Wand Maker

Chapter 3

With choir, school that actually challenged me for once, and a social life, fifth grade passed in a blur. Soon, I was saying goodbye to everyone in my class and my teachers. But it sure wasn't the end.

During the summer, I had a sleepover, the twenty-third in my life (yes, I keep track. Don't judge me). My mom and dad were out for the weekend during our sleepover, and I was thrilled. This meant that my parents actually trusted me! Especially with two friends over.

Looking back on it now, I can't help but wonder if otherworldly forces were involved...

You know how they say that midnight is the witching hour? Well, it is. At least, on Friday, July 13th it was.

I remembered it clearly because we were all jamming out to Hamilton, the musical in my room. During a pause in the music, the doorbell rang suddenly. And something collapsed on our doorstep.

Addy, Izzi, and I looked at each other. Then, we descended the stairs cautiously, swinging around a flashlight. Downstairs, it was dark, and all was silent. I went to the light switches that turned on both the rooms' lights and the front porch's light.

I took a deep breath, and hit both switches with my hand, eyes trained on the door. And we all gasped.

There, lying against our French doors in a pool of blood, was Joseph.

I immediately felt dizzy. The sight of blood always made me queezy, and this was no different. I leaned against the wall clutching my head.

But apparently, Addy had no such qualms. She sprang into action, grabbing our flashlight and flicked it on. She swung the head around to make sure no one else was out there, then unlocking the door to get Joseph.

"I need some help here!" She groaned.

That got me moving. I grabbed his legs, and together we pulled him inside.

Izzi was more mobile than I realized. She had put towels on the couch and turned on the lights. But when she looked at Joseph, she turned green, and ran for the bathroom.

I felt like following her, but I realized that if I did, then he could die. After all, Addy was no nurse. Well, neither was I, but I was better at this sort of thing than she was. So I took another deep breath, and dove in.

"Addy! Go upstairs in the sewing room and get some fabric scraps!" I ordered. "Soak them in hydrogen peroxide; there's some under the sink." I started to strip Joseph's shirt off so I could see what I was dealing with, handling him like a doll that needed re-dressing. Addy disappeared to do my bidding, and I got his shirt off after some tugging and pulling. My eyes widened. Joseph had two identical gashes that stretched across his chest, like claw marks. Turning him over gently, I saw that he had little scratches that criss-crossed his back, like he had been running through branches.

At some point, Addy had returned, spotting a tub full of different sized scrapes from old sewing projects. I picked out the longest looking and wrapped it around his first wound. I repeated with the other one, and turned him around again. I dabbed at the small scratches on the back, then wiped away the blood.

But it kept coming back. The fabric strips were soon soaked through, and even though I replaced them almost instantly, the blood just kept coming. I started to get distressed. Then, my eyes fell on a Harry Potter book; The Half-blood Prince. It was one of many books that normally littered the couch, but Izzi had cleared most of them off. I remembered a certain spell in there that reminded me of Joseph's wounds. It was called the Sectumsempra spell, and it was a spell of the Dark Arts. Basically, it opens up a whole bunch of scratches that never clot up. They just keep going until they bleed to death. It is a horrible spell, really. But my tired brain kicked into action, and I asked myself: could it be real?

I made the executive decision to let Addy replace me- she had been watching me re-dress his wounds, so she knew what to do. I went outside to inspect the crime scene and pursue this crazy idea of mine.

I took the flashlight and turned it on. Carefully, I stepped outside and swept the flashlight beam around the porch. Immediately, I saw something. I took a step closer and examined it.

It was a brown leather bag, messenger style. I took it inside, and sat down at the table. I pulled out a bottle first. It was a clear, watery substance that was labeled in Joseph's careful print: Veristium. Unnerved, I put it aside, and dug around some more. The second time, I got what looked like a bag of rocks dubbed bezzors, the third grabbing something that seemed to be seaweed in a bottle.

With each new thing I unpacked, the more convinced I was that Joseph was a wizard. And that the fictional wizarding world wasn't so fictional after all. Finally, I grabbed the last two things in the bag: a bottle with a stopper labeled Essence of Dittany and a thin, wooden stick that buzzed to my touch.

I'll get to the stick in a second, I promised myself. But the Essence of Dittany was the thing that captured my attention the most. According to the books, it healed most major wounds, like splinching or the Sectumsempra spell. I took it over to Addy.

She was in the middle of removing the latest blood- soaked bandages from his chest. I glanced at his face. Almost all of his color was drained from his face; he had lost a lot of blood. I gulped, and shoved Addy out of the way "Move!" She looked at me with surprise. I was never so rude, but I didn't give the action a second thought. I was already sprinkling the Dittany on his wounds. Almost immediately, they began to scab over, and in a matter of seconds, they soon looked like healing scars, not something that had been bleeding a few seconds ago. I turned him over on his back and looked at his scratches. I drizzled the Dittany on his scratches, and they closed instantly. I sat back, and gazed at my handiwork. It looked pretty good.

I turned to see Addy staring at me, blue eye wide and mouth hanging open. I realized how crazy weird this may seem to her. "Wait," I said, "I can explain-".

"So you're going to tell me how you found Essence of Dittany in his bag?" she asked, pointing over to the bag in question, "Or are you going to leave me in the dark about it?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, at least, I could explain to Addy my theory that seemed to be turning out to be true. "O.K, so here's my idea-"

"Is it safe to come out now?" Izzi peered timidly around the door. She still looked slightly green, but her color improved greatly when she saw that Joseph wasn't bleeding anymore. But then a look of confusion came over her face as she realized why he wasn't bleeding. "Why have his gashes stopped bleeding? And why do they look like they've healed?"

"Because they have," I said, and held up the Dittany for good measure. "I have a theory. It's a shot in the dark and it's going to sound crazy ridiculous." I took a deep breath, and began.

"So, have you read the Harry Potter books?" I asked. Nods of agreement came back at me. "Well, I think that this particular bottle of potion, along with the rest of the stuff on the table, is from that same book series. For crying out loud, this is Essence of Dittany, and it's the reason Joseph is still alive. And I have proof to support my theory."

I steadied myself. This would be the first time that I willingly gave away my deepest, darkest secret: that I can do magic. Given past experiences, I wasn't quite hot on the idea, but I could tell from their faces that they didn't believe me. So, I tapped into my magical instincts, and opened my left hand. Dancing over it were open flames.

But these weren't your average, run-of-the-mill, orangish-yellow flames. Nooooooooooo, they HAD to be the brightest blue-white known to mankind. I swear I wasn't trying to show off. It's just that I hadn't done magic in 6 months. Maybe I had wanted to show off. Subconsciously, of course. But whatever the reason, they radiated over my hand with an unmistakably supernatural glow.

I swallowed, knowing full well that when I looked over at my friends that they would be looking at me like I was a monster. I glanced over anyways. And I almost gasped.

They looked at me not with disgust, but with wonder and... what was that? Wariness? Remembrance? No... it was understanding, and... sympathy? How can they have sympathy for something they've never done themselves? And then I understood.

"I'm a witch. At least, I think I am. And, judging from your looks, you two are, too."