Wizard vs. Lizard Read online

  Chapter One

  This is a story about Fred.

  Now, Fred looked like any other ordinary boy. He had two eyes, a nose and a mouth on his face, and on each side of his head was a pink, fleshy ear. As you’ll know, these features are common. Rarely does a young boy have more or less than two ears, although sometimes you do hear about it. But only if you have lots of ears yourself. If you don’t have any, you won’t hear a thing.

  Like many boys, Fred liked sausages. And chips. And ketchup. He was perfectly happy to eat them on their own, but he loved it when they all appeared on the same plate at the same time. He found toilets quite funny, as many boys do (not to mention some girls and plenty of grown-ups, too). In fact, sometimes, if the mood took him, Fred combined all of these things at once – that is to say, sausages, chips, ketchup and toilets – and had a bit of a feast while sitting on the loo. Odd, I know, but not necessarily unordinary . . .

  The thing is, sometimes even ordinary-looking boys can turn out to be not very ordinary at all. Once you know a bit more about them. Fred was one of these boys. And the reason he wasn’t very ordinary is because . . .

  . . . Fred was a wizard.

  Well, sort of.

  It depends a bit on how you look at it.

  You see, if the sort of wizard you’re thinking of performs magical marvels that boggle your eyes and blow your mind, unforgettable things that make you rush to tell the nearest person . . . If that’s the sort of wizard you’re imagining, then Fred was definitely NOT one of them.

  If, however, when you imagine a wizard they are pottering around the house, doing the boring chores that you and I do, only a little bit quicker because they can cast a spell, then, yes, Fred definitely was a wizard.

  You might think how amazing it would be to do the washing-up without getting your hands wet, force the cat to do your homework, or be able to flick the light switch in your bedroom without ever getting out of bed. But for Fred – who could do all of these things – it was really very dull.

  Chores and manipulating cats is very low-level magical stuff, you see, and – quite frankly – any wizard worth his salt doesn’t really consider it magic at all. If that were all you could do (and it was all that Fred could do), you should be very embarrassed, they’d say.

  Unfortunately for Fred, his family was full of wizards and witches worth their salt. He had three older brothers and two younger sisters, all of whom were worth a great deal of salt indeed. Salty heaps of the stuff! They were saltier than a seriously sweaty sardine swimming in Salt Lake City’s lake of salt. (By the way, if anyone asks you, ‘What’s the saltiest thing in the world?’ you can confidently tell them it’s that sardine.)

  Fred’s siblings were always showing off. Hovering in mid-air. Disappearing in a flash, then reappearing as a dog to frighten the cat. Turning chalk into cheese. Pulling hats out of rabbits (yes, you did read that correctly). Fred’s eldest brother, Wallace, was so good at pulling hats out of rabbits that he held the world record for it: three hundred and forty-two hats out of the same rabbit in an hour. Luckily, he was also exceedingly charming, so Clive (the rabbit), despite being a little surprised, didn’t stay upset for long. He even let Wallace keep the hats.

  And Wallace wasn’t the only high-flyer in the family. Fred’s three-year-old sister, Wilda, could already transform butterflies back into caterpillars, as well as count to infinity – twice. His other sister, Willow, had somehow found a way to make lemonade from limes and was extremely popular for having invented the world’s first chocolate teapot that didn’t melt.

  Then, of course, there were the twins, Wilbert and Wolf, who constantly reminded Fred (and everyone else for that matter) about their enormous list of accomplishments.

  These included:

  • making fire by rubbing two ice creams together

  • pulling wheelies on unicycles

  • unscrambling scrambled eggs

  • unfrying fried eggs

  • unpoaching poached eggs

  • unlaying laid eggs (which is really quite complicated if you think about it)

  • discovering Big Foot

  • discovering the Loch Ness Monster

  • discovering the Lost Kingdom of Atlantis

  • discovering the twenty-seventh letter of the English alphabet (on the same afternoon as finding Big Foot, Nessie, Atlantis, and an old shilling down the back of the sofa)

  • Wonderfully Wacky Wandwork Certificate: Advanced Level 92

  • being appointed Deputy Permanent Representatives of the Russian Federation to International Organisations in Vienna and Milton Keynes

  • 2004 Royal Commendation for Raising Awareness of the Plight of Badgers Award

  • being appointed Principal Brexit Negotiators

  • becoming Honorary Members of the UN Academy of Natural Sciences

  • becoming Honorary Members of the UN Academy of Unnatural Sciences

  • Swim England Rainbow Distance 10m Award (armbands and breathing apparatus permitted)

  Fred didn’t take all their claims seriously. He knew, for instance, that his brothers couldn’t have discovered Einstein’s Theory of Relativity before Einstein did, nor could they claim to have invented gravity or the Bermuda Triangle or cottage cheese. Even so, Fred was made to feel all the more useless and insignificant by their loud and persistent boasting.

  ‘Oi, Fred!’ they’d shout. ‘Are you still doing the washing-up? I hope you don’t mind but we’ve borrowed your wand because the magic we’re doing is so advanced we need three of them, and yours never gets used properly anyway.’

  His brothers and sisters were never made to waste their time or magic on household chores like Fred was. It was the only use his parents could see for Fred’s limited magic, but always made him feel like the odd one out. That his parents named him Fred didn’t exactly help matters, either. Why hadn’t they given him a name beginning with W like the rest of his siblings? Apparently he should have been called Wilfred, but instead of correcting the mistake on his birth certificate, his parents decided to ‘try something different’. It was clear as soon as Willow was born that they regretted their experiment. No wonder Fred was less magical than the rest of them: he’d been up against it from the start. And he knew he was a big disappointment to his parents. How? Because of birthday cards like the one he received this year . . .

  It was after reading this card that Fred made a decision. He had to become a better wizard. He was fed up of being the family joke. Every time his siblings made fun of him or left him out it made his heart ache. But most of all, he longed to make his parents proud. Just once. Things had to change. But how?

  He didn’t have a clue.

  Chapter Two

  As the old saying goes: If there’s anything worse than being clueless, it’s being clueless in a classroom of wizards and witches half your age. (Okay, I made that saying up, but you know what I mean . . .)

  If you thought Fred had it bad at home, he had it even worse at school. Other wizards and witches his age were already busy making lotions from potions, turning keys into monkeys and doing lots of other useful and advanced magic. Yet Fred was stuck among the youngest and tiniest of children. He felt like the twit among tots. The numpty among nippers. The airhead among amoebas.

  The tots, nippers and amoebas could already cast spells to tie and untie Fred’s shoelaces, even though they all wore shoes with Velcro and had never needed to tie a lace in their life. Fred couldn’t even make Velcro twitch, let alone convince his laces to embrace each other. He’d only just discovered which end of his wand was which. And, hard as he tried, he was useless at working out which wand belonged to which witch and which witch used which wand just by watching, which other witches and wizards could work
out in the tick of a witch’s watch. (Try saying that quickly!)

  For Fred, school was an almost entirely miserable experience.

  I say almost because there was one thing that stopped Fred’s misery from being complete. That thing was his best friend, Marvin.

  Unlike Fred, Marvin was a brilliant and gifted wizard. So gifted that he’d been advanced into the class for the oldest and most experienced wizards at school. Sometimes when teachers were sick, the headmistress would ask Marvin to step in and take their place. This could have made Fred extremely envious, but as Marvin was so kind and modest, Fred only felt pride for his best and, well, only friend.

  Of course, being in different classes meant they didn’t spend as much time together as best friends normally do, but at break times and travelling to and from school they’d always be found side by side. It was the time of day they both looked forward to most.

  You see, while Fred sometimes thought he had too many siblings at home, Marvin hadn’t got a single one. And, no matter how brilliant a wizard you are, you can’t just magic a friend or a brother or a sister out of thin air (or get rid of one, for that matter). Once Marvin arrived home, it was just him and his parents. And when his parents were busy investigating top-secret and dangerous magical crimes, he had to entertain himself. With Fred, he wasn’t so lonely.

  Most wizards travelled around by just clicking their fingers, imagining where they wanted to go and then POOF they would vanish. But, as we know, Fred wasn’t like most wizards, so he had to take the bus. Now, for you and me, travelling by bus is no cause for shame or embarrassment, is it? Well, I suppose it might be if you were to do something shameful and embarrassing whilst on it, like falling asleep and dribbling down the window, or finding yourself naked when everyone else is clothed. Or, for that matter, finding yourself clothed when everyone else is naked – that would be awkward. Generally, though, travelling by bus is nothing to be ashamed of.

  For Fred, however, it was. You see, normally, the only wizards or witches who travelled by bus were those who also couldn’t poof themselves around, and included:

  • Very young wizards/witches (ages four and under) who hadn’t yet learned to ‘click-and-go’

  • Very old wizards/witches who couldn’t muster the energy or magic to travel by click

  • Very, very old wizards/witches who’d forgot ten all about any other method of travel

  • Very, very, very old wizards/witches who had lots of problems indeed.

  • Very, very, very, very old wizards/witches who had so many problems that it would be unkind to mention them

  • Downright blooming ancient wizards/witches who were so old that they had museums or periods of time named after them, despite still being alive

  • Very lazy wizards/witches who preferred to travel whilst sitting on their bot toms

  • Very naughty wizards/witches, who, as a means of punishment, were no longer allowed to travel by click

  • Very confused wizards/witches who thought they were travelling by train

  • Very, very confused wizards/witches who thought they were travelling by unicorn

  • The most confused wizards/witches of all, who thought they were travelling on a train driven by a unicorn called Gary

  So, as I’m sure you now understand, travelling by bus wasn’t something that Fred felt proud of. Given that people on the bus were often a little bit bonkers, he also had to endure some very strange conversations. Conversations like this, for example:

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi,’ Fred replied politely.

  ‘What time does the custard leave the abattoir?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I said, How long is the bishop’s dishwasher?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Which of these pheasants do you prefer? The penguin or the toilet brush?’

  ‘Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘That’s okay. I like sawdust, too. Do you eat tiddlywinks?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Got to go – need a walrus. Just remember – whatever you do, don’t trust the kabuki.’

  And that was with the driver! I couldn’t possibly describe Fred’s conversations with the passengers. Your mind would be ruined for ever.

  Anyway, though Marvin could have easily POOFED himself straight home, he always walked with Fred to the bus stop first. He never actually got on the bus. Fred had always wondered why that was.

  ‘Sorry, mate, I just really hate buses,’ Marvin told him when he asked.

  ‘Really? Why’s that?’

  ‘Well, for a start,’ he said, ‘they smell, don’t they?’

  ‘Do they? Of what?’

  ‘Just . . . funny, you know. Weird. Odd. Of things buses shouldn’t.’

  ‘Oh,’ Fred said, surprised. ‘I’ve never really noticed, to be honest.’

  ‘Trust me, they do,’ Marvin explained. ‘Plus I never have the right money, and I always manage to pick a seat with chewing gum on which gets stuck to my bottom. And the passengers are always, well . . . strange.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Fred said. ‘You’re certainly right about the passengers.’ He could tell Marvin really didn’t like buses, and, anyway, he was grateful for his friend’s company for even part of his journey to and from school each day. They walked and talked, hearing each other’s stories, hopes and worries. Marvin knew that Fred felt lonely sometimes too, even at home surrounded by his enormous family. After all, you don’t always have to be alone to feel lonely.

  It was just after he had said goodbye to Marvin at the bus stop one afternoon that Fred noticed it.

  He raised his glance from the pavement to look more closely. There, on a huge poster at the bus stop, staring out at him, were two dazzling turquoise eyes. They were wise, knowing eyes that had seen majestic magic Fred could barely imagine. Above them rested the purple brim of an old pointy hat and below them a magnificent white beard flowed from cheeks like a candyfloss waterfall.

  Fred’s heart beat faster as he read the poster.

  Fred stood transfixed. He read the announcement over and over again. It was as if it was calling out to him: fill magic hearts up with pleasure and pride. Wasn’t that exactly what he wanted to do? And he’d always dreamed of meeting Merlin – THE Merlin! Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time, inventor of countless incredible spells, doer of unspeakably dangerous and heroic deeds, winner of Witches Weekly’s Most Beautiful Beard Award for the last three hundred and seventy-six years running! Fred had always fantasized that, one day, Merlin would appear from nowhere and come to his rescue, teach him everything he needed to be a brilliant wizard and make all his worries go away. He never thought for one moment that he might actually get to meet him in real life.

  But here was his chance. He’d enter the competition, capture the lizard’s tail, meet and become friends with Merlin, learn brilliant magic and, most importantly of all, make his parents proud – and his siblings shut up. There were a handful of leaflet versions of the poster in a small plastic case underneath the main poster and Fred picked one up. Then he noticed the small print underneath the announcement:

  Whitebeard Productions accepts no responsibility for any act that may endanger witches, wizards, lizards, ears, limbs, noses, little toes, little fingers, big toes, thumbs, lips, eyebrows, unibrows, that weird bit of extra skin on elbows, moustaches, toenails, etc., etc.; or that may result in humiliation, embarrassment, maiming, serious injury or the loss of dignity and/or life. Photography is strictly prohibited.

  Good luck!

  Small print? More like minuscule, terrifying print, Fred thought. Suddenly he wasn’t so keen on the idea. A fire-breathing lizard had seemed manageable just a moment ago, but the loss of toenails and lips? That was almost too horrid to imagine.

  The bus pulled up. Still dazed, Fred got on.

  As the bus set off, Fred gazed through the window, his mind elsewhere: a messy jumble of excitement, doubt, fear and trepidation.

 
The bus hit a bump. It jolted Fred back to reality.

  Maybe I’ll sleep on it, he thought.

  Chapter Three

  His eyes half-closed, Fred yawned before taking a bite of his toast.

  ‘Euuurgh,’ he mumbled. It was burnt. This wasn’t the good start to the day or the slice of toast that he’d hoped for.

  He hadn’t slept. He’d been too busy tossing and turning, waking himself from nightmares about fire-breathing wizards and lizards with no toenails, eyebrows or lips. Or was it the lizards that breathed fire and the wizards who lost all their toenails? It was all a bit of a blur. All he knew was that after a restless night he’d been really looking forward to that slice of toast. And it had disappointed him almost as much as he disappointed his parents.

  Fred scraped off the worst of the black layer and gave the toast to Tricky, the family’s cat. She looked up at Fred with horror, as if to say: ‘How dare you? That’s all you think I deserve? Shame on you. You should know better.’

  Then she took the toast anyway and enjoyed it in the garden.

  That’s cats for you.

  Fred put the last slice of bread in the toaster. He decided he had just enough time to go to the loo, so went.

  Not in the kitchen, of course. He wasn’t the cat. And besides, he didn’t want to ruin that last slice of toast.

  It was a poor judgement. I don’t mean it wasn’t sensible to leave the kitchen first – that was definitely a good decision – but fate and time conspired against him, and when he returned to the kitchen, the smell of burnt toast and smoke filled the air once again.

  ‘Bother!’ shouted Fred as he tried desperately to fan smoke away from the toaster.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ asked Wolf, walking into the kitchen. His twin, Wilbert, followed behind.