Hi! Hope everyone's alright, I own nothing, here's hoping I actually finish something and big thank you to PrincessSammi for idea bouncing and muse kicking. Enjoy.

Charlie Blossom's first real encounter with a Witch had not been a pleasant one.

Of course being eight years old and three quarters at the time, he didn't really know about witches except from the bad ones in stories like the one with a gingerbread house and ate little boys and Charlie was sure he'd never get eaten because he didn't like gingerbread. He knew his uncle worked at a school for witches but Charlie didn't really believe him. it was a girls school for smelly girls and Charlie only liked hearing about the frogs in the pond and the ghost in the roof.

Witches were just old Halloween hags with warty noses on broomsticks against the full moon. It'd never occurred to him that witches could ride a bicycle in broad daylight if they wanted too. Or that a witch be quite fast for her age and have hairy knees, although that one was more an afterthought.

She'd been very angry, understandably, being knocked off her old bike by a plastic football to the noggin. If Charlie and his little gang of friends had run to her aid rather than running away in different directions, red sparks might have not fired from her hands and zeroed in for smacking bottoms like a swarm of glow in the dark wasps with cheek targeting.

But young ones don't think like that. Respecting your elders is not being cheeky to granddad, any warnings of incoming objects they'd kicked to hard is a cry of "HEADS" and an angry adult is one to avoid at all costs. It hadn't occurred to him and his friends this angry adult might be a witch till it was a tad too late.

And while on the plus side the witch hadn't tried to eat him or turn him into a toad, eight and three quarter year olds have a habit of only focusing on the bad things; his dad hadn't been too pleased when his friends mums all came round complaining Charlie had gotten their little darlings jinxed cursed or boiled. He'd locked Charlie's own bike in the garage as punishment although it didn't really work as a punishment as the hairy kneed witch had tanned his hide completely so he could barely sit on the settee let alone a saddle. It took nearly three weeks for the boils to fade. It might have been even longer if his uncle hadn't brought back a 'magic potion' back from work on the third weekend after the incident.

It has also never occurred to him that he'd actually learn something from the experience. Quite useful somethings. One, uncle frank always tells the truth. Two, hebal Boil cures might turn you eyebrows ginger. And most impotently of all Three, never ever ever angry a real witch.

Oh Charlie learnt his lesson alright. But everyone has those moments when everything they've learnt goes out their heads…Even witches. Real Witches.

If I ever do finish this I warn you now it'll get Nauseatingly sweet towards the end.