'Rookwood!' bellowed Percy, the crackle of magic spitting from his wand. It crashed into the debris left of his target, and Rookwood's laugh rumbled back at him.
'Pop goes the weasel!' sang Rookwood, and Percy roared, thinking of the way Fred had been just out of reach when the wall had been so close and so fast.
And when he fell asleep to it, he dreameed he was a blue-bird off to meet its physical echo just on the otherside of a shimmering rainbow.