#magorian

Harry:

Hermione:

‘When the Second World War breaks out, young Willie Beech is evacuated to the countryside. A sad, deprived child, he slowly begins to flourish under the care of kind old Tom Oakley. But then his cruel mother summons him back to war-torn London… Will he see Mister Tom again?’

Book Review: no spoilers I bought this book because it was read to my class in primary school, and I fancied to read it properly because I don’t remember a lot of the book. I picked this book up because I was feeling a historical drama set in WWII, especially after reading Outlander, and The Book Thief. So this book was a childhood favourite, and it is important as I liked it before I actually got into reading. But it was kind of sad that I didn’t like it as much as I did as a kid. But that’s alright for me, because something that caters to me when I was ten/eleven years old is not going to be my favourite book when I am twenty years old.

I did remember bits from when I was a kid, but I didn’t remember a lot of it. But I see this as a testament to it being a good book, because I remembered things from 9 nine years ago. There are books that I’ve read a few years ago, and even months, that I didn’t remember as well as this. What I took away from this when I was eleven years old was just that I was glad that I wasn’t Will. In terms of the writing, I liked it, because it was in third person, and you got feelings and emotions from all the characters. In terms of plot I feel like not a lot happened, but the book is more about character development than what is happening in a small village in the countryside of England.

My favourite part of the book is the growing relationship between Mr Tom and Will. It is the main part of the book, and I really liked seeing them grow. I felt like they gave the other what they needed. I would say that the middle part of the book was a bit sluggish. It wasn’t as good as the beginning, nor the end, but I didn’t mind it. I could really just some the book up as, “I didn’t mind it.”

Overall, I give this book a 6/10, or a 3/5. I did like it, but I liked it a lot more when I was a kid. It did make me cry, which was a testament to the writing. I suppose I was just disappointed as I liked it so much when I was younger. I will be keeping this book because it was a childhood favourite, but I don’t think I will be re-reading it any time soon. Maybe when I have a child, I will read it to them. I would recommend this book to young readers. I think it captures wartime England quite well, and it shows children what a good familial relationship should be like. I would recommend it to people to haven’t read it as well, as I do think it is quite good. Just not as good as I thought it would be.

The sun was low over the forest, the trees casting long shadows in which unknown things made their home, waiting for the night. Albus Dumbledore appeared in a flash of fire, disturbing countless creatures and leaving behind a smell of sulphur.

He looked so calm, so natural, in the forest that one might almost have thought that he did not know what dwelt there. But then he turned his head to the side and called to a young centaur foal, his mauve flank perfectly camouflaged among the deep purple moss, “I would have words with your leader. Would you please go and get him for me?”

The foal nodded and galloped away. Dumbledore stood for some time, scratching his nose or looking up at the stars, his reputation standing like an invisible shield between himself and the denizens of the woods.

The sun had set entirely by the time the golden centaur Magorian, at least 42 hands high, looking like some great, terrible statue, appeared on a ridge between two tall trees.

“Venus is especially lovely this evening,” Dumbledore commented.

“Do not try and mollify me, Albus: we will not return the prisoner.” Magorian’s front left hoof stamped as he said this leaving a deep imprint in the soil.

“Then you will provoke a war,” Dumbledore retorted, no threat or malice in his voice, “A war which I am afraid you will not win.”

“We can defend ourselves against the efforts of a few paltry wizards.”

“How about the entire Ministry of Magic?” Dumbledore queried. Magorian, his chin held high, raised an eyebrow. “It seems you don’t know just whom you have taken captive. Allow me to enlighten you- your prisoner is none other than Dolores Jane Umbridge, undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself.”

“We take no heed of human titles.” Magorian thumped a hand against his chest and the sound echoed throughout the clearing, “In this forest we are the lawmakers.”

“If you wish that to remain the case, I suggest you give Ms. Umbridge before an official investigation and review of your rights is called. Besides,” Dumbledore smiled wrily, “I imagine you are rather sick of her.”

“This is not a joking matter.” Magorian replied, his voice rising.

Dumbledore’s face became deadly serious, “Who’s joking?”

“She trespassed on our land. She called us animals. She attacked us!”

Dumbledore suddenly became aware of at least a dozen other centaurs, encircling him, hiding in the half-light, weapons drawn.

“If it were up to me alone, I would let you keep her and do as you would. But the Ministry will want their employee back and I’m afraid to say they will not be above violence in pursuit of her.”

“We are not above violence ourselves!” Magorian called back, and several bowstrings tautened, arrows trembling with anticipation.

“Give her to me now, let me take her back to the human world, and no one need get hurt.”

“Will she be punished for her misdemeanours?”

Dumbledore glanced down at the ground; his silence spoke volumes.

“Then I refuse.” Magorian pawed at the ground again. And suddenly a great stamping of hooves began, the forest filling with the sound. “We will not be treated like beasts.”

Even over the noise of furore of the centaurs stomping, and without raising his voice, Dumbledore could be heard to say, “I see you cannot be swayed from your conviction. I hope you are as strong as you think.” He turned around and began to walk from the clearing, when he found his way blocked by a broad roan stallion, he said politely, “Excuse me.”

In response, the centaur raised his great club.

“You would attack an unarmed man?” Dumbledore had the manner of a teacher disappointed in a favoured student.

“Where is your wand?” Magorian called from his position at the top of the hillock.

“I didn’t bring it,” Dumbledore replied calmly, still staring down the centaur poised to strike, “This is a diplomatic mission.”

This set a murmur off throughout the heard- they had never seen a wizard without his wand before.

“And if we wish to take you prisoner too?”

“That is completely within your power. But, I hope, you are wise enough to know that that would end even worse for you.” Here, Dumbledore turned and smiled benevolently at Magorian. “As well as completely counterproductive: I have ever been an ally of all the creatures of the forest- I have always fought for your rights and recognition; I wouldn’t come here unless I thought you were in danger. I have often given you counsel and received it in return. I see no reason for that to change now. I came here as a friend. Do not look for a reason to fight.”

There was another round of muttering between the gathered centaurs. Magorian’s eyes surveyed his followers gathered before him. Tentatively, the roan stallion lowered his weapon. Finally, Magorian clapped, “Bring the prisoner.” Two centaurs sprinted off into the darkness. “We will relinquish her to you, Dumbledore, but be warned- wizardkind keeps encroaching on our way of life. We will stand it no longer. We give this woman back as a token of mercy. There will not be a second such token.”

“Noted.” Dumbledore said, still smiling.

The two centaurs, carrying a dirty, battered and shabby Umbridge between them, dumped her at Dumbledore’s feet and then retreated. All of the other centaurs took this as their cue to melt back in the shadows.

Umbridge clutched at Dumbledore’s hem, her fingers twisting in the fabric, “Oh, you won’t believe what they did to me, those savages-”

Magorian acts as the leader of the centaur herd that lives in the Forbidden Forest and led the charge of centaurs during the Battle of Hogwarts. He was bounded by Dolores Umbridge after disapproving of her remarks about centaurs being "filthy half-breeds." Although centaurs don't usually harm the young and the innocent, Magorian was in favour of killing any human that wandered into the centaurs' territory or insulted them.

--

An excerpt from my untitled short story set in 1939 about a cynical old doctor named Rudolph Magorian, doctor and light-keeper of 'The Town of Oppurtune' who frequently gets in trouble with the Police Cheif McLackey, and the doctor's assistant, Kitty Parsnip. He decides to give homeage to London blitz refugee Winifred Mitz Robinson, who is very susceptible to illness and has a heart defect.

 I made myself laugh while writing this. :)

             At ten o’clock in the middle of the night, in the desolate central park of the town called Opportune, Rudolph Magorian and Rudolph Magorian’s secretary, Jolie Parsnip, were stumbling about with nothing but a torch and some shovels. Now, any sensible person would question their motives, and inquire what indeed they were playing at, stumbling about a park at this hour. Rudolph Magorian, therefore, would tell you to kindly sod off.

            As for what Rudolph Magorian and Jolie Parsnip were doing stumbling about a park in the middle of the night, it just so happened that they were looking for something. It certainly wasn’t buried treasure, though it was crucial to Rudolph Magorian and Jolie Parsnip, for Rudolph Magorian was the town’s doctor, and the thing that he was stumbling about a park at night for was a very rare and protected herb for a small girl sick with Pneumonia.

            “I don’t know why we’re doing this,” said Ms. Parsnip. “This is ridiculous.”

            “You’re ridiculous!” snapped the doctor. “Now keep your voice down, you’ll wake all of England!”

            “How is it that you care this much about this case? You’re always so cynical to everyone and everything else! How is this any different?”

            “You know the answer to that, Kitty.”

            “No, I do not, Rudy.”

            He shot a scowl her way. “How long have you been my secretary?”

            “Forty long and tiresome years!”

            He smirked. “And yet you seem to hate me.”

            “Have you any idea how hard it is to be your secretary? Not only must I accompany you on preposterous quests for silly plants to here, there, and everywhere, try not to strangle the fools that start shouting complaints at me about your ghastly treatment of them, stay up all night nursing your patients, but I must worry about you catching your death up there at that dreadful lighthouse!”