Thomas woke up and reached for his glasses by the stand next to his feeble bed. He had always considered his bed to be feeble, not because it wasn’t expensive, in fact it was the most expensive model thirteen years ago, but it always broke down and slugged to the floor at any sign of pressure. His thirteenth birthday was a week away and as he climbed out of bed and changed into a fresh pair of clothes he could not help but wonder if his thirteenth birthday would be any different from his past birthdays. His father David Pinewood had never really enjoyed hosting parties. He believed that friends cost money and therefore chose to live a life of solitude. His mother Chelsie, had died giving birth to him, his father had often described her as energetic and really friendly but chose never to talk about their lives together.

He began to head downstairs and towards the kitchen when he heard a familiar voice yelling outside. Grabbing his shoes and a snow coat, he opened his front door and saw what was creating the disturbance, or rather who was creating the disturbance across the street. He was middle-aged looked like he was in his forties and had a good haircut, which complemented his brown hair. Just like Thomas, this man had the same light to dark shade of brown hair and favoured combing his hair in an acorn-like state. As Thomas peered closer he noticed that this man’s car had gotten stuck in the snow. It was no surprise, here in Athlone, Ireland snow was a common sight during March and last night was no exception. He remembered hearing the low whistling sound of the howling wind and seeing white clinging to the outside surface of his bedroom window. He approached the man and saw his brown eyes met his.

“Here, let me help you,” he said gently. The man smiled at once, “ Ah! Young Mr. Pinewood, I thought I saw you but I wasn’t certain with all of this snow drifting around, until I heard your voice…”

The man paused for a moment as if he were considering going back inside but then resumed. “Ah, m’boy, you really don’t have to help a man like me. I don’t want you getting a cold, and I imagine April won’t be too thrilled once she finds out you’ve caught a cold due to my error!”

Thomas recognized the voice now that the wind was dying down; he had heard it last night against the howling of the wind and pondered whether this man been in the very same spot he was now, last night. “It’s fine, really.” Thomas said as he and the man began pushing the rear of the stuck vehicle. They both continued pushing and heaving and he was starting to feel very cold despite his snow coat until at last the car rolled out of the small snow filled pothole. He looked at the man, both of them were wearing a smile on their faces.

“Have a…”

The man interrupted him. “The name’s Mr. Bucklin, Henry Bucklin.”

Thomas’s vague image of the man suddenly became clear. “You’re Mr. Bucklin! The man that helped my father get to his home after the bar accident?”

“Why yes” he replied “the very same. “Why don’t you come with me inside have some of April’s hot chocolate, she always makes extra and I’m sure m’boys, William and Charlie would like to meet you!” He motioned with his hand to the different sections of his house as he continued to talk. “Please, I insist, I’ll let your father know where you are…”

Thomas fumbled in his mind to find the right words, this was unexpected. “Are you sure it’s alright with the rest of your family?”

Mr. Bucklin looked into his eyes and said, “They would love it.”

As Mr. Bucklin was leading him to his doorway Thomas began to feel nervous, how would the Bucklins respond when he entered their house. This was all new to him, his father had always been a drunken man. Years of alcohol consumption had corroded his brain and now he mostly lived in a retirement home. He would sometimes call to talk to him as he had no other children but when he was at Thomas’s home he forbade him to socialize with the other teens. As the snow cleared and outdoor lamps became visible Mr. Bucklin turned to face him.

“I hope you didn’t mind the long walk from the gates to the house, that’s just there to keep the Garden Gnomes at bay, pesky Gnomes!”

They removed their shoes at the front of the door as Thomas built up his courage to ask about the Gnomes” “Blimey!” Mr. Bucklin said astonishment, “you’ve never seen a Garden Gnome?” “Well I have but, just, the ones that don’t, move, their made from plastic....”

Falice Woodsworth woke up to a burning sensation across his face. He was lying on his back, simply floating on the water surrounding him and by the looks of the darkening sky above, a fog had moved in. He recalled leaving Bagintons Academy, falling into a lake containing a series of underwater channels then being whipped and cut by the sucker-bearing tentacles of that atrocity. He gathered his strength and swam to the shoreline nearby. There he lay, panting for an hour, his face still stinging with misery. As he became more aware of his surroundings he brought himself to the edge of the shoreline and gazed at his reflection below in the water, finally recognizing the horrible state his face now retained. Climbing back up to his feet he patted his soggy shirt and searched the pockets of his pants. Feeling what he was looking for, he then removed a wooden stick from his left pocket.

“What a cruel twist that I have lost my image but still have possession of my wand.” He then murmured an incantation but nothing happened, no surprises, he knew deep down that his face was beyond repair. Slowly refocusing his thoughts he conjured a white mask, with clearly marked nostrils and rectangular eye markings tilted at an angle to showcase his inner anger at the world. He would not make slits for his eyes in this mask no, instead he would learn to use his senses and by gathering his already potent magic, he pledged that he would exact his revenge on the very Academy which housed that monster. His next target would be Bagintons Academy, but first he would wait for this fog to pass.

How many years had he wasted at that Academy, the foolishness was beyond acceptance. “And now…they have introduced teams, during my studies everyone was grouped together, there were no Irish Dragons, no Hungarian Huskies or Scottish Kelpies and most of all there were no Nottingham Griffins.” He knew deep down the school had to raise the aspect of having teams because too many incidents were happening, with no competition during his stay, he and Samantha use to play tricks on the Academy’s troll staff. The worthless creatures never even deserved to be hired for cleaning, but how was Samantha Roberts doing? Last time he saw he saw her she was with her daughter Rebecca. Surely Rebecca would be attending the Academy soon, and how was his partner in magic, Markov Västervik? Surely he would have noticed his absence from the Academy. As a cool wind began to blow Falice stared at his now pale skin, he had not eaten in over twelve hours and by the looks of his current situation it would be another twelve before he found food.

He wandered around until at last the fog bearing sky began to dim darker, the winds picked up and howled even more. It was even starting to rain very lightly but enough to dampen the short grass where his feet stood and make them slippery. He stretched his wand outwards and yelled, “filimento!” His wand tip illuminated and out sprung a beam of light. “Whose there!?” Out in the distance a shadowy figure emerged, as the light from Falice’s wand reached the figure’s face he instantly grinned within his mask. “Good timing Västervik….” Markov stared at his face, which his mask now covered.

“Surely you’ve had worse happen to you Västervik, my face, has been destroyed by that creature which I recall you denying. What, did, you say… right, weren’t you saying that there was no creature!” Markov leaned towards Falice and murmured,

“We have to move.” Instantaneously Falice understood what his friend meant. Markov wept the sweat of his face and pulled brushed back his neck-long black hair.

“It won’t be long until every single Ministry has your name on their capture list. After you disappeared I knew you must have went to the lake when I showed up and you weren’t there I checked the Academy’s maps of neighbouring channels which lead to rivers and streams from that lake. Now listen to me, there is a small inn nearby here, I’ll take you to it. I know the owner and we should be safe there.”

“There is no ‘we’ Västervik, keep that in mind, if one of the Ministries does not catch me I will make sure they catch you. I still do not forgive you for your lack of information, which led to me wearing this mask. LISTEN TO ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” Markov’s head was turned and quickly came back to meet Falice’s. “After we get to this inn I’ll have little use for you, and I highly recommend you find one, after all Västervik, you should know by now I have no sense of humour….”

Thomas woke up in a haste of excitement. He had forgotten to set the alarm and was now quickly running downstairs to make breakfast. However two smiling males greeted him at the end of the staircase.

"Morning Thomas! Bacon or eggs?" "Bacon or eggs!”

“Why can't he have both!"

"Blimey Charlie! The cholesterol in these is sure to give him a heart attack let alone anyone!" Thomas's eyes followed William's finger as it pointed to each individual piece of bacon and soon became crossed when he almost poked his eyes out in his attempt to wag Thomas into agreement.

"I'll take the eggs, thanks William." He said, struggling to answer without bursting into laughter. It had been less than twenty-four hours and Thomas felt the Bucklins had welcomed him into their home as if he were family. As he helped carry the plates into what seemed to be the Bucklin dining room Mr. Bucklin entered and began rummaging through his pockets.

"Where in Bagintons did I put the keys to the Foolsdrop equipment?" Trying not to disturb Mr. Bucklin, Thomas quickly placed the pearl-white plates he was holding around the large rectangular table. "Ever played Foolsdrop before Thomas?"

"Ah, well I've never heard of it...sorry." Charlie had just entered behind him carrying the cutlery. "Never played Foolsdrop before!" "

No, sorry," Thomas repeated almost feeling ashamed of himself.

"It's only the best sport in the Wizarding world!" At the word 'Wizarding' Thomas stopped and looked at Charlie in utter confusion. " I thought magic doesn't exist, only in fiction like King Arthur or Harry Potter." The look on Charlie's face at that moment was almost priceless, his mouth was open and he was staring towards Mr. Bucklin in shock. Surprisingly Mr. Bucklin broke the silence.

"Show him Charlie..." As Thomas turned to face Charlie, he was already facing him but this time the cutlery in his hands had been shoved into the pockets in his pants and he was now brandishing a sturdy wooden stick in his hand.

“Like my wand, it’s very pointy.” Charlie bragged as he brandished it towards Thomas.

“That, is a stick,” he retorted as Charlie instantly dropped his smug expression.

Mr. Bucklin cleared his throat as they both turned to look at him. “Er…Charlie, why don’t you show young Mr. Pinewood a demonstration.”

“Sure thing dad,” he replied as William entered the dining room carrying a handful of napkins coming to a halt besides Thomas.

“Just because you can’t find a girlfriend doesn’t mean you have to torture our neighbour, and in the presence of our father no less!”

“Very funny,” Charlie replied, “and for your information I was doing a demonstration for our guest Thomas.

“Honestly it’s okay, I somewhat believe you can do, whatever, you planned on doing.”

“Even I don’t believe he could do what he planned on doing with that wand,” William added.

After a few deep breaths Charlie stretched his left hand and slowly pointed it towards the blue vase of flowers in the middle of the table. Thomas looked on in amazement as it slowly began to rise an inch off the table.

“You’re putting too much effort into it Charlie,” Mr. Bucklin muttered calmly, “you have to focus.” Suddenly the vase started moving towards the window.

“Someday Thomas maybe you can do something like this.” Charlie exclaimed with pride as he lowered his outstretched arm slightly.

“Charlie!” Mr. Bucklin said warningly as they watched it speed up just before crashing through the glass and shattering into shards on the lawn outside.

“He could have done that with a rock!” said William hotly as Mr. Bucklin sighed and left the dining room.

Thomas woke up at the Bucklins' house to the sound of rapping on the bedroom door.

“Are you awake inside there Thomas!?” Charlie had obviously had more sleep despite heading to bed later than Thomas.

“I am now,” Thomas said feverishly. He sat up and reached across his bedside table to grab his glasses before he realized he was already wearing them.

“Well come on then!” Charlie exclaimed loudly.

As Thomas got up he could hear Charlie humming the national anthem of Ireland surprisingly well. “Why are you doing that?” he said as Charlie stopped. “You’ve got to show your pride Thomas, even if it is a rainy day.” They both headed down the staircase and were greeted by loud music followed by a piercing noise coming from the living room. As they both ran to see what was causing the ruckus a spoonful of Irish stew came soaring towards them. Thomas knelt just in time but Charlie wasn’t so lucky as the stew dripped to the floor, the liquid reminder of what had just happened clung to Charlie’s face.

“Bloody Gnomes!” he shouted furiously. “Get out of my house!”

The sound of more objects being broken and a loud “ouch!” echoed. Thomas stood back up to observe the peculiar Gnomes through the window nearby as Charlie wiped the stew stain off his face with a handkerchief. They looked like ordinary Garden Gnomes with the minor exception that they were moving, and that one of them was leading the others outside onto the damp grass.

“I still don’t know why me dad doesn’t do something to repel them from coming inside.” As they neared the area where the Garden Gnomes had been partying Mr. Bucklin came downstairs.

“Charlie have you seen your brother William… what happened in here? This place is a mess!”

“It was the Garden Gnomes again dad, Thomas and I caught them partying and they made this mess before they left….”

As Thomas began to look around him he noticed a pair of now broken speakers, which caused the piercing sound they had heard earlier. The floor was scattered with tiny mud prints and it seemed, that behind the red sofa that lay in front of the tele the Bucklins' had, one of the Garden Gnomes was sleeping soundly.

“Charlie? I think they’ve forgotten one their friends.” Mr. Bucklin and Charlie turned to see the Garden Gnome Thomas was talking about.

“Oh my…. This isn’t good.” Charlie peered at his dad.

“We can just wake him up can’t we?” Charlie muttered obviously still upset about the earlier incident.

Mr. Bucklin carefully walked towards the sofa and picked up the Garden Gnome, holding it like a newborn baby. “Charlie, can you open the door for me.”

"I'll do it," Thomas interrupted. He was the closest to the door and as he reached for the handle and pushed it open he was surprised to see that the Garden Gnomes had wasted no time leaving and had just charged through the bottom part of the door that now had a chunk missing.

“We have to get this Gnome outside now otherwise the others will come back looking for him and this time they might not be so, tolerable, of leaving most of our home intact.”

After they had placed the Gnome outside with a bottle of water to recover after he had woken up they repaired the door and cleaned up the mess the other Gnomes had made. Noon was approaching and the promise of a trip to Gimico’s Travel hung in Thomas’s mind. William had soon emerged later on after they had cleaned up and swore he needed a new clock.

“Oh! Blame the clock eh!” Charlie mocked laughing.

“Very funny but if I recall from what you told me earlier I do believe I missed being hit in the face with a spoonful of Irish Stew!”

“Enough boys,” Mr. Bucklin grumbled as he busily rifled through the local paper sitting comfortably. Mrs. Bucklin on the other hand was busily complaining about the Gnome Rights movement.

"...And they want more freedom, I'll show the slow ones some more freedom...."

As Thomas and Charlie sat down to eat lunch Charlie whispered over his mum’s complaints, “It’s alright Thomas, she just fainted before we cleaned up the mess! It shouldn’t last too long.” “I know, I was there!” He smiled back, and with that they began to devour their lunch hoping that the taste of it all would last longer than Mrs. Bucklin's tantrum.

Thomas had agreed to help William pick up Mr. Bucklin’s very expensive “Travel Set” at Gimico’s Travel, which he had been told was a place where travel arrangements could be made and the only spot in Ireland where you could “preview” your travel destination. He had never been there before but William seemed to know the route the same way as if he were heading home, memorized.

“Here we are Thomas, Gimico’s Travel!”

They had stopped in front of what appeared to be a very old Victorian Mansion, except when they entered into its white halls each room on the left and right sides of the Mansion seemed to contain a different travel location. Thomas had never seen anything like it before. As William led him to the reception counter conveniently located at the end of the hallway he glanced into a room and instantly felt the temperature drop by thirty degrees.

“Come on Thomas, you wouldn’t want to get lost in here, trust me…”

“What!?” Thomas replied smiling. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself lost in that room before.”

“Okay, then I won’t.” They both continued walking briskly until at last they neared the reception counter. So far he had seen a room filled with ice, one with sand and another, which he thought, looked like it contained a valley.

As William took out the receipt for the Travel Set Mr. Bucklin paid for, Thomas couldn’t help but notice the strangeness of the receptionist. He was dressed in a black suit and had a very smashing tie bearing the image of a Garden Gnome chasing a fairy. Slightly pressed on his chest was a tag that said Edward Ross.

“Okay William, Emma will be right down with your father’s parcel, EMMA! And I do believe we’ve never met is that a correct assumption?” Mr. Ross turned to face Thomas.

“Yes sir, never.”

“But he is attending Bagintons Academy is he not?” William was now the one being interviewed refreshingly for Thomas.

“Why yes he his, Thomas will make a fine student if I may say so myself and he is already picking up on our ways.” Mr. Ross gazed again towards Thomas, who was now getting very nervous as he noticed one of the rooms inches towards his left had a fire roaring inside it.

“Why don’t you come by our place tomorrow, I can pick you up from the Bucklin’s and before we head to my home we can all stop by Pawn’s Shop. William you’re more than welcome to come and feel free to bring Charlie, I know how much he enjoys our Spaghetti with the Albanian shredded cheese and he’s always quite fond of the apple cider that follows the meal!” William coolly answered,

“ I’ll be sure to pass the message along to Charlie and my folks however, I myself must decline. I have a rather nasty meeting tomorrow with the Ministry of Athlone considering Falice Woodsworth, it seems they have suspected me of assisting him during the killing of Sam Ackland, and while I assure you I had no part in it and that I hate Falice, I’ll be pleading my case before the jury tomorrow.”

At that moment a girl around Thomas’s age came walking down the staircase that paralleled the reception counter.

“Here it is father, the green one, yes?” “Very good Emma! First parcel identified!” Thomas was tilting his head back and forth from Mr. Ross to Emma, his eyes would occasionally catch a glint from brown eyes and her brown hair seemed to be simple in its hairstyle. She was clutching a Fashion Magazine in her other hand and by the looks of the cover, she too had tried the “Witch’s Weekly.” William on the other hand was very much calm and dignified, paying very little attention to what was going on and he was frequently tapping his watch, which was most irksome at times that Thomas tried to follow the conversation. Mr. Ross had gone further behind the counter and Thomas had to seize this opportunity to change the spot where he was standing on as his shoes were now covered with soot.

“Mr. Ross?” Mr. Ross turned around, “yes Thomas?” Thomas pointed towards the room to his left whose doors were now on fire. “I really don’t think that’s normal.” He quickly stepped to his right as Mr. Ross jumped over the counter, brought out his wand and told everybody to step back. “Flumen iam!” A mini river started pouring out of his wand tip and covered the flames. As Mr. Ross directed his wand towards the door a voice yelled at them from the entrance.

“Mr. Ross! What is going on?” With a quick gesture water was no longer coming his wand Mr. Ross placed it back in his back pocket. A short, bald man in green leather shoes wearing a black jacket with a collar came patrolling through the hallway. The expression on Mr. Ross’s face had turned from fear to anxiousness. “Gimico, you missed the fire in room nineteen.”

“Not all of it,” and with a gruff he ousted the remaining flames. “Urgent matter Mr. Ross I need to talk to you right now, and it involves these three people right here.” As he said that he began pointing to each of them. Mr. Ross defiantly stood his ground.

“If it involves these children right here surely they have the right to hear it, don’t you think so Gimico?” Thomas noticed how Gimico was hesitant in responding.

“It’s okay, really Mr. Ross, it doesn’t matter if I hear it.”

“Wait a second Thomas!” William was now curious to what was happening. “I think you definitely have a right to know what’s being said about you or me, for that matter.” Regardless of the fact that William was fifteen, he stood at least a quarter higher than Gimico. As William leaned in anxious to get a response out of Gimico, it was quite obvious that Gimico himself had noticed this size difference.

“Fine! It's a message from the Ministry of Athlone, they want the boy and his “friends” to be taken immediately to their headquarters. By means of force if necessary.”

He immediately pointed to William after saying this. Mr. Ross was outraged.

“How can that be, he hasn’t done anything wrong from what he’s told me and Emma and Thomas don’t even attend Bagintons yet!” Gimico interrupted forcibly.

“The Ministry of Athlone has the consent of the Head Ministry of Ireland to bring this lad in, and his friends, by any means necessary. They will use force Edward. That’s why I came straight to you after I heard this message. They aren’t messing around, they mean everyone this kid knows….” Thomas was tired of falling behind as he grappled to understand the logic he was hearing.

Mr. Ross stared warily at William, “William, if you are supposed to go tomorrow why do they suddenly want you now?”

Gimico interrupted once again. “That’s what I said after I checked the meeting schedule but it seems Falice is no longer within the Academy and is freely moving around Ireland. He escaped yesterday; they are still struggling to find out how as the staff was supposed to be monitoring him.” Mr. Ross struck his moustache, “funny indeed.”

Gimico looked up towards William, “Come on William, if you come peacefully with your friends the ministry cannot possibly impose further action against you.”

“Why that’s bloody ridiculous!” Charlie shouted. “I have plans for this afternoon, do you take us all for gumbies?”

Mr. Ross raised his right hand to calm Charlie down. “He’s explained everything quite clearly, and it’s probably best that we all go to the Ministry Of Athlone now and get this sorted with. Thomas you don’t mind tagging along with us do you?”

Thomas glanced at Gimico quickly and before returning his focus to Mr. Ross. “No I don’t mind….”

“He doesn’t have a choice Edward,” Gimico interrupted loudly.

“Yes he does!” Mr Ross backed firmly.

Emma sighed as the two men stared at each other relentlessly, “He’s already said he doesn’t mind, can we just go and get these matters cleared up?”

“Right you are young Ms. Ross,” Gimico said while turning his focus to Thomas who returned eye contact.

As they prepared to head to the Ministry of Athlone, Thomas was stricken by the realization that he had not packed any official documentation whatsoever. However it seemed that Mr. Ross sensed his hesitation.

“Don’t worry about heading home to bring your documents, the Ministry keeps a record.”

William stared out of the front window watching the traffic and the buildings across the street one of which just happened to be Stellar's Pub.

“Can we stop for a bite across the street before we leave here Mr. Ross?”

“Why, I think that is a good idea, better on a full tank then an empty one I always say!” he said smiling weakly. “Do you have everything Emma?”

“Yes father, but how long will we be at the Ministry?”

“I reckon once we get there and show them that William here is no murderer with not a bad record to his name, they should let us go,” Charlie voiced almost calmly.

The stress was affecting all of them deep down although Thomas knew none would show it. He himself had no possible idea why he was also asked to attend the meeting.

The sun was starting to set as they set off towards Stellar’s Pub where they would see if any free rooms were available for the night.

“We can’t leave in this utter darkness!” Mr. Ross muttered to Gimico.

“They are expecting us whether we choose to go or not and if we do not go, they will come looking for you and your friends and family!” Gimico countered.

“But the children, they haven’t slept since last night!”

“Listen to me Mr. Ross, you know I am a friend to you and those around you but I cannot stand by and watch you be detained because you did not show up to defend these children!”

I know Gimico but I myself am fatigued, I must rest.”

Gimico stared him as they approached the entrance that led into Stellar’s Pub. The green sign that bore its name was bordered with a gold coat and the glass that exposed the inside was arch-like in shape and had very green nice outlines running through where the individual pieces were connected to each other. The inside was like an average pub without the darkness. It seemed like a spot one would go to buy Christmas presents and was cheery in atmosphere. The flooring was coloured in a toasty-brown colour that welcomed them like a warm haven.

“If you will not go to the Ministry of Athlone,” Gimico continued, “then I will go and tell them to expect you in the morning.”