The children followed the instructions and arrived shortly at the entrance to the gallery. They were about to enter when they realized someone was already there.

"Reveal your secret, Ebanister!" said a panting voice. "You have no choice! It's your Master who commands it."

From the other end of the room, the children couldn't see who was there, but they could see shadows cast on the wall: one of a man with a cone hat and a wand in his hands, and the other of an old hunchback, hung by wires from a frame, like a puppet. The children knelt quickly, trying not to be seen, and listened quietly.

"Speak, Ebanister!" ordered the hissing voice. The sorcerer raised his hand, yanking the wires and causing the old man's body to jerk like rubber.

"AAAHHH!" His agonizing cry spread throughout the library.

"Where are they, I said!" thundered the sorcerer, hitting the old man in the face with his wand. "You want to be tough, do you? Let's play it your way, then," he said, moving the wand and causing the wires to tighten even more.

"AAAHHH!" The man's bones began to creak. "AAAHHH! Enough, please," he begged.

"Speak now, and you'll be spared!"

"OK, OK... they're... they're... they're..." said the exhausted old man.

"Hey! You!" yelled Peter, standing up. He realized his wand was pointing at the general manager.

The wizard froze and looked straight at the child in back of the room.

"What are you thinking?" whispered Michael, trying to pull him down. "Are you crazy? He is at least a black belt in witchcraft. He'll shred you to pieces."

"We can't let the black wizards get ahold of the chimeria!" replied Peter, leafing at the same time through the pages of the Great Book. "Besides, you heard what Dubbets said. The black wizards' power is limited until Gobler comes back."

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the man, grinning. "Are you trying to stop me?"

"Yes, that's the plan... LINGUAE VISCOSAE!" yelled Peter, taking him off guard. Then, he twirled his wand and hurled a spell. Immediately, dozens of tongues left the tip of the wand and wrapped the wizard from head to toes like the tentacles of an octopus, immobilizing him.

"Quick! Let's free that poor old man!" said Peter, running.

"OK, but I already know I'm going to be very sorry," said Michael, following reluctantly.

"We have to find a spell that can free him!" said Peter, kneeling at the old man's feet, thumbing desperately through the pages of the magic text.

"You'd better hurry!" suggested his brother, watching the sorcerer free himself from each tongue.

"Here! Freeing spells..." He read out loud. "To break a punishing spell cast by a sorcerer, check volume three of the encyclopedia. Rats!"

"Peter, do something!" Michael pressed him, while each tongue snapped off like a toothpick.

"B-boy!" called the old man, almost out of breath.

Peter ran close to him, rising on his tiptoes to hear him better. "How can we help you?"

"It's too late for me," said the man, who had lost every ounce of strength. "But you can still make it."

"We can't leave you here in this condition!" shouted the boy.

"You have no choice," he said calmly. "But first... you have to do something important for me... cough... cough! Can you promise? You must promise!"

Peter looked at his brother and both nodded.

"You m-must..." he stopped and took a deep breath to lessen the pain. "You must look for the Cosmedìen... He's the one who keeps them... and then... and then... hide them! You must destroy them. They can't have them. Do you understand? They can't..." The old man's face twisted into a grimace of pain.

"What's a Cosmedìen, sir?" asked Peter, confused. "And where can we find him?"

"H-here... in the... in the lib..." the old man whispered a few last words. Before closing his eyes, he left in the boy's hands a crown-shaped medallion.

"Sir!" Peter shook the man, who departed forever before his eyes. "Please, sir!" the boy pleaded. There was nothing to do.

"He... he... really..." stammered Michael shocked.

Peter confirmed with a sad nod, then gathered all his courage and headed for the exit.

"Let's go!" yelled Peter, pulling Michael. "We need to find this Cosmedìen. He must be here, in the library!"

"But we don't even know what to look for! We'll never make it!" shouted his brother, seeing that the sorcerer was almost free.

"We must!" he said, as he started to look around in that room. "We promised it."

"Peeeeteeer!" the sorcerer called in a chanting tone. By now, he was held only by a few tongues. "That's your name, right?"

The boy didn't reply, continuing his search.

"Don't believe what the old fool said. He was just a rotten apple... a traitor. He deserved his punishment. But you, you look like a smart guy... help me and I promise you'll be rewarded with riches and glory. What do you want? Come on. Don't be shy. You can tell Uncle Isidore. Maybe a new comic book collection?"

Peter stopped, surprised.

"Or maybe that magnificent telescope in Mr. Eodin's store? I can make it appear at once, you know?

"Your attempts to persuade me won't do you any good!" shouted Peter at him.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Very sure!" the little boy confirmed to him. "Come on, Michael. Let's go!"

"Terrible decision!" said the sorcerer in a sharp tone of voice. "Terrible indeed... AAAHHH!" he shouted, freeing himself from the last pasty tongue.

The boys left the room in a hurry, but the sorcerer had time to recover his wand and throw a spell against them.

"MOVENDUS SCIENTIAS!" he shouted, while several rings of black dust formed in the air and spread around the hall. Hundreds of books flew through the windows where they were exposed and crashed furiously on the children, as if they were moved by remote control.

"Who ever said books are good for you?" yelled Michael as he managed to dodge the deadly barrage by diving under a table in the nick of time.

"Run!" shouted Peter motioning for Michael to join him.

Michael got up but, instead of running, he stopped to look at an ancient manuscript that had fallen next to him. He stretched his neck to read the title.

"Cotton Vitellius," he whispered. All of a sudden, the book opened and the pages began to quickly flip back and forth as if moved by the wind. A grayish steam filled the gallery and a monstrous creature, half man and half animal, with buffalo horns on its head, massive iron claws, sharp teeth, and fiery eyes materialized in front of him.

"Run!" yelled Peter, startling him.

"HEEEEEELP!!" shouted Michael, running past his brother.

The demon began to chase them around the library, throwing and destroying whatever he found.

"Quick! Over here!" the boys zigzagged between tables and bookshelves, trying to leave the monstrous pursuer behind, but the distances were still getting shorter.

"Careful, Peter!" shouted Michael when the monster was about to grab him by the hair.

"REPENTE MALEFICIUM!" shouted Peter. The monster began to sob uncontrollably, bouncing hysterically at every sob. "Come on! Let's g... oh, no!" Peter exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hall.

The evil sorcerer was now in front of them, laughing wickedly and the monster, recovered from the spell, was about to return to the attack.

Just then, the boys heard a familiar rattling, as a silver knob appeared on a wall and an Arab-style door opened wide, showing Professor Costalbine and Kate waving their arms.

"Hurry, what are you waiting for? Come quickly!" shouted their sister.

The brothers ran toward the door with the sorcerer and the monster only a few feet away. Just before their enemies could grab them, they crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them. The professor pulled out the knob, and with it both the room and the foes disappeared into thin air.

"Per... fect ti...ming!" Michael commended them, panting. "I must... admit."

"But where are we?" asked Peter, trying to catch his breath with his hands on his knees.

"An abandoned area of the library," said Odilda, pointing to the cobwebs and the dust all around. "Judging from the smell of damp and darkness, we must be somewhere in the basement."

"We found it by accident," explained Kate. "The professor leaned on a bookshelf to rest and by mistake moved a handle that opened a secret passage."

"Yes! And we found this too!" continued Odilda, making her way between a number of pillars with statues of dragons on one side and of marble gargoyles on the other. "I'm sure it has to do with the chimeria Dubbets mentioned."

The children turned their eyes to see where the professor was pointing. On the wall, a huge face with an open mouth roughly carved in stone was surrounded by a circle of little doors, all turning around it.

"What is it?" asked Michael.

"It's an ancient mouth of truth," replied the professor bending down to read an inscription on the mosaic floor below the sculpture. "Qui purus tantum potisque ordinem transcendere, patefacere potest ianuas omnes; ei uni hic Londinium Dralon facta est. Sic dixit Cosmedìen... Only the one who is pure in spirit and able to see beyond the ordinary can open every door. Only for this person London becomes Dralon. Thus said the Cosmedíen," Odilda translated.

"The Cosmedìen!" Michael and Peter said in unison.

"What does a mouth of truth do?" asked Kate, curious.

"Well, legend has it that it could pronounce oracles and instantly recognize truth from fiction just by 'tasting' the hand of the person who asks the question. It also punished whoever dared to lie with terrible curses," Oldida explained.

"And what does it have to do with us?" asked Michael, confused.

"What's written on my forehead? Encyclopedia of the Century?" snapped the professor. "I can't know everything!"

Peter stepped back to study the sculpture. He then got close to it again and inserted Ebanister's medallion into a slot on top of the face.

"Look!" exclaimed Michael.

Just then, the eyes of the sculpture lit up, turning first into stars, then into balls of shimmering gold. Out of the nostrils came jets of hot air as the big mouth began to move.

"Are you the fearless pure-hearted one I have been awaiting?" asked the face.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Peter.

"Not me, for sure!" said Michael.

"Don't look at me!" joined him Odilda, raising her hands. "I've done my part."

"Are you the fearless pure-hearted one I have been awaiting?" asked the bearded face again.

"Say something, or he'll think we're rude!" urged Kate.

"And if we're not the ones he's expecting?" asked Peter, worried.

"Then we'll meet those nice marble jaws," replied Michael.

"Bump!" Suddenly, a noise came from the secret passage.

"Rats! Someone must have found the entrance. I'll go see," said the professor, wielding her electric whip.

"Are you the fearless pure-hearted one I have been awaiting?"

Still totally unconvinced he was right person, Peter took courage and stepped forward.

"Yes, it's... it's me!" he replied, hesitant. Nothing happened.

The big face continued to repeat the same words.

"Are you the fearless pure-hearted one I have been awaiting?"

"I think it's stuck," said Michael.

"Try to stick your hand in his mouth!" suggested Kate. "Maybe, he needs to taste you."

"Not in a million years!" said Peter, hiding his hands behind his back.

"I think Kate is right," his brother was forced to admit. "The professor said the mouth would talk only after tasting the hand of the person."

After a short silence, the mouth repeated the same phrase, with the children reciting along.

"Are you the fearless pure-hearted one I have been awaiting?"

"Stick your hand in the mouth, Peter, or this darned mouth will drive us crazy!"

"Ok! Ok!" said the boy, reluctantly stretching his hand toward the dark hole.

"May the test begin!" exclaimed the face.

"Test?" said Peter, increasingly worried. "What test?"

"Don't worry!" Kate reassured him. "Michael and I are here to help."

The mouth regurgitated a rolled papyrus. Immediately after, three gargoyles and three dragons lined up in a single row, divided into two groups, filling six boxes marked by symbols and leaving an empty box between them.

Peter pulled the sheet out of the mouth and read: "Guardians & Dragons."

The gargoyles and the dragons turned around to face him directly.

Peter jumped up in fright. He looked at his siblings, who motioned for him with their eyes to keep going.

"Aim of the test: move the dragons to the gargoyles' boxes and vice versa. In other words, bring all the dragons to the right and all the gargoyles to the left. Note - dragons and guardians can only jump over one statue at a time. The answer gives access to four doors."

"You're a dead man!" said Michael, analyzing the situation.

"Thank you very much!" replied Peter, disheartened. "How many mistakes can I make?" he asked the Cosmedìen, who didn't answer. "Ok... so, we just have to start."

"Good luck!" wished Kate, crossing her fingers.

Peter took a deep breath and stood exactly in the middle of the two sets of enormous sculptures.

"Well, the first move seems fairly obvious: guardian one to the middle box," he said. The first gargoyle moved to the empty box before him. The big face kept silent and Peter heaved a sigh of relief. "Dragon one to white planet!" he decided. The dragon on his left jumped over the gargoyle in front of him and positioned himself on the chosen box. Peter waited a few seconds. Again, the Cosmedíen didn't speak.

"Now..." he said, lowering his voice as he thought of his next move. "Now..." he repeated, uncertain. "G-guardian one to bla..."

"No!" Michael stopped him. "You need to move another dragon."

"Are you sure?" asked Peter, perplexed.

"Positive!" replied his brother.

"How positive?" asked Peter, fearing the loss of his hand.

"Enough!"

Peter looked at him, dispirited.

"Ok... so... dragon two to black planet!" he said.

The second dragon moved one box without any problem.

"Now, move the first gargoyle to the black crescent!" suggested Michael.

Peter followed his advice. Once more, the large bearded face kept silent.

"Guardian two to middle box?" asked Peter, who had apparently grasped the logic behind the test.

Michael nodded.

"Guardian three to white crescent and dragon one to white star," Peter ordered, quickly, "dragon two to white planet, dragon three to black planet, guardian one to black star, guardian two to black crescent, guardian three to middle box, dragon two to white crescent, dragon three to white planet, and..." he paused before pronouncing his last move, "GUARDIAN THREE TO BLACK PLANET!"

The wheel stopped and the mouth spoke again.

"You have the right to open four doors," the Cosmedìen announced.

"Hurrah!" the children cheered.

Peter approached the sculpture and opened four doors, not in any particular order. He found in one a cone hat, in another a long black broom, in the third one a stick and in the fourth one... in the fourth one, nothing.

"But there's nothing in here!" shouted the boy. "This drawer is empty."

"Are you sure?" asked Kate. 

"Look closer!" said Michael. 

"It's really empty!" replied Peter.

Just then, the Cosmedíen, without a word, spit out of his mouth another papyrus with new instructions.

"Again?" said the boy, distraught. "What does it say?" asked Kate.

"To Catch a Mad King," replied her brother. As soon as he pronounced the name of the test, an hourglass and a deck of cards jumped out of Cosmedìen's mouth. The cards scattered on the floor. "Aim of the test: capture the four mad kings before the time runs out (six minutes), being careful not to be hit by the guards (the Jacks) who can immobilize their opponents, by the queens who can make time go faster, and by the Ace of Clubs that frees the captured kings. Note - The three types of cards can hit the opponent only once. You can only use capturing and protective spells. The test begins when the clock starts marking the time. The capture of the four kings gives the right to open two doors."

"Ooo-kkk! Any suggestions?" asked the boy, hitting the palm of his hand with his fist.

"Try to stay alive!" said Michael.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"And remember," his sister continued, as she leafed through the Book of Spells, "to capture the mad kinds you have to use the words DETENTIO and to protect yourself from your foes the word DIFENDO. Did you get it?"

"Perfectly!" said the boy, stepping towards the deck of cards. Hesitantly, he lifted the hourglass and turned it over.

The cards began to crackle, grow, and swell. They then grew heads, two legs and two big feet. Within moments, the basement was full of strange men dressed as playing cards, who were running like crazy in all directions.

"Catch me if you can!" said the King of Diamonds, sticking out his tongue and running off.

Peter ran after him halfway across the room. Then, exhausted, pointed his wand toward him, and pronounced the spell: "DETENTIO!" The tip of the wand became a lasso, but missed the royal head by a foot.

"Peter, behind you!" Michael alerted him. A Jack of Clubs was ready to clobber him.

"DIFENDO!" Peter shouted instinctively, and a shield appeared to protect him.

"The King of Spades!" shouted Kate. "Run! He's behind that pillar!"

Peter avoided the sharp hearts of an angry Queen and narrowly dodged the flying darts of the Queen of Diamonds, until he miraculously arrived unharmed by the King of Spades, who was unsuccessfully trying to climb on top of the pillar.

"You wouldn't want to hit a poor old king, would you?" said the monarch, giving Peter the most innocent look he could muster up.

"DETENTIO!" yelled the boy, hitting the king who suddenly shrunk and became once more a playing card. "One down!" he said victorious, waving the card in his hand. He then stopped abruptly, turning quickly to protect himself from the Jack of Spades who had reached him from behind. "DIFENDO!"

"Three minutes and twenty-five seconds gone!" Michael alerted him. Peter glanced at the sand flowing inside the hourglass. Taking shelter from the simultaneous attack of the Jack of Diamonds, the Jack of Hearts, and the most fearsome Ace of Spades, he ran toward the small altar in front of the Cosmedìen where he could see the backside of two kings.

"King of Diamonds! King of Hearts! "

The two royals peeked out, shyly. "Yeees?"

"DETENTIO!" Peter shouted against the two kings who, being hit, turned back into playing cards.

"Peter, careful!" his sister cautioned him, too late.

The dreadful Queen of Spades, appearing almost out of nowhere, pierced him slightly with the tip of her scepter, causing time to advance one minute.

"Oh-oh!" Michael exclaimed, terrified. "Peter, you have exactly twenty-one seconds to capture the last king."

"But where is he? Did you see him?" asked Peter, looking around desperately.

"No, we can't see him anywhere!" replied Kate, fretting. 

"Fifteen seconds!" shouted Michael.

Finally, Peter saw the king, who was hiding behind a large stone dragon.

"There you are!" he said, pointing the wand at him.

The king smiled and took off his crown, handing it to the boy.

"You won! I give up!"

"Five seconds!" announced Michael, tense, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Peter raised his wand to end the test, but the Queen of Clubs, the last one still in the game, attacked him by surprise from the ceiling, throwing dozens of enchanted brambles at him. Just a fraction of a second before these wounded him and before the last grain in the hourglass joined the others, Peter cast the capturing spell, turning the very last mad king into a playing card.

"King of Clubs... DETENTIO!" he yelled, falling exhausted onto the ground.

The wheel stopped and the same monotonous voice of the Cosmedìen made its announcement.

"You have the right to open two doors."

"We made it! We made it!" said the children, elated.

Peter moved closer to the wheel, chose two compartments, and pulled out some notepads full of notes, books of spells, and a small vial with a quivering black cloud inside.

"There are still two closed doors!" said Michael.

"That means there's one more test," deduced Peter. Just then, the third papyrus soon appeared.

"A Chat with the Ghost," Peter read aloud. The Cosmedìen's mouth spit out a trunk. "Aim of the test: guess what Captain Erik Tedworth Hardcastle II, also known as Tongueless Erik, is saying. Note: No magic allowed. The answer gives the right to open two doors."

"This test does not seem difficult!" said Michael optimistically.

Peter approached the trunk and removed the lock. The lid popped open and the most typical of all ghosts jumped out like a storm - a man in his seventies with a bulging white wig, a ridiculous puffy shirt and knee-high boots. He then hovered overhead, dragging noisy chains tied to his calves, uttering heartrending laments.

"Hello, Mr. Tongueless Erik!" said Peter, raising his hand to greet him. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

The ghost stopped groaning and sat on a ceiling beam

"Fofafefaafofifeffafefafaifaffi!" he replied kindly. "What did he say?" whispered Michael to his brother.

"No clue!" replied Peter, shrugging his shoulders. "Mr. Erik... what's the important message you must give us?"

The ghost left the beam and started to gesture.

"Is it a thing?" asked Kate. "Are you miming a thing?"

The ghost nodded, still moving his hands.

"A book!" tried to guess Michael "An opening book."

Erik pointed his finger at Michael, inviting him to find alternatives.

"A window!" Michael corrected.

The ghost shook his head.

"No!" yelled Kate. "An opening door!"

The ghost twirled around, clapped his hands, and continued to mime.

"Behind... behind... behind a door that still needs to be opened! That's what you're trying to say, right?" asked Peter.

The ghost praised Peter with a long applause.

"What's behind the door?" Kate prompted him to keep going.

The captain pretended he had something tight in his hands, and then looked surprised as he glanced inside the trunk.

"Something wonderful?" asked Kate.

Erik shook his hand to imply the answer was close.

"I know!" exclaimed Peter, snapping his fingers. "Behind one of the other doors we'll find a clue for Goram's treasure!"

The ghost put his hands to his chest with joy, while the wheel stopped turning.

"We solved it!" cheered Michael, hugging his brother for the first time in his life. "We solved it!"

Peter approached the wheel and opened the first door. Behind it, he found a folded paper. Without reading it, he put it quickly inside his pants' pocket. He then stretched his hand toward the second door. Before he could open it, the ghost of Captain Erik started to gesticulate again, frantically.

"It's not another test, is it?" Peter asked nervously.

The ghost shook his head and started to move his hands again.

"Someone is angry?" tried Kate.

"A very angry mother?" asked Michael.

Erik looked up. He erased the invisible board in front of him and started again with a new subject.

"A dot on the horizon?" said Peter.

"Behind us!" said Michael, clapping.

The captain nodded nervously and repeated even more feverishly his series of gestures.

"A hungry bear behind us?" said Peter confused. "That doesn't make sense!"

"Maybe, it's because the Captain doesn't mean that!" said Michael, suddenly serious. "You'd better look behind you."

The sorcerer and Odilda were on the opposite side, watching in silence. Odilda was tied up like salami.

"Professor, are you OK?" asked Kate, frightened.

"Y-yes, dear. E-everything's under control... for now!"

"You three have done a wonderful job!" the man complimented them. "But now, enough games. Give me the chimeria... INSTANTLY!" he thundered, startling the kids.

"Never!" yelled Peter, though incredibly terrified.

"Don't you care about Professor Costalbine?" The sorcerer raised his wand and the professor rose in the air. "I wonder what's the most appropriate torture in this case... mmm..." he said, holding his chin. "Maybe the eyeball-eating worm... or the thought-strangling rope... No! The best is the painful transformation in a vice-chewing mouse!" He pulled up the sleeves of his robe and pointed the wand toward the woman.

"No! Wait!" shouted Peter. "Okay! Okay! You won... We'll give you the chimeria!" Peter waved his wand and the objects rose in the air.

"Also that behind the last door!" the alert sorcerer reminded him. Peter bit his lip. "Come on, what are you waiting for?" said the man, impatient. 

"The professor!" said the boy. "Free her and you'll have what you want," he tried to bargain.

"Grrr! I could grind you all to pieces in one second!" the furious sorcerer mumbled.

"I don't think so!" Peter challenged him. "You can't get near the Cosmedìen, can you? That's why you don't come and take the chimeria. You need us to get them."

"Grrrr!" the man grunted, then whirled his wand in the air. The professor dropped on the ground and was dragged like a sack of potatoes to the middle of the room.

"What sort of manners are these!?" complained the woman, fixing her jacket and hat.

Peter stepped closer to the mouth and opened the last small drawer, taking out a pair of old-fashioned shoes. He gathered all the bewitched objects next and placed them more or less in the center of the room.

"Now free the professor!" he ordered.

The sorcerer whirled his wand again and the ropes that were tying the professor became loose and slithered away like snakes. At the same time, the chimeria lifted mid-air and glided in front of him.

"Finally! The long awaited moment has come!" he shouted, joyful, holding the welcoming shoes to his chest. "Master! You'll soon be able to dominate these miserable mortals again... LAPIS VIVENTI!" he yelled, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

The row of marble dragons started to come to life, positioning for attack.

"The dragons!" yelled Peter.

"I swear I'll never set foot in a library again in my whole life!" said Michael as he ran away in fright.

* * * * * * *

"Now, we just need to call back the Master!" said the sorcerer, ready to fly away on his broom.

"I think you must rethink your plans!" shouted a voice behind him.

"You, here?" said the sorcerer, surprised. "H-how did you...?"

"What? Are you surprised that three old men like us can still fight a stone giant?" asked Archibald.

"If you mean, how we knew you were in the library..." continued Bagus, "We searched Ebanister's office and found photos of him with his grandson Isidore Gobler Dott, manager of the national library."

"Then we met Grimalion who confirmed our suspicions!" concluded Gustaf.

"Evidently, I've underestimated you!" said the man, branding his wand. "But not this time! I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Before settling the matter..." said Gustaf, "I'd like to know who is it that I'm fighting. Show yourself, if you have a shred of honor, and tell us who you really are!"

The man chuckled, then placed a hand on his head, and assumed his real identity.

"W-what?" stammered Gustaf, paralyzed by the shock. "It... it can't be!"

"Abigore? You?" exclaimed Bagus, disbelieving.

"Master Gammal!" cried Gastogne, wounded.

"But why?" asked Archibald. "I don't understand."

"But it's simple!" replied Abigore, putting his magic wig inside a pocket. "Nobilius... the great wizard you respect and praise so much, is no better than Gobler. With the Caris Protex, he has divided families and friends for centuries. He has confined his people to a life without prospects, without magic, and surrounded by a myriad of inferior beings."

"We've all lost someone, Abigore!" replied Gustaf. "It was the price we had to pay. Nobilius has saved many other lives!"

"What lives? Mortals?" howled Abigore. He calmed down, looking at the others in the eyes. "Don't you understand? We'll finally be able to join our loved ones and become the wizards we used to be, even if we have to help Gobler to come back... I accept the consequences and you should too."

"You know we can't do it!" replied Gustaf, grabbing his wand.

"We don't want to fight against you, Abigore," said Archibald, "but if you don't leave us any other choice, we will do it without any hesitation," he continued, lifting his wand.

"Very well!" replied Abigore, with an evil smile. "If this is your decision... let the dance begin!"

Before any of the wizards could cast the first spell, a voice stopped them.

"Put down your weapons or whatever darned thing you have and put your hands up!" ordered Biddle, speaking into a megaphone. "You're surrounded!"

"Darn it!" shouted Bagus. "Not now!"

Abigore didn't miss his chance. He threw fiery dust at the wizards' feet and took advantage of that fortuitous diversion to disappear into thin air with the chimeria. The Puddleclock, on the other hand, could only mount their brooms and hide in the library.

"Follow them, blimey!" Inspector Biddle ordered his agents.

"Follow them? B-but, Inspector... these guys fly... on brooms!" replied a policeman, terrified.

"I don't care!" screamed Biddle. "With or without brooms, they're still criminals. I want them out of the library in less than five minutes. Am I clear?" He spit out the licorice stick he had just put in his mouth and slid his trusted Colt from the holster under his arm.

"Let's go to war!"

* * * * * * *

Peter had managed to dodge a fiery tongue by throwing soap into a dragon's eye with a cleaning spell, but knew that device couldn't help for long.

"How many more?" he asked.

"Too many!" replied Michael. "The spells in this book suck!"

"It's because the first book must teach only the basics of witchcraft!" explained Kate.

"Every exit is impregnable, the book of spells is on the altar and Grimalion's knob is in the sorcerer's hands!" said Odilda, who had just come back from patrolling the area. "We must get back into the secret passage if we want to leave this place."

"It's not a bad idea!" said Michael "If twelve dragons were not blocking it... and if they weren't ready to roast us!"

"Actually, there are eleven!" said Kate, almost whispering. "The twelfth... is right in front of us!"

"AAAHHHH! This is really the end!" they cried, closing their eyes and hugging each other.

They waited helplessly for the powerful flame of the dragon to turn them to ashes, but the fire never came. As they slowly reopened their eyes, they saw that the dragon in front of them, along with every other dragon in the room, had suddenly turned back into a statue.

"H-how's it possible?" said Odilda, shocked. "Who did that?"

"We did!" said Archibald Puddleclock, gently touching the professor's hand with his lips, "Enchanté."

"You must be the Moffet children, right?" asked Gustaf.

The kids nodded.

"You've been very brave! The magic world will be eternally grateful to you."

"You don't have to thank us," said Peter, lowering his eyes. "We've failed. One of the black wizards has run away with the chimeria."

"We know!" said Gustaf, shrugging one shoulder. "But that doesn't mean it's finished. They have only won the first match. We'll get the final victory, don't worry, son."

"Because we have no intention to give up... have you?" asked Bagus, shaking Michael's shoulder.

"No! We won't!" replied the children in unison.

"Very well!" said Gustaf. "Now, there's just one thing to do."

"What?" the curious children asked.

"Go home and get ready for the next battle!"

"NO ONE MOVES UNTIL I SAY SO!" yelled Inspector Biddle, pointing his colt at Gustaf.

"Bravo, inspector!" the true Lord Dott, who was standing behind him, congratulated him. "Put them all in jail!"

"I don't know what tricks you're using..." continued Biddle, "but no one messes up my London and gets away with it."

"Forgive us, inspector, but unfortunately we don't have time for all this," said Gustaf, raising his wand over his head.

"OBLITEUS!" he said. A bright light emanated from the tip of the wand, spreading in every direction.

Inspector Biddle, Lord Dott, the two agents behind them, and Odilda started to look around, stunned.

"W-where am I?" asked the professor. "And who are you?"

"Oh, believe me, it's not important!" replied Gustaf. "Now, these kind policemen will escort you home. Won't you?"

"Well, of course!" replied Biddle, placing his pistol back in its holster. "Why else would we be here?... Higgings! Help the lady!"

"Could you give me a ride too?" asked Isidore, courteously. "Certainly!" replied the inspector, still confused, but avoiding further questions.

"But what happened?" asked Kate.

"A forgetting spell!" replied Archibald.

"Tomorrow morning, no one will remember what happened here," explained Gustaf. "It's neither wise nor safe for you mortals to know so much about the Contrary World."

"They won't remember anything at all?" asked Michael.

"Nothing!" confirmed Bagus.

"And us?" asked Kate, worried. "We'll still remember, right?"