CHAPTER FIVE: THE TOPIARY MELEE
There was no lie in the next morning. No breakfast in bed. In fact so early was it the Felix, usually the first up in his dormitory at Hogwarts, was still tired and bleary-eyed..
"Come on!" he heard Mr Skipton call, hammering loudly on his own door before moving onto Oscar's. "Get up! Get up!"
To Felix's great surprise he heard Oscar's door swing open, and answer his father with a matched enthusiasm.
"It's Melee day!" a cheered.
"We have a team meeting in one hour! That's One. Hour."
Then Felix's door crashed open and Oscar bounded in.
"Come on, come on! You're the early bird!" he yapped like a dog whose owner had just got back from work.
"What time is it?"
"Almost seven."
"You didn't tell me this melee or whatever started so early."
"Breakfast's ready and on the table. Hurry up, sleepyhead!"
When Felix made it down to breakfast ten minutes later there was no fry-up, no smell of sizzling meat. As soon as he entered the kitchen a bowl of cereal was thrust into his hands.
"You'll need this, dear," Mrs. Fernsby said. "It'll give you energy."
"So how long exactly does this thing last?"
"It varies," Oscar grunted through spoonfuls of Snap-Crackles, quite ignoring the tiny flakes as they exploded in his bowl. "Depends what the effigies are and who's homme to play."
"And on the subject of the effigies," Mr Skipton said, "look at what House Skipton and Honorary Fernsby will be sporting as our accolade."
He held up a long pole with an orange flag at one end.
"Is that from the football game?" Felix asked.
"Football? No, no, no. This is a souvenir from our expedition to Nepal."
"I still don't think you should've taken it, dear," Mrs. Skipton said. "The guide said they were for marking the paths when it snows over."
"I told you Nellie, if they didn't want people taking them, they'd have secured it further than just sticking in the ground."
"How exactly do we defend it?" Felix asked.
"It's really very simple," Mr Skipton said with a waver that made Felix suspect that it was far from simple. "Although everybody on this side of the river are a team- Team Hawksworth- it is us who are ultimately responsible for our own artefact. Once an artefact has been taken and crosses the river, it is considered no longer retrievable. Though we are not allowed to use magic on any of the contestants, or on the artefacts, we can use it to form magical barriers or defences, and to break through them. And don't forget, of course, there's sixteen topiaries, that's eight for us, eight for them. Typically, each house gets one, and then there's a spare left over for each team. That usually goes to the house with the most people, but we'll see how the Hawksworths want to use it. They live in the big house at Number One and they're the captains of our side."
"You can't break the artefacts, either," Oscar said.
"Absolutely not. If you break, damage, or irreparably separate any of the elements then your team forfeits the game. And if we're successful in taking an artefact, it remains our responsibility to care for it to make sure it stays in tact at least for the duration of the game."
"But why would you break a flag?"
Oscar laughed. "You've not seen what sorts of things people offer up. This flag is easy pickings. It's going to get nicked in the first five minutes."
"Not if you do your job right," his father said sternly. "Felix, have this," he thrust an apple into his hand. "You'll need it."
They finished breakfast, leaving most of a stack of Mrs. Skipton's toast that might've fed their whole team. As eight o'clock neared a small crowed began to gather in the courtyard. As Mr Skipton led them out holding the flag aloft, there was small cheer.
"Garrick, nice of you to join us," said a tall, elderly man. "That what you brought?"
Mr Skipton thrust the flag into the ground in confirmation. But Felix, who had just seen the arrangements of offerings from the other houses, couldn't help but burst into laughter. Amongst them were quite ordinary objects like a spellbook, a china bowl and a banner. But then there was a full size sword that might have been taken from a coat of arms, a floor-to-ceiling grandfather clock and a marble statue of a dancing couple that must've weighed a tonne. Seeing the objects, some heavy, some delicate, Felix understood why rules relating to damage, and rules assisting in the movement of such items were so significant.
"For those who don't know," the tall man said, whom Felix assumed must have been Hawksworth, and captain of the team, "we have Maria who is up visiting Hanner and Theodore, and Michael and Julius," he motioned at two boys too young to have even started at Hogwarts yet, "who are Lazarus and Wilma's nephews."
"And this is Felix, one of Oscar's friends," Mr Skipton said, and the crowd likewise gave him a small wave.
"I feel like we've come up tops today. The Loxians have got a celadon platter that's full of cracks and will smash at the first knock. It may be three hundred years old but if it gets broken today we'll get the bragging rights. The Flume's spellbook is completely unbound, so with any look they'll pick it up and spill all the pages.
"But we're going to fight our cause using our modest statue," he tapped the marble monolith that was almost as tall as him, "and the Alton's grandfather clock. They'll need to enlist the cooperation of most of their team to shift these beauties, and whilst they're doing that we can go and raid them for all they're worth."
"But won't they have similar things? That we can't move or that might break?" Felix queried.
"That's just the fun of it!" Mr Hawksworth laughed. "We shall wait and see."
Just then, a voice called from across the river.
"Well, well! Shall we get started wiping those smiles from your faces, or would you like to enjoy the morning a moment longer?"
"I think not, Binns," Hawksworth shouted back over a chorus of good-natured BOO's. "In fact I think we can even afford to give you first pick of the bushes."
"Nonsense," laughed Binns, as on cue, the topiaries stopped their leisurely business and lined up in the centre of the courtyard. "First pick's all yours."
"And that's how you steal advantage," Hawksworth muttered, and continued in a low voice. "Now, we want to purloin all the heavy-duty beasts so they're relying on man-power to drag our weightier numbers." He turned back to the far side of the court to where a similar gathering was waiting. "We'll take the elephant, if it's all the same to you."
"Then we'll have the bear."
"Those two are always the first to go," muttered Oscar.
"We'll have a horse," continued Hawksworth, then said in a quieter voice. "No doubt they know our game by now. The best they'll be able to do is match us stride for stride, hulk for hulk."
Sure enough, they exchanged the five horses, with three going to Haksworth and two to Binns. Then Binns opted for the owl, Hawksworth a tiger Felix hadn't noticed before, and Binns then the bird, which might have been a robin or sparrow.
"Get the butterfly!" said one of the witches from Oscar's neighbour's house before Hawksworth could make his next move. "Otherwise they'll have all the flyers."
Hawksworth obliged, and the dregs of the pickings were done swiftly. Felix's side of the river chose the two squirrels, whilst their opponents were left with the fox, dog and rabbit.
"The poor rabbit always gets chosen last," said Mrs. Skipton mournfully.
"It's because it's only use is taking a swing off the opponent's advance," someone laughed.
And the animate topiaries chosen by Hawksworth aligned before them, the elephant, three horses, tiger, butterfly and two squirrels. Hawksworth climbed atop the elephant. He was going to be their captain, their ringleader. Each of the houses then received one of the remaining beasts. Felix and the Skiptons were given the tiger.
"Very nice," admired Mr Skipton.
"We thought you needed him," laughed a witch. "Unless that flag's deceptively fragile I'll put money on that being the first to go."
Mr Hawksworth dispersed the crowd so that they each stood around him in their houses with their artefact.
"So what happens now?" asked Felix.
"The game begins when we see blue sparks across the stream. Me and Nellie are going to stay here with Stripes and see what enchantments we can put around- not on- just around the flag."
"Stripes?" spluttered Oscar in disgust.
"Your job, lads, is to make a quick drive into across the river before they can get their defences sorted, see what chaos you can cause. After that, you just watch out for Mr Hawksworth who'll tell you where you can be of use. The focal points will be houses with the bird, owl and rabbit. Though being weak defensively, they've probably teamed those up with really steadfast artefacts."
Just then, a wall of blue fireworks erupted on the far side of the court. The Topiary Melee had begun.
Within seconds, the entire courtyard had burst to life. Topiaries sprang into action, and people from both sides ran for the border.
"Come on!" Oscar cried.
The two of them raced forwards, Oscar blowing up bits of earth in front of the oncoming opposition as they went, and then dragging him right out of the way of Hawksworth's elephant, barely stopping stride as he did. It was obvious to Felix, even in that first sprint, that Oscar had been brought up playing the game. So much was happening at once that Felix didn't know which way to look, and if it wasn't for Oscar pushing him forwards he suspected he'd have ended up in the crossfire of spells, topiaries, or both.
"Just go!" cried Oscar above the chaos as jets of blue and silver collided above their heads.
They surged forward, dipped beneath the low leafy underside of their adversary's swooping bird and saw the river. It wasn't a great watercourse, barely even a stream a couple of feet across.
"We can jump it!" Felix said, overtaking Oscar.
"I don't think we can…" his voice faltered as up from the brook sprang one of the fountains that had yesterday danced so graciously.
But it was not dancing anymore, and any grace had been replaced by a fierce demeanour that might have sent the elephant, tiger and whole herd of horses cowering. The streams of water that made the outline of the figure flowed faster, and thicker, and foamed as though boiling from the naiad's fingertips, and demon, rather than spirit, might better have described the spectre now.
"I forgot to mention they did that," Oscar said as the naiad advanced.
It was Oscar who made the first move. He made to leap to the right, but the movement drew all the attention onto himself. The naiad audibly shrieked in anger, turned into a wall of water and emptied itself over him and the surrounding lawn.
Felix took the distraction as an opportunity to leap the river, which he did comfortably, and dart beyond, into enemy territory. The terrace was long and he couldn't make out from this distance what many of the houses sported as their artefacts. Ahead of him was a self-playing harp, which played to the tempo of the drama unfolding before them. The next house had what looked like an origami street-map of London, the thousands of folds whispering in the breeze. But as Felix saw what lay in front of the final house of Team Binns's terrace, he couldn't help but smile, for it didn't need defensive charms to deter thieves.
Felix had broken onto the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team the year before, where he played the position of a Beater. The job of a Beater was to hit an iron ball called a Bludger into opposing players to try and knock them off their broomsticks, or to at least prevent them from scoring. But being a Beater, he had often felt first-hand what a blow from cannonballs felt like. And hovering about three feet from the ground and roaming the air of the would-be garden, was the solid black ball.
"Right then," Felix gritted his teeth, but before he could so much as set foot towards the Bludger, the ground at his feet broke apart.
From the fissure a great beanstalk thundered upwards, as thick at least as a grown man's torso. Felix leapt backwards, but before he was out of reach a tendril broke from the main trunk and ensnared his ankle. He cried out and reached for his wand, but he was dragged off balance as the plant began to hoist him ankle-first.
"That's it!" Shouted a woman from the behind the trunk of an oak tree. "That's what you get for setting foot on our territory!"
But before Felix could be lifted any higher by the tendrils wrapping his ankle, the vines seemed to shriek and recoil.
"Incendio!" he heard a voice behind him.
Several of the plant's leaves caught fire. Creepers thrashed around him in agony before releasing him to pat its fronds out on the lawn. Felix jumped straight back up and edged out of reach. Standing right behind him was a sodden and bedraggled Oscar.
"Thanks for helping me out back there!" he complained.
"I thought you needed a shower."
But they were interrupted as a loud cheer went up nearby, and Felix guessed that announced one of his team's artefacts had been claimed.
"You deal with this," Oscar said, "I'll see what else needs doing."
Just then, one of the squirrels- which were about Felix's height when stood up- made for the witch who'd summoned the beanstalk.
"We'll see to Hornby, Felix," another witch shouted. "You grab that bludger!"
The witch he assumed was Hornby cast a spell at the squirrel, and more writhing roots exploded from the earth in a vain attempt to tether the advancing rodent. And with her distracted, Felix darted forward.
As soon as his foot stepped the threshold of the yard, the Bludger ceased its lazy path and became the thundering ballistic Felix knew it to be on the Quidditch pitch. But he'd smothered it too many times in training- everyone else on the pitch was afraid to go near the things- to shy away from t now. As it arced up and began its downwards plunge towards him he braced himself, wrapping his jumper sleeves around his hands.
It struck him dead in the chest, hard enough that if he hadn't done the exact same thing a hundred times before it would've cracked several of his ribs. Even so, the blow was enough to send him sprawling to the ground. Even as he fell, he clutched the ball tightly, smothering it with his hands and shirt. It surged and struggled against his arms, but Felix held it tight, and after a couple of seconds it went still and limp.
He knew better than to let his guard down. It was as though Bludgers could sniff out the smallest opportunity to escape whatever bound them. But with it somewhat tamed and clutched to his belly, he staggered forward.
"We've got a runner!" Screamed Hornby, and the beanstalk which, unbeknownst to Felix, had kept on growing and was now around twenty-feet high, keeled in his direction.
But Felix dodged it, and now he was regaining the adrenaline that had fuelled his initial advance. He could see the river. Bits of grass and earth shot up at his feet, but he rode whatever jinxes or hexes were being thrown in his direction. But just as he approached the bank of the stream a naiad, furious and torrential, rose up above him. Even if he'd wanted to, Felix doubted whether he could've stopped himself, such was the pace he was going and the focus he was expending controlling his wriggling burden. He leapt, straight through the spirit, dispersing the humanoid flow as though he'd jumped through a vicious waterfall. Then his feet touched the ground on the other side. He fell forward, drenched as a drowned rat. But as soon as he landed he felt all fight in the Bludger go out.
"Score to Felix!" he heard Hawksworth cry from his elephant, and another victorious cheer went up, this time from his side of the river. Oscar, catching up, ruffled his hair, whilst witches and wizards around him patted him on the back. "Good job, young man. You may come more often."
"What do you want me to do now?"
"Well, we've lost the Twelvetrees's sword. That was that cheer you probably heard a few minutes ago. Well now… now you can help with that!"
Felix followed the staff of the elephanteer. To his amazement, he saw three wizards hauling in their direction what appeared to be a cauldron filled dangerously close to the brim with a reddish potion.
"Do NOT let that spill!" Hawksworth shouted. "If that spills I'll have your heads on spikes!"
A witch and wizard were creating small cyclones nearby. Not close enough to directly constitute casting spells at the artefacts or competitors, but near enough that the whipping breeze splashed the potion even further up the cauldron sides.
"Finite!" cried Felix, pointing his wand at the whirlwinds.
It was not enough to break the spell- he hadn't expected to be able to overturn the enchantment of two fully-grown mages- but the dust that betrayed its currents visibly slowed, and the surface of the cauldron calmed.
But then, as the trio approached one of the bridges over the river, one of them stumbled and fell. The solution lapped up the side, and for a second- a second that lasted far longer in the minds of Felix and the onlookers on his side of the river- the potion became airborne. The phrase irreparable came to Felix's mind, for he doubted they'd be able to scoop every drop back in without magic. It looked like it might splash out, and the game be all over, but at the last second the remaining wizards twisted the cauldron round to catch the renegade droplets.
"What is that? Sleeping potion?" Hawksworth shouted. "It had better not be dangerous."
"You won't believe this, Arl," one called back. "It's tomato soup!"
And with another cheer, the three of them dragged it over the bridge to safety. They were two steals to one. They were winning! And that's when things began to get out of hand.