CHAPTER SIX: THE SEVENTH OFFERING

It seemed the floodgates had opened, because in the hour that followed it seemed barely five minutes could pass without a Steal being announced.

The last house in Oscar's terrace lost their spellbook to the Killicks, and to their dismay none of the pages were shaken loose or blown out of the binding. But the Flume's retaliated only moments later by seizing the Killlick's hourglass. Then, in one foul raid, a band of four from Team Binns swept along the terrace, weaving in and out of the magical spells and defences to take command of the china pot, the banner and, to the great desolation of Mr Fernsby, the Himalayan flag.

"Never mind, Garrick, it was bound to happen eventually."

"Stripes, you useless oleander!" Mr Fernsby could be heard screaming. "What's the point in a tiger that gets distracted by anyone who throws a ball with a bell in it?!"

A necklace, which to Felix looked too expensive to risk offering up in a game as wild as this, was obtained by Team Hawksworth, and that left their side trailing by only four Steals to five. But then in the most daring move of the game, Team Binns committed ten men to attack the Alton house in an attempt to appropriate the grandfather clock. The Skipton's and the Flumes in the neighbouring houses joined in the battle, but in the midst of so many people, a hounds, a fox, two horses and Mr Binns upon his rampaging bear, they were hemmed in on all fronts. The chaos was topped off when their adversary summoned a fog so thick they may as well have been blindfolded. And when the mist lifted, all to be seen was band of marauders dragging the pillared timepiece over the nearest bridge. That left Felix's side with only the statue to defend.

In the frenetic opening of the game the stadium had been calm and placid. Now, the defensive incantations had been allowed to flourish and grow, and the free-for-all faltered as the courtyard blossomed into an obstacle course the likes of which Felix had never seen.

The beanstalk summoned by Hornby had resisted all attempts to stall its growth, and it had twisted up and up before finally keeling under its own weight and drooping onto the lawn. But the great stem wasn't going to be hindered by mere gravity, and even as it lay across the river it continued to curl, forming arches and tunnels as stalks sprouted from the main bough and great buds of magenta and indigo blossomed into a jungle of extraordinary flower.

As for the river, the naiads had made the boundary between territories their own. A curtain of water twelve feet high now separated the Hawksworths from the Binns', broken only where the two bridges spanned the river, and in the many places the great creeping beanstalk lay across the torrent blocking the upsurge.

The lull that followed was quiet and suspicious. No longer able to clearly see across the ravine, all houses were on high alert for any party to break the veil of water or come gallivanting along the fallen bough. But after five minutes past, then ten with no sign of invasion, Mr Hawksworth rode his elephant along the terrace and called for a team meeting.

"Right," he said. "We've got one offering left. But it is the big one, the one we've hung our strategy upon. I can't see them moving this in a hurry, even with the bear. Does anyone know what we're up against on their side?"

"They've got a harp," one of the wizards said. "I tried to grab it but it's a two-man job at least."

"The McTavish's have that same patchwork quilt from last time," said a witch, "but when we approached he raised up all the ground around this house, and I didn't quite fancy blasting that away when I had that bear on my tail."

"I saw some sheet or something at the Binns house," Oscar said. "I didn't get close enough to see what it is."

"It's an origami map," Felix said. "You know, like folded paper. It was about six feet across, and it looked extremely delicate."

"Right then," said Hawksworth, "this is what we're going to do. We are all going to lead a charge anti-clockwise over the easterly bridge. All except the Skiptons. You are going to follow a few minutes later. With any luck we'll draw all the attention onto the Binns and Thurkell houses, which are next to each other, whilst Garrick leads his family on over whatever hill McTavish has conjured up."

"But won't we leave ourselves exposed."

"They'll need a whole cohort to take this. We'll aim to keep them camped back in their dens until the raid is over."

They formed a convoy and jogged as a troupe towards the far bridge. The sheet of rising water hissed angrily as they approached, but it did not try to attack or hinder them. And once through, Hawksworth's battle cries could be heard even across the frontier constructed by the naiads as they made to attract the attention of the defending company. And a moment later, the dramatic score of the harp's urgent playing sounded the arrival of the brawl.

"I think that's our signal," said Mr Fernsby as calls of alarm and urgency were echoed. "Let's go!"

They crept quickly to the bridge, afraid the enemy might intrude upon their territory before they were out of sight. The water may have been blocking the view across the river, but it was not impassable. Again, the naiads hissed and spat at them as they crossed between the great pillars of water the bridge held at bay, but then stopped abruptly once they saw what waited for them on the other side.

It was no hill or tussock that had been raised by the McTavish's. It was a mountainside. So high it reached, that had it not been for the ever-floundering jungle that was Hornby's beanstalk, it would've been easily spotted above the reaching fountains. It completely encircled the front of the house in a semi-circle, the elevation extending all the way back to the beamwork. Fissures had opened and surrounded the footprint of the cliff-face where earth had fallen to fill the void left by uprising monolith, which was steep and sheer.

"Erm… Dad," Oscar said. "I know we went trekking in the Himalayas, but I think actual mountaineering is beyond us."

"Nonsense, Nonsense! There's plenty of handholds. You just make sure the rock can support your weight, like this, and hoist yourself ARGHHHH-" Mr Skipton staggered off the ledge he'd just stepped onto, clutching his back. "Well, boys. Just see- EEK -how easy- OUCH- that was."

"Garrick!" cried Mrs. Fernsby. "Are you alright?"

"Fine- AYY- dear."

"I think you need a lie down." Mrs Fernsby said.

"I may need a lot more- HUY- than that!"

"Come on, Felix," Oscar called, stepping onto the very ledge his father had pulled up at. "I guess it's up to us to do everything around here."

Mr Skipton continued to complain that it was Oscar's fault they lost their flag and that he should be grateful it lasted as long as it did, but Felix followed in the route of his friend. The last he heard was Mr Skipton threatening Oscar with no supper if he returned empty handed.

Despite its ominous appearance, the climb wasn't too taxing. The sheer wasn't as smooth as it had first looked, and there were several hand and footholds for them to use.

"I'll race you, Felix!" Oscar called down.

"Oh, do be careful!" Mrs. Fernsby chided him.

The tricky bit came when they got to the top. Soil and grass remained, a hat upon the monument, and they began to run out of solid things to grab onto. Oscar nearly fell as he pulled on some roots only for the muddy bank to come loose, leaving him dangling from one arm. Eventually, though, they were able to work together to dig the earth away and hoist themselves up on top. They looked down the precipice and, sure enough, unguarded and waiting was a quilt or blanket composed, it seemed to Felix, with every type of material in every colour imaginable.

"Now how do we get down?"

The ridge they had reached wasn't too narrow, but on the spongey surface of loosed earth it felt rather too precarious for comfort.

"I've got an idea."

Oscar whistled. Then did so again. When nothing happened on the third attempt he waved wildly at something over the naiad's uplift. And then, wings flexing and folding as it rose about the water curtain, fluttered the butterfly topiary. Though one of the smallest hedges of the melee, it looked just big enough to carry a person on its back.

"Yes, that's all very well," said Felix, "but why didn't we just get it to carry us up here?"

"Erm… good point," he conceded.

Oscar spoke to the butterfly and instructed it to get the quilt for them. It didn't move. He gesticulated wildly towards the patchwork cover. Eventually the butterfly seemed to understand. It fluttered down and took the blanket in claws that Felix didn't believe a butterfly ought to have.

"Careful!" shouted Oscar. "There best not be any thorns on you!"

"Not that it'll matter, losers!"

They both looked up. It was a voice they recognised all too well. Mere feet away from them on the back of an owl sprouting blueberries, was Cora Wick. "I should've known something was up when the two of you were missing from… from whatever's going on over there."

"Haven't you got your own possessions to be guarding?" Oscar called.

"Ours was the soup," she shrugged.

"Well why don't you just go and help with the rest of your team?

"I am helping," she laughed, and swooped down on the back of her owl.

As Cora and her ride dived, Oscar leapt from their edge. He fell six or seven feet before landing on the back of the butterfly. The flyer team Hawksworth had salvaged was unquestionably the least robust of the three, and under his weight the insect sagged almost to the ground. But it was just in time, because Oscar felt the talons of Cora's bird brush his hair as it passed over where the butterfly had been hovering seconds earlier.

Felix watched Oscar balance on the thin bar of foliage that was the butterfly's abdomen, wrapping his arms around its enlarged neck.

"Go on, Son!" Mr Fernsby could be heard shouting below.

"Oh, be careful!" called Mrs. Fernsby.

Cora drew her owl back up for another dive, but this time Felix knew what to do. Fuelled by the music of the harp, which was still thundering out an epic anthem to match the drama, he ran forward and jumped, hands reaching wildly for Cora's winged steed. His fingers penetrated the underside of the Owl and entangled themselves around the twigs and branches that made up the bust.

"You idiot!" he heard Cora shout.

The Owl did not start to sink like the butterfly had, but it did unbalance it. Listing sideways and beating its wings furiously it careened almost into the cliff-face.

"Let go!" he heard Cora call down. "Let go this instance!"

"I think it would be in the best interest of my welfare," Felix grunted through the effort of keeping his grip, his stomach lurching as he saw the ground ten feet below him, "if I declined that invitation."

"Give me the quilt!" she now called to Oscar, who's butterfly had managed to make its way back over the lip of the cliff."

"Give me the quilt!" Oscar imitated her in a silly voice, before laughing. "In a bit, loser."

Felix heard Cora swear as she thumped her Owl onwards in pursuit. It was most odd, having his hands inside the chest of an animate object. And gruesome, he considered. But all he could feel was the coarsely-knit twigs and prickles.

"That's my boy!" Mr Fernsby could be heard shouting.

Oscar had quite a lead on them, but the weight of himself and the quilt, which trailed spectacularly beneath him, slowed them drastically. And then, as Oscar neared the river, two things happened at once.

Felix looked up to see Cora send a jet of sparks in Oscar's direction. He was about to shout up to her, to berate for using magic, but as the spell found its target, and one wing of the butterfly became severed, he suddenly realised there was no rule about casting spells on the topiaries themselves. The butterfly went into a dive, and as the curtain of water hung in the near distance, it was clear they weren't going to make it through. Cora's Owl was too close and too fast. She would catch them.

And then something thick and green slammed into Felix and the Owl he was clinging to. It knocked them sideways with such a force that his fingers were loosed from the branches inside the shrub. With a cry he fell, fingers clutching in vain for a twig, for a talon. But rid of its burden, the Owl shot away, and Felix fell. He was out of control, there was a blur of green and yellow. He closed his eyes.

And then to his surprise he landed on something quite soft. He opened his eyes to see he'd landed on a blanket of foliage that had sprouted from the great beanstalk that was still winding its way through the courtyard, and as Felix looked up, he saw it was the very limb that had shook him loose.

The great vine had wrapped itself around the owl's legs and was thrashing it frantically. Even from such a distance Cora looked worried. It whipped and shook until it finally upturned the bird, and Cora cried out as she and the Owl plummeted.

"Molliare!" cried Oscar, who had dropped the quilt and rushed forward.

It was as though an invisible cloud of feathers caught Cora as she fell. Only feet above the ground, she began to slow, and as she descended she was cushioned lightly onto the turf. The flash of relief in Oscar's face turned to panic as he saw her eyes fixate on the quilt, which he had left undefended as he'd rushed to her aid. Cora laughed.

"Go on," she said. "I might be in Slytherin, but not even I'd stab you in the back like that. Consider it the best Thank You you're going to get."

Just as the Owl righted itself and flew away, two witches on horseback galloped into view, ducking and weaving through the herbivorous terrain. Without so much as hesitating, they leapt through the upsurge and over the stream. A moment later Felix heard one of them call out.

"How are we going to move that?"

But the rest of their conversation was drowned out by an almighty roar from behind him. He heard a great thundering of feet and the cracking and rustling of trampled undergrowth, and out of the everglade rushed a stampede of people. In the lead were those Felix recognised, but they were being chased and harassed by the witches and wizards from Binns's side of the river. Sparks flew forward and cut the air they charged through. But nobody was hindered, for at the forefront of the rush, holding high the origami sheet by one corner above her head, was Mrs. Hawksworth.

"Try aiming a little better!" she called as a jet of flame narrowly missed the edge of the fluttering paper.

To one side Felix saw Mr Hawksworth's elephant nonchalantly marshalling the great bear as it tried to intercept the runner, whilst leaves and branched limbs exploded from horse, hound and fox who threatened to catch her.

"Cut off the bridges!" someone called.

But though she held the paper sheet aloft in one hand, with her other Mrs. Hawksworth blasted apart the curtain of water with the power of a cannonball. Water sprayed everywhere, but just before the naiads could close the schism made in their frontier, she and the map had leapt through to the other side of the river, to sanctuary.

But as loud as the cheers sounded, there was no respite because the members of Team Binns who had chased them did not stop. Around twenty players followed Mrs. Hawksworth and her team over the river, not caring how wet they got, and advanced upon the only offering, the great marble statue.

"Don't let them near!" Hawksworth cried, signalling frantically to his topiaries.

The sound of the harp could still be heard playing, something reminiscent of Flight of the Valkyries as ropes flew out of the wands of those wishing to tether the statue to the topiaries. The bear and two horses barged their way to the front, but the commotion made it difficult to so much as fasten a knot.

The music got louder, the tempo raising as all members of Team Binns hauled or pushed the great metamorphic block. It shifted and inch, then a foot, leaving a trail dirt where it churned up the lawn. One of the horses was finally leashed and reined, and it brayed with the effort of such a charge.

"You might not use magic," called Mr Hawksworth, "but muggles don't have wands, and they scrap well all the same!"

Felix watched as several of the team who had been attempting to put up magical barriers sheathed their wands and began wrestling with those vying to move the statue. He saw Mr Alton physically restrain a wizard he didn't recognise, whilst Oscar no less than rugby tackled Cora to the ground.

The harp grew louder as they fought, and louder. And then, one by one, the players stopped, and the chaos that had become little less than a mass brawl calmed. Heads turned towards the river, expressions of glee and agony fell across the faces of the melee. Walking one of the bridges formed by the fallen beanstalk was a witch, and held aloft, playing a tranquil and quite beautiful rhythm, was the harp. The final of the seven offerings had been claimed.

"Silus, what's that I see?" Mr Hawksworth bellowed at the man upon the bear. "What is that? Is that a harp? Is that your harp?" The elephant trumpeted its brambly trunk.

Cheers went up from the Skipton's neighbours as they realised what had happened, and there were handshakes and hi-fives. Mr Binns, who was a lot more gracious in defeat than Hawksworth was in victory, went around and congratulated each of them in turn.

"Yes, well done, Jasper," Binns said begrudgingly as Mr Hawksworth leapt down from his elephant with more agility than any man of his age should've been able to muster. "I reackon we nearly had you, this time though."

"Nearly had us?" Hawksworth chortled. "I doubt a hundred men could've lifted this! But I won't embarrass you any further. What time is it? I'm famished."

That afternoon was one of the best Felix had had all summer. The mess they'd made of the courtyard was cleared, and the naiads returned to their graceful dancing forms. Several tables were arranged in a circle in the middle of the lawn and a buffet was magically summoned. All rivalry seemed to have evaporated, and the members of St. Sherwin's Court took the time to catch up with each other and laugh about the events of the day. Hawksworth and Binns often laughed so loudly together they made the table look up and stare, and few would've believed that an hour ago they'd been each other's greatest enemy.

"Well done," said a scowling Cora, taking a seat next to Oscar and Felix.

"Are you going to eat all that?" Spluttered Oscar through a mouthful of mashed potato, seeing the mountain of food Cora had brought back.

"I've not had anything since breakfast. I'm starving."

"Not even… tomato soup?" Felix grinned.

"Not even tomato soup. Oh, great, here come my mum and dad."

"Congratulations, boys. I heard you gave our baby girl the run-around out there."

"Dad!" Cora hissed.

"Hello, Mr Wick," Felix laughed. "It was two against one, so baby Cora didn't stand much of a chance."

He winced as she punched his arm.

"What are your plans for your last week?" Mrs. Wick asked. "We were wondering if the two of you wanted to come to Kettlebaston with us. There's forests where apparently you can spot red-bellied pixies."

"I'm really sorry," said Oscar, "we'd love to but we're heading down to London tomorrow."

"There would always be room for one more," said Mr Skipton, overhearing the conversation and striding over.

"It's a little short notice for that," said Mrs. Wick.

"Oh, Mum, please!"

"I didn't think Slytherins said please? We don't know where she got it. We were both in Hufflepuff."

"Fine, then. Let me go, or jinx you both until you change your minds."

"That's more like it," he dad said. "Well, Audrey, there's no real reason why she should stay here an extra few days. If the Skipton's are happy for her to go along, and if it's no trouble, then I don't see why not."

"It's no bother whatsoever!" Mr Skipton clapped his hands together.

"Brilliant!" said Oscar. "Have you heard from Augustus recently? I'm going to write to Eliza tonight to see when she's going down."

The afternoon turned into evening, and after spending the day in the company of St. Sherwin's Court, Felix was a little disheartened he wouldn't be staying there a little longer. But then he thought of the week to come. Of him, and Oscar and Cora, and all the school friends they'd be sure to see in Diagon Alley, and he wasn't so dispirited after all.