47. Portkey

Cooties!


Alex was shaking his head vigorously. ”I don’t want to.”

His mother restrained from sighing and just put her hand on his arm. “We’re going home. Come now, darling.” She begged him, smiling.

But Alex only shook his head. “I won’t. It’s old and dirty and I might get the cooties. And don’t call me Alexander.” He added still glaring at the old boot they were supposed to use as a portkey.

“Alexander, how are you planning to get home?”

“Flying.” He nodded. “And don’t call me Alexander.”

Five minutes later they were on the train back to New York.