Мор - ученик смерти

           Hepullediton,brushedofftheworstofthedust,andcrawledunderthebedagain.TherewasalotofmuffledcursingandtheoccasionalclinkofchinaandfinallyAlbertemergedholdingastafftallerthanhewas.

           Itwasthickerthananynormalstaff,mainlybecauseofthecarvingsthatcovereditfromtoptobottom.Theywereactuallyquiteindistinct,butgavetheimpressionthatifyoucouldseethembetteryouwouldregretit.

           Albertbrushedhimselfdownagainandexaminedhimselfcriticallyinthewashstandmirror.

           Thenhesaid,’Hat.Nohat.Gottohaveahatforthewizarding.Damn.’

           HestampedoutoftheroomandreturnedafterabusyfifteenminuteswhichincludedacircularholecutoutofthecarpetinMort’sbedroom,thesilverpapertakenoutfrombehindthemirrorinYsabell’sroom,aneedleandthreadfromtheboxunderthesinkinthekitchenandafewloosesequinsscrapedupfromthebottomoftherobechest.Theendresultwasnotasgoodashewouldhavelikedandtendedtosliprakishlyoveroneeye,butitwasblackandhadstarsandmoonsonitandproclaimeditsownertobe,withoutanydoubt,awizard,althoughpossiblyadesperateone.

           Hefeltproperlydressedforthefirsttimeintwothousandyears.Itwasadisconcertingfeelingandcausedhimasecond’sreflectionbeforehekickedasidetheragrugbesidethebedandusedthestafftodrawacircleonthefloor.

           Whenthetipofthestaffpasseditleftalineofglowingoctarine,theeighthcolourofthespectrum,thecolourofmagic,thepigmentoftheimagination.