Harry Potter and the Professor of Combat

Jof had a learning-course to attend today so had set her own alarm to catch a train. Sadly her other self does not like alarms so switched it off, lucky Bud took her a cup of tea to wake her up. Then he took me to school without panic and I read Potter.
This is now a large part of my life and Ben in my class also loves a bit of Potter so we are going to write a book, 8th in the series.
Harey Pooter and the Professor of Combat is going to be a joint venture of indifferent spelling where I will write the story and he will illustrate.
To start it off, I drew the front page with a 3-D table as background. The broken (and still fizzing) wand represents the death of the ex-practitioner of magic who has just succumbed in some epic duel or other: his (or her) dead hand also figures with blood, burns and bruises to underline the seriousness of the Combat role. Potter and Ginny will have a son, spoiler alert.
We drove to the train station to spend £55 on tickets to get us to our weekend destination, more on that after the event.
Another gun shell arrived today, a World War 2 Russian 155mm, and very heavy it is too, they keep getting bigger. Then we drove back to exactly the same railway station to pick Jof up which was extra kind of us because it hailed on us as we got home.