Felicity stood on the dark green grass of Salem Commons with her mother and father. A ways off was a small gazebo with a group of people standing next to it. She looked about to get her bearings. There was the bench and next to it was the trash can with its witch logo.
``It was here'', she said to her father, looking up at him.
``You're sure'', Martin Stockwell said looking at his young daughter.
Martin and Anne Stockwell had been overwhelmed with the news that Felicity, their only child, had been the Raiser that the magical peoples of America had so long waited for. It had taken Mr. Williams, The commissioner of Magic, several minutes to convince Martin of the truth of the report. It took Anne Stockwell weeks to fully come to grips with just how important to the wizzarding world the Raising and her daughter now were.
``Yes I'm sure'', Felicity said. ``Roger was at my right and Sarah on my left. The Widow's Son was in a sort of hole covered with a strange silvery material right in front of me.''
Martin and Anne Stockwell had heard this story from their daughter before. However hearing it here, in the very spot where Felicity, Roger and Sarah had raised the Widow's Son from the tweens and freed Salem from its long held curse gave them both a shiver.
Anne Stockwell in particular was moved by the occasion. Over the weeks that had followed that early spring day she had come to realize just how important she was in the matter of the Raising. Without her Muggle blood her daughter would not have been able to set foot on Salem's soil and perform the act which now permitted so many of her friends and neighbors from Providence and Rhode Island to return to Salem, the home of their ancestors.
However the matter also troubled her. Martin had warned her that there was danger to their daughter from those who had not wanted the curse to be lifted. Felicity's life would now never be the same as it had been. This slight girl with the dark red hair would forever carry with her a secret that she must never reveal, not even to her future family. It seemed to Anne Stockwell a tremendous burden to place on a 14-year-old school girl. But it was one that Felicity, so far, seemed to be bearing up well under. Other than discussing the matter with her mother and father Felicity had spoken of it only with Sarah when she visited the Goldstines in Newport a few week earlier.
Felicity had not heard much from Roger over the summer. A few letters from camp had arrived by muggle mail. They had been short and without much to call attention to them. Felicity's mother had told her that lots of boys don't write letters and that Roger was more than likely very busy as a junior counselor at camp. Still Felicity missed his sensible advice. Other than her parents and Sarah, Roger was the only other person who knew of Felicity's secret and to whom she might speak of it.
``We need to mark this place somehow,'' her father's words broke in. He was looking about. He took out his wand and said. ``Calculus''.
In the grass, under her feet, Felicity could see stones appear. They formed a rectangle in the place where the Widow's Son had been. Her father walked over to one in the front and waved his wand over it saying ``insigno'' as he did so.
Felicity looked at the stone in its hard granite surface was cut several shapes which looked like this:
NOTEAt this point in the printed text there is an illistration of the figures represented as a group of right angels and dots./NOTE
``What is it?'' Felicity asked her father, looking at the curious marks in the face of the stone.
``They are wizzard's marks'', her father said.
Martin Stockwell caught himself. Had he said too much to his bright and curious daughter? Wizard's mark were one of the more esoteric matters taught to Salem students. It was one of the last lesson given to the Master Class students always late in the year. It clearly was not something to be brought to the attention of a member of the apprentice class.
Felicity looked at the other stones that lay before her. Most were normal and uninteresting looking. Typical of New England, grey-white granite with flecks of black. Only one other stone possessed any kind of a marking. It stood a ways off by the bench. It was marked with the same sort of marks as her father had produced:
NOTEAt this point in the printed text there is an illistration of the figures represented as a group of right angels and dots./NOTE
Martin Stockwell raised his wand once again ``Calculus evaneo'' he said. With that the stones sunk back under the grass from whence they had appeared. The grass showed no sign of having been molested in any way.
``Now we will be able to find this spot should we ever have a need to.'' Martin Stockwell said to his wife and daughter.
The three of them returned to the small group by the gazebo in the center of the commons. It was made up of adults from Providence and Rhode Island. Friends and acquaintances of Felicity's parents mostly.
Mrs. Quimbly came up to the Stockwells. With her was a girl, slightly older than Felicity. Martin, Anne, I would like to introduce Alice Marvolo her family recently moved to Salem from Slindon, England. Alice will be attending Salem Academy in the fall as a member of the Fellowcraft class.
Martin Stockwell took Alice's hand. ``A pleasure to meet you.'' Alice said in a soft British accent.
Alice Riddle Marvolo was a tall statuesque young woman with fine features and dark hair. She was from an old wizzarding family. Felicity judge her to be about Roger's age and height. It was Alice's eyes, however, that called attention to her. Large and dark they seemed to draw people into her. Her hair was long falling almost to her waist. She wore an off white silk blouse and short skirt which made her look older than her 15 or 16 years.
``Yours must be the first magical family to live in Salem since the Raising.'' Anne Stockwell said.
``I believe so.'' Said Alice. ``My father took a chair in divinity at Harvard just after the Raising and thought it would be interesting to live in Salem with its history and all.''
Felicity thought that Alice seemed wonderfully at ease with adults. She admired her use of words and the effect they had on those around her. It was as if she was an adult herself.
``This is my daughter, Felicity. She will be going into the Apprentice class in the fall at Salem.'' Martin Stockwell said.
``Nice to meet you.'' Alice said extending her hand to Felicity.
Felicity was not accustom to such a formal greetings by someone her own age. As she took Alice's hand she notice how smooth and clear skinned she was. No pimples, her skin looked like that of the models in Vogue or Seventeen unlike Felicity with her freckles. Her hand was cool to the touch.
``Well I had better be going.'' She said. ``We still have a good deal of unpacking to do at the flat.''
Felicity watched as Alice walked away across the commons. ``She's so poised.'' She thought to herself. ``She is sure to turn the heads of the boys at Salem Academy.''
Felicity always felt herself to be a somewhat plain looking girl. There wasn't, as her Aunt Joan said, ``a bit of truth to it''. With her red hair and searching green eyes Felicity had always stood out. Yet she longed to be elegant, to have the sort of figure that Sarah had the kind of girl boys would swoon over as Joan put it. She wanted to be exactly the kind of girl Alice clearly was.
``What's a flat?'' Felicity asked her father as they flew home from Salem that evening.
``It a British term for an apartment.'' Her mother said holding tightly to her husbands waist as the early evening traffic past below them. The lights of Providence were beginning to come on as the three descended in to the park down the street from 23 Waybossett Street. Felicity had become quite good at flying in the city undetected. The trick was to choose carefully where you were to take off or land and to fly as high as possible as quickly as you could.
By the time they got home Felicity was exhausted. Every time she had to tell the story of the Raising she felt that way. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and flopped down her bed. She starred up at the ceiling of her room as the last light of the day filtered in through the window. ``I used to like being special'' Felicity thought to herself. ``but having to keep this secret is hard.'' Felicity wished to be back at school where at least she might be able to talk to Roger and Sarah about it.
``Felicity, there is something you should know.'' The voice was small but urgent sounding. Felicity stood up and looked about the room. No one was there. She got up and looked out the door but could see no one.
``Over here.'' The voice said. It came from her window. Marx, her cat was perched on the window sill.
``Who is it?'' Felicity said going to the window.
``It's me, Marx.'' Said the cat, speaking as if a talking cat was the most normal thing in the world.
``You can talk!'' Felicity said, amazed at her pet's new found skill.
``Of course I can talk.'' Said Marx in a somewhat indigent tone.
``I have something you should know.'' Marx went on. ``Word has it that the Dark Lord has sent spies to America to discover who the Raisers are. You must be careful.''
``But how did you know I was \ldots ''
Marx blinked at Felicity, ``I live in this house don't I? I hear things. Anyway, there may be danger about. do you understand?''
Felicity nodded. Marx got up and stretched getting ready to leave the room by way of the window.
``Marx.'' Felicity asked. ``All these years, why have you never spoken until now?''
``Because,'' Marx answered. ``I didn't have anything to say.''
``It was here'', she said to her father, looking up at him.
``You're sure'', Martin Stockwell said looking at his young daughter.
Martin and Anne Stockwell had been overwhelmed with the news that Felicity, their only child, had been the Raiser that the magical peoples of America had so long waited for. It had taken Mr. Williams, The commissioner of Magic, several minutes to convince Martin of the truth of the report. It took Anne Stockwell weeks to fully come to grips with just how important to the wizzarding world the Raising and her daughter now were.
``Yes I'm sure'', Felicity said. ``Roger was at my right and Sarah on my left. The Widow's Son was in a sort of hole covered with a strange silvery material right in front of me.''
Martin and Anne Stockwell had heard this story from their daughter before. However hearing it here, in the very spot where Felicity, Roger and Sarah had raised the Widow's Son from the tweens and freed Salem from its long held curse gave them both a shiver.
Anne Stockwell in particular was moved by the occasion. Over the weeks that had followed that early spring day she had come to realize just how important she was in the matter of the Raising. Without her Muggle blood her daughter would not have been able to set foot on Salem's soil and perform the act which now permitted so many of her friends and neighbors from Providence and Rhode Island to return to Salem, the home of their ancestors.
However the matter also troubled her. Martin had warned her that there was danger to their daughter from those who had not wanted the curse to be lifted. Felicity's life would now never be the same as it had been. This slight girl with the dark red hair would forever carry with her a secret that she must never reveal, not even to her future family. It seemed to Anne Stockwell a tremendous burden to place on a 14-year-old school girl. But it was one that Felicity, so far, seemed to be bearing up well under. Other than discussing the matter with her mother and father Felicity had spoken of it only with Sarah when she visited the Goldstines in Newport a few week earlier.
Felicity had not heard much from Roger over the summer. A few letters from camp had arrived by muggle mail. They had been short and without much to call attention to them. Felicity's mother had told her that lots of boys don't write letters and that Roger was more than likely very busy as a junior counselor at camp. Still Felicity missed his sensible advice. Other than her parents and Sarah, Roger was the only other person who knew of Felicity's secret and to whom she might speak of it.
``We need to mark this place somehow,'' her father's words broke in. He was looking about. He took out his wand and said. ``Calculus''.
In the grass, under her feet, Felicity could see stones appear. They formed a rectangle in the place where the Widow's Son had been. Her father walked over to one in the front and waved his wand over it saying ``insigno'' as he did so.
Felicity looked at the stone in its hard granite surface was cut several shapes which looked like this:
NOTEAt this point in the printed text there is an illistration of the figures represented as a group of right angels and dots./NOTE
``What is it?'' Felicity asked her father, looking at the curious marks in the face of the stone.
``They are wizzard's marks'', her father said.
Martin Stockwell caught himself. Had he said too much to his bright and curious daughter? Wizard's mark were one of the more esoteric matters taught to Salem students. It was one of the last lesson given to the Master Class students always late in the year. It clearly was not something to be brought to the attention of a member of the apprentice class.
Felicity looked at the other stones that lay before her. Most were normal and uninteresting looking. Typical of New England, grey-white granite with flecks of black. Only one other stone possessed any kind of a marking. It stood a ways off by the bench. It was marked with the same sort of marks as her father had produced:
NOTEAt this point in the printed text there is an illistration of the figures represented as a group of right angels and dots./NOTE
Martin Stockwell raised his wand once again ``Calculus evaneo'' he said. With that the stones sunk back under the grass from whence they had appeared. The grass showed no sign of having been molested in any way.
``Now we will be able to find this spot should we ever have a need to.'' Martin Stockwell said to his wife and daughter.
The three of them returned to the small group by the gazebo in the center of the commons. It was made up of adults from Providence and Rhode Island. Friends and acquaintances of Felicity's parents mostly.
Mrs. Quimbly came up to the Stockwells. With her was a girl, slightly older than Felicity. Martin, Anne, I would like to introduce Alice Marvolo her family recently moved to Salem from Slindon, England. Alice will be attending Salem Academy in the fall as a member of the Fellowcraft class.
Martin Stockwell took Alice's hand. ``A pleasure to meet you.'' Alice said in a soft British accent.
Alice Riddle Marvolo was a tall statuesque young woman with fine features and dark hair. She was from an old wizzarding family. Felicity judge her to be about Roger's age and height. It was Alice's eyes, however, that called attention to her. Large and dark they seemed to draw people into her. Her hair was long falling almost to her waist. She wore an off white silk blouse and short skirt which made her look older than her 15 or 16 years.
``Yours must be the first magical family to live in Salem since the Raising.'' Anne Stockwell said.
``I believe so.'' Said Alice. ``My father took a chair in divinity at Harvard just after the Raising and thought it would be interesting to live in Salem with its history and all.''
Felicity thought that Alice seemed wonderfully at ease with adults. She admired her use of words and the effect they had on those around her. It was as if she was an adult herself.
``This is my daughter, Felicity. She will be going into the Apprentice class in the fall at Salem.'' Martin Stockwell said.
``Nice to meet you.'' Alice said extending her hand to Felicity.
Felicity was not accustom to such a formal greetings by someone her own age. As she took Alice's hand she notice how smooth and clear skinned she was. No pimples, her skin looked like that of the models in Vogue or Seventeen unlike Felicity with her freckles. Her hand was cool to the touch.
``Well I had better be going.'' She said. ``We still have a good deal of unpacking to do at the flat.''
Felicity watched as Alice walked away across the commons. ``She's so poised.'' She thought to herself. ``She is sure to turn the heads of the boys at Salem Academy.''
Felicity always felt herself to be a somewhat plain looking girl. There wasn't, as her Aunt Joan said, ``a bit of truth to it''. With her red hair and searching green eyes Felicity had always stood out. Yet she longed to be elegant, to have the sort of figure that Sarah had the kind of girl boys would swoon over as Joan put it. She wanted to be exactly the kind of girl Alice clearly was.
``What's a flat?'' Felicity asked her father as they flew home from Salem that evening.
``It a British term for an apartment.'' Her mother said holding tightly to her husbands waist as the early evening traffic past below them. The lights of Providence were beginning to come on as the three descended in to the park down the street from 23 Waybossett Street. Felicity had become quite good at flying in the city undetected. The trick was to choose carefully where you were to take off or land and to fly as high as possible as quickly as you could.
By the time they got home Felicity was exhausted. Every time she had to tell the story of the Raising she felt that way. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and flopped down her bed. She starred up at the ceiling of her room as the last light of the day filtered in through the window. ``I used to like being special'' Felicity thought to herself. ``but having to keep this secret is hard.'' Felicity wished to be back at school where at least she might be able to talk to Roger and Sarah about it.
``Felicity, there is something you should know.'' The voice was small but urgent sounding. Felicity stood up and looked about the room. No one was there. She got up and looked out the door but could see no one.
``Over here.'' The voice said. It came from her window. Marx, her cat was perched on the window sill.
``Who is it?'' Felicity said going to the window.
``It's me, Marx.'' Said the cat, speaking as if a talking cat was the most normal thing in the world.
``You can talk!'' Felicity said, amazed at her pet's new found skill.
``Of course I can talk.'' Said Marx in a somewhat indigent tone.
``I have something you should know.'' Marx went on. ``Word has it that the Dark Lord has sent spies to America to discover who the Raisers are. You must be careful.''
``But how did you know I was \ldots ''
Marx blinked at Felicity, ``I live in this house don't I? I hear things. Anyway, there may be danger about. do you understand?''
Felicity nodded. Marx got up and stretched getting ready to leave the room by way of the window.
``Marx.'' Felicity asked. ``All these years, why have you never spoken until now?''
``Because,'' Marx answered. ``I didn't have anything to say.''