Chapter 2 - "A Hidden World - Revealed"
Charlotte rolled her eyes in response to her mother claims. "Witch, wizard same difference," she said, still obviously not believing it.
"Actually, there is quite a big difference. Unless you have some male anatomy you're not telling me about," Mrs. Smith taunted jokingly.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. She sighed. "Ok, Mom, the joke's up," she said standing up. Her gaze shifted towards the owl. "I DO want to know to know how you got that bird here, though," she suggested playfully pointing at it.
"Charlotte," said her mother sternly. "You need to take this seriously. You," she pointed at her. "As well as I, and as well as your grandparents and great grandparents were all magical beings."
"Ok," Charlotte said mockingly. "IF, and I mean if, I WERE a . . . witch, then why didn't you tell me when I was 11, or before that, even?" she asked.
Mrs. Smith sighed. "You see, you father, he didn't LIKE magic. He," she paused. "He didn't want HIS child to be. . .involved in it."
"So he wasn't. . .magical?" Charlotte inquired.
Mrs. Smith looked at Charlotte anxiously. She sighed again. "Yes he was a muggle," she said.
"A what?" asked Charlotte quickly.
Mrs. Smith groaned with impatience. "A muggle, it's a person who posses no magical blood," retorted Mrs. Smith. "Anyway, your father was a muggle, and as soon as we started to date, I told him about a world, a world hidden from the normal human's view," she said.
"Naturally, he was intrigued, but, as soon as he discovered the dark side of the craft, he wanted me to put an end to it. He wanted me to give it up," she said, shaking her head.
"He didn't know that it wasn't that easy. I mean, you can't just give up something that you're born to be," she declared.
Charlotte was listening to her mother intently. "So, if you're born a witch or wizard, why do you have to go to school you learn. . .it?" she implored.
"We perform spells, incantations, charms, etc. with wands. These take time, patience, and concentration to learn. They can only be taught to you by educated witches and wizards," said Mrs. Smith, trying not leave anything out.
"Do YOU have a wand?" she asked curiously.
Charlotte watched as Mrs. Smith's eyes lit up.
"You want to see it?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A minute later, they were standing in front of a closet door, in Mrs. Smith's bedroom.
"It's in here?" Charlotte asked. "Could you be anymore original?" she said sarcastically.
Mrs. Smith rolled her eyes and opened the door. In front of them was a row of neatly packed closed hanging on iron hangers. She pulled them open, revealing something that made Charlotte's eyes widen in surprise. It was another door.
"I didn't tell you we had an attic. Well, we actually didn't when we first moved here. I conjured it to store my magical appliances and supplies," she confessed opening the door, which had a staircase leading into darkness.
Mrs. Smith started up the stairs. "It took me so long, you see, conjuring this much space is a long and hard process. I had to sign all type of paper and get all the materials needed to build a second floor."
"Wait, so you can't make things appear out of thin air," Charlotte asked.
Mrs. Smith turned around and stared. "Heavens, no. Conjuring something just means your moving it from one place to another. Like apparation, with inanimate objects, really. It might sound easy now, but it requires an immense amount of concentration. You don't learn how to conjure 'til 7th year," she finished, finally reaching the top of the stairs and flipping on a light switch.
Charlotte's fixed look of anticipation died when she saw the illuminated room. She wasn't expecting much, but everything looked so normal.
The whole room was painted a sick sort of yellow and was big enough for a tall man to stand comfortably in. A red and gold carpet with woven lions led the way through the attic.
Mrs. Smith walked fast down the isle and led Charlotte to an old stained dresser that stood against the wall.
"I thought you said you threw that out," said Charlotte, eyeing the old dresser.
Mrs. Smith turned to look at her daughter. "Darling, witches and wizards spend their whole lives keeping secrets, it's what we do," she responded, pulling open one of the drawers.
She pulled out what looked to be a long, thin jewelry box. She sighed heavily.
"I always knew this day would come. Even IF your father was so against it. You can't deny it for long," she said caressing the box. She pulled open the cover and there lie a long wooden stick-looking object.
She took it out gently, as if it were a newborn baby, and held it out in front of her. It looked like she was looking at a long lost love, whose loved would not fail by the time they spent apart.
Charlotte thought this was all quite strange. "So," she interrupted from her mother's thoughts. "What exactly do you do with it?" she asked crossing her arms.
"This maybe better done than said." She held out the wand again and very clearly said, "Lumos." And, from the tip of the wand came a tiny beam of light.
Charlotte was unimpressed. "Couldn't a flashlight do that just as easily?" she thought.
Mrs. Smith apparently saw the disappointment on her face, because, almost immediately she asked if she wanted to see more.
Charlotte nodded profusely. Mrs. Smith pointed her wand at the lamp that was sitting on the sitting on the dresser. She me made a movement with her arm and said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and with a flash, the lamp was floating about 3 feet above the dresser.
Charlotte was taken aback. You could bewitch objects to make them fly? She wondered what else you could do with this new found discovery of herself the rest of the night, even in her dreams when she went to sleep after 2 hours of nagging her mother to show her more. She finally realized this is what was missing in her life. And, from now on, her days didn't feel never-ending; she wasn't up at night wondering, "what if. . ." She felt the void that had been plaguing her, her entire life, had finally been filled.
Charlotte rolled her eyes in response to her mother claims. "Witch, wizard same difference," she said, still obviously not believing it.
"Actually, there is quite a big difference. Unless you have some male anatomy you're not telling me about," Mrs. Smith taunted jokingly.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. She sighed. "Ok, Mom, the joke's up," she said standing up. Her gaze shifted towards the owl. "I DO want to know to know how you got that bird here, though," she suggested playfully pointing at it.
"Charlotte," said her mother sternly. "You need to take this seriously. You," she pointed at her. "As well as I, and as well as your grandparents and great grandparents were all magical beings."
"Ok," Charlotte said mockingly. "IF, and I mean if, I WERE a . . . witch, then why didn't you tell me when I was 11, or before that, even?" she asked.
Mrs. Smith sighed. "You see, you father, he didn't LIKE magic. He," she paused. "He didn't want HIS child to be. . .involved in it."
"So he wasn't. . .magical?" Charlotte inquired.
Mrs. Smith looked at Charlotte anxiously. She sighed again. "Yes he was a muggle," she said.
"A what?" asked Charlotte quickly.
Mrs. Smith groaned with impatience. "A muggle, it's a person who posses no magical blood," retorted Mrs. Smith. "Anyway, your father was a muggle, and as soon as we started to date, I told him about a world, a world hidden from the normal human's view," she said.
"Naturally, he was intrigued, but, as soon as he discovered the dark side of the craft, he wanted me to put an end to it. He wanted me to give it up," she said, shaking her head.
"He didn't know that it wasn't that easy. I mean, you can't just give up something that you're born to be," she declared.
Charlotte was listening to her mother intently. "So, if you're born a witch or wizard, why do you have to go to school you learn. . .it?" she implored.
"We perform spells, incantations, charms, etc. with wands. These take time, patience, and concentration to learn. They can only be taught to you by educated witches and wizards," said Mrs. Smith, trying not leave anything out.
"Do YOU have a wand?" she asked curiously.
Charlotte watched as Mrs. Smith's eyes lit up.
"You want to see it?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A minute later, they were standing in front of a closet door, in Mrs. Smith's bedroom.
"It's in here?" Charlotte asked. "Could you be anymore original?" she said sarcastically.
Mrs. Smith rolled her eyes and opened the door. In front of them was a row of neatly packed closed hanging on iron hangers. She pulled them open, revealing something that made Charlotte's eyes widen in surprise. It was another door.
"I didn't tell you we had an attic. Well, we actually didn't when we first moved here. I conjured it to store my magical appliances and supplies," she confessed opening the door, which had a staircase leading into darkness.
Mrs. Smith started up the stairs. "It took me so long, you see, conjuring this much space is a long and hard process. I had to sign all type of paper and get all the materials needed to build a second floor."
"Wait, so you can't make things appear out of thin air," Charlotte asked.
Mrs. Smith turned around and stared. "Heavens, no. Conjuring something just means your moving it from one place to another. Like apparation, with inanimate objects, really. It might sound easy now, but it requires an immense amount of concentration. You don't learn how to conjure 'til 7th year," she finished, finally reaching the top of the stairs and flipping on a light switch.
Charlotte's fixed look of anticipation died when she saw the illuminated room. She wasn't expecting much, but everything looked so normal.
The whole room was painted a sick sort of yellow and was big enough for a tall man to stand comfortably in. A red and gold carpet with woven lions led the way through the attic.
Mrs. Smith walked fast down the isle and led Charlotte to an old stained dresser that stood against the wall.
"I thought you said you threw that out," said Charlotte, eyeing the old dresser.
Mrs. Smith turned to look at her daughter. "Darling, witches and wizards spend their whole lives keeping secrets, it's what we do," she responded, pulling open one of the drawers.
She pulled out what looked to be a long, thin jewelry box. She sighed heavily.
"I always knew this day would come. Even IF your father was so against it. You can't deny it for long," she said caressing the box. She pulled open the cover and there lie a long wooden stick-looking object.
She took it out gently, as if it were a newborn baby, and held it out in front of her. It looked like she was looking at a long lost love, whose loved would not fail by the time they spent apart.
Charlotte thought this was all quite strange. "So," she interrupted from her mother's thoughts. "What exactly do you do with it?" she asked crossing her arms.
"This maybe better done than said." She held out the wand again and very clearly said, "Lumos." And, from the tip of the wand came a tiny beam of light.
Charlotte was unimpressed. "Couldn't a flashlight do that just as easily?" she thought.
Mrs. Smith apparently saw the disappointment on her face, because, almost immediately she asked if she wanted to see more.
Charlotte nodded profusely. Mrs. Smith pointed her wand at the lamp that was sitting on the sitting on the dresser. She me made a movement with her arm and said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and with a flash, the lamp was floating about 3 feet above the dresser.
Charlotte was taken aback. You could bewitch objects to make them fly? She wondered what else you could do with this new found discovery of herself the rest of the night, even in her dreams when she went to sleep after 2 hours of nagging her mother to show her more. She finally realized this is what was missing in her life. And, from now on, her days didn't feel never-ending; she wasn't up at night wondering, "what if. . ." She felt the void that had been plaguing her, her entire life, had finally been filled.