Granny Bucket and Doctor Pyralia Skant had formed an unlikely alliance to thwart one of Durosimi O’Stoat’s more spectacularly bungled spells.

In a bid to rid himself of Doctor Skant, Durosimi had plotted to encase both the lighthouse and its current tenant in a monumental block of ice.

In fairness, the spell had partly succeeded. The lighthouse now stood as a great, bluish column of frozen misery. Unfortunately, thanks to something called Reflected Arcane Harmonics, not only had The Squid and Teapot been flash-frozen, but Durosimi’s own house as well. Durosimi himself was trapped in his study like a smug fly in amber.

Doctor Skant withdrew a glowing object from her bag: metallic, grapefruit-sized, and suspiciously pulsating with blue-green light.

Granny Bucket peered over her spectral shoulder. “What in blazes is that? Looks like something from the guts of a fallen star – or a very poorly designed kettle.”

Skant adjusted her goggles (they were totally unnecessary, but she liked the look) and smiled in a way that made Granny deeply uneasy.

“This is an entropic stabiliser. It encourages molecular structures to stop being so stubborn. I use it when laboratory doors freeze shut. Or when dimensional membranes need a bit of persuasion.”

She glanced at the ice-bound Squid and Teapot. “Or, indeed, this sort of thing.”

The stabiliser emitted a faint hum and a smell like burnt cinnamon as she placed it on the ice.

Inside the frozen Squid and Teapot, Rhys Cranham stirred, rubbing a lump on his head where he had met an unexpectedly icy beer pump. He squinted through several inches of frost at the shimmering blue-green glow outside.

“Reggie,” he mumbled, “Durosimi’s casting spells  again, isn’t he?”

Reggie Upton, bundled into several pullovers and an army greatcoat, grimaced. “Remind me to give that blighter a dashed good thrashing when this is over.”

Meanwhile, in his own frozen home, Durosimi floated in a kind of suspended animation, mouth locked in mid-smirk, eyes narrowed in self-satisfaction, quietly hoping he looked magnificent in profile. Unfortunately, the stabiliser’s hum was playing havoc with his spell, and the icy dome over his house began to creak ominously.

“Hmm.” Granny tilted her head. “Either your glowing kettle’s working or the whole island’s about to shatter like spun sugar.”

Skant frowned and increased the device’s power. The glow brightened, the ice hissed, and because Hopeless always finds a way to make things stranger than they need to be, Durosimi’s spell retaliated. A blue-white surge shot through the ice, spiralling into the sky like a deranged aurora. Every seagull on the island howled in unison.

“I’m fairly confident that wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Skant, already backing up.

“No, dear,” sighed Granny. “But I’m glad you feel confident about something.”

The stabiliser whined. The ice cracked, far too loudly to be comforting, and a deep, magical, and distinctly irritated voice echoed from somewhere within:

“WHO DARES TO DO THIS?”

Granny folded her arms. “Oh, don’t start with me, Durosimi O’Stoat. You’re fooling no one with that silly voice. You’ve frozen half the island, and with you in it. What do you intend to do about that?”

The voice faltered. “…Granny Bucket? Is that you? I don’t seem to be able to move.”

“Things aren’t all bad, then,” said Granny. “But your spell’s grown a mind of its own. Now hush before you make it worse.”

Too late. The ice melted unevenly, steaming in some places and freezing harder in others, as Durosimi’s magic fought both Skant’s technology and Granny’s ghostly counter-charms.

“You’d better have another one of them tropical stable thingies in your bag,” said Granny, “because this is about to go… ”

The stabiliser pulsed brilliantly once, then exploded into harmless glitter.

Skant stared at the empty space where it had been. “Well… that’s never happened before.”

The ice groaned and split, and from far beneath, something vast began to rise; a shape that belonged neither to science nor magic, which meant it was perfectly at home on Hopeless.

At first glance it resembled a dinosaur – perhaps a plesiosaur- before Durosimi’s spell had rewritten reality. Now it had too many eyes, three thrashing tails, and what appeared to be the balustrade of a veranda protruding from its barnacle-studded side. It gave a melancholy bellow that resonated in the bones of everyone present, living or spectral.

“Did Durosimi just summon a dinosaur into his own living room?” asked Skant, shielding her eyes as the thing’s glow intensified.

Granny gave a world-weary sigh. “No, dear. That’s probably been under the island for millions of years. He just woke it up.”

The creature, stubbornly ignoring the laws of gravity entirely, rose ponderously into the air, trailing ribbons of melting ice and a very confused weathercock from the Squid and Teapot’s roof.

Inside the thawing inn, Rhys, Reggie, and several regulars stared at their half-frozen tankards.

“Did… did a dinosaur just float past the window?” whispered Reggie.

“Don’t ask,” muttered Philomena, brushing ice from her shoulder. “Just don’t ask.”

Meanwhile, Durosimi’s ice prison collapsed, dumping the sorcerer in a slushy heap in his front garden. He spluttered, frost clinging to his eyebrows, and looked up just in time to see the floating dinosaur drift toward the horizon.

“Please, no one mention this,” he croaked, trying to salvage some dignity.

“Too late,” said Granny, floating closer with a smug expression. “You froze half the island, nearly flattened the Squid and Teapot, and released whatever that was. I’d say your reputation’s in tatters.”

Skant, still staring at her shattered stabiliser, smiled faintly. “On the bright side, I’ve just proven my device can melt magically-imbued ice. Though waking up a dinosaur… that’s new.”

The floating creature gave one last haunting cry before disappearing into the mist, taking with it half of Durosimi’s balustrade and a rather nice deckchair from behind the inn.

Hopeless fell silent again. The last of the ice dripped into puddles. The Squid and Teapot’s door burst open and a soggy Reggie strode out, sword stick in hand.

“Right,” he barked, pointing it at Durosimi. “Next time you get the urge to cast anything bigger than a kettle charm, you ask first. Clear?”

Durosimi opened his mouth, then – catching the look in Granny’s eye – nodded dumbly.

Granny floated back toward Skant, a faint smile playing about her translucent lips. “You did well, girl. For someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

Skant raised an eyebrow. “I’m revising my position.”

They exchanged the briefest of nods before turning their attention to the squelching, embarrassed figure of Durosimi O’Stoat, already attempting to look as though the entire fiasco had never really happened.