Halloween Pitfalls
By: Shima And Tempis
Disclaimer: I do not own the Young Wizards series. It belongs to Diane Duane.
A/N: A few smarmy comments about Harry Potter are mentioned, I apologize but they just slipped out! Oh, and this takes place before High Wizardry.
In response to the challenge from the LiveJournal myriadwords community:
"Wizardry is one of the most ancient and misunderstood of arts. Its public image for centuries has been one of a mysterious pursuit, practiced in occult surroundings, and usually used at the peril of one's soul. The modern wizard, who works with tools more advanced than bat's blood and beings more complex than medieval demons, knows how far from the truth that image is."
"It's the warts that really get me," Carl said, rubbing his moustache absently before taking a sip from his root beer. Tom looked over at him from his perch on their porch railing, his own root beer in his hand. "I mean, warts? Even on the men? Does every witch just magically have poor hygiene?"
Nita snickered from her curled up position on one of Tom and Carl's lawn chairs she'd unfolded on their porch. Kit looked over at her from his own seat next to Carl, a big smile on his face.
"The warts are the only things you have a problem with? Not the green skin, the pointy hats, the flying on brooms?" Tom ticked the items off on his free hand, turning to fully face the rest of them, turning his back on the parade of Power Rangers and angels they could hear rushing down the sidewalk.
"Hey! The brooms are kinda cool. Very Harry Potter." Kit piped up, still grinning at his partner. Nita rolled her eyes and curled up tighter, the cool October air raised goose pimples on her skin. Kit seemed to notice this almost instinctively, and shrugged off his windbreaker to put it around her shoulders.
Tom watched all of this silently, taking a few sips of his root beer. "Yes, Harry Potter--the perfect example of young teenage wizardry. Chasing around balls on brooms, dealing with dangerous fantasy creatures, obsessing over girls who look like your mother--"
"Don't like it much?" Carl commented, which snapped Kit out of his trance of staring at Nita, who seemed very content to memorize her clasped palms. Kit returned to his seat, tugging one leg underneath him and picking up his root beer from where he'd set it down on the porch.
"As a fellow writer, I have to admit there is something unnerving about the Oedipus complex used in a modern-day setting. Freud may have been proud, but I was not." Tom smirked, coming towards Carl in order to set his hand down on the shorter man's shoulder, before heading toward the front door. "Refills, anyone?"
Kit shook his head and chanced another glance at Nita. She squeaked out a barely audible "no" before returning to her huddled state. She didn't like the cold, or the loud trick-or-treaters bounding about just on the other side of Tom and Carl's hedge.
"I'll have another," Carl commented, eyeing his wizardry partner for a moment before Tom disappeared inside the house. He looked over at Kit, then down at Nita's form. "You all right there, Neets?"
Nita finally sat up, tugging Kit's jacket tighter about her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... Well, my sister could be anywhere out there right now, dressed up as some Jedi. What if she comes through the front gate and sees us?"
The first to object this idea was Tom, who came back outside and slipped a fresh root beer into Carl's waiting hand. "Doubtful, Nita. Carl and I did a little work this morning to gently suggest to all passer-by that they didn't actually want to come to Crazy Tom Swale's house on the off chance he has candy."
Kit grinned wide at this, doubled by the fact that Nita's previous funk seemed to be clearing up nicely. "Didn't want to waste money on candy you would end up eating?"
Carl whistled slightly. "Didn't want to waste money on candy I would end up eating, actually. Besides, trick-or-treaters tend to like bringing eggs and toilet paper. Sometimes whipped cream. And this one here thinks we shouldn't use wizardry for normal messes." He nudged his root beer at Tom, who held up his hands (although one was occupied by his own new root beer) in mock innocence.
Coming to her senses for the first time that day-school had been full of people in half-costumes in order to keep to the dress code, and that had included a lot of wart-ridden witches and wizards-Nita joined in the conversation with a whole heart. "So if it's the warts for Carl, what is it that makes Halloween so bad for you, Tom?"
"The wands. I mean, sure, we use wands sometimes. But who carries around a stick made out of bat's feet or somesuch everywhere they go? And then they point it in people's faces and scream Latin or abra cadabra or some equally inane word. The Speech is such a more fluid language! Maybe it's that, too. Magic words." Tom finally cut himself off, taking a swig of his drink before settling on the railing once more.
Kit nodded absently, agreeing with only part of his mind. He was trying to figure out what he didn't like so much about Halloween's portrayal of magic. Nita seemed to be doing the same, and her previous dislike of the cold night was fading along with her new thoughts.
"The potions." Nita said quietly, rubbing her nose, which had turned a rather unflattering shade of pink. "All those creepy ingredients. Bat's blood? Eye of newt? Why are witches of the middle ages such animal haters?"
"They aren't really, Neets," Kit interjected, taking the last chug from his root beer bottle. "I mean, aren't witches the ones with the black cats? Maybe that's what I don't like. I mean, why can't witches have really faithful dogs?"
"Or Macaws?" Came a voice from inside the house. Carl rolled his eyes while Tom wandered back inside, possibly to feed their prophetic friend.
The thought came to him only moments after Tom returned to them, finally sitting down on an old artist's stool that Carl had found in a dumpster a few days previous. Kit shuffled his legs so that they both hung down from the large wicker chair he sat in, and he set the empty root beer bottle down on the ground. The clink of the bottle got Nita's attention, and she looked over at her partner curiously.
"I know what I don't like," he said quickly, looking at his friends, "Halloween witches don't have partners."
Tom snapped his fingers. "You're right."
Carl was nodding furiously. "That's it. That is what's so wrong with the wizards and witches of old. Always working alone or in those big cults! How do you get to know anyone that way?"
Smiling, Nita got up from the lawn chair and slid onto Kit's armrest. "I agree. Partners make all this worthwhile!" She chirped, suddenly much more cheerful than she had been earlier that evening. She turned to Carl, nodding to him. "Even the occasional wart."