratory that, on this side, seemed to be surrounded by perfectly solid walls. Almost immediately Spanky yelled "Yowch!" A winged thing of silver and glass, which she took at first for a small bird, flapped away from him, dropping a red-tipped needle into a sharps bin and ejecting a sealed tube of blood onto a padded tray. While Spanky rubbed his shoulder resentfully, Ilona followed the tube with her eyes. First it was picked up by a little clockwork machine that stood on five joined legs; the machine began spinning around until it became a blur in her vision. Then other machines - each one similar in size but unique in shape and function - took over and did a variety of things to the blood sample, until finally a bell chimed and a slot on the Healer's desk belched up a shiny coupon that appeared to be printed on silver foil.

"Hecate's boil!" the Healer swore as he read the coupon. "I've never seen anything like this. Platypus venom...essence of frogwort...concentrated spider sweat...poison-ivy-berry wine with an infusion of dog-chestnut extract...34% nondescript...I don't know quite what those people put in you, Mr. Spankison, but at these concentrations you should not have lived!"

Spanky giggled softly, leaned his head against Ilona's chest, and began to snore.

"We should take him to the resting room," said the Healer, beckoning. Ilona followed him, pushing the hoverchair ahead of her. They rounded a corner and came suddenly to a large, sunny courtyard where a breeze stirred the leaves of a pair of trees and a small stream bubbled over rocks. Several other patients were there already, napping in hoverchair recliners while mechanical bees buzzed around them, monitoring their vital signs.

"Let's put him here, next to Madam Nonmonnom," Healer Higgins suggested. "He'll be all right here while we discuss a few things in my office."

Ilona tucked a cushion behind Spanky's head and, with a reluctant backward glance, followed the Healer out of the resting room.

Some little while later, Spanky was awakened by snoring even louder than his own. He peered irritably through his eyelashes at the elderly lady reclining next to him. "I say," Spanky said softly. This he repeated, each time less softly. By the sixth "I say" he had awakened everyone but the old witch beside him. Finally he reached across and shook her arm. The lady turned her head the other way and slept on, mercifully snoring no longer.

He closed his eyes and began to go back to sleep, ignoring the grumbling of the other patients, who were shuffling out of the resting room with sullen looks in his direction.

The next time he awoke, it was because something pointy was digging uncomfortably into his neck. Holding as still as he could, Spanky opened his eyes slowly. The old lady was leaning over him with a leer of triumph on her face.

"You're Agent Spankison of the Rogue Magic Bureau," the lady whispered, her breath smelling like throat lozenges.

"You have the advantage of me," Spanky replied coolly. Somehow, having a wand poked into his neck had cleared his mind wonderfully.

"You won't know me," said the elderly witch. "But I have been waiting for you, ever since my niece Ava came to visit me. She had to come in disguise, you know. That's down to you. You've destroyed the lives of my brother and his girls. Home and business wrecked, years of prison staring them in the face, Avarice on the run and hungry. That's down to you as well. But she warned me to look for you, and here you are."

"I'm touched," Spanky said, though this was less true than it had been a moment ago.

The old witch went on in a half-whisper: "'Auntie Viv,' she said. 'Auntie Viv, do this one thing for us, and Daddy will give you the antidote to that silly little potion he slipped to you all those years ago. He didn't mean it, you know. It was just his little joke. Do this one little thing and you won't have to be mad anymore. Isn't that worth forgiving Daddy? Do this one very little thing, and you can come and live with us again. Wouldn't you like that, dear, old, mad Aunt Vivis?' So I said I would. I said I would stop you before you could regain your wits, before you could tell your awful lies to the Wizengamot, before..."

"I don't need to hear it," Spanky cut in, his voice calm. "I'll be dead soon, anyway. So, if it's all the same, could you just get it over with?"

"All right," said Aunt Viv. She stepped backward, her wand-tip pointed at him with only the slightest tremor. "You asked for it. Incendio!"

A jet of flame erupted from the wand. Spanky was enveloped in fire, together with his levitating bath chair. Smoke, the smell of burning hair, the crackle and pop of the wood in the chair, filled the resting room. Aunt Viv blocked the doorway with a shield spell just in time to stop the Healer and his orderlies from running in. She laughed a high, wheezing laugh at their horrified faces, and waved at them with her free hand. So she was taken a bit off guard when Spanky, completely unharmed, stood up out of the ashes of his no-longer-hovering recliner, brandished not one but two wands at her, and said: "I arrest you in the name of the Queen."

This only made Aunt Viv laugh the louder. "You?" she said. "You can't do anything to hurt me. My brother saw to that."

"I think you've got it turned around," said Spanky. "I'm not sure, though. There's only one way to find out. Stupefy!"

A vague, diffuse glow came out the tip of his right wand. Aunt Vivis snorted with laughter.

Red in the face, Spanky cleared his throat, swished his left wand, and tried again. Sparks stuttered out of it, hitting Aunt Viv's shoulder, but having little effect. She did look a little tired, but she shook it off and laughed louder.

"You see?" crowed Auntie Viv, still holding off the orderlies with her shield spell. "My brother's potion worked! Only it had a little unforeseen side-effect. So we're at a stalemate! I reckon we'll have to do this the Muggle way. Hit me."

Spanky hesitated. It didn't seem right to take a swing at an old lady who wasn't doing anything to fight back.

"All right, I'll go first," she said. With her free hand, she grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him off the ground. Spanky struggled in midair, clawing at her hands. He couldn't make a sound.

"Oops!" said Aunt Viv. "Another side-effect. Who would have thought it? My poor brother will never make it in the potioneering field, at this rate!"

With the strength of madness, the elderly witch began to crush Spanky's windpipe. He was beginning to see stars when, with hardly a thought in his head, he brought his two wands together, held between both hands, and mouthed the stunning spell one last time...

...and was momentarily blinded by a flash of light, almost deafened by a crack of thunder. The witch's iron claw released him and he crashed to the ground, gasping. Voices and running footsteps suddenly surrounded him. Strong hands hoisted Spanky onto another recliner. Spanky saw the Healer's concerned face - Ilona's cheeks streaked with tears - and as the ringing in his ears faded, he heard a young orderly's hysterical voice shouting, "She's dead!"

"Oops," Spanky whispered hoarsely as his eyelids drooped. "Another side-effect."

+++ DOUBLE CHALLENGE +++

To help choose the direction of the next few chapters of The Magic Quill, visit the Discussion Forum, or send Robbie feedback. The survey answer with the most votes, and the contest entry (or entries) Robbie likes best, will be featured in the chapter after next. [EDIT: This discussion is now closed.]

SURVEY: Is Harvey really in the Lewis Ball Ward? (A) Yes, and he has been there all along. (B) Yes, but only after living backward through history and forward again. (C) No, it's somebody else claiming to be Harvey.

CONTEST: What kind of New Year's resolution might a witch or wizard make?

[Originally posted 12/22/07]

126. The Platypus Test

Contest winner: Linda Carrig
Runner-up: TWZRD

Spanky drooled. His eyes stared blankly, his head hanging at an odd angle, as Avarice Exion spooned porridge into his slack mouth. His wrists and ankles were tied to the chair, and the skin around his mouth was discolored.

"Well, I think he's faking it," said her sister Concupiscence, who was leaning against the doorjamb. "It's his training. He'll wait until our guard is down, and then attack. Or run for it, maybe."

"That may be so, Connie," said the third sister Malignancy from her rocking chair in the corner, without looking up from her needlework. She was embroidering thorny vines around the edges of a pile of linen napkins. "But it may also be that the serum is working, and his power is breaking."

Spanky chose this moment to belch a mouthful of porridge onto his bib. Ava sighed and mopped it up. "His mind is breaking, more like," she said. "We have to stop dosing him before he loses his marbles completely."

"The quest for knowledge calls for sacrifice," Malignancy chirped.

"This is next to murder," Ava grumbled, slamming the bowl down on the corner of the washstand.

"Finished, is he?" said Connie. "Time for his dose, then."

The moment Connie fished the bottle of platypus potion out of her apron pocket, Spanky began to sing in an eerily childlike voice: "Moo, moo, mooncalf, Have you any milk? Yes, sir, three cans, Smooth as silk. One for my wizard, One for my witch, And one for the little elf, Who lives in the ditch. Moo, moo, mooncalf..."

By this time Connie had uncorked the bottle and measured a spoonful of a thick, brown, nasty-smelling syrup. Ava pinched his nose and held his head back, averting her eyes, while Connie jammed the spoon into Spanky's mouth. He choked slightly, then swallowed, and finished his song in a hoarse voice: "Have you any milk? Yes, sir, three cans, Smooth as silk!"

The sisters waited in tense silence while Spanky breathed in rapid short gasps. Ava discreetly hovered behind him with a bowl and a towel, in case of another incident of stomach upset. After a few minutes his distress passed, and the prisoner resumed staring and drooling, and breathing normally. The women relaxed.

"Time to test him," Malignancy warbled sweetly.

"Why don't you test him?" Ava complained. "This was your idea, Nancy, I didn't even want to do it, and now I'm doing all the work!"

"This is work too," her sister replied, brandishing her needlework. "That's why this thing" - she nudged a hamper full of freshly-ironed napkins at her feet - "is called a work-basket. If you think you can finish all the new napkins by the weekend, you're welcome to try..."

"All right!" Ava snapped. Grumbling, she rummaged in her pocket and produced an opened Chocolate Frog. She placed it on the wash-stand, where Spanky could see it as he lolled and drooled. Then she pulled a wand out of another pocket and stuck it in Spanky's hand, helping him close his fist around it. "All right, Mr. Spankison," she said gently. "You know how it goes. Make the sweet come to you."

Spanky stared unseeingly toward the Chocolate Frog.

"Go on," coaxed Ava.

In a whispery voice that tore at Ava's heart, the once-powerful RMB agent began to sing another song: "Chocolate Frogs, Chocolate Frogs, One a sickle, two a sickle, chocolate frogs..."

"Just say Accio frog," Connie groaned, rolling her eyes.

To Ava's surprise, Spanky said just that. But the sweet didn't budge an inch.

"Try again," said Ava, almost hopefully. "Twirl the wand like so."

Spanky moved the wand a bit and repeated the spell, but again, nothing happened.

"I would call that a success," Nancy drawled from behind her needlework.

Connie clicked her tongue in disagreement. "He's hoaxing us, I tell you. There's know way we can tell whether he's lost his powers at all."

"He's lost more than his powers," Ava said, but this argument had been going round between them for days, so no one felt a need to continue it as Ava shoved the wand and frog back into her pockets.

"Cauldron cakes, cauldron cakes," Spanky sang softly. "One a sickle, two a sickle..."

"Well, there is one way we can tell," said Nancy.

"Not that," Ava said, clutching her belly.

"I agree," said Connie. "If he's hoaxing us, he could get away."

"But he'll die," Ava whispered, as if Spanky couldn't hear her from an armspan away.

"Only if the serum works," Nancy answered brightly.

"Or if he's out of his mind," said Ava. "You still wouldn't know!"

Nancy shrugged. "I've heard it said that the knowledge of certain death 'concentrates the mind wonderfully.'"

"This is monstrous. I'll have nothing..."

"You'll do it," Nancy insisted in tones of icy sweetness.

Ava wrung her hands in despair. "But why me?"

"Because," said Nancy, "Whoever does this will need to be shielded, and Connie has always been best at shield spells. So she'll be busy; that leaves you."

"And where will you be?" Connie wondered aloud.

"I will be shopping in the village..."

"Oh, well done!" Connie howled.

"...with exact, walking and talking simulacra of the two of you. I would give my left eye to see either of you manage that spell, leave alone sustaining it for an hour-long stroll in public."

Ava covered her mouth. Connie snorted and shook her head. "I should have known," said the latter. "I always wondered why the two of us always got blamed for trouble in school, when we were never there to see it happen. It was you all along, you and your Samuel Acres."

Nancy winced, then shrugged again. "You'll thank me after today. There will be dozens of witnesses placing you anywhere but at the spot where you dump the body. In a word, I'm giving you an alibi."

"That's five words," Connie said, scratching her temple.

Nancy rolled her eyes.

"Make it look like he succumbed to his injuries from the Battle of Hogwarts," Nancy suggested as she packed up her work-basket. "It's what everyone will expect anyway."

Nancy walked out of the room. Her sisters remained where they were, staring at each other in astonishment, as the sound of footsteps on the stairs faded in the distance.

"I suppose we should wait a bit, give her a chance to get into town," Connie suggested.

"You're talking this calmly!" Ava shouted.

"Might as well," said Connie.

"I don't even know what kind of spell..."

"Sectumsempra should do the trick," Connie said briskly.

Ava looked sick. She spent the next few minutes pacing nervously between the wash-stand and the window. On one pass she paused by the window and looked out with a sudden stillness that should have caught Connie's attention, but the latter was occupied, cleaning her fingernails with her wand. Then Ava turned away quickly and resumed pacing, her face blank.

At length Connie glanced at the clock on the wall and said: "Why don't you undo his bonds? I'll shield you, then you can throw him a wand and we'll see what happens."

"I would sooner see anything else," Ava muttered. Nevertheless, she waved her wand and the bindings on Spanky's wrists and ankles fell off.

Spanky immediately began rubbing his arms and stretching his legs. He looked like a man waking up from a long sleep.

"Protego," Connie muttered, casting a shield to protect herself and Ava from their prisoner. "It's starting to look like I was right," she added, catching Ava's eye.

Ava's face turned bright red, and her eyes swam with tears.

"What's the matter with you?" Connie snapped. "We'll be all right. You might as well bung him a wand, so we can finish this scientifically."

Ava threw Spanky's wand at him. He caught it in his left hand and waved it at the two sisters. The tip of the wand fizzed and sparked, but otherwise nothing happened.

"Looks like he still has a bit of a charge in him," Connie remarked.

"Could just be a bit of residual magic in the wand itself," Ava countered.

"Well, there's one way to be sure," said Connie. "Try to slit his throat once and see if he puts up a defense."

Ava leveled the wand at Spanky, who was standing now, staring at his wand in apparent shock. Ava's hand trembled. Finally she confessed: "I can't."

"You will," said Connie. "Or do you want me to fetch Father?"

Spanky shook his wand again and again. Nothing but a few puffs of glittery smoke came out of it.

"All right," said Ava, grimly. She pointed the wand at Spanky's heart and chanted: "Sectumsempra!"

A jet of light struck the center of Spanky's chest...and disappeared. He looked down at himself, uninjured.

Connie gasped. "How did he...?"

Before she could complete the thought, a tremendous crash sounded from downstairs, followed by a commotion bangs, yells, and the sound of solid wooden furniture being reduced to splinters.

"Watch him for a moment," Connie said, rushing out of the room. A moment later Ava heard her scream: "Father!" More bangs, yells, and crashes came up from below.

Ava held her prisoner at wandpoint, wild-eyed, wondering what to do. She didn't have long to reflect on this matter. She heard Connie's voice give one last, desperate scream - then the thunder of footsteps on the stairs, the shouts of men and women searching the rooms ...

Too late, Ava thought of barricading the door. It had barely closed when it was blasted open again. The first person through the door was Queen Silvia of Sweden - or rather, Joe Albuquerque, though at the moment the resemblance was remarkable. Ava recovered quickly from her surprise and began firing curses and defensive spells at the door, while herding Spanky behind her toward the corner by the window. In the sudden thrill of battle, with her mind clear of anything but survival, she kept Joe so busy that, for several moments, he didn't have a chance to call for help. When he finally did manage to yell "In here!" Ava winged him with a stunning spell, which sent him staggering into the wardrobe.

Ilona, Agent Dalrymple, and a half dozen other RMB agents poured into the room before Ava could finish Joe off. Their curses glanced off her shield - she was, after all, not far behind Connie in that department - so that she could scarcely see through it. Meanwhile, the force of ricocheting spells had shattered a vase and two lamps, melted a ceramic figurine, set fire to Nancy's rocking-chair, and burst the stuffing out of the bed.

When four more agents rushed into the room, Ava realized she had only one choice. She grabbed the bewildered Spanky by his collar and shoved him ahead of her, straight into Dalrymple's arms - and in the momentary confusion, she jumped out of the window.

Ilona ran to the window and looked down.

"I didn't hear an impact," Joe said, adjusting his tiara.

"Her broom caught her," said Ilona. "She'll be miles away by the time we go after her."

Nevertheless, Dalyrmple ordered the other agents to give chase. Their footsteps thundered out of the room, down the stairs, and off into the distance.

Ilona turned slowly from the window. A blurry second later she was clutching Spanky like a lifebelt, and making kitten-like noises into his chest. Joe and Dalrymple both coughed and turned away awkwardly.

The first intelligible thing Ilona managed to say was, "I knew you were alive."

Spanky said nothing, but only patted her shoulder with a bemused look on his face.

"Well?" she cried. "What do you have to say?"

Spanky pulled away from her, cleared his throat, smiled awkwardly...and began to sing: "Little Boy Blue, come wave your wand, The Kneazle's at the chickens, the Abraxan's in the corn. Where is that boy that looks after the beasts? He's back in the broom shed, fast asleep..."

+++ DOUBLE CHALLENGE +++

To help choose the direction of the next few chapters of The Magic Quill, visit the Discussion Forum, or send Robbie feedback. The survey answer with the most votes, and the contest entry (or entries) Robbie likes best, will be featured in the chapter after next. [EDIT: This discussion is now closed.]

SURVEY: What happens to Spanky as a result of the platypus potion? (A) He permanently loses most of his magical powers. (B) He recovers and is soon back to normal, give or take an occasional relapse. (C) Without losing his own powers, he develops a resistance to other people's magic that makes defense a snap - but also has some goofy side-effects. (D) Other: ____.

CONTEST: Invent the name of a professional Quidditch player and the "world record" he or she holds.

[Originally posted 11/14/07]

122. Mr. Exion's Daughters

Contest winner: TWZRD

The first time Spanky woke up after the Battle of Hogwarts, he was in a lumpy bed, under a musty-smelling counterpane, in an unfamiliar room. At first he felt fine, but when he tried to lift his head an all but visible wall of pain and dizziness held him down. Then he tried to move his arm, and that hurt even more. It hurt to take more than a shallow breath. It hurt to speak.

He knew little more, for a while. Then, judging by the changing angle of light in the room, he found himself waking for longer periods between shorter and shorter naps. And he came to understand that most of his body was bandaged, his right arm and both legs in splints, and the hand that fed him and sponged his brow belonged to a woman he did not know. He could not turn his head, and she never seemed to lean quite directly over him, but even so, he found it strange how difficult it was to form a clear picture of her face. She never spoke, except to shush him if he tried to speak.

On what he reckoned to be the eighth day of his recovery, he noticed that the woman tending him had a different scent than the last time he had wakened. When he wasn’t wondering where his wife was, and whether his friends were alive – he had not seen them since Aberforth Dumbledore had burst into their private parlor at the Hog’s Head and pressed them into service for a great battle that was about to start, a battle Spanky little remembered – he pondered the possibility that there was more than one woman taking turns attending him, hovering at the edge of his vision.

The day finally came when Spanky felt strong enough to speak. Or, to be more precise, he felt ready to bear the consequences of doing so, though he knew they would be painful. As a spoon scraped the bottom of a bowl of broth near his head, he moistened his lips and said – how strange his raspy voice sounded! – “Where is this?”

The woman, who somehow smelled different from whoever had tended him either of the last two times, shushed him. But when he started to repeat his question, she put down the spoon and said, “You’re in one of the guest rooms at the Prickly Spindle.”

Spanky tried to shake his head, but the pain almost blinded him. “I don’t know it,” he croaked.

“It’s in Hogsmeade,” said the woman. “My father is the landlord. We’re not as well-known as the Three Broomsticks, but we do all right. Especially since the battle. Every room in the village is full. The battle, you know. And the burials, and the rebuilding, and a little skirmish here and there – the work has been nonstop. And of course, there are wounded, like you. Ones who aren’t well enough to be moved, that is. The Prickly Spindle has been more hospital than pub lately.”

The woman seemed friendly enough – or at least talkative – though she didn’t seem happy, at least toward the end of her speech.

“My wife,” Spanky croaked —

“Tell me your name and hers, and we’ll send for her. Perhaps she has been looking for you.”

Spanky had to breathe deeply for a minute before he could pronounce the two names. He thought: If Ilona were alive and well, she would have come looking for me. She would not have stopped looking until she had found me; and then, she would not have left my side. What could have happened to her?

The woman left the room. As soon as she had gone, Spanky’s distress grew until he had to throw up. A basin, hovering upside-down, darted over him and caught the sick, which somehow fell upward out of his mouth. When he was done, the basin flew away. While a piece of cloth wiped his lips, Spanky heard the sound of a window opening, a distant splattering sound, and someone yelling, “Oi! Who did that?” as the window slammed. A moment later Spanky noticed the basin, empty again, hovering near the foot of his bed.

The magical phenomena in the room provided enough distraction to keep Spanky’s mind off worrying about Ilona, until the woman came back – or perhaps a different woman, as she smelled different again. More like yesterday’s attendant.

“Still awake?” she asked. Her voice was similar to the other woman’s – sisters, perhaps?

“How many of you are there?” he asked, even more hoarsely than before.

The woman laughed, yet did not sound altogether happy. “There are three of us,” she said. “Three and father, but he hasn’t been in. He has a pub to run, you know.”

“What name?” Spanky rattled. The cloth daubed at his chin.

“Exion,” she said. “You can call me Ava, and my sisters are Connie and Nancy. We’ve been taking turns looking in on you. You’re the last one who hasn’t gone on...”

Spanky blanched. “The others died?”

Ava laughed – nervously, this time. “Of course not. They’re at St. Mungo’s by now. They were moved to London on the train, as soon as they could travel. One of them got well enough to go home by Floo Powder. But you had the worst injuries. It’s amazing that you survived at all.”

“What happened?”

“We’re not sure,” said Ava. “Whatever it was, it involved a bad bite, a kick of some kind, and maybe a spell that ricocheted into you. Your legs were beaten up, too; something may have fallen on you. Or maybe you fell on something. More than that, we don’t know. A centaur brought you here with some herbs that we were to feed to you in broth. He didn’t say where he found you, and he hasn’t come back.”

A sudden draft announced that the door was open; then the latch clicked, and Spanky’s peripheral vision saw a shadow appear on the other side of the bed. The one who had left a few moments ago spoke now: “We have sent a message to your wife by owl. Also, Nancy is inquiring at the ministry, to see if anyone has been asking about you.”

“Thank you,” Spanky managed to whisper, before sinking beneath a combination of anxiety, relief, and pain.

The next time he awoke, he smelled the third sister – Nancy – nearby. Before he opened his eyes, he tried to identify what it was about her smell that was so distinctive. He eventually decided it was a combination of mothballs and burnt toast, and maybe a bit of roasted pumpkin seeds tossed into the bargain. He opened his eyes and asked, “Have you heard from my wife?”

“Not yet,” she said. “The owl won’t have reached her yet, you see. Someone at the Ministry said she had gone to Romania with your children. Did you know they thought you were dead? Seems they identified some other poor bloke as you, and buried him with the others in the graveyard above Hogwarts.”

Spanky’s heart plummeted during this speech. The room spun round and round. He must have passed out, because the next moment all three sisters were gathered around him. They seemed to have just finished redressing his wounds.

“Not as much as all that,” the one named Connie (who smelled of herring and dill in a slightly rancid brine) said in a disgruntled voice.

“Still, more than we expected,” said Ava (garlic and glue, with just a tiny breath of fresh grass cuttings). “It would keep us going for a good while. And that’s ready money, which is more than we can say about this.”

“Right now, yes,” argued Connie. “But the sooner we finish this, the sooner it will make us rich.”

“But meanwhile, we’re on the verge of losing everything,” Ava replied, in a strained whisper so as not to wake Spanky (who, for some reason, had decided to pretend that he was still out cold).

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Nancy sniffed.

“Call it dramatics if you like,” Ava hissed. “I, for one, would breathe a lot easier if we had a bit more to get by on right now. I think it would be worth holding off the big breakthrough for just a few more...”

“But we would have to start the tests all over,” Connie pleaded, sounding close to tears. “We’re more than halfway now, I’m cerrtain of it. And it might be a long time before we find another perfect subject like this!”

“Maybe we have enough results already,” said Ava.

“But his power isn’t completely gone,” said Connie. “We can’t be sure until he’s had the full dose.”

“If only it didn’t take so long,” said Nancy.

“Well, it does,” barked Connie. “Too much of the venom at one time could kill him. Or if it didn’t, I don’t know what it would do to him, but I’ll wager sickles to scones it wouldn’t be good for the business.”

“I think we should ask father,” said Nancy.

“Yes,” said Ava. “She’s right.”

“Fine,” Connie snapped. “He’ll only say what I’ve been telling you.”

“He might say differently after examining the subject,” said Ava. “Besides, how likely is it that someone else is working on this? Who is going to steal a march on us, even if we do delay it?”

“It’s a risk,” Connie insisted.

“Yes, but a small one. I think the certainty of reward money now weighs pretty well against the small risk...”

“...of losing the fortune of a lifetime?” Connie scoffed. “After all this work? After coming so close?”

Spanky almost jumped when Ava put her hand on his forearm. It felt very cold, even when she squeezed. “What if it isn’t right to do this?”

“We’re not going into all that again,” said Connie, her voice getting softer as she stomped out of the room. The sisters’ footsteps drowned out anything else she had to say.

For the next few minutes Spanky lay alone, eyes still closed, trying not to tremble. What experiment were these witches doing on him? What venom were they putting in his soup? Did it have something to do with how weak he felt?

Footsteps approached – louder – more of them than before – among them, the tread of a larger, heavier person, approaching his bedside. Something squeaked, and a bright light was directed – evidently, through a lens – onto Spanky’s face. Hands prodded his flesh. Large, coarse thumbs peeled back his eyelids. Spanky made an effort to keep his eyes unfocused and still. The brightness of the light stung his eyes.

“You see, father?” said Ava’s voice. “You see it’s true. The venom works, just as you said it would.”

“It isn’t conclusive,” said the man, mercifully letting Spanky’s eyes fall shut again. “It hasn’t reached its full effect yet. His power could still return; there is no way to ensure otherwise, except by taking all of it.”

“But you can already...”

Connie interrupted, “We need to see how the full dose looks before we dare publish what we have found. To say nothing of selling it!”

“We have enough results to justify further tests,” Nancy suggested, taking a middle position. “Whether we do them on this fellow, or on another, is immaterial. It might even be better to test this on multiple subjects.”

“But we haven’t enough money to do that!” Connie shouted.

“We would, if we let this man go and collected the reward,” Ava fought back.

“But suppose, while they’re examining him at St. Mungo’s, someone twigs onto our little heterodox treatment,” Connie said. “They might stop us continuing our work. Or worse, they might try to reproduce it before we can complete our...”

“Thank you, Concupiscence,” said the man, who sounded old, ill-tempered, and corpulent. “That is enough. I appreciate your concern. However, Avarice also makes some excellent points. Clearly, the two of you will never agree, so there is no use in continuing to argue about it. I will have to decide this myself. Be so good as to leave me alone with him for a few minutes. And Malignancy, dear, bring me another bowl of broth. This stuff has gone cold. While I have never heard of platypus venom losing its potency in so short a time, I would hate to let the tiniest uncertainty spoil our data. Besides, he might not care to drink it cold.”

By now, Spanky was even colder than the broth. Platypus venom, the man had said. Even a small dose could incapacitate a man, through swelling and pain, for days or even weeks. And that was apart from whatever magical properties it might have. Spanky racked his brains for anything he might have heard about the uses of platypuses in magic.

The door closed firmly, and the man leaned over Spanky. It wasn’t that Spanky could see his shadow; no, that bright light shining on his face was still pouring pinkly through his eyelids. But the man’s bulk seemed to press down on one side of the mattress, and his faint odor of wet dog, gin, and sulfur grew stronger.

“You may as well open your eyes now,” said the man. “I am not as easily fooled as my three daughters.”

Spanky opened his eyes slowly, but could see nothing but pure light and just the faintest suggestion of a large shape to his left.

“Who are you?” he asked in a ghost of his usual voice.

“That depends on how well you can keep a secret,” said Mr. Exion. “I may be your new business partner; and if so, you and I will soon be very, very rich.

“Or,” the fat man continued, leaning even closer so that Spanky felt his warm breath on his face – breath that, surprisingly, emphasized the smell of sulfur rather than gin. “Or, I may be the last person to see you alive. I would prefer the former, however. What do you think?”

“I need more information,” said Spanky, a little louder now.

Mr. Exion laughed a rich, hearty, jiggly laugh that made Spanky think about blancmanges. The feeling of nausea returned.

“Very good,” he said. “As partners, we should keep no secrets from each other. But you know, I think Concupiscence was right. We really must finish our experiment before we restore you to your loved ones. You see, letting you go now, when you could grow your powers back, just wouldn’t do. How could I trust you, then, to honor your side of the partnership? Why, nothing could stop you from asking for a larger share, or causing all kinds of trouble for us.

“No, indeed! You really only have two choices. Continue your treatment, and become like the platypus: entirely, and eternally, immune to magic...or go cold-turkey, the operative word being cold. Is that enough information, or shall I leave you to think about it?”

There was a knock at the door. Mr. Exion called, “Come.”

Footsteps. Malignancy’s voice: “Here is that broth, father.”

“Excellent. Mr. Spankison was just about to tell me whether he wants it or not. He has been fully informed, too. It’s entirely his decision. So how say you, friend? Will you have some of this excellent broth?”

Of course, Spanky did.

+++ DOUBLE CHALLENGE +++

To help choose the direction of the next few chapters of The Magic Quill, visit the Discussion Forum, or send Robbie feedback. The survey answer with the most votes, and the contest entry (or entries) Robbie likes best, will be featured in the chapter after next. [EDIT: This discussion is now closed.]

SURVEY: Which death in Deathly Hallows would be most likely to effect the characters in The Magic Quill?

CONTEST: Now that Voldemort has been finished off, magical crime will tend to be more local and small-time in nature. What kind of magical crime might a small, local ring of rogue wizards and witches get up to?

[Originally posted 8/4/07, soon after the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.]