They rushed down a slanting funnel, yelling and screaming. Harry's voice was complemented by Logan's tenor and Niall's bass, but in the cavernous tube they descended, their efforts blended into a ghostly choir.

After agonising seconds in free fall, the shaft evened out to something more horizontal. It then bent upwards, catapulting the three men through the air in a gentle arc, and with thumps and groans they landed on hard ground.

There was complete silence for half a minute.

Harry grunted as he got up. 'Any bones broken?' His eyes strained to distinguish anything in the gloom around him.

'I'm whole, I think,' Logan moaned a few feet away.

'Niall?' Harry called. 'Niall!'

Harry's heart beat faster and his arms flailed trying to find Niall's body.

An annoyed voice barked behind him:

'What in God's flipping bollocks is going on here?'

'Thank goodness,' Harry sighed and helped Niall to his feet.

Logan's hunched figure hobbled back to the duct from where they came. He stepped through the tunnel until it was too steep to climb, then looked up and shouted:

'Moira! Are you there? Moira!' His words ricocheted back and died away.

'It's no use,' said Niall. 'She's a bloody impostor and we fell into her trap.'

'Good God!' said Logan. 'What could they have done to Moira?'

'Nothing,' said Harry. 'Apparently, Moira is an accomplished witch. She cast quite the powerful spell.'

'Good God!' said Logan again.

Niall sneered. 'Come off it, men. These are frightening circumstances, to be sure, but we need to accept that Moira has been kidnapped and some lunatic is dressed up like her.'

'You saw what happened, Niall,' said Harry. 'That was not natural. This is magic. Dark magic, probably.'

'Good God …' Logan faltered.

To his companions' stunned faces, Niall started jumping and laughing where he stood.

'Hah!' he cried in a delighted voice. 'You really are that Teddy Baker person, aren't you? "Harry Potter" – you cunning fellow! I don't keep up with the media, but I've definitely seen your mug and your name together before. Wow! Superb! Spl–'

A splash filled the darkness.

'Shit!' Niall hissed. 'Right into a puddle, the whole shoe drenched. But what do I care? Wow! Magic, eh? Who would have thought it? And my grandmother is a – now, don't any of you dare call her that again – but if she is indeed a witch, then that's absolutely splendid! The entire world just turned about twice as interesting!'

Harry grinned. 'I remember that feeling. My name honestly is Harry Potter, though. But I'm – er – basically Teddy Baker. I think. There's an interdimensional hiccough somewhere.'

'Marvellous!' Niall laughed. 'Harry it is, then. A name as good as any!'

'It is marvellous,' said Logan, 'but what good will it do if we're unable to get out of here?'

'You have a point,' said Niall, tugging at his beard.

'From recent experience,' Harry said, 'situations like this usually turn out pretty well. Any more of it, in fact, and my eyes'll develop night vision. Everything goes dark, things look grim and then suddenly someone flicks the light back on. Ah, speak of the Boggart,' he blurted, 'there's a faint light. See it?'

'I do!' said Niall.

'Rather irregular walls all the way,' Logan pointed out.

'We're probably inside a mountain,' said Harry and started making his way across the ground. 'Just watch your step. And your head.'

As they walked, they felt around with their hands, now and then scaling a rock, or stubbing their toes on bumps and dents in the ground.

After a quarter of an hour, including sporadic groans and one splash ('Ah, shit! The other shoe!'), they arrived at the light source.

The space they set foot in was like the insides of an unsteady stone tower. High above their heads, a rift of light shone through the rock ceiling.

'We'll never get up there,' said Logan. 'Not with those walls. A mountain goat wouldn't make it.'

'I'm afraid you're right,' said Harry.

'Typical,' Niall scoffed. 'Just as things were getting exciting.'

Logan smacked his forehead. 'Harry! I can't believe I've never asked you.'

'W-what?'

'You're a wizard! Can't you use some magic to get us up?'

'Right!' Niall exclaimed with enthusiastic nods.

Harry's eyes dropped. 'I don't have my wand,' he murmured. 'It's stuck in another world.'

'Oh,' said Logan, his arms limp at his sides.

Niall kicked at a loose rock. 'That's all our hopes gone to pot, then.'

'Sorry I couldn't save the day,' Harry said.

''S all right,' mumbled the other two.

Logan took a seat on a fallen boulder and Harry examined the fissure above them. Sunbeams rebounded off the walls in intense spots and dim reflections, leaving a vague pool of light on the ground.

Niall put a hand in his pocket and said:

'Anyone want a sherbet lemon while we await our demise?'

'Please,' said Harry, holding his hand out. But Niall stood eyeing the sweets in his palm with a disgruntled expression.

'What the –' he muttered. 'They've changed!'

'Changed?' said Logan.

'They're not even sweets any longer!'

Harry sighed. 'Let me guess: they're pebbles.'

'Why would they be pebbles?' Niall frowned at him. 'No, no, these are … these are seeds.'

'Seeds?' said Harry and stepped forward to look at them. In Niall's hand lay three eyeball-sized seeds, yellow and shaped like hazelnuts.

Logan got up. 'What kind?'

'None that should exist,' said Niall. 'And I know seeds.'

'Magic ones, perhaps? What's your take, Harry?'

'Could be.'

Niall clasped the seeds in his hands and raised a finger, saying:

'It's clear to me that Granny Moira gave me these for a reason. These little darlings will be our way out of here.'

'We can't trust anything given by her, now, can we?' Logan remarked. 'For heaven's sake, she flushed us down a chute to some mountain sewer! That's no way to treat your host.'

'Come on,' said Niall, 'give the old dame a chance. She's simply granted us an opportunity to flaunt our mettle.'

'We still can't trust her!' Logan said, emphasising with arms outstretched.

'Of course you don't trust her! She's not your grandmother, hence your prejudice.'

Logan's jaw dropped in indignation.

'I've known her for years!' he retorted. 'And not even once during that time have I seen you around. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I know her much better than you!'

'How dare you, sir! I –'

Harry shushed them to silence, his hand miming attention.

'Quiet, both of you,' he whispered. 'Listen.'

From the passage they had climbed through came a low rasp. They stood transfixed, eyes shifting and brows furrowed as they listened.

'Only a croaking toad,' said Niall. 'I'm sure –'

Like the breath of a starving beast, shaky gurgles rolled through the cavern, meeting Logan and Harry's gasps.

'I suggest we speed up the decision-making process a bit,' said Harry.

'Agreed,' piped Logan. 'Niall, feel free to use the seeds however you wish.'

'What do you have in mind, Niall?'

'I may be new to sorcery, but by now the way forward is pretty bloody obvious. Stand back.'

The breath from the cavern rattled louder.

'Please hurry,' Logan moaned.

They stepped away from the light on the stony floor. Niall held a kernel in his right hand and raised it. His arm swung down.

The seed snapped and flashed as it broke. A curious silence followed, and Logan turned his head to address Niall.

Ka-crack!

A tree trunk – as wide as Cousin Dudley and old Uncle Vernon together – burst up from underneath the bedrock, splattering rocks and dirt in its wake ('Whoa!' Logan yelled as he ducked a flying rock), making an ugly wound in the floor.

The tree was oddly pruned: stripped of its leaves and the branches reduced to stubs. A pair of climber-plant stems, each as thick as an arm, twisted around it. As a whole, the tree stood no taller than Harry, Logan and Niall balancing on one another's shoulders.

'And now?' said Logan.

'I did expect it to be somewhat larger,' Niall confessed.

'Somewhat? It's nowhere close to the opening! So much for the gifts from granny.'

Niall moustaches quivered. 'So, you have a better idea? Other than –'

A rasp echoed behind them.

'– other than blabbering nonsense while an ogre is breathing down our necks?'

Logan opened his mouth, poised for reprisal, but at that moment, the ground shook and rumbled beneath them.

'It's coming for us!' Logan squealed, his face as pale as a plate.

'No!' Harry shouted over the noise, hurrying to the tree. 'It's not that! Just hang on!'

'What?' yelled Logan.

'Hang on!' Harry and Niall roared as they clung to the tree's stubs and vines. 'Hurry!'

Logan stumbled ahead on the convulsing rocks. Mid-step, his foot missed the ground. He fell over with a little yelp, landing a yard from the tree trunk.

Niall offered his hand. 'Make tracks, Logan!'

Into the ground's booming noise seeped a burbling hiss. Logan whipped his head around and his terrified eyes glared at the cavern.

It rasped again. In one movement, Logan jumped for the tree like a spooked rabbit and his arms caught a vine.

Just as he had secured his footing, the whole tree rushed skywards like a rigid snake. The three men's tufts of hair lay plastered to their scalps as they soared from the cavern, bellowing as much as they did on the way down.

As they neared the rupture above, the tree's pace dwindled, shedding its role of hell-bent rocket and instead climbing gently like a parlour lift.

'Everyone still on board?' Harry shouted.

'I-I am,' Logan said.

'More or less,' grunted Niall.

'Only a little further.'

Ascending past the rift, they arrived in a small glade surrounded by a black forest. The sun had sunk below the treetops, leaving a feeble evening glow in the sky. In the opposite direction, two full moons hung low above the outline of oaks, hornbeams and maples.

'Where did the sun go?' said Niall, his eyes squinting and nose wrinkled, baring two pearly front teeth.

When the ascending tree reached as high above the clearing as it first had above the bedrock below, it stopped.

'Well,' said Niall, 'that wasn't too bad.'

'B-but how do we get off?' said Logan. 'There's s-still quite a distance to the edge.'

Foop!

Branches and leaves exploded from the trunk, throwing its passengers across the clearing.

Niall rolled like a cigar along the ground, while Logan tumbled through a grass patch, bounced off a slope and came to a halt in a tense pose, twirling his arms for balance. Harry landed in a shrub.

'Safe and sound, Logan?' Niall grunted, his mane hanging in curtains over his face.

Kneeling in the grass, Logan panted:

'I … I'm fine … but … my body … is not made for this …'

Niall parted his hair. 'You just rest for a while. Where the heck did Harry end up? Harry!'

'Here,' a voice muttered behind a bush. Harry stepped out from the vegetation, brushing off leaves and earth.

'Good to have you with us,' Niall said as he and Harry gathered around Logan.

'Cheers for the ride,' Logan said, nodding at the tree. It now boasted a full, fluffy crown of leaves. The climber plants had been thrown off; parts of the stems lay scattered in the grass.

Niall grinned, taking it in. 'A beautiful sight, isn't it?'

No sooner had he finished his sentence than the tree's bark glowed in gold and amber. Its onlookers scrunched up their eyes at its sudden radiance, where every leaf shimmered like a ruby.

'Well,' Harry gulped, 'now that you mention it.'

'Extraordinary,' Niall whispered, pacing around the bejewelled plant.

'It's as though your compliment made it blush,' said Logan.

Niall chortled. 'The joy at hearing its master's voice.'

'A fine sight, I admit, especially in this gloomy place.'

'Yes, I don't get it,' Niall said, stopping in his tracks. 'I'm positive a midday sun peeped through that gap. Did our unseemly mugs scare it off? And replace it with whatever that is?' he added, pointing at the pallid twin moons.

'We'll figure it out,' said Harry, 'but I don't think we can stay in one place for too long.'

Logan gasped. 'That monster could be crawling up the tree as we speak!'

'Indeed,' said Niall, pulling at his moustache. 'Moving on to that little cottage, I take it?'

A large, triangular shape sat huddled against an edge of ash trees in the distance. At its bottom, the square of a window was glowing yellow.

'That's a house?' Harry said. 'Or a giant troll with a straw hat poking up from the ground?'

'A tad medieval, but I've lived in worse.'

'Off we go, then.'

They marched across the clearing and an inky blackness expanded on the firmament. A breeze caught the treetops and the foliage billowed like the high seas around the cottage. Bird wings flapped above their heads.

The window was barely more than a hole in the house's flint-rubble wall, and the light from inside was a quivering fire.

'Only polite to knock, I suppose,' said Harry, who stood waiting by the front door, built from robust planks nailed side by side. The two men behind him nodded in opposite states of excitement.

Just then, the door opened. Peering out at them was a young man, his gaunt face filled with scars, and dressed in a rough, grey tunic.

'Welcome!' he said and swung the door wide to let them in.

Harry turned to his companions. Niall merely shrugged.

And so they passed the threshold.

They found themselves in a room contained by a lofty straw ceiling. In the floor's centre was an open hearth and an oak table with three-legged stools.

'Please, have a seat,' said the man, his smile exposing yellow teeth under a thin moustache.

A clay partition covered the left side of the house. It did not reach fully across, but allowed for an aperture the width of a doorway. The gap revealed the wall behind, illuminated by a flickering light.

'Oh, that's only the oven. Please – sit.'

Harry sat down on a stool; Logan and Niall, somewhat begrudgingly, did the same.

The door opened again. A young woman, short and pug-faced, entered in a blue dress and a leather belt.

'Dearest!' the man rejoiced, walking over to her. With a pronounced overbite, she smiled a shy 'hullo' at the men by the table, who greeted her back. The couple held each other and, with his face to his guests, the man said:

'Love from the moment we set eyes on each other. It was just one of those things. You can understand that, can't you?'

The woman giggled. 'I thought to myself: "He's simply too handsome to be allowed. Someone, grab him!" So I did.'

'Been happily married ever since.'

'We're very pleased for your sakes,' Harry said, forcing a smile. Niall and Logan murmured their assent. 'Lovely house, too.'

'Isn't it? Thatched the roof with tar and pitch. Our reliable craft down life's stream in these perilous times.'

'Don't forget,' the woman cooed at the man.

He closed his eyes and nodded, his dirty hair hopping.

'Do excuse me,' he sighed, a hint of worry in his intonation, 'I have to tend the oven.'

He turned around and shuffled to the clay screen. When he reached the gap, he looked back at the others. His eyes shifted hastily from one to the other, his breath uneasy. Then he disappeared behind the screen, his shadow still shivering on the wall.

The woman's lip curled and she walked over to a bench.

'You gentlemen must be thirsty,' she said, pouring milk into a cup.

Niall leaned over the table and whispered to Harry and Logan:

'Is it only me, or is the overall mood around here really effing bizarre?'

'I hardly know what to do with myself!' Logan whispered back.

A muffled rattle came from behind them. Against the wall stood a crude piece of furniture.

'What's that?' Niall murmured. 'An outhouse? But indoors?'

'A cupboard of some variety,' said Harry.

'Looks more like someone raised a chest endwise.'

'It's an armoire,' Logan whispered. 'Which is remarkable. Consider the padlock on the door. And the crenellated decoration – it's not the work of a peasant. This was built in a convent!'

Niall scowled. 'What are you insinuating? These people are honest and hard-working, and more than capable of kennellated –'

Clop!

The pug-faced woman had placed a coaster with three mugs of milk on their table. The trio pushed and shoved to resume somewhat relaxed positions on their wobbly stools.

'Ah!' said Niall, clearing his throat. 'Milk! Splendid. Thank you kindly.'

'M-milk!' Logan parroted, as they grabbed a cup each.

The woman held the coaster to her chest and smiled.

'You must also tend the oven, if you please,' she said. Their gazes shifted to the wall next to the partition. The man's shadow was gone. 'Everyone who comes here does.'

Niall bowed his head. 'Certainly we will, ma'am. Very generous of you.'

'I'm glad,' she said and turned to the bench, while Niall mouthed a surreptitious 'What the bloody hell are we talking about?' to the others.

The front door swayed open and hit the wall. A white-blond man in a red tunic stood staring at the guests.

'Dearest!' the woman cried, running up to him. They embraced.

The man's green irises turned to Harry, and he growled at him:

'Didn't your mum ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?'

'I'm sure he meant nothing by it,' the woman whined.

'No one asked your opinion,' he spat. 'Be a good wife and go tend the oven.'

The woman inhaled. She shut her eyes and trembled:

'Yes, my love.'

She walked towards the screen, her legs rigid under the wool of her dress. At the gap, she stopped; her eyes glowed a brilliant amber in the light.

'There's nothing to cry about!' the man barked at her.

Harry, Logan and Niall stared at him. Once their eyes returned to the partition, the woman had already disappeared, trailed by a diffuse shadow moving behind the screen.

The man grabbed another stool and sat down between Logan and Harry. His eyes watered and his voice broke:

'God, I didn't – I didn't mean it to happen.'

Niall tilted his head.

'Didn't mean what to happen?' he said. 'Right now you seemed –'

Another rattle interrupted. Niall whirled around, his hair sliding like window drapes.

'And what in heaven's name is making that noise?' he demanded, waving his hand at the armoire.

'What's it to you?' the man grunted. 'There's nothing wrong with it! Honestly. Mind your own bloody business.'

Niall snorted and folded his arms. 'Gladly.'

'Hello,' came a dreamlike voice.

A woman with a heart-shaped face stood in the doorway. Tomato-red hair flowed down to her waist. The man jumped from the table and caressed her, her yellow dress whirling.

'My love!' he said. 'I was about to demonstrate the oven to these gentlemen.'

The woman's large, misty eyes zoned in on the guests.

'Yes,' she said, 'you must tend the oven.'

Logan gave a delicate cough. 'B-but I don't think there's any need. Two people are already tending it, you see.'

Everyone peeked at the gap. The oven's light shone undisturbed on the wall.

'No,' the woman smiled, 'the oven needs tending.'

'W-well, where are the others then?' said Logan, his fingers fiddling over one another.

The woman laughed. 'Don't worry. My mum always told me that things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. If not always in the way we expect.'

'Beautifully declared, dearest,' said the man. For a moment, they were lost in each other.

Logan leaned across the table. 'Right,' he whispered, 'time to wriggle out of this loony bin. I'm not getting anywhere near that bloody oven or whatever it is!'

'It can't be as easy as running away,' Harry hissed back. 'We have to see what's in that cupboard!'

'How? Asking is evidently not the ticket. And the lock's as big as a fist.'

'I will divert them,' Niall rasped. 'I'll take those lovebirds outside and you two figure out how to break into the wardrobe.'

Harry and Logan nodded at him. Niall rose from his seat and addressed the young couple.

'I would love to tend the oven,' he said. 'The opportunity of a lifetime, I'm sure. Before I do so, however, I must repay your hospitality in kind. Would you allow me to show you something almost as wonderful?'

The couple loosened their embrace, and the tow-headed man smiled.

'A true gentleman, this one,' he said.

'What is it?' said the woman, her eyes bulging at Niall.

'Treasure! Gold! Jewels! Come with me outside,' he said and motioned them to the door. 'We might catch a glimpse of its glory from here, but it's truly a marvel to behold up close.'

'A wonderful idea. And your friends must come, too.'

'Er – oh, but they have already seen it a thousand times. I pester them about it daily. Don't I, fellows?' he smiled at Harry and Logan.

'Constantly,' said Harry. 'And we will look after the cupb– er, the oven for you. We don't mind at all.'

'Fine,' said the blond man and turned to Niall. 'Please, lead the way.'

Within a minute, Niall and the newlyweds had closed the door and walked into the glade outside. Niall's debonair chatter sounded further and further away.

'All right, this is it,' said Harry, walking straight to the armoire.

'Any chance we can break it as it is?' said Logan, looking over Harry's shoulder.

'Hardly,' Harry grunted, fiddling with the lock. 'This is what I'd call a surprisingly high-quality padlock. There's probably magic involved as well. Let's look around. There has to be something.'

'What? A ladle? A parsnip? There's nothing useful here. And we are not taking so much as a peek behind that screen, so help me God!'

'I agree, don't fret. Perhaps there's – Hey, what's that?'

'What's what?'

'That!' Harry was pointing straight at Logan's midriff.

'That, Harry … is my stomach. And here is my arm. And this gangly thing is called a leg.'

'No, you dolt. Tucked between your shirt and belly!'

Logan looked down at his stomach. 'Oh, that!'

He pulled his shirt up, extracted the object and handed it to Harry: the copy of Teddy Baker and the Golden Apple.

'It fell in with us down the chute. I landed on it and thought it best to keep it safe should we ever need to do more acrobatics. And we did! Thank goodness you noticed; the first novel in the series is so small, I forgot I even had it.'

Harry opened the volume and leafed through it.

'Merlin's beard,' he muttered, 'what is this?'

Logan walked up next to Harry, peering at the pages. Instead of the usual blocks of text, every page featured an intricate illustration.

'What are these?' said Harry. 'Boats?'

'Appears so. Schooners and barks. Frigates. That one's a brig. No submarines, though.'

'Probably something Moira wants us to use. But … boats?'

Logan shrugged and sighed. 'Might as well pick the lock with a spoon.'

'Wait … there's text on the last page.'

'What's it say?'

'It reads:

Would you breach the Dumbbell-Door?

Would you brave the Scissor-Men?

Would you look inside for more?

Would you breach the door again?

Who cut off the modest reed?

Who is breathing, sighing still?

Who's the key w and m ?

Who's the key il ?'

'What were the last lines, again?' Logan said, eyebrows raised.

'I – I don't know. The two concluding verses have been partly erased. But it seems they should rhyme with the previous ones.'

'Let me see.'

Logan read the poem a couple of times, then returned the book.

'So,' he decided, 'we unlock the armoire with the help of some lamenting fellow who has it in for swampy plants.'

'The thing in the cave?'

'I doubt that's even a person. Could have been the wind for all we know. I – Damn! The cave!'

He hastened to the window. The tree glimmered far away in the dark glade. In front of it stood three tiny silhouettes, one flailing its arms in animated conversation.

Logan exhaled and came back to the hearth.

'They're still there, thank heavens,' he said.

'It's not been long,' said Harry. 'Let's focus.'

'Right, right. And, by the way, that poem does remind me of something.'

'What of?'

'Good question. It's at the tip of my tongue!'

He paced between the window and a small table with flowers in a vase, carefully avoiding the clay screen.

'God, what is it? It's just out of reach! And it's impossible to think straight with an accursed oven threatening to smelt us into nothing. And those bloody trees swaying outside – and those stupid lilacs gawking at us like – like …'

He stared ahead of him.

'Logan?' Harry said. 'Logan, are you okay?'

Logan chuckled. 'I'm perfectly fine. Who cut off the modest reed? Who is breathing, sighing still?'

'Yes?'

'I just remembered: it's from an old tale!'

Harry smacked his hands together. 'So, you've got it, after all! How does it go?'

'Um, let me think … ah, yes, right:

'An ancient god – half man, half goat – chases a beautiful nymph into the wilderness. He's madly infatuated with her, see. The nymph, who's abhorred by the half-goat, begs her sisters, the water-nymphs, to transform her. Eventually, the brute catches up with his prey and flings himself at her. By then, however, the nymph has already changed: in the deity's hands are only hollow reeds.

'He is frustrated and disappointed, of course, so he sits down by the river bank, sighing heavily. But his breath blows through the reeds he is holding, and they produce a sort of melancholy, haunting sound. It arouses his longing, and so he puts more reeds together and fashions an instrument. The story ends with the deity playing his pipes to be one with the nymph – Syrinx, by name.'

Harry looked as though he had just had his breath knocked out of him.

'S – Syrinx?' he said.

'That's her name, yes.'

'Well, it's – it's impressive. Your knowledge.'

'Thanks! I was always the nerd, obviously. But I have no clue as to how that tale will help us.'

'I do.'

'You do?'

'I had a dream.' The trees outside murmured in the wind. 'About a lustful god of sorts. An eager breath racing through us.'

'A d-dream?' said Logan, flinching at a gust bursting through a slit in the roof.

Harry looked down at the book. The first unfinished line had been filled in with letters.

'Who's the key whose hand must bleed?'

he recited. The storm outside was furious, bending the maples like grass.

'I knew it,' Harry went on. 'It's blood they want. My blood.'

'I-I'm not sure I understand,' said Logan, placing himself next to Harry and frowning at the lines.

'To open the previous door, I had to sacrifice something of my own – my wand.'

'But the last line? It must rhyme with "still". We don't have the letters!'

'Maybe …

Who's the key whose blood must spill?'

Lightning flashed outside, and thunder rolled over the forest.

Logan hurried to the window again.

'Where are they?' he said. 'There's no one by the tree! Are they already on their way back?'

'Calm down! Niall has probably lured them even further astray.'

Logan staggered back, clutched the book from Harry's hands and scrutinised the poem.

'Good heavens,' he grumbled, 'you're probably right about the rhyme. Even the cursed weather agrees.'

'I probably won't need to spill very much,' Harry said. 'Only a drop or two from my hand. We'll see. But I need something sharp,' he added, surveying the room and its scattered household items.

'Are you sure?' Logan hesitated, putting the book back under his shirt.

'I am.'

Logan sighed. 'Very well. How about this?' He produced a sickle, its iron blade curved like an oversized pirate's hook.

Harry grabbed its ash handle. 'This'll work. Clean enough, seems like. And comes in handy as a weapon. Anything else we could bring while we're at it?'

'There's a blunt shovel over there. Seems more cumbersome than useful, though. Hmm. Parsnips?'

'The sickle will do. Right, then' – he held out his left hand – 'here goes.'

Harry aimed the sharp point over his palm. He jerked the blade back across the hand, wincing a little as the skin broke in a fine, pink line filling with blood.

'Ouch,' said Logan, his thumbs incurved and fingers clenched as he watched the blood trickle down Harry's wrist.

'Yeah. Stings a bit. Now … let's hope I'm right.'

Harry faced the armoire, and with his bleeding hand he grabbed the padlock.

Logan gasped. The padlock contracted with a scrunching sound and shrank, like a grape into a raisin. Harry tightened his grip and the lock crumbled to ashes, which poured down, stirring a cloud of dust. Harry smiled at Logan.

'I guess I was,' he coughed.

Logan's shoulders relaxed. 'I guess you were. How's the wound? Don't want to succumb to magical tetanus.'

Harry laughed. 'I'll magic it away somehow once I get back.'

He was about to pull the armoire door open when a bump was heard from behind it pushing it an inch ajar. Harry stepped back.

With a bang, the door swung open and a torrent of bones spilled out. Ribs, collarbones, loose jaws, skulls, all came tumbling down. Bones of fingers, shins and kneecaps pushed forth. A femur clattered, flipped around and rolled a few inches on the hard floor.

'Good gracious!' said Logan. 'This … this is hideous! … And oddly idiomatic, wouldn't you say?'

Harry moved the rubble with his shoes and peered into the opening.

'If you didn't enjoy that,' said Harry, looking back at Logan, 'you won't care for what's in here.'