protect my face from the fragments of wood, mud and stones that hurtled between the trees.
And then the gale dropped to nothing. There was silence, the air absolutely still.
Had the boggart responded? I wondered. Was it here?
The silence continued. I held my breath, listening hard.
Still there was nothing.
My heart began to sink into my boots. Had my summons failed?
But then I heard it: the very lightest of treads. Something was approaching from the west, moving very stealthily towards me.
I picked up one of the rabbits and cast it high in the air in the direction the sound was coming from.
I heard the low thud of the carcass hitting the ground. Then came a wet rending noise, as if flesh were being torn apart, followed by the crunch of bones being crushed by powerful jaws.
Now I heard footsteps approaching me again – louder now.
Pad! Pad! Pad!
Then I heard the swish of a big tail.
I tossed over the second dead rabbit. It was devoured even more quickly.
Again those heavy padding feet, coming towards where I waited; the approach of a confident and deadly creature who didn’t need to tread softly. Now only one rabbit remained, and that too I threw.
Why had I given the rabbits to the boggart?
Its reward for answering my summons would be the blood of my enemies, but the rabbits were a first offering to mark our first meeting under the new pact. I had also acted out of fear. I was afraid that the boggart might turn on me. This could well be the final approach of a predator stalking its prey, the moment before it sprang. Perhaps I was the next thing on the menu.
I was scared, and my knees shook violently because we were no longer in the Spook’s house or garden; the old pact had endured for many years, made safe by custom and repetition. Now we were out in the open; this was a new and dangerous beginning.
I was truly afraid.
All at once I heard a deep purring and felt a furry animal rubbing against my legs. At this moment the boggart felt no bigger than a normal cat. This was the shape it assumed when carrying out its agreed domestic duties. Perhaps this was what suddenly made me feel brave . . .
I should probably have just spoken to the boggart, telling it what I intended; instead, without thinking, I did something very dangerous – something that would have shocked John Gregory.
He had always kept his distance from the creature.
But I acted from pure instinct.
I knelt down beside that cat-boggart and gently placed my hand upon its head. I could feel its fur, but the body was not warm like that of an animal. It was ice-cold.
Then, very slowly, I stroked it from its head to the tip of its long tail.
In response, the boggart stopped purring and became very still.
Unable to help myself, one part of me watching in astonishment at what I was risking, I repeated the action; once more I stroked it from head to tail.
This time the boggart gave a hiss; as I stroked it for the third time, I realized that its fur was standing up on end, its back arched.
What a fool I’d been. What had come over me? What madness had driven me to do such a thing? I remembered how irascible the boggart could be. On my first morning in the Spook’s house I’d come down to breakfast too early and had soon received a blow to the back of the head. My master had warned me that it could have been worse.
What would happen now? I needed the creature on my side.
Gradually the boggart began to glow in the darkness until I could see it clearly. A livid scar ran across its left eye: it had been blinded defending us against a daemonic entity called the Bane. Its remaining eye was a vortex of orange fire.
Now it seemed to be growing larger. My sense of danger grew too. Salt and iron could be effective against such creatures, but I had none in my pockets. I had left everything in my bag back in Chipenden. I had been pursuing witches, and my chosen weapons had been staff, sword and dagger.
Suddenly the boggart struck me a terrible blow
And then the gale dropped to nothing. There was silence, the air absolutely still.
Had the boggart responded? I wondered. Was it here?
The silence continued. I held my breath, listening hard.
Still there was nothing.
My heart began to sink into my boots. Had my summons failed?
But then I heard it: the very lightest of treads. Something was approaching from the west, moving very stealthily towards me.
I picked up one of the rabbits and cast it high in the air in the direction the sound was coming from.
I heard the low thud of the carcass hitting the ground. Then came a wet rending noise, as if flesh were being torn apart, followed by the crunch of bones being crushed by powerful jaws.
Now I heard footsteps approaching me again – louder now.
Pad! Pad! Pad!
Then I heard the swish of a big tail.
I tossed over the second dead rabbit. It was devoured even more quickly.
Again those heavy padding feet, coming towards where I waited; the approach of a confident and deadly creature who didn’t need to tread softly. Now only one rabbit remained, and that too I threw.
Why had I given the rabbits to the boggart?
Its reward for answering my summons would be the blood of my enemies, but the rabbits were a first offering to mark our first meeting under the new pact. I had also acted out of fear. I was afraid that the boggart might turn on me. This could well be the final approach of a predator stalking its prey, the moment before it sprang. Perhaps I was the next thing on the menu.
I was scared, and my knees shook violently because we were no longer in the Spook’s house or garden; the old pact had endured for many years, made safe by custom and repetition. Now we were out in the open; this was a new and dangerous beginning.
I was truly afraid.
All at once I heard a deep purring and felt a furry animal rubbing against my legs. At this moment the boggart felt no bigger than a normal cat. This was the shape it assumed when carrying out its agreed domestic duties. Perhaps this was what suddenly made me feel brave . . .
I should probably have just spoken to the boggart, telling it what I intended; instead, without thinking, I did something very dangerous – something that would have shocked John Gregory.
He had always kept his distance from the creature.
But I acted from pure instinct.
I knelt down beside that cat-boggart and gently placed my hand upon its head. I could feel its fur, but the body was not warm like that of an animal. It was ice-cold.
Then, very slowly, I stroked it from its head to the tip of its long tail.
In response, the boggart stopped purring and became very still.
Unable to help myself, one part of me watching in astonishment at what I was risking, I repeated the action; once more I stroked it from head to tail.
This time the boggart gave a hiss; as I stroked it for the third time, I realized that its fur was standing up on end, its back arched.
What a fool I’d been. What had come over me? What madness had driven me to do such a thing? I remembered how irascible the boggart could be. On my first morning in the Spook’s house I’d come down to breakfast too early and had soon received a blow to the back of the head. My master had warned me that it could have been worse.
What would happen now? I needed the creature on my side.
Gradually the boggart began to glow in the darkness until I could see it clearly. A livid scar ran across its left eye: it had been blinded defending us against a daemonic entity called the Bane. Its remaining eye was a vortex of orange fire.
Now it seemed to be growing larger. My sense of danger grew too. Salt and iron could be effective against such creatures, but I had none in my pockets. I had left everything in my bag back in Chipenden. I had been pursuing witches, and my chosen weapons had been staff, sword and dagger.
Suddenly the boggart struck me a terrible blow
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