The Wizard and the Optician sat chatting on a log, each with a mug of Largonian Blue Tip. They were discussing old times.

Way before Len had met the travellers on the mountain, and long before the sunlight had disappeared, Hezzerbah and he would meet up on a regular basis to share vital information regarding the unhealthy rise in black magic that was spreading like a plague throughout the land. As a result of the dark and secret nature of their agenda, the evil ruling occult had closed ranks and shut Len out of the club. Unable to access the information he required to keep things running smoothly, he had to rely on the Wizard who, acting as a doppelganger, was able to access the valuable secrets that Len required. Needless to say, it wasn’t long until they became good friends. But when the evil wordsmiths fell from grace, and the Optician’s line of communication was open again, Hezzerbah’s espionage services were no longer required. Consequently, they hadn’t seen each other for ages and there was much to talk about.

During their conversation, Len was casually observing his surroundings when, to his delight, sitting on a large stone opposite, exchanging tales with a Wood Elder, he spotted Harry. From the outset, he had taken a liking to the young Hawthorn - especially his droll sense of humour. Desperate to re-establish their recent friendship, Len excused himself and strolled over to where the pair were sitting.

“Eye am ze Optician and Eye can see everyzing!” he interrupted winking at Harry with his one big eye.

“Eye! Eye!” Harry replied, doffing an imaginary hat and smiling fondly at his monocular friend.

It was then, that a creamy white dollop of birdsh fell from the sky. With a muffled splat, it hit the Wizard on the back of the head, soiling his long grey locks and worse than that, his beautiful green and gold silk cloak. The Wizard was furious!

“Walter Pigeon of the 5th Airborne Gogo Messenger Service at your service” came the familiar voice of a medium sized grey bird, “and I have a message for a Mr Basil S. Treewood and friends.”

The messenger dropped a note from his beak and flew off hurriedly through the trees in an urgent attempt to avoid any repercussions that might follow his untimely aerial bombardment of the Wizard.

“Birdendeck!” the sorcerer cursed and, rising to his feet, he reached for his magic wand, but before he could utter an appropriate retaliatory spell the pigeon disappeared from view. Not wishing to cause a scene, or cast a shadow on the merrymaking, he reluctantly swallowed his pride and returned the wand to his cloak pocket. But good fortune, it would seem, was on his side. In its hasty attempt to escape the wrath of Hezzerbah, the avian messenger made involuntary head contact with the thick overhanging branch of a large Cedar tree. The impact of the blow was such that for a moment the bird lost consciousness and like a badly served shuttlecock, it fell unceremoniously from the sky.

Seizing the moment, the Wizard reached for his wand again and, with a quick incantation followed by a sharp bolt of electric blue magic, he turned the nuisance bird into a Puddock. Harry gasped at his own good fortune. For, as a result of the Wizard’s magic, he was able to see, first hand, what would have become of him had the evil witches of Slate Hill had their wicked way.

In the knowledge that Hezzerbah’s spell was only temporary he began to laugh, for a Puddock, it transpired, was nothing more than a common toad with a Glaswegian accent! “See you Jimmy!” the gruff amphibian croaked, as it hopped off into the thicket for cover.

Thoroughly satisfied with both himself, and his revengeful actions, the Wizard picked up the note from the ground and handed it to Basil. It read…

‘Congratulations Treewoods on the success of your quest. We are forever in your debt. Thank you for making our world a better place.’

At the bottom of the page, the note was signed, Douglas Batter and friends, Catherine Wheel (for and on behalf of the Wheel people) Neddy Hallpike, The Beeble, Nevin and all the Quaggas at Gogo side.’

Beneath the signatories’ names there was a P.S. from Catherine…

‘Dear Basil. Now we understand the sunlight. Thank you for the wonderful gift. Thinking of you always, Catherine.’ Her foot note was followed by three large kisses. X X X.”

Basil’s knees began to tremble. His heart fluttered and his face turned pale. For the first time since leaving the plateau, he realised that it wasn’t only his absent grandfather that he longed to see. He had fallen head over heels in love with the gentle mono wheeled goddess, Catherine Wheel…

The celebrations continued long into the night. As the heroes mingled with the crowd and revelled in their newfound fame, much tea was consumed and many a tall tale told until eventually, with the first hint of daylight peeking over the horizon, the merriment slowly wound down.

One by one, the good people of Treewood forest headed for home, secure in the knowledge that all was well and, God willing, would remain so for ever more.

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