Chapter 1 The first sighting

There were once two schoolboys. One was called Henry Prince. He was medium height, dark haired, and, until he changed to contact lenses, he wore glasses. He thought he looked a bit like Harry Potter. He sort of had the same first name. He had the same initials. But neither of his parents were wizards. He certainly wasn’t. He whispered spells under his breath. He thought hard about making his least favorite teacher break out in warts. And one day she did have a remarkably unpleasant blister, but somehow he knew he could not take the credit. His spells failed. Yet he was quite convinced that magic did exist somewhere.

That was the link between him and the other boy, Rupert Stiltskin. Rupert was small, rather ugly really, with wayward teeth. Despite his odd appearance, he certainly attracted people to him, and he was funny and sharp and manipulative. He was interested in what made people tick. He was also very interested in magic, as Henry discovered one day.

It was after school. On the way home Henry decided to pop into a large local bookshop and as ever he was drawn at once to the section on fantasy. He was engrossed in a book called ‘The Reality of Magic’, when a voice said,

“Don’t waste your time with that. It’s rubbish.”

Henry turned to see Rupert leaning against the science fiction section and holding a novel with the picture of a vast space ship on its front cover.

“So’s science fiction,” he said by way of retaliation.

“Yeah, but it’s fun. Magic isn’t rubbish though. I didn’t mean that. Just that book.”

“You’ve read it?”

“I’ve read most of the books in the section. And most of them are crud. They just don’t get what magic’s about.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s actually about what that book is trying to say, but doesn’t know how to say it.”

“You believe magic is real?” said Henry, amazed, as it was unusual to find many eleven year old boys prepared to be quite so definite on the subject.

“O yes,” said Rupert with a warm and confidential smile, as though he had just discovered a soul mate in Henry. Of course, that is exactly what Henry thought he had found in Rupert.

After that the two boys went around together for a while and spent a lot of time talking about magic and what it might be and where it might be found. They saw and read everything on the subject. However, although they were both firm believers, they did not see things identically. Henry took the concept of magic being real quite literally. He felt that it was there somewhere but he had no idea how to find it. His lack of success in tracking it down began to get to him, especially as other interests started to take over. Rupert on the other hand used to say there was no use looking for it in this world, it was somewhere else, and it was findable. He was quite positive about its existence.

“How are you so certain,” demanded Henry, “when there’s no proof?”

“Faith,” smiled Rupert.

“That makes it sound like a religion.”

“That’s exactly right,” replied Rupert.

The months went by and Henry found that his interest in magic had faded into a sentimental affection and a vague longing. Life was beginning to get real and he had to get on with it. Rupert was unchanging in his conviction. He would talk about it a great deal, to anyone and everyone. So strong was Rupert’s personality that nobody laughed at him, certainly to his face. It was simply a boy being weird. A boy who was popular because of his quick wits and ability to make teachers seem small and stupid without getting himself into trouble.

More time passed. Henry was less friendly with Rupert, but was still rather in awe of him. It was October 31 and a very atmospheric Halloween was promised. It was windy and stormy. Henry wished that he still believed in magic, because this was certainly a good night for witches. He was on his way home when Rupert came over to him. Rupert was rather excited, but then of course he had just managed to rid the school of one of its most unpopular masters. It was done quite brilliantly. A word here and there, a clever nuance in the school magazine, nothing dishonest but not very nice all the same. And on that particular day the master had resigned.

“Congratulations,” said Henry.

“O yes, that was so good.” Rupert grinned. “It’s very easy to manipulate people, you know. The trick is to make them think they always thought what you’re saying.”

“I know that,” said Henry

“Sure, but it’s one thing knowing etc etc. Anyway, never mind about that. I’ve got something much more interesting to do. And I want you to see it.”

“What?”

“You’ve always wanted proof that magic exists. I’m going to give it to you.”

“O right, it’s Halloween and all the evil creatures are stirring abroad. I’m trembling!”

“Don’t be a prat. Haven’t you been listening to me for the last two years. Nothing is stirring. But this is a special night. There’s a link.”

“To what?”

“To the world where magic exists.”

“Right,” sighed Henry. He finally realised he had started to grow up. But Rupert was determined and Rupert was not an easy person to refuse. He never put any pressure on you, but there was a sort of power there. Also, Henry was beginning to feel that Rupert, if he ceased being a friend, could be rather dangerous. So they agreed to meet later. Shortly before midnight. Naturally.

Shortly before midnight is not an easy time to meet anyone when you are barely thirteen, as the idea is that you are at home in bed. May be reading with a torch. Possibly reading something unsuitable too. All that is within normal expectations and parents deal with it. But whatever goes on is supposed to be home entertainment. Henry had to get out and by nature he was a very law abiding boy. He remembered that as soon as he had left Rupert and sensed it more strongly as the evening progressed. Furthermore the weather was cold and rainy, whereas home was warm and dry.

He went up to bed. His parents, friendly, untroublesome, trusting, also went up to bed. Henry felt bad that he was about to let them down. Nevertheless, at quarter past eleven he pushed up his window and looked outside. Not good. Trees were thrashing about all over the place and a soggy leaf splodged onto his face. He ripped it off, shuddering, because he thought it was a bat. Then he just felt stupid. A pity, because if it had not been for that leaf, he would have stayed at home. Instead, he decided he was behaving like a wimp. So he climbed out and easily scrambled down the wisteria attached to the side of the house. He glanced up. No lights had come on. He set off.

As he jogged down the street, he began to feel rather pleased with himself. He had done something moderately rebellious and he was a teenager after all. He was warm enough inside several layers and a hood. It wasn’t raining that hard. Altogether this was the right thing to do. So he was fairly relaxed as he went past the dark churchyard, although he did speed up a little bit. However, there were still people about and cars drove by. He reached the side turning which led to Rupert’s house. This was, it had to be admitted, rather a dark road, but that was partly because one lamp had gone out. He arrived at Rupert’s gate. It then occurred to him he had never arranged with Rupert what was to happen at this point. It was far too late to go up to the front door, ring the bell and announce that he had come to see Rupert.

A hand touched his shoulder.

“I’ve never seen anyone jump like that,” said Rupert with a satisfied smile.

“That’s stupid, isn’t it, to come up behind me.” said Henry.

“More funny really. Come on.”

“What, inside?”

“Like my parents are going to want to see you at this time of night. ‘O hi there, I just dropped round for a cup of cocoa.’ No not inside. Next door.”

“Why, are they expecting us?”

“O Henry, don’t make me regret asking you. Nobody’s expecting us. The place is empty.”

Rupert led Henry to the next door house, which was in complete darkness, and produced some keys. Apparently his parents were keeping an eye on the property while the owner was away. The boys went inside. It was a big Victorian house, with a long cold hall and an unwelcoming atmosphere. Rupert switched on a torch, which he pointed downwards, and led Henry up two flights of stairs to the top of the house. Even in the dim light Henry could see how neglected everything was, with piles of books and newspapers, and threadbare carpets. At the top it was even worse. Rupert took him into a room, drew the curtains and switched on a lamp. On one side was an ironing board and endless piles of clothes which had been washed, ironed and abandoned. On the other was a bed, some old chairs and a big carved wardrobe with a full size mirror in the centre between two doors. Above a dead radiator was a sooty black mark which reached up to the cracked ceiling. Most of all the room was freezing.

“It’s horrible in here,” said Henry.

“Yes, but it’s private. And there’s a fire. I brought one from home.”

Rupert switched on a little fan heater and pulled out a thermos flask.

“I always believe in a bit of comfort.”

“What happens if we get caught?” asked Henry nervously, thinking of the very large number of rules he must be breaking.

“We won’t be. Anyway, the owner said I could use this place if I ever wanted to get away somewhere.”

“Did they mean in the middle of the night?”

“O give it a rest.”

The room, or their bit of it, warmed up quickly and the soup helped too, so Henry decided to cheer up. Rupert checked his watch. Quarter to twelve. He pulled a book out of his jacket and some candles.

“Some sort of incantation?” Henry asked warily.

“Exactly right,” said Rupert.

“For spirits, for ghosts?”

“You just never listen. There are no spirits. There are no ghosts. But there is a parallel reality. Actually, I’ve now learned that it’s really a parallel unreality. It’s the world of fable. Of legend. Of magic. It all goes on there and I want to connect with it.”

“And tonight is a good night because it’s Halloween.”

“Yeah. That’s all true. This is a very good night to do it. The best.”

Rupert got out some sort of coloured powder and made a circle. Then he lit the candles and put them at equal points round the circle.

“You’re not thinking of sacrificing a chicken?” asked Henry, who was beginning to find this rather funny.

“No,” replied Rupert seriously, concentrating on what he was doing, “It doesn’t say I have to.”

“Would you, if you had to?”

“Of course.”

Henry could see the earnest look in Rupert’s eyes and decided that the boy he now thought of his former friend was seriously loopy. After tonight he would keep as much distance from him as possible.

“Right,” said Rupert, “it’s five minutes to midnight. Stand behind me and look into the mirror.”

“Why?”

“Because that is the way into the other world.”

“Are you sure we aren’t better off walking into the wardrobe? There seem to be lots of coats there.”

“Funny man,” said Rupert. “Just look will you.”

Rupert stood in the middle of the circle and opened his book. Henry stood outside and stared into the mirror. He watched Rupert turn the pages and begin to read.

“ ‘From the world where nothing is understood to the world where nothing is understandable, greeting. On this special night, when the force of reality is weak and the force of unreality is strong, let the barrier break and the two worlds merge. Let fact and fable combine, for truly there is no fact unless people tell the story of it and there is no story when all believe the fact of it.’ “ And so on.

“A mirror,” thought Henry. “That’s such a cliché. It’s always a mirror. And all these words. It’s a load of rubbish. Rupert’s an idiot. What am I doing here!”

Rupert finished.

“It’s a minute to midnight,” he whispered.

“Don’t you think – “

“Keep quiet. And keep looking into the mirror.”

So Henry kept quiet and kept looking. For a few seconds there was nothing. Then Rupert mouthed “midnight” and the house was attacked by a violent gust of wind. The windows rattled and the electricity flickered. Rupert gripped the book with excitement. Despite himself Henry stared into the mirror. There seemed to be a cloud forming – but it was only a patch where the silver had discoloured. Time passed by and nothing happened. There was no swirling mist parting to reveal a glimpse into another world, no sonorous voice asking what they wanted or even, thought Henry, offering to say who was the fairest of them all. Definitely not Rupert, plain at the best of times and now scowling with disbelief.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered.

“That is very true,” Henry agreed. “Don’t you think –“

Fear shut him up. There was now a third figure in the mirror, not coming through it though, but reflected in it, like they were. He was standing behind them. Neither of them turned round. They inspected the reflection. It was a small man with a knobbly head, as though it had been made roughly with clay but never smoothed out. His ears and nose in particular needed considerable attention, and all three were extremely hairy and rather gross. He was wearing a dirty robe and a red pointed hat. His eyes were sharp and – that was it, very like Rupert’s. In fact, Henry realised, for all that this man was a lot older and a great deal uglier, he resembled an unpleasant adult version of Rupert.

If Rupert recognised this, he was untroubled by it. “Yes!” he said triumphantly.

“Yes what?” enquired the little man smiling a Rupert type smile.

Both boys turned round.

“Yes I knew it would work,” said Rupert.

“O did you indeed!” said the man. His voice was at odds with the rest of him. It was melodious, reassuring, friendly. If only it were unnecessary to look at him.

“Well you’re here,” said Rupert, sounding very much like a younger version of the man.

“I certainly am, although I don’t know where. Maybe I had too much to drink at supper.” He looked round him. “It doesn’t look too good though. I expect you’d like me to get you out.”

“Out of what?” asked Rupert, puzzled.

“Out of this castle or prison cell. Whatever it is, it’s not a very healthy place for two young boys.”

“I’ll give you that,” agreed Rupert.

“Of course, there’ll be a price,” smiled the little man. “But do say, how did I get here? Did you summon me in some way? Did I respond to your deep feelings of despair and arrive as a sort of reflex action? I’ll have to watch that.”

“I brought you here,” said Rupert.

The little man squinted at him. “With that book?”

“Yes.”

“It must belong to a sorcerer. It’s too dangerous for a boy your age. May be I’d better take it,” and quick as a flash he was at Rupert’s side and a dirty hand with cracked nails was grasping at the book.

“Oh, no,” said Rupert, throwing the book at Henry, who caught it, much to his surprise.

“Well, unless you give it to me, I won’t help you.”

“We don’t need your help to get out,” said Rupert.

“Doesn’t look like that to me.”

“Well we don’t.”

“How about some gold then. Most people are desperate for a bit of gold.”

“Who are you?” asked Rupert, trying not to show how excited he was.

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” exclaimed the little man in mock horror, twisting a tuft of hair in his ear and winking at Henry. “Horrible habit isn’t it!”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because,“ said the little man, “it’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Look,” said Rupert, “it’s quite safe to tell us here. We’re not in your world.”

“Are you truly boys?” asked the little man suspiciously. “Or are you goblins or something of that sort. If so, you really ought to know I shouldn’t be messed about with.”

“Of course we’re boys. I’m Rupert.”

“I’m Henry,” said Henry.

“Are you sure you don’t want any gold? I know you’re young, but you’re old enough to know what gold can do for you. Everyone wants gold.”

“A bit wouldn’t do any harm I suppose,” said Rupert.

“Well, there you are,” beamed the little man. “Just what I would have said at your age. Actually, you rather remind me of what I was like at your age. Now, give me that book and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I think we need to see the gold first,” said Henry, who was developing a deep dislike for this musty smelling nasty looking stranger.

“That’s very reasonable,” agreed the little man. “You’re brighter than you look, Harry.”

“It’s not Harry ---” said Henry.

“Never mind,” said the little man, edging nearer to Henry. “I’m probably still confused from getting here without meaning to.”

“- it’s Henry. Henry Prince.”

“Prince Henry!” laughed the little man derisively. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“I didn’t say Prince Henry. I said Henry Prince. It’s not the same.”

“No, it can’t be. You’re such a poor specimen.”

“You can hardly talk,” cried Henry, who was getting very angry.

“No,” agreed the little man, “But I can nip.” And so saying he twisted the skin on one of Henry’s arms, causing him to drop the book. Quick as a cormorant, the little man darted down and picked it up.”

“Give it back,” demanded Rupert.

“Why?”

“Well for a start, you haven’t done anything for it.”

“That is true,” admitted the little man. “And a bargain is a bargain.”

“This is going to be good!” said Henry, who found himself getting increasingly hostile.

“But not until I know where I am and how I got here. I don’t like riddles – unless I set them of course.”

“You’re in another world and you came here through the mirror,” replied Rupert.

“Through the mirror! I don’t think so.” Suddenly the little man jerked. “I’ve got to go back. I’m wanted back.”

“No wait,” said Rupert.

“May be another day,” said the little man, clutching the book tightly to him. “I’ll come back and rescue you, provided I can find you again. And provided you aren’t nasty little apprentice wizards.”

“No!” shouted Rupert, “I’ve got so much to ask you? You can’t go yet.”

“I think I can,” replied the little man amiably. “O, sorry not to have come in by the mirror by the way. But how am I supposed to for goodness sake? It’s a solid object.”

“Yes but –“ protested Rupert.

“I’m off,” interrupted the little man, wobbling a facial bump at Henry. “Prince Henry!”

And with that, he gently vanished, exactly like the Cheshire Cat. Most of him faded away quickly, but his smile remained for a lot longer. That faded in the end, though not before the mouth repeated in a mocking tone, “Prince Henry!” But the book stayed behind, never fading at all, but at the last minute, just before the little man disappeared, dropping to the floor with a loud bang.

Henry stopped shivering and said, “A ghost.”

“No, said Rupert, who was puzzled, “but you did spook him though.”

“Where did he come from? How did he disappear like that?”

“He went back through the boundary.”

“The boundary to what?”

“Henry, you never listen do you? To the other world, the world with magic.”

“I –“ Henry began, then stopped, because he had no idea what to say. If the visitor were not a ghost, then unless – “Hold on, was that a hologram. It was, wasn’t it? How did you make it work?”

“No it wasn’t,” replied Rupert indignantly.

Henry hoped it was a hologram. That would be a lot easier to deal with. He could see Rupert setting up something like that to play a game with him.

“Prince Henry,” said Rupert thoughtfully. “Who’s that I wonder?”

“Noone. He was just being unpleasant”

“No. I think for a moment he thought you were claiming to be someone else.”

“That’s just stupid,” said Henry. “Anyway, it’s time I went.”

“You can go. There’ll be nothing else to see now.”

“Aren’t you coming too?” Henry was doing his best to adopt a sceptical attitude, but that might not last all the way down two flights of dark creaking steps in a strange crumbling house.

“No, I want to think about what happened and what went wrong. I don’t think you helped. You didn’t show him any respect.” He gave Henry a beady look and Henry knew that the friendship was over on both sides. Rupert also gave Henry the torch, which was a kind parting gesture. Henry made his way carefully downstairs and try as he might half expected that repulsive little man to reappear, with a knife may be, or some unpleasant associates. He crept along the hall with a growing belief in other worlds, telling himself that in ten minutes he would be back in his own room. He reached the front door and stretched out to open it. Then he gasped and prepared himself for a confrontation with something evil. The door was opening.

The hall light went on and Henry discovered the consequences of breaking rules, for the owner of the house was not pleased to see him.