Jack Simmonds

Alfie Brown: The Boy With Purple Eyes (Who Discovered He Could Do Magic) PART ONE
First published by Jack Simmonds in 2017

Copyright (C) Jack Simmonds, 2017

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# Contents

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  2. I. Alfie Brown: The Boy With Purple Eyes (Who Discovered He Could Do Magic)
    1. Prologue - The Wise Wizard
    2. The Exploding Television
    3. Ghost Corridor
    4. Shadow Thief
    5. Spellbound Cats
    6. The Disapearing Clothes
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Jack Simmonds

# I

# Alfie Brown: The Boy With Purple Eyes (Who Discovered He Could Do Magic)

The first six chapters, where we meet Alfie, his best friend Tommy and the introduction of real Magick... 

# 1

# Prologue - The Wise Wizard

They say we go through our lives only using 10% of our brain. Most often we tread the same streets, go to the same school, same shops, with the same friends, in the same town, city or country, our whole lives and rarely venture further. I mean, have you ever been down that alley, near the back of those houses the other side of town? No. Exactly.

You could say we barely _see_ more than 1% of the world throughout our lifetimes. This isn't meant to depress you, merely to make a point; how would you know if those _strange things_ you were always told were nonsense, did actually exist? How would you know that other lands, made unseeable to you, with people living in them existed? How would you know that they can do things that you would call impossible?

You wouldn't.

So please, no arguments about this.

There are things in this world you will never know about, things that if you found out would make you wish you had never known, and things that will excite and scare you silly in equal measure.

Let me cut to the chase and tell you this... _magick_ is real. It exists like the air you breath, like the blood that runs through your veins, like the inevitability of death. And now, let me excite you... I can do magick and so can you!

We spell magick with a K at the end to differentiate it from modern trickery magic, the useless entertainment and foolery kind.

I am talking about _real_ magick.

If you can accept this, then I suppose your next thought is: 'This is all as well, but there's no magick around here. It's probably far away from here hidden in some hidden, special lands...' -- or so your arguments will go.

Not so.

It can and does occur in the most ordinary of places of which I am about to share with you. I will tell you this story as best as my memory will allow and I hope you can keep an open mind. You don't have to believe me, all I ask is that you listen and enjoy the story...

The night air was cool and dry. Like it would always be in a perfect world. There was an odd but beautiful purple hue across the underlay of fluffy clouds above and a tuft of tall grass on the curbside was tussled by the wind. The country road, surrounded by two fields of mud recently turned over, led directly on to a small town. There was no sign of life, especially not at this time of night.

And then, something amazing happened.

In a spot between the lamppost and a tall oak the air seemed to flicker like a bad television signal. There was a crackle of noise and light like spitting electricity before shapes started to whirl amongst the flicker. All of a sudden, without batting an eyelid, the form of a full grown man, six feet tall or more, came spiralling out of the crackling flicker. For a moment, he stood totally still. This was Nikolas Wiseman, a most respected and honoured Wizard. Yes, you heard me correctly, a real Wizard. Being a person of magick, he wore the clothes you would kind of expect; long black overcoat slightly too big, shiny black boots reflecting the one orange lamp above. He had shoulder length black hair and could have been mistaken for a woman from behind, for it was shiny and well cared for. On top of his head, oddly, was a rather battered brown cowboy hat. It looked out of place in the rural countryside of England. Or more specifically, Cornwall.

For all intents and purposes Nikolas Wiseman looked to be in his early thirties, yet carried himself like a man full of weighty wisdom, the world on his shoulders you could say, which gave the impression of a man twenty years older.

Wiseman sniffed the air like a dog, his nose high as if catching a scent on the passing gust. Then, he moved away from the spot he had just appeared from and began to trudge along the road towards the small town. Walking with a slight boyish bounce and a casual pace, you could be forgiven for thinking that his appearance was not that urgent, or presence essential. But it was. It absolutely was. And he knew it.

Wiseman was alert, although he strolled casually, he used his near perfect eye sight to scan the darkness. He knew what he was looking for, there had to be some about, he just knew it. His right hand was in his pocket and tensed into a tight fist.

The town was small and pretty. But he had no time to take in the beauty of the surroundings. He had a job to do. The road stretched right up ahead into the town, and was lit by orange lamp lights dotted all the way along. Marching a little quicker, Wiseman passed a cemetery on his right, then a tall church, as well as several twee cottages with mullioned windows and thatched roofs. Fifty yards ahead the road split in two, in the middle of the fork was, not a park exactly, but a small square with a one bench, surrounded by black iron railings. Wiseman tensed, but carried on walking as nonchalantly as he could. The sound of small muffled conspiratorial voices reached his ears causing them to twitch and train towards the almost imperceptible noise. Wiseman had a sinking feeling in his stomach, he should have been more careful, being this brazen could just attract more attention. And that would not be good. But has to be dealt with. Approaching the iron gate to the small square, he stopped and lay a hand upon the cold metal. Almost at once, _they_ became visible; three men were now sat on the bench muttering madly to each other and cackling. Their long coats battered, worn, and dirty. Their voices scratchy and hoarse. But their faces were the worst part; blotchy, pockmarked and with scabs all over. They looked like a corpse that had risen from its grave.

These, as Wiseman knew full well, were called Scabs.

Scabs used to be Wizards, but somehow or another, lost their magic. But now, they were in an endless struggle to try and get it back. This involved some very dark, horrible practices which I won't go into. Suffice to say, they were not nice individuals.

When they finally looked up and saw Nikolas Wiseman leaning casually on the railings watching them like you might an animal at the zoo, they stood sharply causing the bench to tip backwards. "Who are you?!" the middle one demanded.

"Yeah, tell us or we will do magick on ya' and kill ya'!"

"Is that so?" said Wiseman picking his teeth.

"Oi! We asked you _who_ you was!?"

Wiseman took off his hat and did a small, sarcastic curtsy. "I am Nikolas Wiseman."

The three Scabs froze like statues. An uncomfortable few seconds later, the middle one pointed a long scabby finger at him. "You are _the_ Nikolas Wiseman?"

"Indeed I am. Unless I am an imposter pretending to be him." Wiseman chuckled. "But last thing I checked, I wasn't."

The Scabs looked perplexed, they were not the brightest.

"Anyway, it don't matter," said a brave one. "Cos we was here first you old basket case!" With that the Scab threw his hands out like he was pitching a baseball. With an almighty rush of air, a stream of yellow light blitzed through the night at the speed of light, straight towards Wiseman's face!

He hardly moved, only to pull his hat down as the spell, as it was, deflected upwards off the hat and into the sky, before dissipating like a firework.

Wiseman tutted and wagged his finger as if telling off a group of particularly naughty children.

Red chains bound the Scabs arms, legs and mouths as they struggled on the grass. These red chains were magical of course, and were almost impossible to get out of. "Why are you here?" said Wiseman with a snarl.

"Mmmm--mm..." said the middle one into the red light masking his mouth. Wiseman raised a finger, the light peeled away. "Why should we tell you?!"

Wiseman gave them a long look as if it hardly needed mentioning, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small black crystal, upon sight of it they began to scream.

"I'll tell ya! I will! I will!"

Wiseman put the crystal back in his pocket.

The Scab was breathing hard, his black eyes darting around the empty town before leaning forwards. "We can smell the magick. It's thick here. It's coming from one of these houses..."

Wiseman sniffed before he picked up another sound up ahead, someone nearby just kicked an empty can over. Anyone else would have assumed it was a fox or cat, but not Wiseman, this he knew, was caused by a human. Wiseman followed the noise, at the same time lifting a finger--the red mask covered the Scabs face again--before he took out the black crystal and dropped it at their feet causing them to scream with fright. Except they made no noise.

Wiseman left the square in search of the human. He soon realised there were more Scabs in the vicinity than he cared for, or could handle alone. Up ahead, were several lolling up the street together. Wiseman had never seen so many together. He slid into a nearby alley, pulled up his sleeve and started to speak softly into a bracelet on his arm. "Calling for backup, three Scabs detained, more than expected in the vicinity."

There was a crackle from the bracelet. "Understood," came a voice. "Sending backup now."

"Tell them to protect the perimeter of the Brown's cottage."

Crackle.

"Understood."

Wiseman moved out of the alleyway and up the street, the Scabs couldn't see him. They would only see him if he wanted them to. He also knew where he was going. They didn't.

A second later, what looked like twelve white twinkling stars, in a full circle around the town, lit up the sky. They fell to earth in perfect synchronicity, falling like shooting stars, silents and graceful, a nonintrusive light, like a snowflake.

Wiseman grinned continuing on to the Brown's cottage as the Scabs scattered at the sight of the falling white lights.

The cottage was atop the hill, small and down a country lane with a small wooden fence and no lamplight. Orange firelight burned bright from inside. Wiseman checked around him once more, before knocking upon the door. He could hear the buzz and nervous energy of people inside. Footsteps rung across creaky floorboards, before the door was wrenched open. A small man with a gaunt, tired face stared up at Wiseman, worry lining every space of his face.

"Nikolas, you're here at last!" the man blustered, all but dragging Wiseman into the house, before peering outside and closing the door. The man barely gave Wiseman room to move in the tiny hallway, leaning so close Wiseman could feel his breath. "Have you called the council members?" he whispered at a fast pace.

"Yes. Twelve. Around the perimeter."

The man nodded, his small bloodshot eyes twinkling as he rubbed them. "I saw Scabs, earlier, at the top of the street. It's just like you said."

Wiseman, remaining modest, nodded. "You must remain calm Bernard." He said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Magick flows better when you are calm."

"Calm? How can I be calm!" he spat as quietly as he could before a ladies voice called from the next room.

"Who is it darling?" she sounded tired and hoarse.

"It's Nikolas."

"Oh good!"

Bernard led Wiseman through the tight hallway into the first room on the right. Four people stood when they saw Wiseman. "You came," said a woman sitting in a rocking chair next to the fire. She looked as tired as she sounded. In her arms was a tiny baby wrapped in bundle of sheets. Even though she was young, she looked worn out, her hair astray, but she was still very beautiful.

Bernard rushed to the woman and sat her back down in her chair next to the fire. A tall container full of coal tipped itself into the orange flames, before a poker jabbed the embers. A large cauldron bubbled away atop the fire sending a strange concoction of smells through the room.

Standing before the kitchen table were three people. Dressed similarly to Wiseman, as if they lived a hundred years ago. Wiseman docked his hat to them. "Penwood. Dray. McCarthy."

Each looked inclined to speak, but Penwood stepped forwards first. He was a tall man with sharp features and messy black hair, and a good family friend to the Browns. "It happened just like you said it would--"

"Just like the prophesy read," said Dray, a woman with long bright red hair.

McCarthy, an older grey-haired gentleman wearing a khaki coloured overcoat had more scars on his face than a Scab, wrapped his knuckled on the table and said in a thick Irish accent. "He's got the eyes too. He's got the purple eyes."

Wiseman ignored them and looked towards the baby, wrapped up so tightly in his mother's arms. "You can hold him if you like?" she said.

"Oh Maggie," said Bernard with a short snort. "Wiseman won't want to--" But he trailed off as Wiseman put his arms out. Maggie smiled, placing the bundle of sheets into Wiseman's outstretches arms. It's fair to say Wiseman was more nervous about this than anything else he had done in the past few years, and that's saying something. He had not felt his heart beating so hard since the time he came face to face with a demon.

The baby was lighter than he expected and he was surprised how easily he could hold him. It almost came naturally. Now, peering through the soft sheets, the baby opened his eyes at the man. Wiseman's heart almost gave in as he saw them for himself. The sight of them sent a shiver down his spine at the miraculousness of it. The baby's eyes were such a bright purple, they almost shone through the gloom of the Brown's cottage kitchen. For a long moment Wiseman just stared, too embarrassed to say anything. Bernard and Maggie smiled at their mentors speechlessness.

"What--what have you called him?" he managed.

Maggie gave Bernard a glance as if to confirm it. "Alfie," she said.

"Alfie Brown," said Wiseman sounding it out. "And... no middle name?"

"We haven't decided yet," said Bernard.

Wiseman raised his eyebrow slyly. "Hmm... well, Nikolas is a good name," he winked, causing a small nervous titter to skate around the room. "He's perfect, just... perfect."

"He is," said Bernard coming around the chair. "But you know as well as I do that he won't be unless we put some protection around him fast," he said jabbing a hand at the window. "I don't want him to be found."

"Quite right," said Penwood.

McCarthy waved a hand making the curtains draw themselves shut. "Then we gotta' do strong magic ta' make sure _they_ don't find him."

Maggie frowned and pulled Alfie closer. "I don't want magic done to him."

"My dear," said Bernard taking her shoulders softly. "We've spoken about this, it must be done. His life depends on it."

Maggie looked to Dray for a second opinion, and she nodded. "Okay, but you know I don't understand magic, I am not magical like you lot so forgive me for being anxious."

"Perfectly understandable," said Wiseman. "But honestly, there is nothing to worry about," he smiled, almost convincing himself.

"Will this room be big enough?" said Bernard, opening the door and flicking the light on. The room was small, dim and empty.

Wiseman strolled in, giving it a cursory sniff, before nodding. "It will do."

Penwood and McCarthy followed in behind and stood at the side of the room against the wall. Maggie, clutching Alfie in her arms, with a resentful scowl on her face stood in the doorway, with Dray at her shoulders.

"It must be done," whispered Dray. "We have little choice. This will protect him."

"If you say so," said Maggie, as Bernard flicked his hand at a small fireplace that burst to life.

"Switch the electric light out," said Wiseman, putting his hands together and rubbing. "No one move." With a grimace and a grunt he said a spell. There was a sucking sound and a pop as a room full of all different kinds of boxes popped into existence; mostly they were black leather boxes of many different varieties, housing lots of magical items, no doubt. Wiseman instantly began to rummage around after things in leather bags and cardboard boxes next to him.

"Which one are you doing?" said McCarthy opening the lid of a box next to him, peering inside and then recoiling at the terrible smell. Wiseman didn't answer, he didn't want to.

"Make yourselves useful," he said, calling over McCarthy and Penwood. "I need frankincense, my three iron candlesticks, silver dagger--"

"Dagger!?" Maggie cried. "Why do you need that?"

"It's ok dear," Bernard took her by the shoulders as reassuringly as he could. "It's just ceremonial."

"Perhaps we should leave the room?" said Dray sensing this _ritual_ may upset Maggie.

But she bit back. "I am not leaving him!"

Soon enough, Wiseman had arranged the room. A circle of salt with seventy-seven magical rune markings surrounded Alfie's small cot in the middle of the room. Three dangling golden spheres burned an acrid incense, that got in their throats. As well as the walls being coated in sprays of essential oils, made the environment quite pungent. But necessary. The fire burned sea green. Four silver goblets popped into the air. Wiseman made the potion hanging above the fire in the other room, sail into the room and pour itself into the goblets. One by one they drifted across to each persons outstretched hand.

"Around the circle," said Wiseman as Penwood, McCarthy and Bernard took their places. "And now for Alfie to be placed in the middle."

Maggie had tears streaming down her face. Dray reached out and took Alfie from her hands, walked to the middle of the room and put the sleeping baby inside the cot. Maggie burst out crying and ran from the room.

"Carry on," said Bernard fixedly with sweat dripping from his brow.

Wiseman pulled out his notebook and read the correct passages. He had never done anything so important and difficult as this. Penwood looked from Alfie to Wiseman. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

Wiseman fixed Penwood with a stare. "I am certain." He lied.

Penwood nodded, appeased.

A translucent lectern appeared before Wiseman to prop his book open. He took a deep breath, before diving headfirst into the most complicated ritual he had ever done. Waving his right arm, and repeating the incantation in his head, caused the salt circle to take flame. The next second, the seventy-seven runes burst to life, burning an acrid red colour. Bernard went to open the window. "No!" said Wiseman.

Despite feeling giddy already, Wiseman knew he must finish the ritual. The potion took hold of their senses. It must have looked frightening as Dray shut the door and went to see to Maggie. Wiseman felt the potion make him feel otherworldly, or drunk, like he was sailing a ship through the fifth dimension.

But it had the intended effect; he could see strange shapes, the floor vibrated, the walls seemed to be breathing in and out and the window was like a kaleidoscope. Wiseman peered down at the words in his notebook which looked odd and archaic. Knowing he must remain disciplined, he carried on speaking the words aloud.

The potion took hold of the others too, Bernard was inspecting his hand with intent before pulling himself back to reality. Penwood was staring at the runes with a terrified expression but remained standing. Only McCarthy didn't seem to be effected and was repeating Wiseman's chant.

The noise in the room seemed to be rising like a cacophony, strange wailing noises from the walls rung out agonisingly loud as if the walls between the realm of the living and the dead were closing in. A whipping wind came, seemingly, from nowhere and burst around the room like a tornado. The pitch reached a crescendo before... silence.

Thud.

Wiseman hit the floor and blacked out.

"Oh god, they're here!" called McCarthy coming running up the hallway.

Wiseman swallowed, taken by surprise and sat up. Dray was leaning over him with a wet flannel and patting his head. Bernard was being comforted by Maggie, Alfie back in her arms. While Penwood was sat on the floor looking dazed.

"What?" said Wiseman, whose head was now pounding.

"They're here!" McCarthy shouted back looking as animated as he had ever seen him.

"How many?"

McCarthy swallowed. "Lots."

Wiseman rolled up his sleeves. "Then we must disappear."

~~

I ask you to zap forwards in time with me just a few months. We go to Number Ten, Downing Street, London where Nikolas Wiseman is having a meeting with the new Prime Minister of the U.K, about magick.

"And I do also regret to inform you," said the Prime Minister sternly. "That you cannot just climb through my mirror into my private office like that. You gave me quite the shock! What will my staff say if they come in and see you here, knowing they have not let you in?"

"Apologies Prime Minister."

"I know we had a meeting booked, but I expected you to--"

"Knock on the front door?" said Wiseman with a sly grin.

"Well no," she said rubbing her chin. "I don't know, I expected..." she trailed off, not knowing how she expected the Wizard to arrive. She also didn't know how to talk to him, did she lay down her marker early and be stern? Or perhaps she was to be civil? That had gone out the window now, as the fright of seeing him clamber over the mantelpiece had brought out her former stern headmistress days.

The last Prime Minister, who has resigned in the summer, had given her no warning that she was to have meetings with Wizards about magick, who would unannounced, walk straight into her room through the big mirror atop the fireplace. She was new to the job and quite unprepared for all this ' _weird stuff ', _as her advisor called it earlier that morning.

Wiseman reclined backwards in the chair, comfortably at home. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink or something?"

"Oh, yes of course. Tea?"

"Grand. Would you like me to fetch it up?" said Wiseman wiggling his fingers.

The Prime Minister's eyes bulged. "No!" she said rather too quickly. "I mean, no thank you. I'd rather we left all that sort of stuff for now. It would be a PR disaster if it were to cause any... undue complications." She picked her words carefully, so as not to offend. "I can have it sent up." She pressed a button on her desk which beeped. "Sharon, can you bring up a pot of tea."

She was curious, she had never seen _real magick_ performed, and now she regretted being so hasty, he may now think she was a prude and be unwilling to demonstrate.

"You've changed the painting..." said Wiseman who had been busy inspecting the room. "There was a portrait up there," he pointed to a place behind her desk. "But now there is a landscape."

"Correct," said the Prime Minister turning to look, he was either introspective, or he had been to this office more than times than she would have assumed. "I painted it myself."

"Did you really?" said Wiseman leaning forwards with genuine interest. "It's very good."

"Oh, thank you," she blushed. "Just an old university project."

Wiseman leant back in the chair and yawned. "The President is late."

"The President is _always_ late."

Wiseman checked his watch, and she noticed it did not look like other watches. There were, in fact, no numbers on it. But odd signs and shapes.

The silence was making her uncomfortable and felt the need to fill it until the President of the United States arrived.

"Have you come far?" she said finally, after toying with a few questions.

Wiseman looked up at her with an amused look. "Nothing is very far when you know the right magic."

She cleared her throat. "How did you... you know, come through the mirror? What sort of... _magick_ would you need to do..." she cleared her throat. "I am sorry, I don't even know how to ask you. I've not been briefed about this meeting at all."

"No apology necessary," said Wiseman undoing his jacket and straightening it out. "There is a place beyond each mirror in the world through which one can travel. I can walk through the mirror in my bedroom and ten minutes later be in your office. We call it the MirrorWays."

"My goodness."

The amazement was wiped off her face the next second as there was a knock at the door and she resumed her best neutral expression. "Tea Prime Minister," said a burly woman, coming into the room with a large tea pot on a tray, laying it down on her desk.

"Thank you, Sharon," she said pouring two cups as Sharon left the room with an uninterested glance at Wiseman. The Prime Minister slid the cup and saucer towards Wiseman who took it and sipped. Wiseman checked his watch again, before sitting up straight and seemingly deciding that the meeting would start now, regardless of the other missing attendee.

"So, you now know that real magick exists," said Wiseman putting his saucer on the edge of her desk. "That's magick spelt with a K, to differentiate it from modern trickery _magic_. You may or may not have been briefed that we Wizards perform magick on a daily basis. We live in your world amongst your people, but we also have our own separate lands. These lands were negotiated with the Monarchy of England at the time. These lands were taken off the maps and hidden from the vengeful masses. As part of the deal we agreed to live in secrecy, never to reveal our talents, in exchange for this the War was ended and peace has sustained, give or take, for the remaining years. These magical lands are governed by our own Magickal Council and WMP's--"

"WMP's?"

"Wizarding Members of Parliament."

"Of course."

"Questions?" said Wiseman downing his tea.

The Prime Minister felt a thousand such questions bubbling to the forefront of her mind as it whirred with this incredible information. Was this man a loony? Was this some test? Perhaps he was a journalist trying to make her look stupid and gullible.

"Do you use... _wands_?" she regretted it as soon it left her mouth, but it was too late now.

Wiseman grinned encouragingly, he didn't seem to mind. "Not anymore. They are quite unfashionable these days."

"These lands you have hidden from ordinary folk..." she stopped as she realised what she just said. "I didn't mean... I only meant..." Wiseman chuckled and waved her on. "These lands, how big are they?"

"Our population is around sixty-thousand. Our lands are small, but enough."

The Prime Minister sat back in her chair and inspected this apparent Wizard. "So, what is the real meaning of today's meeting? It's surely not just to update me on the existence of Wizards and magick? Everyone has a want... more land, money, gold..."

Wiseman looked blankly back at her. If he did want something, he wasn't giving it away.

"My advisor mentioned something to me, that she retained from the previous Prime Minister. It was about some... _prophesy_? It seemed to be a big deal that he talked about quite often. Or so I am told."

Wiseman looked up at the painting behind her head and seemed to be trying to make a decision. Tell her, or not. "You are quite right," he said finally standing up, as if to leave which caused the Prime Minister to stand too, but then he went to the window and looked out. "I find it strange that they are going about their business, working hard, and none of them know that the course of history can be changed in an instant by one person. Not one of them knows that magick exists, that their relatives are living just the other side of an invisible wall. That they are so hopelessly dependant on the system that they will fight to protect it. They are not ready to learn the truth, nor have they been primed to learn the truth. Even though it will make the world a greater place if they should learn their innate talents..." Wiseman sighed. "Yes there is a prophesy and a quite important one, but the details of it I cannot tell you -- the timelines can dictate who I can tell and who I cannot. It's not personal." He grinned before turning back and looking across the rooftops. "It will come to pass in the next twenty years."

"What will?"

"The saviour of magick and the reintroduction of it to the masses," he pointed out the window. "But there are many obstacles and enemies to overcome before we reach that utopia."

The Prime Minister was staring so intently at Wiseman, using all her skills to work out if he was telling the truth or not, that she did not notice another figure climbing through the mirror above her fireplace. He was a young good looking man in his twenties, dressed in buckskin breeches, tailcoat and riding boots.

"Nikolas," called the man, clambering down quickly, the urgency in his assistant's voice caused him to turn with a whip.

"What is it Theadore? Can't you see I'm..."

Theodore was breathing heavily. "It's the Browns... they've gone."

Wiseman stared. "No, it can't be."

"Maggie disappeared, most likely just how you said she might. Not a whiff of her anywhere, I've checked using all the instruments. Bernard is consumed with finding her."

Wiseman took a deep breath, prepared for the worst. "And the boy?"

"He's fine. Bernard took him to his Grandparents."

The Prime Minister felt the need to offer her condolences, but knowing nothing of the situation, stood awkwardly in the silence while Wiseman thought. "You will excuse us?" he said finally, taking the Prime Ministers hand. "But I must attend to this situation urgently. I will arrange another meeting soon, if you are able."

"Of course," she said as the Wizard and his assistant jumped clean through the mirror, disappearing beneath the pane of glass. For a fraction of a second, she thought she saw something behind it, then again, it could have been a trick of the light. But no, she was certain she had just seen a long stone bridge and a starry night sky. She blinked and slumped down in her chair, her mind whirring like a spinning wheel. That was, quite possibly, the most incredible meeting she had ever had.

The next second, knocking her out of her daze, her office door opened. It was her chief advisor. "PM, the President is here."

_~~_

Wiseman sat toasting his sore feet over the fire and reclining back into his comfy high backed leather chair. It had been a long day. Some of his clothes hung on a dryer, dripping into the hearth. This front room was big, the house was victorian in its design and decoration. The floorboards were worn and rickety, the rugs were greying and frayed and tall windows were accompanied by long dusty maroon curtains. Above the fireplace, past the collection of several antique clocks which ticked in unison, was a very large ornate mirror about the size of door. A mountain of books lay about the room in a messy fashion, some open at specific places and frozen in place. In one corner was a large drawing bureau littered with papers, letters with wax stamps, a three piece candlestick and a large bowl of sand.

A door suddenly appeared in the wall where there was no door before, fading up into the room and taking place as if it had always been there. It opened, and in walked Theadore, Wiseman's assistant. His boots clapped across the wooden boards importantly. Wiseman didn't look up or acknowledge his appearance, but merely pointed to the seat opposite.

"Fill me in dear Theadore," Wiseman exited his stare and reached for a glass next to him and took a big slurp.

Theadore paused before sitting down. He took his hat off and lay it upon his lap. Wiseman could tell he was not happy with him -- he didn't want to be reporting back on the boy, especially as Wiseman was making a mess of the house. Theadore could not resist a moment longer, his nose wrinkled at the smell in the room before he said it.

"How can I do my best job reporting back to you, undercover, in my disguises, if I have the state of the house on my mind?"

Wiseman slurped his drink and watched the fire. "Your job description has changed, you're no longer my assistant. You are my confidant. I can trust you."

Theadore sighed. "Oh, you know just what to say to make me feel dis-warranted in my resentfulness."

"It serves no one." Wiseman sat up straighter. "Enough of this. Please, tell me what you have."

Theadore knew he would get nowhere in his protests and must settle for a messy house -- he supposed he could get used to it, and then when he moved back in and became the servant again he would employ a team to clean it from top to bottom. "Well, he is midway through his second year at school. He seems to have settled as well as can be expected and is, as far as I can tell, happy."

Wiseman gave a short nod of appreciation.

"But..." Theadore started.

"A but?"

"Yes, a but."

"Well go on and tell me this very important _but_."

"I will, if you'll let me." Theadore straightened his jacket. "He is very naughty." This caused Wiseman to chuckle. "What is so funny?"

"I thought you were going to tell me something like he has been openly performing magick, having realised his innate skills."

"No," said Theodore blankly.

Wiseman shrugged. "Go on. How does this misbehaviour present itself?"

"He has a friend he made on the first day of school. Tommy his name is. The other teachers call them _the terrible twosome. " _

"Do they indeed!" Wiseman laughed.

"It's no laughing matter Nikolas," said Theadore sternly. "He has nearly been exspelled three times. Anyway, apart from the misbehaviour, he seems to be a clever, adventurous and good-natured."

"Has anyone been curious of your involvement in the school?"

"Not at all -- I am just a young teaching assistant," said Theadore, whose face started to change and morph, like a melting waxwork until a young, unassuming, plump blonde woman was sat in the chair opposite Wiseman, before changing back to his normal self.

"Strange things still happening around him?"

"Yes," said Theadore with a deep sigh. "During times of extreme emotions, it has caused problems."

"It's to be expected," Wiseman grinned. "Tell me specifics."

"He was in a mood about not being able to feed the fish some of his sandwich, and for the rest of the day the lights throughout the school flickered, as if someone was tapping the wires."

"What else?"

"Where the terrible twosome are, strange things always seem to occur."

"Entertain me," said Wiseman stretching his legs out across the hearth.

Theadore sighed, clicked his fingers and a glass appeared in his hand and filled with wine. "If I had to guess, I would say you are enjoying this, more than you should be."

"Your guess would be spot on as usual."

Theodore pulled out a notebook to jog his memory, he kept an account of most things. "How long do you have?"

"All night."

Theadore would report back to Wiseman weekly with updates, news and stories about Alfie and Tommy's time at school over the next ten years. Theadore never thought he would have to do so, and certainly not for ten years. But do as his master asked he did, faithfully. In various disguises as teaching assistants, caretakers and even other children, Theadore would keep a close, but careful eye on Alfie -- but never intervening. His worries about Wiseman's reclusive habits played on his nerves, but what with everything that had happened over the last decade and a half, it was to be expected.

**_Ten years later_**

Wiseman sat in the same chair, in the same position on the same day as he had ten years previously. I don't want you to think he never moved from that spot. He does and had of course. But there is some newfound sadness in his eyes that permits him to stay indoors more, as older Wizards tend to. Except for the fact that he looked not a day older.

Soon came the familiar whir of the door fading into the wall and the heavy boots of Theadore, reporting back the weeks findings. Theadore had come to ignore the musky smell that came with little ventilation and unwashed dinner plates.

"Tell me the weeks news," Wiseman called with a flurry, comfortable to try out some quirkiness around Theadore.

Theadore sighed at the crumpled clothes Wiseman had himself dressed in and sat down. It was not his place to comment anymore. "You must get yourself another assistant." Wiseman frowned and waved at him to speak of the weeks news. "They have a problem with Tommy's older brother, bit of a vagabond by all accounts. I watched him and his six friends on the school field try to accost Alfie and Tommy and steal their football. There was a heated debate, before a chase and... well, the next second the six older boys chasing Alfie and Tommy ended halfway up an willow, dangling like fruit and wondering how they got there."

Wiseman burst out laughing. It sounded like he had not laughed for months for it was almost maniacal.

"It's not funny. Even he is starting to realise that there might just be something different about him. What with the _strange goings on_."

"It's his magick expressing itself."

"Yes, but around people who know no better! It's like a madman in a nursery. People will twig that he is not one of them and then scared, they will turn." Theadore leaned back in the chair and inspected his nails. "I mean, it's surprising he hasn't been ostracised already for having purple eyes. But his friend Tommy is very protective of him. The spells you put on him and around his house seem to be working. So far only a three reporters and two television documentary crews have arrived on the doorstep wanting to make a programme about _the purple-eyed boy_ ..."

"My magick is not as full-proof as it could have been then." Wiseman grumbled annoyed.

"The Grandparents were quick to turn them away. They are good people. Turning down a rather large cheque too." Theadore said it in such a way to make Wiseman look up and take note -- it was something he hadn't considered -- what if the Grandparents accepted a lot of money for access to the boy, that would break a protection charm and then anyone could get access to him. People who would do him harm and ruin the prophesy. Then everything would be ruined.

"As I said, they are good people," said Theadore knowing what Wiseman was thinking. "You are too immersed in magick. It will rot your brain. It can't help going out and trying to understand how the unawakened ones live."

"Hmm," Wiseman hummed, returning to his stare.

"Could you answer me a question?"

All this time, Theadore had been a loyal servant to Wiseman and dare not want to know the significance of the colour of Alfie's eyes. However, secretly spying on Alfie for those ten years had led him to _almost_ care for the boy, not least the amount of time and work that had gone into this operation -- he wanted to know that it was all at least worth it.

"What is the significance of the purple eyes?"

Wiseman almost didn't answer the question straight away, he felt strangely hurt by it. "You question my judgement?"

"Not at all! I am curious. Don't be cross with me. You ask me to trust you, yet do not trust me yourself."

Wiseman scratched his beard. "True enough. Well to be honest with you, I don't completely know.The only thing I know is what the prophesy said."

"That magick will flow through the saviour like blood?"

"Yes."

"Purple is the colour of magic, correct?"

"Correct."

Wiseman stood up from his chair, as if this would stop the questioning. But maybe it would be good to talk about it. He needed a sounding board sometimes, to make sure his ideas and plans were not completely crazy. Wiseman walked around the chair and slid his finger along the fireplace, knowing he must confide, but the weight of time seemed to press down upon his vocal chords.

"He is the key to the whole thing. To getting them both back. But it could re-start the ancient magickal war."

Theadore felt a grin slide up his face -- he knew it was all about the girl. His reply came out low and hissy. "And you are willing to risk war... the annihilation of our people... for her?"

Wiseman's eyes looked pained for a second. They gave him away. Theadore looked away and into his glass, before both their eyes lifted upwards to a small golden picture frame. Inside was a beautiful woman draped across Wiseman's lap, both laughing in high spirits.

Wiseman stared at the picture for a long moment, before pulling it away. "You know war between us is inevitable anyway. It's all part of the plan. I'd prefer no war, to defeat them peacefully but they've taken over everything. They have infiltrated us almost completely. They couldn't take us over by force, so they used stealth. We, and this prophesy, are the last hope of saving Wizard and Humankind.

"A third magickal war," Theadore tutted. "Two were enough."

"How should you know? They were hundreds of years ago. And we won them. Now we are losing."

"I just wish I could charm you into understanding that she is never coming back."

Wiseman looked at Theadore like he was a foreign species. "How dare you." This seemed to cause something inside Wiseman to snap. He slammed a fist into his chair and pointed threateningly. "I never give up!" he cried. "I know I am right, even if my closest confidant does not. This is all part of the prophesy--"

"The prophesy that only you saw."

"And you call me a liar. Any more insults while we're on the subject?"

"How long do you have? I'll get my notebook out."

"God-dammit Theadore!" Wiseman stormed around his chair and kicked out at the fire, in favour of the man in the chair. "I am trying to save the world!"

"At the expense of yourself."

Wiseman shook his head into the fire and felt the burden rest heavily upon him. "They have seized control of both the human and now wizarding worlds, so quietly it was imperceptible -- only the enlightened ones such as I saw, warned against it and are now a laughing stock for having said anything. They control the media, they control education, they control the supply of food, the taxes, governments, they own the judges and the justice system and even the bloody air we breath!"

"You can control the air you breath in here by opening a window."

Wiseman ignored him. "They have poisoned the food supply. They are indoctrinating people with their own unhealthy beliefs. You see it everywhere. They've made people confused about their own minds. But don't you see, that's how they want you. Confused and dazed, easier to defeat. And glorifying the lesser parts of the human soul; hedonism, nihilism, these things that are intrinsically part of _them_ -- but will be the death of us, and they get what they think is theirs back again. It's my life's work to change this, if it kills me. They will not win. And that boy is the key to it all." Wiseman turned. "That's why we might have to start earlier than planned."

"You can't!" said Theadore. "It's too early. It will mess him up. At least wait until he's finished school."

Wiseman shook his head, he had thought long and hard about it. There was no other way. To prove his point, he flicked a hand upwards at the mirror, which flashed on like a television. "I recorded this earlier."

A news jingle echoed out of the television-mirror, before a stern voice began to speak. "A conspiracy theory that the red-jacketed Scarlett Council, a theory originally attested to by recluse-wizard Nikolas Wiseman, was given fresh focus today as witnesses in Magicity say they accidentally burst in on a secret meeting of around twelve Scarlett Council members. The Scarlett Council is believed, by some, to be..." the newscaster put a funny, jovial voice on. "... A secret society that is intent on killing the entirety of humanity." Then he chuckled softly. "Unfortunately, the witnesses cannot be interviewed, as this morning it was found out that the three people aged 17 to 23, all died of natural causes. A government official has calmed any conspiracy theories about their death and cited, after a quick investigation that the cabinet in the second hand furniture store they went through into this alleged 'secret room', was laced with noxious poison which caused the hallucinations and their subsequent death. The owder of the store has been arrested and will be tried on charges of negligence later this week."

"The Scarlett Council are active," said Wiseman flashing a hand at the mirror causing the screen to vanish. "They are back in action and are pushing their plans forward as we speak. We need to counter it."

"You do know how dangerous this is?" said Theadore. "If you go near the boy, the ritual, the magick protecting him will all vanish -- then he will be left completely exposed."

"It makes me think that this is part of the prophesy, that its meant to happen this way."

"Sometimes I start to wonder if they are not right about you."

# 2

# The Exploding Television

A thin ray of light streaked through a gap in the curtains across a messy boys bedroom. At first, all was quiet, in the distance a milkman did his morning round. It was so peaceful and quiet, you could almost hear the mice snoring beneath the floorboards. A moment later however, all the peace was unceremoniously shattered as across the morning--startling all, even itself as it toppled to the floor, was a loud, ringing alarm clock. The boy in bed jumped up and scrambled around the floor for it, eyes still closed. He slammed the snooze button and lay back, letting his hammering heart rest. Realising it was the first day back at school he pulled the duvet closer. He lay dozing for a while, then he sat up and looked around, his dark, matted hair falling everywhere, eyes barely open--but just about revealing the thing that people found most strange about him--his purple eyes.

Alfie Brown, like most teenagers, didn't like early mornings and he especially didn't like early school mornings. They were the worst. Getting up, he pulled the curtains wide and instantly regretted it as he was almost blinded by a dazzling morning sun. He rubbed his eyes and looked up the street, it was your bog standard suburban street--pavements, houses, a few trees and lots of cars in neat rows. He stumbled across to the wardrobe where he clambered into his school uniform and looked at himself in a full length mirror next to his bedroom door. This felt horrible, it was too early, his clothes felt uncomfortable and even worse--it was the start of a new school year--his last, in fact.

His room was quite big enough, bed in the corner with it's sheets hanging off and crumpled, looked like it had been slept in by a werewolf, not a fifteen year old boy. A large antique wardrobe sat disused as most of Alfie's clothes lay crumpled up on the floor, along with several dinner plates with a collection of dated mould, old school books, toys, two footballs and well, you get the picture.

His Grandma was out, so after a round of burnt toast, (his Granddad had never mastered the toaster) and a cup of sweet tea--"Five sugars! That will get you off to good start today... all that _learning_ ," said his Granddad winking and Alfie was off, into the sunny fresh morning to school, still half-asleep.

Five minutes walk along Mulberry Drive then Thistle Street and he was outside his best friend Tommy's house. Alfie crunched up the long gravel drive to Tommy's front door and tapped the silver Eagle knocker-- _dun dun, dun dun dun_.

As he waited, he looked aimlessly up the street. Alfie had to blink and look properly, for several houses along the road, leaning nonchalantly against a lamppost and watching Alfie intently, was a small upright, white rabbit.

The front door opened and Tommy's mother stood, tall and fierce with her short black hair and grey, knowing eyes, reminding Alfie of a badger--you would not want to get on the wrong side of her. Alfie glanced back at the lamppost, but the upright white rabbit had vanished. Perhaps he was still dreaming.

"Thomas has promised me that you will both be good this year," she said. "It's your last year of school and I don't want him or you messing up these exams. They are rather important, you do know that?"

"Yes, Mrs Eagles. I promise," Alfie said, doing his best charming smile. She eyed him for a second, chewed her tongue, then went to fetch Tommy.

A second later, a boy with bright blonde hair, blue eyes and a wide toothy smile came bounding to the door. "First day of school!" Tommy shrieked, flailing his arms around in the air in mock celebration. Alfie laughed even though he tried not to and stepped out the way as Tommy slammed his front door. "BYE MOTHER!" Tommy screamed, before grinning at Alfie. Tommy was Alfie's best friend in the whole world and had been best friends since the very first day of school. They were like chalk and cheese. Wherever Alfie was, Tommy was too.

To get to school they had a fifteen minute walk through town. A shortcut took them through the park and over a bridge that crossed the railway, past the newsagents which usually had children pouring out with bags of sweets. Then up Black Street, passing the large, looming Church that housed many old moss covered grave stones, the path through which the younger years refused to walk as it was _too scary_. Alfie and Tommy always went that way, it was quicker.

"It feels so weird to be back in these horrible school clothes again," said Tommy, in the relative silence of the graveyard. "Mother had to stop me burning them at the end of last year."

Alfie frowned as if to say-- _don 't tell lies. _

"Well not really, but I wanted to. Anyway it's the last year of school and then we're _FREEEE_!" he cried swinging his bag round his head.

"Watch it!" cried Alfie as it nearly hit him.

"Anyway, what are you unusually quiet about?"

Alfie chuckled. "Okay, see if you can explain this one... I just saw a white rabbit, standing upright leaning against a lamppost, staring at me."

"What?" said Tommy stopping to look at him, obviously wondering if this was a joke or not. "Your not ill are you?" he said feeling Alfie's forehead.

Alfie slapped his hand away. "When I knocked for you, there _was_ a white rabbit, it was looking at me then it was gone. I mean, I could have still been dreaming I suppose."

Tommy told Alfie that it was probably someones pet rabbit that escaped. _Yeah_ , thought Alfie, that was probably it.

"Cheer up, it's the first day of school!" Tommy said with a side-ways smile.

"Time to have some fun?" said Alfie grinning.

"Don't you mean: cause trouble?"

"Same thing."

They both stood under a tall tree by the school's main entrance and watched people arriving. Buses and coaches pulled into the main courtyard and began jostling for position. Teachers arrived in their cars carrying large stacks of books whilst huge swathes of children piled into the courtyard leading to the school entrance.

The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of the caretaker on his tiny tractor, the hubbub of excited chatter as friends welcomed each other back after a long, lazy summer hit the boys senses all at once. It was kind of good to be back.

"Never changes this place..." said Tommy as a squawk of high pitched noise made him jump.

A gaggle of girls had all spotted each other and ran forward hugging and making a racket. They were a pretty bunch of girls in Tommy and Alfie's year--all in the top classes--they were very pretty and received a lot of attention from the boys, of which they quite enjoyed. Sarah Ashdown with her friends Lacey something, Eliza something, and Lisa something.

Alfie didn't think he had ever spoken to any of them, he would be too nervous anyway.

A large lumbering collection of boys charged through the playground, each about three times the size of a normal person, most of the children parted, not wanting to get in the way--these boys were affectionally known as _thebullies_. Frank, Curtis, Titan and Bruce were all as thick as they were wide.

The next second they threw a ball. Poor Henry Goofham, with his think glasses, bad luck and accident proneness, got hit in the face and promptly started crying.

A car pulled up past the buses and fought its way through the crowds who all stopped to have a look amid exclamations about how nice and posh the car was. It was a big black car with black windows. The passenger door opened and a girl got out, a few more boys turned to look this time, including Alfie whose attention was caught. She was very beautiful with long, dark curly hair, golden skin and rosy red lips.

"Did you see _her_?" said Tommy nudging him hard in the ribs.

Alfie certainly had seen her. "She must be new, never seen her before."

The school bell rang high and shrill, knocking Alfie out of his daze.

"Right, better go get our timetables for the year," said Tommy.

"Oh, goody, goody gum drops!" Alfie pretended to squeal with excitement.

First class of the day, according to their time tables, was History. Upon entering the classroom Alfie gazed around at the very familiar faces that he supposed he had missed over the summer, but would never tell them that.

Alfie shooed Henry Goofham from a table at the back of the room so he and Tommy could sit together.

Then, when all of the class were inside, sitting down and awaiting the teachers presence, someone else made an entrance. A rather large boy poked his large head round the door, then back at his piece of paper. Alfie thought he must have the wrong room and was just about to tell the dozy idiot, but then he waddled in sideways through the door, as he was rather large and began looking around at the full room with big saucer shaped eyes, taking towards a free chair in front of Alfie and Tommy's table.

"Erm..." snorted Alfie loudly. "Did you want something?"

The boy stopped, hand half reached out for the empty chair, opened his mouth to speak but shut it again and glanced round the room. "You want to sit on _my_ chair?" said Alfie deliberately.

The poor boy was obviously new and went bright red.

"Y-y-yes please," he stammered.

"Well, you can't... it's _reserved_."

"Who for?" said Jessica Curdle, she thought she was IT and had always held a grudge against Alfie, he couldn't remember why.

"The Queen actually," he said. "She's making a rare appearance to knight me Sir Alfie Brown of Westbury-rubbish-school. _I knight you for putting up with the shoddy place for more than five years_ ..."

Tommy and some other boys laughed.

" _Really_?" she said in a sarcastic tone that suited her.

"No," said Alfie, who preceded to tell them that his black belt Karate brother was on his way to take the seat.

"Really?" said the new boy looking terrified and backing away from the empty chair.

Alfie sighed, this boy was obviously one matchstick short of a fire.

"No of course not. Here you can have the ruddy chair, I don't care."

The boy sat down and muttered thank you. A second later the History teacher Mr Ward made a rather flustered entrance. "Sorry I am late everyone," he said hurriedly handing out workbooks. "And welcome back to the first lesson in the new school year. I am sure you're all glad to be here. I certainly am," he smiled unconvincingly.

There was a short knock at the door from a girl Alfie knew to be Sarah Ashdown.

"Sorry I'm late," she smiled, flashing her brilliant white teeth. "Guess I am in this set now." She fluttered her timetable and walked slowly through the class. As she passed they smelt her sweet floral perfume, which danced under the boys noses. Sarah Ashdown was the prettiest girl in school, everyone was in agreement--Alfie and Tommy, nor any of the boys could help their eyes follow her. Eventually she took up a seat next to Jessica Curdle, who went bright red. Tommy poked Alfie in the ribs. "Stop looking at her," he whispered. "She'll think you're weird."

"Like I have to worry about that," said Alfie pointing at his eyes.

Tommy grinned. "I can't believe we've got Sarah Ashdown in our class."

A snotty nosed boy a few tables ahead looked round and clocked Alfie getting his pens out of his bag. "Oh dear," he announced in a snobby voice, glancing across at Sarah Ashdown, obviously trying to impress her. "Most people get new bags for the start of the year, but look at yours, looks like an animal you'd find dead on the road!"

The class laughed.

Alfie hated Joel Pope--he was such a smarmy git who loved to take the mick out of him at every opportunity, just because Joel had money and Alfie didn't. The two boys hated each other and had been nemesis for as long as Alfie could remember.

Instead of dignifying Joel with a response, Alfie leaned under the table and kicked Joel's chair legs--as Joel was swinging back on it and laughing at the time, he went flying backwards and landed in a heap, before sitting up, bottom lip quivering.

The class laughed harder this time, and Alfie grinned as Tommy clapped him on the back.

"Right!" cried Mr Ward. "I saw that, go straight to the Headmaster this instant!"

"That's not fair sir!" cried Tommy standing. "Did you not hear what slime-ball said? You deaf or something?"

Alfie and Tommy were both being marched to the Headmasters office. The new boy had been charged with escorting them there. He had tried to tell Mr Ward that he didn't know the way, for he was new. But Mr Ward (who was a bit deaf) didn't hear him.

"W-w-where is the Headmasters office?" said the new boy. Alfie and Tommy looked at each other and grinned, ready to lie to the new boy and get out of having to visit the Headmaster. But then, and it was just their luck, that the Headmaster happened to be passing and asked what they were doing out of lessons.

"Are you the Headmaster?" said the new boy.

"Yes of course I am!" he blustered.

"Oh, right, sorry sir. I'm n-n-new you see. And well, I've been asked to escort these two to your office sir," he said.

"Ok, off you go, back to lessons." The new boy left and immediately went down the wrong corridor.

"You two," said the Headmaster shaking his head and looking at his watch. "This must be a new record for you both, it's not even nine o'clock yet!"

Alfie and Tommy looked down at the ground, feigning penance.

"Sorry sir," they mumbled.

"Ok, be off with you. I've got more important things to worry about than your recent antics."

Alfie and Tommy solemnly walked back until they were out of the Headmasters sight, then high-fived.

"Ha!" cried Tommy. "Easy, peasy!"

***

The lesson before lunch was French, Alfie and Tommy's least favourite lesson. They did plan a whole host of pranks and tricks they could play on the new teacher (the last one left with stress). But, in actuality, their planning turned out to be in vein.

Alfie's attention was caught firstly by the addition to their class of the new girl, who had arrived that morning in the big black car. She sat next to Ashley Di Franco, a rich daddy's girl who made everyone aware of just how much more important she was than them.

"Tommy look," Alfie whispered. "It's the new girl."

"Yeah I know, fancy her do you?" he said nudging Alfie in the ribs, Alfie said that no of course not, he hardly knew the girl.

Alfie and Tommy nudged each other in excitement as the new teacher swept inside, closed the door, took off his long black jacket and looked around. He had a very handsome face, with dark stubble and golden olive skin.

"Bonjour class, I am Mr Sapiens, your new French teacher."

Girls silently swooned.

"I 'ave 'ere your new books, so come to 'de front and get them." The girls rushed up out of their seats, Alfie didn't bother moving just yet. "That includes you Alfie," said Mr Sapiens not looking up. How did he know Alfie's name? Perhaps he had been warned about Alfie in the staff room.

Alfie grumbled and collected his book, somehow he didn't fancy doing any of the pranks anymore.

Geography was the second to last lesson of the day and was one of Alfie and Tommy's worst. The teacher--Mrs Crawford hated them, so they made a habit of being late for it.

"Come in!" called a scruffy, straggly haired woman with an evil grin, as if she were a wicked wolf sizing up her prey. "Take a seat," she all-but cackled.

Alfie and Tommy scrambled to the back, to claim their usual table--the only table in the room that was next to a window. The new boy who had taken them to the Headmaster earlier appeared at the door, still holding his timetable and looking confused.

"Yes?" snapped Mrs Crawford, gorping at him.

"I'm n-new," said the boy trembling. "I was wondering if this was the right classroom."

"Oh, well--name?" she asked snatching up the register, he told her his name was _Daniel Sparker_ , some people in the room sniggered.

"Yes, _whatever_ take a seat... anywhere, anywhere." She waved at him and Daniel who was very red in the face took a seat at the front on his own, where he got out some books to hide his face.

To Alfie's left was his least favourite person in the world--Joel Pope, sitting next to his best friend Christian, who all the girls loved for some unknown reason, they would often comment on how tall and handsome Christian was and how luscious his golden curls were. Alfie thought he looked like a gormless scarecrow.

"Oi," hissed Alfie as Joel's sulky face slowly turned. "Same class again Joel, anyone would think we're becoming good friends. But it's ok, I just remind them that I could never be your friend because I'm allergic to slime... and a slime-ball like you would send me into a fever."

Alfie sat back as Tommy grinned. Joel scowled, glanced around before leaning a little closer.

"Did you work over the holidays?" he said. "I'd have thought your _Grandparents_ would need all the money they could get, if the state of your house is anything to go by."

"Took you all of the summer holidays to think of that didn't it?" said Alfie.

Joel mouthed that there was plenty more where they came from.

Tommy nudged Alfie in the ribs, which he had a habit of doing lately, and pointed to where the new boy Daniel sat. He was having balls of paper and ink cartridges thrown at him by Curtis, Titan, Bruce and Frank, the school bullies--Mrs Crawford seemed to be ignoring it. Poor Daniel was trying to hide behind his book as the perpetrators gleeful with their new game.

Curtis was the unofficial leader because he was slightly bigger than the other three and had a modicum of intelligence. Frank longed to be the leader, whereas Titan and Bruce would do anything you told them and were as daft as a brush. They were all large and stupid and the prize asset to the rugby team.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he didn't like bullying.

"We're going to watch a video about how important these upcoming exams are," said Mrs Crawford as if she couldn't care less, popping the video into the recorder.

" _Passing exams is very importan_ t," began the video at an annoyingly slow pace. " _Very important indeed. In fact, if you don 't have any, you can't get a job, which means life will be very, very hard_." It droned on in this fashion for at least ten minutes.

"I wonder," Alfie whispered. "If Mrs Crawford--the old bag--has ever passed her exams? Everyone reckons she's just an old fraud."

"I know," whispered Tommy. "Look at her, she's almost asleep!"

"And all this _pass your exams or you 'll die rubbish_--Granddad told me that the schools aren't supposed to be teaching us good stuff that we'll find useful, just stuff that we need to pass an exam and the better we do, the better grade the school gets--so it's not even about us!"

"I think it's all a big scam really --"

"YOU TWO!" half the class jumped as Mrs Crawford was on her feet (for once) looking angry. She stopped the video and turned on them. "Why were you talking?" a large green, bristly moustache on her top lip quivered.

"We weren't," said Alfie at once.

"Liar, pointless liar. I was watching you," she spat.

Alfie thought what a sly old person she was, sitting there with half an eye open like a crocodile.

"You might charm your way with all the other teachers, but not me. _After school detention_ for you both tonight!" she smiled at them menacingly as Joel chuckled.

Alfie couldn't believe it, he hated this teacher almost as much as Joel.

"That's not fair," said Alfie standing up.

"Life isn't fair Alfie Brown," she called, sitting down and smiling like an old witch. "And if you're not careful, it'll be a week's worth."

Alfie gritted his teeth, he could hear Joel sniggering loudly. As Alfie stared at her sunken eyes, she flashed her horrible teeth at him, she had the power and could use it however she liked. Alfie wanted nothing better than to throw a chair at her.

The television in the corner gave a sudden crackle. The video stopped. There was a short silence as the screen flashed grey, before the lights inside the room flickered.

_BOOM_! The television exploded! Everybody screamed as glass rained down and people ducked for cover. There was a thud as Mrs Crawford fell off her chair backwards.

After a few seconds of silence, they looked up. Mrs Crawford peeped up over her desk, hair everywhere.

"Must have been faulty..." she said as the television gave a crackle.

***

When the bell went at the end of the day Alfie and Tommy had to hang around so they could attend their after school detention. They were sat on a bench glumly watching everyone else going home. Tommy started nudging him in the ribs looking off into the distance.

"What?" said Alfie, about to tell Tommy to stop poking him in the ribs because it was getting annoying now.

"The new boy," said Tommy pointing and looking concerned. Daniel, the new boy was being pushed around between the bullies. "We should help."

"This is new," said Alfie. "A caring side."

Tommy told Alfie quite plainly not to take the mick, then muttered that they should go and do something about it.

"And say what?" said Alfie. "Oh excuse me bullies, can you stop bullying him. I know he's fat and weird looking and probably thick as this concrete playground but if you could just find it in your hearts--"

"Don't be nasty," said Tommy. "He looks ok, I think I feel sorry for him."

Tommy shot him a look when Alfie suggested that Tommy was getting soft in his old age. Nevertheless, Alfie somehow found himself walking across the playground on an impassioned rescue operation.

Alfie and Tommy did a rocks, papers, scissors as to who would actually be the one to speak to the bullies, it was likely they would receive a swift punch to the gut--Alfie lost, he knew he should have gone for scissors.

"Oi Titan," called Alfie, all four looked round at him, not unlike a chimp would in a zoo. "Leave him alone."

Titan, who was holding Daniel's collar frowned. "Why?" he said in a dopy voice.

"Because if you don't I'll..." Alfie looked around for inspiration and saw a small gaggle of girls. "I'll tell Joanna Hurst that you fancy her."

Titan's eyes bulged and he let Daniel's collar go and slumped away scowling, muttering to his hefty friends that he did _not_ fancy her.

Daniel picked up his school bag and hurriedly put the contents back in, then stood up and muttered thank you whilst still looking at the ground. Alfie told him not to worry.

Someone rushed up and tapped Daniel on the back.

"Are you ok?" It was the new girl with the wavy hair and golden skin from their French class.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, t-thanks _er_ ... G-Gracie."

"If you need me I'm here for you," she said wondering back off to where Ashley DiMarco stood waiting. Alfie and Tommy just watched, mouths a little open.

"She was in my school induction," said Daniel. Alfie and Tommy nodded still watching her walk off.

Eventually, they turned back around to face Daniel. "So, what's your name?" said Tommy.

"Daniel, but everyone just calls me fatty, except my Mum who just calls me Daniel or Dan."

Daniel was zipping his bag up very slowly, trying to avoid eye contact. Alfie thought that _fatty_ was not a very good nickname.

"What's your last name again?" said Alfie. "Sparkly or something."

"Sparker," said Daniel, undoing the zip again.

Alfie and Tommy looked at each other and smiled. Daniel looked worried.

"Sparky!" They chorused and looked at Daniel who thought about it, then smiled and nodded.

So Sparky it was, Alfie and Tommy pretended to christen him, showering Sparky with fake holy water.

"Hey, stick with us and you'll be fine mate. Those bullies will leave you alone now," said Tommy joining Alfie as they went off to their detention, waving him goodbye. "Bye _Sparky_!" they called.

Sparky smiled to himself, this was a better first day than he'd imagined and he was pleased that for once, his nickname was something other than _fatty_.

# 3

# Ghost Corridor

Alfie and Tommy sat next to a window at the back of a stuffy classroom in after school detention, watching everyone walking home. Alfie was pretty sure they made them sit up here on purpose, to make them jealous about not leaving early.

Alfie saw Gracie say goodbye to Ashley DiMarco before getting into the large black car.

He watched Joel and Christian, with a few other posh friends standing around by the entrance, one of them said something and they all laughed--Alfie loathed them more than a kick in the stomach.

They were not the only ones in after school detention however. Curtis, Bruce and Frank were in there too for throwing a ball at Henry Goofham.

"Hey," said Tommy nudging him in the ribs, _again_. "I really hope my mother doesn't find out that I've had an after school detention on the first day!" he grimaced.

"I know," said Alfie sharing Tommy's pain, even for him the first day back this was a record. "Tell you what, you tell your mother you came round mine, and I'll tell my Grandma I went round yours." They both laughed.

"That old trick eh?"

The teacher at the front looked up. "Quiet please, you two," he said, then glancing up at the clock behind him shrugged. "Right, we can all--I mean... you can all go now."

Alfie and Tommy left slowly, descending the stairs and dodging the bullies who were arguing and pushing each other around. As they approached reception, which was bland and always smelt like toffee mints and dust, Alfie saw through the library window--his next door neighbour Nigel, two years below him, was working at a computer. Clearly Nigel was taking his new role as _editor of the school newsletter_ very seriously. Alfie agreed with Tommy, _they_ wouldn't be caught dead _working_ in school after hours.

Alfie suddenly had a devilish idea for a prank on Joel. "Follow me, I've got an idea."

Alfie pushed open the doors to the nearest toilets, which smelt like fresh disinfectant and in the distance several vacuum cleaners could be heard blaring away. Alfie had the strange idea of stuffing Joel's locker with toilet paper and he began pulling reams of the stuff away from the wall.

When they got the locker room, both boys giggling with armfuls of toilet paper, they began scanning the numbers.

"What number locker is his?" said Alfie looking around at the hundreds of small blue locker doors.

"That one," said Tommy pointing. "I remember always seeing him near this one."

Looking closer it was obvious, as on the front of the locker Joel had scratched his name. After a few minutes of trying to force tissue in through the cracks, they decided that it would be a lot easier to just try and open the locker and stuff all the tissue inside.

"How do we open it?" said Alfie who fiddled with the lock for a minute.

"Stand back," said Tommy rolling up his sleeves, before elbowing the locker directly beneath the lock. It gave a short clunk and fell open. Alfie asked Tommy why he hadn't just done that earlier, but he was too busy rooting around at all the things in Joel's locker. Alfie had a peep too, inside was a muddy sports kit, some old school books and two thick bronze bracelets.

"Why's he got a couple of girly bracelets?" said Alfie poking them as if they held a disease.

"Come on," said Tommy. "Let's stuff this locker and get out of here."

They picked up the piles of toilet paper and stuffed it as hard as they could into the locker, then leaned against the door until it clinked shut. Alfie and Tommy high-fived.

But then as they turned back to leave Alfie saw something. Across reception, and far along the corridor was an upright white rabbit, the same one he had seen earlier that morning, standing up, bold as brass and staring at him.

"We should set fire to that paper, no, no that's a bad idea... _what_?" said Tommy seeing Alfie's shocked expression. Tommy followed his gaze, then he saw it too.

"What the hec's a rabbit doing--" he said.

"The same one I saw earlier," Alfie mumbled.

For a moment, they both just stood, unsure what to do. Then it turned and started to hop back up the corridor.

"Come on," said Alfie as the rabbit scampered off. They had to run to keep up with it. Finally, after a short chase, it stopped in one of the oldest corridors in the school, no one really came down here anymore as there were no usable classrooms and the old library hadn't been used in years.

The white rabbit was stood up very casually waiting for them in the corner but then began to jump up and down. Alfie and Tommy exchanged confused looks, was it scared of them? Or was it trying to tell them something?

"It's a clever rabbit I'll give it that," said Tommy. "Be better if it could speak though."

Alfie suggested that they copy it and jump up and down.

The rabbit suddenly stopped, and shook its head!

Tommy grabbed Alfie's arm out of fright--"I think it's a person trapped inside a rabbit's body!"

The rabbit put one of its tiny paws to the wall then looked back at them.

"Touch... the... wall?" said Alfie, the rabbit jumped up and down manically.

Together they moved towards the wall and lay a hand on the cold, dusty stone. Alfie didn't know what he was expecting to happen, but the white rabbit seemed to brace, watching the wall expectantly. After a few, long seconds Tommy glanced at him.

Nothing happened and Alfie had to admit he was glad the school was empty.

But then, the amazing happened. The wall in front of them rippled as if it were a mirage. Seeing it together they both stepped back in amazement, taking their hands from the wall. The outline of a door faded into the stone. Dark outlines swimming across the stonework and solidifying. A wooden frame, translucent and golden swam into a rectangular shape before becoming solid wood. Then with a loud pop, a bright purple door with silver knocker appeared in the middle of the frame.

"Is that... is that real?" said Alfie.

Tommy mumbled that it looked pretty real as the rabbit nudged the door open and disappeared inside.

"Where do you suppose it goes?" Tommy whispered.

Alfie walked forwards and pushed the door a little further. It definitely felt real and it swung open to reveal a long dark corridor. Silver shapes crawled through the cracks in the stonework and shaped themselves slowly into fire brackets with dancing blue flames. This revealed a long, shadowy corridor with grey stone walls and a dusty, dank smell. More purple doors grew and popped into place along the length of the mysterious corridor, all with a shiny silver knockers.

"This is so, so,so, _so_ ... _weird_!" said Tommy eyes wider than saucers.

A new corridor had appeared in front of them, out of nowhere. Behind them came footsteps and the sound of a vacuum cleaner--one of the school cleaners was coming round the corner!

"Quick," said Alfie. "Before she sees us!" he pulled Tommy towards the corridor.

"I am not going in _there_!" he said pointing and digging in his heals.

"She's gonna see us!"

The white rabbit was jumping up and down inside the dark corridor.

Alfie walked forward through the purple door and felt a freezing cold breeze run straight down his back. Tommy glanced around once, sighed and then crossed the threshold too, recoiling as he felt the freezing cold air slide down his back.

"That's cold!" he said.

As soon as they were both inside the door closed itself with a click. All sound from the school disappeared. Flickering blue light cast eerie coloured shadows, which bounced across the walls.

"What is this place?" said Alfie walking slowly along the corridor, inspecting the purple doors--there must have been ten on each side all the way to the end.

The rabbit moved towards the last door on the left and nudged it open. Instantly sound flooded into the corridor. Calls and shouts from what sounded like a market and the hum of hundreds of people pierced the air along with a slither of bright light. But how on earth would that be possible?

"Where's it gone?" said Alfie moving cautiously.

"Have a look..." said Tommy not sounding convinced.

Alfie looked through the small gap and saw, to his astonishment--a town square! It was bright and sunny with lots of people. In the middle was a large rock, surrounding that was an old cobblestone square. It looked warm and inviting and there was a buzz to the air. There was a click behind them, Alfie and Tommy turned around quickly as one of the purple doors opened.

A man dressed all in red with a hood covering his face clicked the door shut behind him. Another cold shiver ran down Alfie's spine, this time his gut was telling him to run. The man was covered head to toe in one long red garment. His hands pressed together as if in prayer, he lifted a hand and the door behind them closed with a click. The corridor became dim and silent again.

Alfie could hear Tommy breathing loudly as they backed up against the wall.

"You are Alfie Brown?" came a quiet slow voice, the person did not look up from its hood.

"Err, _err ..._ yes I am," said Alfie edging back towards the exit, getting ready to tell Tommy to run.

"And your friends name?" it said even slower.

"No-one, I'm no-one..." said Tommy backing away a little faster than Alfie.

"I like your eyes," said the man, a tiny rasping laugh echoed inside it. "You can both come with me now."

"No, I think there's been some mistake," said Alfie walking a little quicker. "We came here by accident. Sorry."

"You never find a place like this by _accident_ ," it mumbled as it walked--or rather glided--towards them.

It started to lift its hands. Alfie felt himself being pulled towards it, his feet sliding over the stone.

" _Ahhh_!" he struggled against the invisible pull--what on earth was happening?

"Leave us alone!" Tommy called, trying to grab hold of the ledge of a door.

At the end of the hallway another door opened. The silhouette of a man stood in the doorway, face hidden by the bright light behind him, oddly, atop his head was a cowboys hat.

"Don't do what it says," called the silhouette.

Alfie was about to say that they were trying--Tommy was even clawing at the cracks in the stonework, but still they slid ominously towards the thing in red, which now sounded furious.

"Be off with you _Nick_!" it spat.

The man named Nick was chewing a toothpick. He flicked it away. "Not until you leave them be."

"You cannot save him now, he belongs to me."

"Do you really think so?" said Nick casually.

The thing in red began to swish his hands through the air. Little sparks and whooshes of air went whizzing off around the place. In mid air a long transparent red chain shot towards Alfie and Tommy.

"I asked you a QUESTION!" called Nick jumping into the corridor and clapping his hands.

A bright green flash erupted inside the hallway, followed by an enormous deafening flash of lightning. With the force of a tidal wave, it launched them all off their feet. Alfie felt himself sail through the air, out of the purple corridor before skidding on the rough dusty school carpet. Red and green flashes and crashes inside from inside the corridor shook the floor. With a small pop the purple door vanished completely.

Tommy coughed next to him. "What... the... _hell just happened_?" he said before getting up.

Alfie just lay where he was, his bum was sore. "Did that actually just happen?"

Tommy mumbled, "It must have because my butt's got friction burn."

"How _did_ that happen?"

"How did what happen?" said Tommy. "Which bit?" he said standing and glancing at the wall where the door had been. "What were those flashes of thunder?"

"I have no idea," said Alfie dusting himself down and walking smartly back towards reception.

"But, seriously there is something so, so, _so_ weird going on. Those people, I think they wanted to kill us!"

Alfie wasn't sure, it was hard to think straight, his heart still hammering against his chest. Alfie reasoned that the man called _Nick_ who had the cowboy hat appeared to be trying to save them.

"It's that man in red that scared me," said Alfie shuddering. "I got bad vibes from him."

Tommy nodded as if he were remembering a particularly nasty spider.

"He had a gold badge on his red coat thing... did you see it?" Alfie said he hadn't seen it. "Yeah it was just two letters... _S_ and _C_ ... what do you reckon that stands for?"

Alfie shook his head, he hadn't a clue.

"Where do you think the rabbit went?" said Tommy.

"I don't know. It went into that _market thing_ through the door." And it didn't return, Alfie hoped it was ok.

All the way home Tommy asked Alfie what he thought the corridor was, who the man in red was and if _Nick_ was a good guy, or bad. Alfie became increasingly frustrated and had to shout at Tommy in the middle of the park that he had no flipping idea! He knew as much as Tommy did, so could they just walk home without talking about it. Tommy muttered something about it being bad to keep problems inside and its better to talk about them. Alfie disagreed, he had a thumping headache, and found talking made it thump more.

# 4

# Shadow Thief

That evening Alfie was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened and yet it made no sense whatsoever. Someone tapped his door, Alfie looked up as his Granddad came into the room holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Hello mate," he said putting the tea on Alfie's desk and sitting down on the end of the bed. "Good day at school today?"

"Well..." Alfie sat up. "It's certainly been... interesting," he said, more to himself.

"Oh, why's that?" said Granddad, taking a loud sip of tea. "You haven't been getting into trouble again, have you? I told you about that Joel, he's not worth it--"

"I know," said Alfie trying to quell any lecture.

His Granddad took another loud sip. He looked a lot like Alfie but with shorter receding silver hair and a kind, rounded face with clever brown eyes--which began to inspect Alfie's room.

"Might need a lick of paint this room. When we've got some spare cash," he said hopefully.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that," said Alfie. "Could I perhaps dip into my savings, what there is of it, and get my room done up really nice?" Joel's voice was replaying inside Alfie's head: _if the state of your house is anything to go by._

"We'll see what we can do. Let's see if you can't keep this one tidy and in good condition first. Then we'll see." Alfie nodded solemnly, whenever his Grandad said _we 'll see_, it meant _no_. "You know we're out tonight?" said his Granddad getting up slowly. "There's some fresh lasagne in the oven, so you might just need to heat it up."

Alfie smiled, his Grandma's lasagne was perhaps his favourite and he was particularly hungry. "So, just what did you did you get up to school today then?" said his Granddad turning.

"Well, me and Tommy we..." Alfie wanted to tell his Granddad everything, but somehow the words got stuck in his throat. "We... we stuffed Joel's locker full of toilet paper."

His Granddad looked solemn for a moment. Alfie thought he might get an ear bashing. "Did you leave trails of paper coming out of the sides of the locker?" he said straight mouthed.

"Yeah I think so..." said Alfie as his Granddad shook his head.

"No, no, no..." he began. "You want to stuff it all in, so they don't suspect a thing until they open it and get a face full of the stuff!" he cried, laughing.

"Oh yeah!" laughed Alfie. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Okay you two," called his Grandma from outside his door, before walking in putting her gloves on. "That's quite enough, and Alfie that's very naughty of you, encouraging your Granddad for thinking mischievously. You know how he gets."

"Sorry Grandma," said Alfie trying not to laugh at his Granddad who had his head hung in shame trying not to laugh. As they left his Granddad closed the door and winked at him.

Alfie stretched out and lay back on the bed and stared up at his ceiling as the front door slammed shut. Alfie wondered how the person dressed all in red had known his name. What was that place through the gap in the door? And who was the man in the cowboy hat? Did they know each other? Then, the lightning flashes--they _were_ weird. Alfie felt sure that it had been caused by Nick. But how? And what was it? Perhaps it was some kind of electric gun? But the person in red had made things move without touching them, and made a red chain just by waving his hands around.

It was all too much for one day, Alfie's eyelids began to droop. None of it made sense. He dozed until the sun began to drop, the light becoming dim outside his window as street lamps began to pop on--bringing an orange glow in through his room.

In the late evening Alfie awoke from his slumber by a loud grumble from his stomach, he sat up sharply, feeling groggy. Going downstairs he popped the leftover lasagne in the oven and yawned. It was bin day tomorrow, he should be kind and put them out now ready for the morning - his Granddad often forgot. Alfie wrenched the bag out of the bin, tied it and dragged it to the front of the house. The wheelie bin smelt funny, opening the lid he tossed it in quickly for it was nippy out here now. Before he shut the lid he could suddenly hear running and shouting. Alfie's road was a relatively quiet suburban one so Alfie was curious as to what was going on.

A stone dropped in Alfie's stomach. Nigel, his next door neighbour, was being chased by a gang of about ten people. Poor Nigel was running for his life, a huge aggressive dog barking on the end of a chain.

"Help! Help!"

Alfie was caught in two minds. What could _he_ do? But there was no time to think. Alfie ran into the road after Nigel.

Suddenly, for some unknown reason, Nigel ran down an alleyway to the adjacent street away from his own house! Alfie took the street parallel to it, bursting along the road as fast as his feet would take him. Alfie didn't know what he was going to do. Nigel turned into the street and saw Alfie, at first he paused, unsure if Alfie was another one of the gang come to block him off or not--but then he realised and waved frantically with the gang closing in on him.

"Run to your house, Nigel!" Alfie cried, his voice echoing along the brick walls.

Nigel was twenty feet away, but then looking exhausted, he tripped and fell into Alfie--who stumbled and sprawled across the tarmac in the street--scraping his hands and knees. Nigel yelped with pain, as the gang slowed to a jog behind them. Their long, looming shadow eclipsed them.

The gang encircled them, blocking any way out. Alfie's knees were grazed and he had a hole in his trousers, but right now that was the least of his problems. Nigel glanced across at him frantically.

"Please Alfie, please Alfie don't let them hurt me!" he pleaded, clinging onto Alfie as tightly as he could. Alfie stood lifting Nigel too. "Please Alfie, please..."

"Let the kid go," said one of the gang members in a deep voice, he stepped forward. He had a shaven head, several tattoos and was at least a foot taller than Alfie.

"I can't," said Alfie, he was scared and his voice betrayed him. "I can't let you hurt him."

Why was he doing this? He shouldn't have got involved he knew it.

"We ain't' gonna hurt him. We just wanna..." the man looked around at his compatriots. " _Talk_ to him." Some of them laughed. "Let the kid go and _you_ won't get hurt," he said, leaning a little closer to Alfie as Nigel gripped him even harder.

Alfie thought his heart might pop out of his chest. One of the gang made a movement and darted forwards seizing Nigel who screamed as he was wrenched away, a large hand covered his mouth muffling his cries. The dog barked at the commotion, its sharp teeth aimed at Alfie.

"Who are _you_?" said one of the girls in the crowd, sneering at him.

"I'm not telling _you_ ," said Alfie.

The crowd jeered.

The leader of the gang leant forwards and put his face directly in front of Alfie's, so that was all he could see--his breath smelt nasty. "Tell us who you are."

"His name's Alfie Brown," said one of the gang. "He lives over there!"

Alfie knew that voice--Tommy's older brother Kevin was looking excited that he could be of use. So this is what he does with his time, thought Alfie. "He's my brother's best friend Gaz," said Kevin looking at the man with squinty eyes. Gaz looked like he didn't much like Kevin either, but looked back at Alfie and smiled.

"You have two choices, join us or run away."

"Did you realise you only have one eyebrow or was it intentional?" said Alfie, showing more confidence than he felt, people had always said his cheek would get him into trouble one day. They were right.

"You do not interfere in our business and get away with it, you understand?" spat Gaz.

Alfie stepped back but was blocked by a large chest.

"You're not going anywhere sunshine," whispered Kevin's cold voice in his ear.

Gaz swiped a large fist straight at Alfie who instinctively lifted his hands in some vain attempt to block it. But then--Gaz's fist froze in mid air. Alfie squinted through his fingers at Gaz's puzzled expression, face contorted with effort. The gang stared at him wondering what on earth he was doing with his fist hanging in mid air. His face growing purple with effort. As Alfie dropped his hands Gaz suddenly toppled to the floor, hitting the tarmac with a thud and scraped back along the tarmac like a magnetic force was propelling him away from Alfie.

There was what felt like hours of silence as their eyes, one by one, came to rest upon Alfie. Gaz looked around at the gang, who slowly pulled him up and gazed at Alfie as if he were a giant slimy insect.

"You're a _freak_!" he mouthed viciously.

"Look!" said one of them, pointing up at a street lamp behind Alfie, which began flickering on and off. Orange lamp light sparking green. Then in a flash, one long streak of green electricity flashed from the lamp across the road. They all jumped, sprawling into the road out of the way of it.

"AHH!" they all cried and three more streaks of green lightning scorched the air, blitzing the road as the gang danced out of the way looking terrified. The gang took one short breathless look up at him, once at each other, then scattered. They ran without turning back and disappeared.

Alfie couldn't believe what had just happened--surely he was dreaming? He caught his breath, heart threatening to pop out of his chest.

Nigel tugged Alfie's arm, his small face a comical mix of terror and greedy, jealous envy.

"What?" said Alfie feeling uncomfortable with Nigel standing with his mouth hanging open.

"How-how-how _did_ you do that?" said Nigel pointing at his hands.

Alfie glanced up the street to see if anyone else had seen what had happened, he was struggling to compute it all himself--his head thumping even harder. "You pushed that person away _without_ touching him! Then you made green _electric_ come out of the lamppost!" Nigel looked like he was about to explode and Alfie started to walk back to his house, checking as he did that no curtains were twitching.

"I didn't! He just _fell_. And I did not make green electricity come out the lamppost!" Alfie chuckled.

"No, no, you made him!" cried Nigel. "I saw you, I saw you! You did superpowers, Alfie! Alfie, you did super --"

" _Shhhh_! It's pretty late you better get inside. Go on! And Nigel, don't tell anyone." Alfie had to practically push Nigel into his own house to avoid any more questions.

"Can I write about this in the school newsletter?" said Nigel through his letter box.

"No! Definitely not. Nigel, please, let this be _our_ secret." Alfie pleaded. "What were you doing getting chased by them anyway?"

"I was at the park," said Nigel who was still in his school uniform. "Walking back from school, looking over some notes for the newsletter, when I saw them up to something, so I went to _investigate_ and well," Nigel looked down. "They saw me and chased me." Alfie sighed and told Nigel to be careful and pleaded again for him to not say anything.

As Alfie went back to his own house, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He was sure as he turned back that he had seen a tall man in a cowboy hat standing in the bushes fifty yards away. Then, racing back inside he sprinted upstairs and straight to his window, peering out of the window. But the man in the cowboy hat was not standing in the bushes anymore.

What Alfie didn't see, as he sighed and went downstairs, was a small white rabbit making its way up his drain pipe and into Nigel's room.

After dinner, Alfie collapsed on his bed. He didn't want to assume but he could have sworn he _had_ moved the boy Gaz away from him-- _without_ touching him and he could have also sworn that a green electrical current had shot out of the lamppost. That's what made the gang run away, they were petrified of _him_.

Was he a superhero? Did he have powers?

Alfie had a sudden image of himself in a tight latex suit, running around Westbury fighting crime with Tommy as his sidekick. Alfie wondered who he could possibly tell who wouldn't laugh at him--Tommy for sure, but who official--the police? What on earth would they do about it? Say that he had needed to see a doctor probably.

Alfie got up and started to pace his room. He'd never paced his room before because he had never had to think so much in his life. The last time he'd thought about something this much was the time he had to come up with an explanation as to why he had let off a fire extinguisher in the headmaster's office.

The man in red in the corridor had closed a door without touching it, but the problem was Alfie had absolutely no idea who or what the man was. If indeed he was a man.

And now Alfie had assumably, done the same. His brain started to itch with unanswered questions--would the gang come back?

A cold breeze ran down his back like he had been touched with freezing cold hands. Alfie jumped and looked around. The cold tea on his desk began to ripple. Then his bedroom began to shake! A thin, black mist tickled the air and Alfie felt his heart hammer hard against his rib cage. Terror gripped him and he jumped for the door, but pulling it he realised it wouldn't budge! He wrenched it but it was stuck as if it were made of solid stone. His room started to fill with an eerie whistle. Horrible visions entered Alfie's mind--screaming people, melting faces and dismembered beings climbing up his walls. Alfie sunk back into the wall and closed his eyes.

Wind burst from nowhere throwing his bed covers into the air, as his desk scrapped across the floor, the whistle reaching fever pitch. His books, papers and clothes were pulled into a swirling tornado. Alfie backed against the wall shielding his eyes and ears as best he could from the awful wails and stinging winds. In an instant, the wind dropped. Alfie left standing in a trashed room, his hair stood on end. The horrible wails had ceased but he could sense ... he wasn't alone. It was quiet, too quiet.

Cautiously, he scanned his room without daring to move a muscle. A vile smell almost choked him half to death, he clasped his hands to his mouth and nose, it smelt like nothing else he'd ever smelt before, hundred-year-old rotting flesh and burning, acrid smoke. It burnt his nostrils making him feel dizzy. A large transparent shape in the middle of his room materialised, a thin outline of a giant slug type creature. One giant tentacle flew across his sight swiping the air and catching him across the face. Alfie hit the back of the wall banging his head. Dazed and with stars swimming across his vision he heard the invisible thing move, floorboards creaking under the weight.

He managed to look up just in time, the thing wasn't invisible anymore. Alfie wished it was for a full bodied faceless green-brown entity with thirty or more swinging, slimy, sucking tentacles with eye balls at the end and tiny razor sharp teeth and a large gaping black mouth greeted him. Alfie couldn't even scream, for all the air and sound had been sucked from the room.

To Alfie's utter disbelief the tentacle had grabbed something... his shadow. Alfie's shadow cast long against the wall began hitting and swiping at the tentacle as if it had a life of its own, but the long, slimy tentacle wrapped slowly around the shadows waist and in one quick movement, pulled.

Pain burst from nowhere! Invisible flames licked Alfie's whole body and he fell to the floor, head hitting the wood with a thud as his shadow was dragged away. The large beast with Alfie's flailing shadow started to swirl round like a tornado, getting faster and faster, the two shapes forming to become one. Green tentacles and transparent shadow merging--razor sharp teeth forming at the shadow's mouth, eyes popping into place and the shadow becoming dense and dark until there was no green tentacled monster left.

Standing before Alfie was a dark, dense mass in the shape of a person, head bowed. A pair of transparent purple eyes began to look up at him, a thin mouth with razor sharp pointy teeth began to smile devilishly.

It clambered through the crack in the window, glanced back at Alfie, then jumped, there was no thud or sound. Alfie clambered up as fast as he could and looked out of the window. His shadow was running away up the street descending into the darkness of the night. Alfie felt his head where a large lump was forming and twinged at the slightest touch.

To make things worse he just heard the back door open, his Grandparents were back--how on earth was he going to explain this?

# 5

# Spellbound Cats

It was seven o'clock when Alfie's Grandma got up and started to move around downstairs, starting the breakfast. Alfie had already been awake for two hours, which was very unlike him. He had woken at five and was simply not able to return back to sleep. He cursed, for he was tired and propped up his pillows before sitting up.

Alfie wasn't sure if he preferred to be asleep or awake. His dreams had been plagued by horrible nightmares and three times in the night he woke in a cold sweat. He could still remember most of his dream, though he tried his best to forget--it involved hundreds of wailing, dismembered bodies crawling across a huge barren black desert, through a big hole in a tree walked the man in red who took down his hood and the gang members face greeted him, smiling devilishly with razor sharp pointy teeth and purple eyes. Then he turned into the shadow and they chased him across the desert into his school. Alfie saw Tommy waiting at reception for him with Nigel. Tommy put a cowboy hat on and in an instant his hands turned into tentacles, which rose into the air and grabbed Alfie, sucking the life out of him. Nigel stood and watched playing with a green electrical current in his hands--which sparked and flew at Alfie's face.

That's when he woke and decided it best to stay awake. Gradually light began to seep underneath his curtains and the chickens in Nigel's garden began to cluck and coo. The milkman came and went, a paperboy on a bike rode past and one man in a suit left his house early.

Alfie looked around his now tidy room--his Grandparents had watched him pick up every last thing and return it to its usual place (if there was such a thing). Alfie's ears were still ringing from the telling off his Grandma had given him.

He looked at the spot where the horrible tentacled thing that caused the devastation had been. There was no evidence that it had been there at all. No slimy sludge patches or greeny-brown goo, no leftover tentacles--only a smart dent in the wall where Alfie hit his head. He had been an inch away from turning around and telling his Grandparents exactly what had happened, but he knew too well that his Grandma would just shout at him and say " _Don 't make up foolish lies to try getting out of tidying up!"_

Alfie got up, washed, dressed and had breakfast. He left five minutes earlier than normal to knock for Nigel, thinking rather hopefully, that if he spoke to Nigel about what happened last night, then he wouldn't go telling the whole school and town that _" Alfie had superpowers."_

However, when Alfie did knock and ask a sleepy, messy-haired Nigel about the previous day's events, he had absolutely no idea what Alfie was talking about. Alfie went back indoors feeling rather confused and tried to convince his Grandma that he was too ill for school today. But then she felt his head (Alfie winced) and told him that he was fine, Alfie sighed.

Alfie's thoughts at school were plagued by the horrible tentacled monster that stole his shadow. It caused Alfie to be something of a shadow himself in school. He jumped in Art when someone had made a model using an old hoover tube painted green--he was trying to think about the previous day, yet none of it made sense. He had never heard of anything like a huge tentacled monster coming to steal your shadow before, not in fact or fiction. He choose to keep quiet about the tentacled monster for fear of being called a nutter, or a freak, and to be honest with himself Alfie was struggling to comprehend how anything like that could be real. It was just a dream, he repeated over and over in his head, or some sort of hallucination. How could it be anything other? It was ludicrous, unreal and downright crazy to think that something like _that_ could exist.

His Grandparents were already worried about him after thinking he smashed his room up for no reason. The first thing Tommy said when he saw him before school was: "What's that massive lump on your head?"

Alfie said that he had... walked into the kitchen door.

Tommy smarted. "But you don't have a kitchen door." Alfie ignored him. Tommy knew something was up, he always knew when Alfie was hiding something from him. Alfie knew he had to spill the beans at some point--Tommy however, was going on and on about the _" ghost corridor" _as he called it, and would have told the whole world if he could, Alfie had to kick him several times as people walked past.

"The _ghost_ corridor-- _Ow_! What?" he said, hoping on one leg.

"Be quiet! People will think we're crazy or something." Alfie said in an undertone, but Tommy just shrugged. "Everyone already thinks we're crazy." This was true.

The initial shock of the event passed as quickly as the next few school days. The daze that had clouded Alfie's thoughts subsided. But it wasn't long before something else strange and mysterious would happen to Alfie...

Alfie was sat in the living room thinking. His Grandma had laid his homework across the coffee table and begged him to do it. Alfie promised that he would _try,_ and he had, but ten minutes was enough, so he packed it all away and sat back. It was the weekend after all. His Grandparents were out for the day so Alfie sat in the comfy chair, picked up the remote control for the TV and was about to switch it on, when... the mirror above the fireplace glazed over--just enough to catch Alfie's attention.

Alfie frowned, he was sure something just moved _inside_ the mirror. Putting the remote control down, he slipped off the chair. The surface seemed to be rippling slightly, as if it were water. He saw his own reflection, messy haired and confused--suddenly fade away. The mirror now resembled a window. Shapes, fuzzy at first, began to form. Until, Alfie was looking into someone's kitchen... and there was someone in it. Sitting at a round wooden table, wearing an apron and drinking from a mug was a small and very old woman. She obviously hadn't noticed anything because she was staring into space, in a world of her own. Alfie could hear the tick-tock of a loud wall clock and the tap dripped rhythmically. All of a sudden, the old woman sat up straight and looked around the room. Then, out of nowhere a cat jumped in front of the mirror. Alfie fell backwards into the coffee table with the shock.

" _Ahh_!"

The cat poked it's head through the mirror as the view of the kitchen faded, a pale mist clouding the surface. The tabby cat gave Alfie a long look, turned back into the fog and disappeared from sight. The fog swirled then settled before a short popping sound echoed around the living room. The mirror returned to normal. Alfie, who was sprawled across the coffee table didn't move. His eyes fixed to the mirror. Did that just happen?

The doorbell rang shrilly causing him to jump. Alfie shook himself out of the daze and went to answer it. Tommy stood grinning on his doorstep, next to his, looking down at his shoes was Sparky.

"It's ok if Sparky comes in isn't it Alfie?" said Tommy walking in before Alfie could answer.

"See," said Tommy to Sparky, who was still on the doorstep. "It's fine."

Sparky looked up and smiled at Alfie before flicking his eyes away. He looked a lot more comfortable in the clothes he now wore-- a very large, baggy black t-shirt, jeans and trainers. Both sat down on the sofa, as Alfie passed he glanced up the mirror.

"This was on your doorstep," said Sparky handing him a small piece of folded paper. Alfie took it and sat down in the armchair--probably a note for his grandma. Alfie usually got notes and people popping round to relay a message for his Grandma about the upcoming coffee morning or so. But this note seemed different. It was a small, folded piece of thick, cream paper. Turning it over he saw his name written in scrawly writing. Curious, Alfie opened it. It was probably from his neighbour, or the milkman or something... but there was no message. In fact, it looked like it had been ripped out of a book, for there was a paragraph of writing above, of which only half the words were visible. Underneath that were six bullet-pointed words, the look of which Alfie had never seen before--they looked like utter gobbledegook or foreign words. Alfie rubbed his head and sighed putting the note in his pocket. Perhaps it was Nigel sending him a special code?

"Nice house," said Sparky.

"Thanks," said Alfie not listening. "Did you see who left this note?" Tommy and Sparky shook their heads. Alfie frowned, peeved more than anything else that he had another weird thing to _think_ about, as he was sure this had something to do with all the other strange nonsense that had been happening.

"What is it?" said Tommy.

"I have no idea, you tell me." Alfie handed it to him. Tommy looked at it, Sparky glancing across his shoulder, but they too were at a loss. Tommy glanced at Sparky who was looking at the words intently and then up at Alfie who had stood up and begun to pace.

"This all just gets weirder and weirder doesn't it," said Tommy shaking his head.

"What does?" said Sparky.

Tommy looked at Alfie, he wanted to tell Sparky about the ghost corridor, in fact, he looked positively excited that he could let someone else in on it, Alfie nodded at him in agreement, it was only fair he supposed.

"Is anyone in?" said Tommy. Alfie shook his head. "Good. Right, sit down Sparky..."

"I am sitting down," he mumbled, looking a little worried by Tommy's sudden burst of life.

And then they told him--Alfie starting to explain the story--not well enough by Tommy's standards as he pulled Alfie back on every little detail (what shade the stonework was, how many buttons the man in red had on his jacket and even the correct shade of green of the lightning).

"And we didn't know who either of the men was or what happened to them," he said for the seventh time. "And that green lightning bolt!" said Tommy with an awe-struck tone. "It was so loud and hard that it blew us out the corridor!"

"Calm down," said Alfie growing weary of circling the story over and over.

Sparky sat where he was with a large frown on his face obviously wondering what he had let himself in for by befriending these two.

"I've got something else to say," Alfie sat down in the armchair. For a moment he stared at the ceiling trying to think where to begin. "When I came home that night after the ghost corridor, I saw Nigel outside being chased by the gang. I stepped in to help him and we got cornered by them. But when one of them went to hit me, he sort of... _couldn 't._ I had my hands outstretched like this and he just slid back across the ground away from me. And then there was this green electrical spark from the lamppost which started shooting out at them. It saved me because they ran away." Alfie trailed off from the suspicious frown he received from Tommy. "Honestly, I'm not _lying_!"

Neither Tommy or Sparky said anything for a while, Tommy chewed his mouth--he thought Alfie had gone nuts and Sparky was inspecting the thread of the sofa--he thought they were both nuts.

"So," said Tommy and Alfie could spot the scepticism. "You think you _moved_ this person?"

Alfie muttered back that he thought so, yes.

"Impossible," Sparky mumbled, still looking at the thread.

"I am just telling you what happened. You think I'd make something like this up? To what, impress _you_?"

"No," said Sparky sounding scorned.

"Show us then," said Tommy.

"But I don't know how it happened. Nigel was there, but he seems to have _forgotten_ ..." Alfie trailed off knowing how ridiculous it all sounded.

"Look, mate, you need to get a grip. This last week you've been like a ghost. I think that corridor did something to you."

Too right, thought Alfie.

Then he braced himself for a tirade of scepticism. "Do you want to know how I got the bump on my head, and why I've been a ghost at school?" Tommy glanced at the bump on Alfie's head and shrugged. "Now, I might have been dreaming... but that same night, straight after the incident with the gang, _that you don 't believe me about,_" Alfie mumbled. "I came upstairs and there was this like, _hurricane_ in my room and well... a massive creature appeared--" Alfie told them in detail all about the tentacled thing and how it took his shadow. "The tentacle wrapped right around my shadows waist--" Sparky's eyes had drifted to a place just behind Alfie, his eyes searching for something, then he suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth. Alfie stopped talking.

"What?" said Tommy looking back and forth.

"Y-y- _your_ shadow..." said Sparky pointing at him. "You-you haven't got one!"

"Exactly!" said Alfie. "That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Oh _yeah_ ," said Tommy his expression far away as he searched for Alfie's shadow on the wall. "That is _weird_. So that monster thing must have stolen your shadow!"

Sparky sighed. "But, but a shadow isn't independent! It's the thing that a physical mass casts, it's not something that can be stolen!"

"Thank you, Einstein, we know how shadows work. What we're trying to work out is how and why Alfie hasn't got one."

Alfie picked up the lamp on the side table, clicked it on and waved it around himself, but there was not a single flash of shadow upon the wall--the only shadows were the ones rebounding off the furniture. It was as if he didn't even exist.

Tommy shifted in his chair. "Do you think that this might all be down to you know... _magic_?"

Alfie and Sparky spluttered.

"What!" Alfie laughed. "Out of all the things I thought you were going to say, I was not expecting that!" said Alfie through Sparky's tumultuous snorts--Tommy sat in silence, offended.

"Yeah but," he offered as he leant forward. "We can't explain that ghost corridor, can we? And you can't explain why you _apparently_ moved a person." Alfie didn't bother correcting him. "Or that giant octopus you told us about unless it was a dream?"

"It most certainly was not a dream!" said Alfie, pointing to his head. "I've got the bruise to prove it."

"And no shadow..." said Sparky, who wasn't laughing anymore.

Tommy asked for the scrap of paper and looked at it closely--it was the thick weighty paper of good quality and the writing was scrawly and untidy. "What do you think?" said Tommy passing it back to Alfie and standing over his shoulder as if they were a couple of scholars.

"It's a bit curious," said Alfie. "That this piece of paper with my name on lands on my doorstep the day after everything that happened yesterday."

"It could be that person who tried to kill you in the corridor?" said Sparky wide-eyed.

"If he did know where I live then I'm sure he would just come in and kill me rather than leaving me a little note of obscure words?" said Alfie.

It could have been the man in the cowboy hat, though, he had been right outside last night.

"Read the words out loud... if it's magic then it might do something," said Tommy gleefully.

Sparky mumbled that Tommy was talking nonsense and of course it wouldn't work, they were just funny words and could, if anything, be a riddle. Alfie had to agree with him.

Tommy glanced at Sparky and winced, obviously wishing he had not invited him round.

" _Magic_ is something in fairytales and stories, not real life." Alfie chuckled as Sparky nodded sagely.

Tommy huffed loudly and started counting on his fingers. "Ghost corridor. Giant octopus. No shadow. Weird words. Men in red bloody--"

"Alright! We get it," said Alfie, he wanted to add weird _window mirrors_ to the end of the list but thought better of it. "I just don't think it's magic, there has to be another explanation. Anyway, a minute ago you didn't believe me when I said I moved someone without touching them, now you believe in _magic_!?"

"Just say a word, let see the _proof_ , if nothing happens I'll never mention it again," said Tommy.

Fine, thought Alfie, anything to shut him up. Alfie looked down at the words on the note. The first was _Dulcis,_ a funny shiver ran down his spine as looked at them and he felt strangely reluctant to say them. "Dulcis."

He was unsure if he had even said the word correctly. Tommy looked around the room frantically, but of course, nothing happened. Tommy pursed his lips then when no fireworks exploded he sat back deflated.

"Told you," said Sparky in a soft voice, as if he was consoling Tommy over a recent loss. "Magic doesn't exist, it's just, you know, fairytale stuff."

Tommy shook his head then sat forwards again. "I think you should have said it as if the _C_ is an _S,_ like Dul- _Sis_."

Alfie was about to tell him to drop it, that it was not magic! Until--they all heard it together.

_" Meow..." _

They all stood up very slowly for there was a lot of commotion outside.

"What's happening out there?" whispered Tommy looking at the living room windows. Alfie pulled the curtains wide then staggered backwards into Tommy.

"Ahh!" said Tommy pointing frantically at the window, where around a hundred cats had collected in Alfie's small front garden. There were more cats out there than they had ever seen in their whole lives. Black cats, white cats, ginger cats, tabby cats, cats with too much fur and one cat with no fur at all.

"CATS!" screamed Tommy jumping on Alfie's sofa. "Loads of them!" Tommy started to laugh. Sparky stood by the window quite stunned as they pawed at it to be let in. Alfie didn't think he had enough milk to feed all this lot. And what on earth would the neighbours think seeing all this?

"Alfie! That word," Tommy shouted jumping up and down. "That word is _magic_ , it is! It is!" He climbed off the sofa pointing frantically at the slip of paper in his hands. "It makes cats come to you!"

They all started to laugh, half in shock, half in wonder.

" _Meow ... Meow!" _

Sparky jumped as one of the cats head butted the glass. "There getting vicious!" cried Sparky standing back from the window looking terrified. Alfie shouted at the cats through the window to stop head-butting the glass, but for some reason they ignored him.

"My Grandma hates cats!" he cried. "If she comes home now she's gonna freak out!"

"Say the word again," said Sparky manically waving his arms around. Alfie told him that he didn't want anymore! Tommy was standing in the corner giggling to himself, he found this hilarious.

"In most _magic_ ," said Sparky using his hands as inverted commas. "The same word said again has the opposite effect, like a sort of counter-spell."

Alfie and Tommy glanced at each other as the meowing became louder and louder. "How do _you_ know things like that?" said Tommy.

"Dulcis _,_ " said Alfie. The effect was instant, the cats shook themselves, almost realising where they were as if they had been sleepwalking and one by one started trotting off. Some of them started fighting.

Watching them all leave, they then turned and looked at each other with wonder in their eyes.

"You were right Tommy..." said Alfie. "This is _magic_!"

# 6

# The Disapearing Clothes

Alfie was lying in bed. He had tried for sleep but to no avail. He'd watched his clock turn twelve, then one, then two, then three. But sleep never graced him. His head was swimming with thoughts, ideas and... _magic_. At school, Alfie had felt nervous and on edge, the lack of shadow was gaining him some unwanted, curious glances. He would be walking down the corridor and feel one or two pairs of eyes double take at the space around him--where they thought, a shadow should have been. They could tell something was not quite right, but couldn't quite put their finger on it. But, what would they do to him when they realised he didn't have a shadow? Send him away for scientific tests probably. Alfie shivered. Some of the neighbours had started talking too. The old couple next door who never went out were sure as anything that they had seen hundreds of cats jumping through their garden. His Granddad had laughed about it after they told him and suggested (in private) that they probably needed to get out a bit more and were: "Bloody seeing things again!"

Alfie sat up, taking the little scrap of paper out he looked down at the list (for what had to be the thousandth time that day) and looked at the little-scribbled words:

_Dulcis_

_Laravatus_

_Vanearo_

_Consisto_

_Petivo_

Alfie daren't read any more out (much to the annoyance of Tommy who wanted him to say them all), he was in all truths a little apprehensive about what they would do. He also didn't want to get too carried away with Tommy's idea that it was-- _magic._ His brain kept telling him how ridiculous he was to think such ludicrous things. " _Coincidence! "_ his mind would shout, or " _You were imagining things_."

But here he was with a tiny scrap of paper that had six funny words scribbled all over it, the like of which when read aloud would make a hundred cats come to his front door. Alfie wondered how peculiar it was that only cats should come to him, why not dogs, or elephants? Perhaps that's what the other words did? Alfie shivered again.

He slept most of Sunday, getting up around lunch time. His Grandma was buttering some toast in the kitchen for him when he eventually made it down.

"I wonder why you aren't sleeping?" she said coming over to feel his forehead. "Might be the stress of the last school year," she said. Alfie wished that was true. "I forgot to say, Thomas and Daniel called round early this morning," she passed him the toast. "Seemed quite concerned for some reason when I told them you were still in bed, don't know why. Do you want a cup of tea?" She smiled.

After finishing his toast, Alfie said he supposed he'd better go and knock for Tommy. "Well put your winter coat on," said his Grandma. "There's a chill in the air."

Alfie trudged along the cold roads towards Tommy's and wrapped the knocker. Almost instantly, the door flung wide open. "We thought magic had killed you!" Tommy cried the instant he saw him. "We were debating whether you had been trampled by a thousand cats or something!"

Alfie sniggered. "I just overslept."

"So..." Tommy said letting Alfie inside and pushing him upstairs where Sparky lurked on the landing. "Anything else _happened_?"

Alfie assured them both that if anything did happen they would be the first to know.

The first lesson on Monday morning was English.

"Ok class," said Mr Woodbridge who was tall and gangly, which led to some rather amusing nicknames which cannot be repeated. "Today we're going to be carrying on with our exploration of..." _Bla bla bla_ , thought Alfie and his train of thought wandered immediately.

He looked out the window. Suddenly someone zoomed past the window with a big stick, causing Alfie to lurch backwards with fright.

"You ok Alfie?" said Mr Woodbridge.

It was the new girl Gracie--hockey stick in hand as she raced with the rest of her class up to the top field. "Yes Sir," Alfie smiled, he was so jumpy at the moment.

Tommy poked him in the ribs gently before whispering --"Stop looking at the _girls_ playing hockey."

"I'm not!" Alfie hissed, looking away from the window.

Half way through the lesson Alfie was bored stiff and the little scrap of paper in his pocket kept playing on his mind.

"Now, I want you to all..." said Mr Woodbridge pointing down at the board. "Copy these sentences from the board and underline the _adverbs_ ," he said sitting down (knees rising above his desk).

The class began chatting away discussing what an adverb was. Tommy turned to speak to Sparky who was sitting behind them on his own. And this was his chance--he knew what word was next on the list, he'd read them all so many times he knew them off by heart. Alfie had been waiting all day for the perfect opportunity to read aloud one more of the words. He knew it was reckless to do such a thing. He knew it was foolhardy, that people could get injured--but if anything bad happened he could just repeat the word again and all would return to normal. Hopefully. The thing was, in his pocket were words that made things happen. And he really wanted to know what they did.

He sat forward, palms sweating as he braced himself for a hundred dogs to come falling through the roof, a herd of elephants to storm out the stationary cupboard or an invasion of furry guinea pigs.

" _Laravatus_ ," Alfie said as quietly as he could. Alfie felt a small rush of adrenaline.

Tommy turned back round and looked at him. "Did you say something?"

"No..." he smirked one eye on the board. Alfie had seen what had happened almost instantly, the words on the board had started to twitch and wriggle of their own accord--then all at once they began floating around the whiteboard like jellyfish, some of the letters (L, Y, X and Q) had left the board completely and had started climbing the walls like mountaineers--Y and X pulled a few of the I's and an S towards them before using them as a rope and hook to latch onto the stationary cupboard door.

It took only a few seconds before everyone in the class looked up and saw what was happening, some of them became unable to speak--a J had landed on Mr Woodbridge's head and he went bright red when he saw everyone staring at him open mouthed--Tommy was the last person to see it.

When he saw what was happening he did a double take. Ever so slowly he turned his head to Alfie very slowly. Sparky grimaced, he was still annoyed that he wasn't right about magic as the class started to yell and whoop.

-- "How it is doing that?!"

-- "What is happening?"

-- "That W just fell off! Look!"

Poor Mr Woodbridge tried calming them down. "Now, _now_!" he said, but after five fruitless minutes trying he gave up and pulled a small manual from his drawer, called: ' _Your Interactive Whiteboard and You. ' _

In Maths, Alfie, Tommy and Sparky were struggling with algebra, not helped by the fact that the classroom was always hot and stuffy. It was an old room with cream walls and plastic orange seats and wobbly tables about a hundred years old. Alfie hated Maths and hated the teacher Mr Taylor-Clarke even more. He was an inwardly evil middle aged man who frowned at the noise and barked at laughter. After twenty minutes, Alfie was staring into space. From the window, he could see Mr Woodbridge, the Headmaster and a few caretakers roping off the English classroom. The chatter and excitement about the letters that had " _taken on a life of their own "_ had been quelled immediately by Mr Taylor-Clarke who hated excitement and barked at them to stop making such an awful noise--he was in one of his moods.

Sparky leant across to Tommy.

"I can't do these..." he said as silently as he could. Mr Taylor-Clarke and his ginger moustache suddenly prickled like an antenna, then turned to stare at them with cold accusing eyes, he didn't like people or children and he especially didn't like know-it-all teenagers--if he could have his way he'd have the cane back in schools, it never did _him_ any harm.

"One of these is wrong," moaned Sparky under his breath, not spotting the stare.

"YOU!" cried Mr Taylor-Clarke at the top of his voice, causing Henry Goofham to fall off his seat in shock. "Did you speak?"

Sparky's lip quivered and he mumbled that he had.

"Detention!" said Mr Taylor-Clarke--his favourite catchphrase. " _All_ next week." Sparky's jaw dropped. Joel cackled silently with Christian.

"That's not fair!" Alfie cried.

"I decide what's _fair_ in here Brown!" Alfie felt the blood boil in his veins.

"Sparky--er, I mean, Daniel was only saying how hard these are," said Alfie. Sparky sunk a little in his seat.

"Hard? I used to do these in my sleep!" he spat, ginger moustache quaking.

"God help your wife then," Alfie said without thinking. This caused the class to erupted into hysterics.

"FUNNY! You think this is funny, do you? You ignorant child!" Spit flew across the room and children shielded themselves as best they could with workbooks from Mr Taylor-Clarke's wayward spittle. "Stand UP!"

"Noop," said Alfie simply as some of the class began muttering excitedly--typical Alfie getting into trouble again.

"NOW!" bellowed Mr Taylor-Clarke going purple and Sparky jumped so hard, his pencil flew into the air and hit Joel in the head.

"Say... _please_ ," said Alfie leaning back on his chair and smiling up at Mr Taylor-Clarke's cantankerous, enraged face. The class went silent, but loving every second, unable to believe Alfie's bare faced bravery (except Joel who wished that Alfie got expelled for this). Sparky slid down so far in his seat he was practically under the table.

Mr Taylor-Clarke seemed to compose himself and walked towards Alfie ever so slowly. "You will stand up, you will be escorted to the Headmasters office and you will do a _months_ after school detentions--now STAND!"

"Firstly," said Alfie who was surprised about the casual tone of his voice. "Take the detentions away from Sparky and me, then apologise. If you want me to do something, then address me like a person... I would say please but I fear _you_ are not a person, but a monstrous creature of some sort that doesn't deserve to be addressed as such."

Everyone in the class, even Tommy was staring open mouthed between Alfie (whom they didn't know possessed such a way with words) and Mr Taylor-Clarke who looked set to spontaneously combust.

He suddenly roared, unable to speak any longer and charged at Alfie like a Rhino, his left eye twitching murderously.

Alfie knew what he was going to do but didn't have long to think about it.

" _Vanearo,_ " he muttered. Then pandemonium... the class erupted into utter disbelieving shrieks--as a stark naked Mr Taylor-Clarke stood before them. He stopped charging mid-flight towards them, realising he had no clothes on. All rage vanished, but the red face remained. He took one long confused look at Alfie and ran out of the classroom screaming. It took a few seconds of silence for everyone to actually compute what just happened--then they exploded.

"Did you... did you see that!?" said Daryl Mears through tears of laughter.

"You couldn't help not! _Ahaha_!" Ursula said over the wails and cries.

"Well I thought it was disgusting..." said Jessica Curdle.

Even Henry Goofham was rolling around on the floor in fits of hysterics and Alfie couldn't help but smile from ear to ear when Tommy and Sparky turned to face him after several claps on the back for his barefaced argument with "rage-monster-Clarke."

Alfie, Tommy and Sparky were seated at a clunky wooden table, staring at the periodic table. Tommy had been watching Alfie like a hawk all break time, thinking he was going to do another bit of _magic_ without telling him. Alfie sat quite still, a thin smile on his face. He couldn't believe what was happening--the words on that little scrap of paper, left on his doorstep did magic. They made impossible things happen, like make words jump off whiteboards and a teacher's clothes to spontaneously disappear into thin air! Alfie had to keep reminding himself that this was not a dream, this was real, and it was by far and away the coolest, most brilliant thing he had ever done.

Tommy casually leant across and whispered in his ear: "Tell me when you do another. I want to see it all."

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," said Sparky whose worry lines had grown exponentially. "You've already done enough."

It was true, people were talking. In fact, Alfie had listened to several amusing accounts of what had happened in class--the story about what happened getting twisted until it resembled something out of a fairytale with potential UFO involvement and secret technology finding it's way into their English department, to potential nervous breakdowns of teachers that like to strip all their clothes off. Alfie smiled to himself, no one knew it was him causing all the mayhem.

The next word on the list was _Consisto._ Alfie wondered what it would do--he didn't wish for their science teacher Miss Davenport's clothes to disappear, apart from being a ghastly thought he also felt a bit sorry for her. With the anticipation rising, Alfie braced himself, he had to wait for the perfect opportunity. Tommy started banging his head on the table in apparent frustration at the periodic table causing the class to laugh, Alfie used the distraction.

He looked up at the blackboard and Miss Davenport next to it. " _Consisto_."

Nothing changed--perhaps this one was a duff word, or perhaps he'd said it wrong? Sparky had noticed something and nudged Alfie in the side pointing to Miss Davenport who had stopped speaking and had seemingly frozen to the spot, her actions fixed in one motion--pointing up at a chemical. No one in the room noticed.

"You told me you'd tell me!" whispered Tommy with quiet rage.

Alfie shushed him and said the word again as quietly as he could. Miss Davenport instantly carried on speaking, but she stopped and looked back at the class, almost realising that something had just happened, but she just shrugged and carried on nevertheless.

So, _Consisto_ made things freeze! Tommy leant across and wrote in Alfie's book: ' _it makes things stop!!!! ' _

Sparky looked the other way, rubbing his head as Miss Davenport asked the class if they would work in pairs and test each other on the periodic table. Muttering broke out as they all paired off and began the exercise, except no one, was talking about chemicals, metals or gases.

"Sparky's a fat git," whispered a low deep voice behind them. "Oi, Sparky fat boy, look at me."

"Sod off Curtis," said Tommy turning round to look at the large, dopey looking boy.

"What about... no," said Curtis dimly, he was a weird boy, as tall as he was wide with a lumpy head and one squinty eye--a rugby injury. Alfie saw why the four large bullies had decided to pick on Sparky--Joel, Alfie's enemy sat grinning to himself some way off. He had put them up to this, Alfie just knew it.

"Just ignore him, Daniel," said Jessica shooting a nasty glance at Curtis.

Curtis and the bullies cackled before imitating Jessica. "Yeah _Sparkly_ just ignore us. We're gonna _get you_ , new boy."

"Oi!" said Alfie. "Why don't you cork it Curtis, you dumpy git!"

Curtis and Frank stood up, their chairs scraping backwards against the floor. "Now, now boys," said Miss Davenport in a small ineffective voice. All of a sudden Curtis leapt over the table in one lunge as everyone gasped. The floor shook as he landed. He stood over Alfie, who didn't move from his seat. He rather thought Curtis's breath smelt very strongly of beef crisps.

"What are _you_ going to do potato head?" said Alfie, fists clenched as Curtis's eyes bulged. Then he went bright red. Miraculously, with his head low, Curtis loped away back to his seat. Alfie couldn't believe it and nor could Joel who looked positively outraged, he would've paid good money to see Alfie get punched in the face.

Miss Davenport looked relieved. "Right now that's settled, I am sure we would..."

Alfie still had his eye on Curtis. And he was right to. When Curtis reached his seat at the back of the room, he turned away and clutched something, he spun round quicker than Alfie, or anyone else expected. A small bottle of acid clutched between his hands.

"N- _No_!" cried Miss Davenport. But Curtis threw it. It flew across the room. Straight towards Alfie's head. The class screamed. But the bottle stopped, frozen in midair, an inch from Alfie's nose. He clutched it quickly. There was a long pause, in which the class gaped open mouthed.

"Nice catch Alfie!" said Tommy looking around at the class, then turning to wink at him. The class awoke and then applauded, nodding their heads.

"He caught it?" some of them choruses, confused.

"Reflexes of a _cat_!" cried Tommy as Sparky climbed out from under the table.

" _You_ ," said Miss Davenport. "May just be the luckiest boy I know."

It's not luck, thought Alfie, he had said _Consisto_ just in time. Then Miss Davenport's gaze came to rest on Curtis. "Whereas you are about to be the _unluckiest_ , follow me." She sounded stern and Curtis didn't argue, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Class dismissed."

Everyone cheered, picked up their bags and left. Joel looked utterly bewildered.

"That. Was. Brilliant!" said Tommy hugging Alfie, then regretted it, so patted him awkwardly on the shoulder instead as Sparky followed them shaking his head.

Drama was one of Alfie and Tommy's favourite lessons, mainly because they could prat around doing silly voices and get told well done. However they both had a sneaky feeling that it wouldn't be Sparky's favourite lesson, he wasn't one for being in the spotlight.

"Hi Daniel," said a sweet voice as they entered--it was the new girl Gracie. Sparky smiled awkwardly and nodded in her general direction.

"Oh don't talk to them losers," mouthed Ashley Di Marco, the snob.

Alfie still felt a little shaken by the what had happened in the last lesson. Even when he was asked by Mr Drake to do a double act with Tommy, Alfie fell silent and couldn't think of anything to say. Which was very unlike him.

At the end of the lesson, Mr Drake handed round a form that needed to be signed by their parents. It was for a combined Drama and Art trip to London in around a months time. Ashley positively squealed with excitement while Sparky shrank in his seat, muttering that he didn't like London. Alfie and Tommy were surprised they had been handed a sheet, so were the rest of the class. They assumed that they were still banned from school trips--especially school trips to London. Last time they went, a few years ago, they had been banned from three large department stores in a row and the teachers decided that they would not take them anymore.

Mr Drake gave them both a long look. "I am trusting you both." They looked at each other and smiled.

"Thanks, Sir."

It had started to get dark as they walked home through the park. The leaves crunched beneath their feet. They stopped at newsagents on the way home to get sweets. Alfie was helping himself to Tommy's because Sparky didn't agree with sharing. As they walked, Alfie could hear the birds tweeting and was sure we could smell someone's dinner in a nearby house--spaghetti bolognese. He was starving.

"Give us another sweet old chap," said Alfie.

"Here you are," Tommy said, passing him the bag.

"What a day!" said Tommy. "I can't believe all that stuff you did!" Tommy could barely contain himself. "I mean its actual _magic_ isn't it!"

"Tommy shhh!" said Sparky chewing on the end of a strawberry lace. "What if people hear? I think Alfie has attracted enough attention today already."

Alfie agreed that it was probably better to talk about it later when people wouldn't be able to hear them. Alfie was thinking specifically of Joel and Christian who were walking over the railway bridge a hundred yards ahead.

"But," said Alfie whispering. "I figured something out. The words must work with _thought_." Tommy was concentrating so hard on Alfie and what he was saying that he nearly walked headfirst into a lamppost. "Because I was looking at Miss Davidson when I said _Consisto_ and she froze--I was looking at the board when I said _Laravatus_ and at Mr Taylor-Clarke when his clothes vanished."

"That was the best one!" said Tommy laughing. "Magic-ing his clothes away like that!"

"I don't think he liked me mentioning his wife," said Alfie replaying the scene again to tumultuous roars from Tommy. Even Sparky giggled.

Joel turned around to see what all the noise was about, he and Christian were having their own hushed conversation. Just then two girls brushed past Alfie. He suddenly smelt the sweet smelling aroma of Sarah Ashdown. As she passed she turned her head looking straight at Alfie and smiled. Pink lipstick glittered in the fading light, blonde hair shimmered like a golden waterfall. Alfie's attention was captured, his stomach fluttering faster than a cage full of butterflies.

She looked away then caught her friend up, glancing once more over her shoulder at him. Alfie struggled to breathe for a few seconds, his heart feeling like it had fluttered away.

"Woah," said Tommy who had also seen it and started to inspect Alfie. "I can't believe that. Do you reckon magic has made you better looking?" Sparky snorted. "Honestly, though, the way she looked at you. I think she fancies you, as much as it pains me to say that."

Alfie laughed. "Girls like her, do not like boys like me." He said, even though he'd love to think otherwise.

"Must be magic," said Tommy frowning to himself.

"Keep your voice down about the _you-know-what_!" said Sparky.

"Oh shut up! Listen, I think this is brilliant Alfie, all this stuff. But _erm_ ...well..." Tommy bit his lip and squirmed.

Alfie rolled his eyes. "What? Spit it out!"

"Well do you reckon the magic words would work for me?" Alfie shrugged, he'd never thought about it, but for some reason, he felt quite possessive over them.

"Another sweet?" Tommy offered.

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