Manaswini and Nirmala Garimella
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Finally, he started descending, a relief to me because I was running out of gas, and sneakily looking around, I parked my car and stealthily followed the wizard, who had just disembarked from his turbulent ride. The wizard, giving a small self-satisfied smile walked across the field into which he had landed and walked into a little hut at the edge. I followed, in a kind of sneaky step that was no doubt reminiscent of many spy movie spoofs. I could almost hear the Pink Panther music in the background. I went around to the side of the hut. It had not been built of very good material. The builder, in fact, might have taken lessons from the second little pig; such was the house constructed. As I peered inside, my eyes popped out of their sockets in amazement.
The little hut contained hundreds of Harry Potter books. I gasped in both delight and horror. This must be the place that contained the stolen books. As my eyes gradually got used to the dim interior, I realized that the inside of the hut was much larger than the outside, like in the Narnia books… All of a sudden, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, and looked urgently around for a place to hide. It wasn’t difficult, there were tottering piles of books everywhere. The wizard came in, this time accompanied by, well, Happy Rotter himself. I blinked, and amazingly, the wizards detected my presence. I turned to flee, but to them, it was simply a matter of poking the last book in the pile I was hiding behind, and the whole lot toppled down on my head. Blinking inanely, glasses knocked askew, surrounded by the plethora of dark blue books, I saw the two wizards confer between themselves hastily before I quietly and happily fainted.
“Er, Mom, are you ok?” said the voice of my daughter. I blinked, and removed the book sitting on my face and started to answer when I saw where I was. The afternoon sun cheerfully streamed in through my bedroom window, and I noticed my jeans-clad legs calmly sitting down on the carpet. Presumably, they were attached somewhere to the rest of my body, which I couldn’t quite feel.
“Curiouser and curiouser.” she sang, doing some sort of idiotic Alice in Wonderland imitation. Now thoroughly out of sorts, I picked up the book that I had plucked off my head, and glanced at it. Then I glanced at it again. It was the fifth Harry Potter book. My head spun. I quietly whispered to myself that I was seeing things and then I closed my eyes and opened them again. IT was still there. Then I realized the truth.
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