Lost Magic
Lost Magic
by Antonia Granger
When she reached the top of the hill, it took her a moment to register what she was seeing. A cow. Dancing. Fred Astaire had nothing on this creature. It spun; it glided; it leaped. It cut crazy, beautiful patterns across the field and all the time, it hummed. This was the noise that had crawled into Ivy's dreams, sounding like Mom's singing crystal glasses and Grandma's windchimes all at once. It called to her and brought her here to this hilltop under the full harvest moon.

She watched for a moment and then began to copy the movements of the beast. With the sheer joy that only an eight-year-old can express, she jumped and swooped. She waggled her toes and waved her arms above her head. Her honey-brown braids flew in arcs around her. Finally, she laughed out loud. This was magic. At that moment, she realized that this was not one of her father's docile heifers gone mad under the moonlight, but a real, magical creature right here on her home field. Its sleek grey body was like nothing she'd ever seen. The world suddenly became incredibly interesting.

Ivy sank to the ground and wrapped her arms around her giddy knees. She watched rapt as the creature continued it's dance.

"It has an enthralling grace, doesn't it?"

Ivy jumped at the sound of the voice, but out of surprise, not fear. There could be no fear on a night like this. A figure stood behind her. Oddly dressed in a short cape, an over-large velvet hat and striped knickers, the woman smiled down at her.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Ivy told her.

"We do tend to transcend our limitations when we apply honest enthusiasm. I daresay that creature is homelier even than the ones your father keeps in that barn."

"It's not one of ours then. I knew it. I realized the coloring was all wrong."

"Oh, dear me, no," the woman said with a hoot. "That is a mooncalf. Normally quite shy, but the full moon brings it out. To be honest, we think this is part of its mating ritual."

At this, the woman cast a shrewd eye to Ivy to see if she'd said too much. Ivy blushed, but looked her straight in the eyes.

"We don't actually know, though, because at that point in the process, they reclaim their modesty," the woman instructed. "I'm just here for the dung, really, but you've recalled my wonder when I first beheld the creature."

"Is it magic, then?" Ivy asked.

"Of course," the woman said with a smile.

Ivy smiled back.

"My name's Ivy. I live over there. I'm in third grade at Crestview Elementary and I'm the fastest kid in my class. I'm even faster than Ricky Macintosh and his sister's on the high school track team."

"My name is Magda and I've travelled quite a distance to be here tonight." The woman sat down next to the girl, laying a broomstick behind her.

"Did you fly on that?" Ivy asked.

"Yes," Magda said. "It's quite an old model, but it's never given me any trouble so I see no reason to upgrade."

"Could I ride on it?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so," the woman said. "It will be light before too long and I must collect the dung for my herb beds."

"We have lots of dung. You can come back anytime for more," Ivy said.

"Well, I need the dung of the mooncalf, dear, but thank you all the same."

They watched in silence as the mooncalf danced until Ivy spoke.

"I just knew it. Mom and Dad said magic wasn't real. They said Santa Claus didn't exist or leprechauns or anything. Wait till they find out how wrong they were!"

"I'm afraid, dear," said Magda, "That cannot be."

"What?" said Ivy, turning to the witch just in time to see her draw a wand from the folds of her cape. She was afraid.

"I do regret this, dear," said Magda. "Obliviate!"

~ ~ ~

Ivy woke up for school that morning, got herself dressed and fixed breakfast. She walked down to the end of her lane to catch the bus. As they drove past the fields, all the cows seemed to stare at her with disdainful eyes. She didn't know why, but Ivy cried.



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Standard disclaimers, though so far the characters are mine. A notable spell and some wee beasties belong to JK Rowling, however.