Prolouge

Alf Allenby was quite happy in his home in the little village of Somerset.

He was born there, but had, in his youth, lived a couple of years in Manchester. But since he never felt like he belonged there, he moved back as soon as his two children left the house. And he was planning to live there till the end of his long life. He loved the village. It was quiet and friendly. The most exciting thing that had happened in the town was twenty-five years ago when the cows had broke free and roamed the town.

At the moment Alf was sitting in his front garden, with a blanket around his shoulder and a cup of tea in his hand. When he sat there, amongst the rhododendrons, he had a clear view of the village. Though most houses lay in darkness, (the time was nearing midnight), the moon lit up the river flowing straight through the hamlet. Alf smiled and took a sip from the slowly cooling liquid in his cup.

A flash of light, down by the bookstore, made him choke on the tea. Coughing with tears in his eyes he stood up trying to get a better view of the scene. In the clear moonlight he saw a cloaked figure looking nervously around. He then strode towards the door of the bookstore. Alf was just about to rush inside to call the police, when there was another flash of light. Alf was mesmerized.

Another figure had appeared out of nowhere. He heard it shout, and saw it stepping towards the first character drawing something from its pocket. Alf turned on the spot, every thought of policemen blown out the window, and rushed inside to grab a jacket.

In ten minutes town, Alf was panting down the main street towards the bookstore. Slowing down just outside, he found the door unlocked, without any sign of forced entry. As quietly as possible he opened the door and stepped inside. He could hear voices from the back of the store, but moved to the desk. He knew the bookstore so well that he didn't need light to see where he was going. Hiding behind a bookshelf he could hear the conversation perfectly.

"You're mad, Albus!" a female voice whispered. "No, not mad. Obsessed."

There came no answer, but a sigh from the same voice was heard. He heard a word he couldn't make out and a light was seen. Slow footsteps moved across the wooden floor.

"Albus, let's get out of here before the muggle awakes" the female uttered herself again.

Alf was dumfounded by the word, but decided to eavesdrop instead of trying to figure it out.

"Rose, please be quiet" a male voice said, probably the one named Albus. "Help me look instead"

The girl, Rose, sighed again.

"What does it look like then?"

"It has bronze bindings and blue covers. That's all I know"

A silence followed. A silence so deep that, if not for the moving flashlights (because that was what Alf had figured it was), Alf would've thought that they've gone. He didn't know how long he stood there; there was no thought of checking his clock in this darkness. But after what felt like at least half an hour he heard someone gasp.

"Rose, I think found it!"

There were hurrying steps and soon there was another gasp.

"What does it say?" Albus said.

"Akh Adophis"

"This is it!"

Alf had stretched forward to have a greater look, but had stretched too far. At his age it was quite far, and he fell with a crack. There was complete stillness and a second later the light was on him. He looked up. There stood two people, not older than twenty-five, in long cloaks. Each of them held a stick in their hands, which in some strange way shone from the tip of them.

As he had expected there was a girl and a boy. The boy had a frightened look in his green eyes, peering out from under the black hair. He stood a step behind the girl clutching a large battered book in his left hand. Her curly short hair and eyes made her look both smart and concentrated. Without letting Alf out of her sight, she spoke.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Albus"

"What are we going to do?" the boy asked back, looking at his friend.

"Oi!"

This was the first time Alf spoke, beginning to anger. He was a dear friend of Mr. Cook, the owner of the bookstore, and if someone was going to steal from the store he was going to put up a fight, despite his sixty-eight years. When he spoke, both youngsters looked at him again.

"You better get out of here before I call the police"

To his amazement the girl smiled kindly.

"I'm afraid you won't remember what to tell them"

"What are you going to do, Rose?" the boy asked, with a hint of anxiety in his tone.

The girl pointed the stick straight at the still laying Alf's forehead.

"Obliviate"

A blue shine was the last thing Alf remembered when Mr. Cook came down the next morning to find him sleeping on the floor. Since then, Alf was conscious to lock his door before he went to bed so he wouldn't sleep walk anymore. The story was gladly told at the pub for weeks to come.