The Ogre of Oglefort

The Hag sighed. “I don’t know where I’d get hold of one. And they’d have to be trained . . . Though I suppose if it was just for the meeting . . . It might be rather grand to sweep in with an attendant. But it’s too late now.”

Ivo was grasping the bars of the gate with both hands.

“I could be one,” he said eagerly. “I could be your familiar. It says in the encyclopedia that they can be goblins or imps or sproggets, and they’re not so different from boys.”

The Hag stared at him. “No, no, that would never do. You’re a proper human being like Mr. Prendergast. It’s not your fault but that’s how it is, and you shouldn’t get mixed up with people like us. It’s very good of you but you must absolutely forget the idea.”

But Ivo was frowning. . . . “You seem to think that being a proper human is a good thing but . . . is it? If being a proper human means living here and knowing exactly what is going to happen every moment of the day, then maybe it’s not so marvelous. Maybe I want to live a life that’s exciting and dangerous even if it’s only for a little while. Maybe I want to know about a world where amazing things happen and one can cross oceans or climb mountains . . . or be surprised.”

“You mean . . . magic?” said the Hag nervously.

“Yes,” said Ivo. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

CHAPTER4A MEETING OF UNUSUAL CREATURES

It was Ulf who persuaded the Hag to let Ivo come. As far as he could see it was only necessary to get her through the meeting; after the Summer Task had been given out she wouldn’t worry so much about whether she had a familiar or not. So on the following day he tucked his long hair under a cap and the Hag wound a muffler around the fiercest of her whiskers, and they went to see the principal of the Riverdene Home for Children.

“We’ve just discovered that you have a boy here whose father we knew,” they told her.

And they asked if they could have Ivo to stay for a few days.

In those days it wasn’t nearly so difficult to get a child to come for a visit, and after they had filled out a few forms and produced a letter from Dr. Brainsweller to say how respectable they were, Ivo appeared with a small suitcase.

“Only he must be back by Monday,” said the principal.

Ivo was still wearing the dreary uniform of the Riverdene Home: gray shorts, gray sweater, gray socks—but his eyes were shining, and as they took him back to Whipple Road, it was all he could do to stop himself jumping for joy.

And it was clear from the start that he meant to take his duties as a familiar very seriously.

“Oughtn’t I to have . . . you know, tests? Inductions, I think they’re called?” he asked the Hag when she had shown him the attic where he was to sleep. “Like . . . you know . . . having a live louse applied to my eyeballs. Or . . . swallowing a worm to show that I’m not squeamish. It could be a magic worm, the kind that tells you what to do from inside your stomach. I read about one in the encyclopedia.”

But the Hag said she did not keep lice in her house, and the only worms went to Gladys, who had behaved badly but still needed to eat. She set him to dry the dishes, which he did very well.

“Though I do wonder,” he said. “I mean, couldn’t you just say a spell and the dishes would get dry by themselves?”

The Hag shook her head.

“You see, Ivo, there’s a code about magic,” she explained. “It mustn’t be used for ordinary things like boiling an egg—things one can do quite well without it. People who use it for everyday jobs are looked down on, and rightly.”

“You mean it’s a sort of force which mustn’t be wasted?” asked Ivo, and the Hag nodded, because that was exactly what she meant.

“And of course there are more and more of us whose powers are getting weaker,” she went on. “I used to be able to give people smallpox when I was young, and now I’d be hard put to even manage chicken pox. It’s modern life. Switching on an electric light instead of waving a wand, airplanes instead of levitation, and all that scoffing and sneering. Our magic has been worn down by it.”

There were only two days now to the meeting, but Ivo fitted in so well that it was quite difficult to remember that he was an ordinary boy and not an Unusual Creature. Gertie had really taken to him. She had always wanted a little brother, and she had made him a black cloak out of an old curtain, and they found a pointed cap for him in an old trunk. A proper grandson with Hag blood in him couldn’t have looked better, they all agreed.