Witchcraft #ONC2021

XIV

LUCKILY, I WAS RIGHT about the flight being peaceful. Grif and Ruby only had one instance when they didn't agree and I was almost knocked out of the sky but everything else went smoothly.

Mr. Hawthorne lived in a single story house, with a wonderful big yard and peach tinted shingles. On the ground, I could see that the house's walls were made of alternating grey, white, and tan stones. The front door was a warm wood and smoke drifted out of the chimney. 

"This is it," Nolan said, gesturing grandly at the cottage behind him.

"And we just knock?" I didn't feel too great about walking up to a random man's door and asking him whether or not I could stop Slepa. It just didn't seem proper to show up out of the blue.

"Mr. Hawthorn is a man of very few rules," Nolan assured me, "he won't think anything of showing up out of the blue. In fact, I should think he would encourage it, the way he keeps house."

"So you've frequented this wonderful place?" I giggled, thinking about the pure bliss I would feel to live in a small clearing such as this and have my very own private patch of sunshine.

"Oh, I wouldn't say I frequent coming here. I've only been twice. Come on then, let's get this over with. That griffin of yours seems antsy to start a fight with Ruby."

Indeed Grif was looking at Ruby calculatingly, as if deciding what her weaknesses were.

"Alright, then, let's get this done with," I sighed, taking bold strides up to the front door. I knocked delicately at first until I realized that it would most likely be best to knock firm and hard; a knock that would command respect from its sound.

A kindly old man answered the door with blue eyes ripe with wisdom, a sparkling bald patch as though he polished it, and wide framed glasses that were far bigger than his forehead.

"Ahh youngsters! To what do I owe this great pleasure?" Mr. Hawthorn asked, placing a hand on his rather large stomach. "You must come in and partake in some tea and biscuits!"

"Actually, Mr. Hawthorn, with all due respect, we're here on fairy business," Nolan said politely.

"Ahh, I should have guessed," the old man said sympathetically, "I know just the type of tea for this conversation."

Mr. Hawthorn lead Nolan and I into the house and shut the door behind us. The cottage was decorated as you might imagine with wooden paneling in every room, plush fur rugs, and a tall stone fireplace.

Our host hastily wiped off an end table and went to brew tea fresh. Nolan and I took a seat on the couch across from a worn out armchair and the table. The room was the biggest of the house with charming clutter strewn about. Bookshelves were overflowing with regular books and those of the magical variety. Dried herbs hung from a wood paneled ceiling, ripe for the picking for potion making.

"Sorry for the wait," Mr. Hawthorn fumbled a stack of tea cups and saucers as well as the full, steaming teapot.

I jumped up to lighten his load and helped set up the table for a suitable meeting focal point.

After the tea had been poured and the sugar and milk added, Nolan and I didn't beat about the bush.

"Mr. Hawthorn," I began, "you must know that Slepa is the fairy that's been terrorizing the kingdom. We would like to know..." I trailed off, afraid to say the next bit.

"We would like to know if there was a possibility that Aria could be the witch of the cosmos," Nolan was very blunt with the whole thing, and I didn't know how he did it. Oozing confidence from every pore was not something I did, but Nolan did and you could tell.