Chapter Six - A regular Salem Academy girl

Felicity stood in front of the mirror on the back of the door in her room, turning this way and that, examining how she looked in the Salem Academy uniform.

It was now late summer and she would soon be wearing these clothes most of the time. A visit for two weeks to her aunt's house had resulted in the skirts being shortened by several inches. Felicity wondered if they might be a bit too short.

"Nonsense!" Aunt Joan had declared. "You look darling in them. Oh, the boys are going to just swoon over you," she had said, with satifaction.

Felicity thought that perhaps the boys at Salem Academy had done a fair bit of swooning for Aunt Joan as well.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Felicity yelled to her mother, who was playing the piano in the living room. Felicity charged down the stairs to the foyer with its massive old door. She pulled it open to find Roger Williams standing on the stoop.

Roger Williams was a year older than Felicity and perhaps a head taller, though this had seemed not to be the case the last time she had seen him. He wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt with the words, "Property of Salem Academy Athletic Dept.," written on it. His dark brown hair needed to be combed.

"Hi, Felicity," he said. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Felicity opened the door further and Roger stepped into the foyer. He looked over Felicity and announced, "Boy, you look like a regular Salem Academy girl now!"

Felicity could feel the blush rising in her. Fortunately, her mother came into the foyer.

"Oh, Roger, nice to see you again. How are your mother and father?" Felicity's mother always seemed to be interested in the parents of her friends.

"They're fine, thank you," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"And your brothers?" Felicity's mother went on.

Roger had two older brothers; one, Steven, was a senior and a proctor at Salem.

"They're fine, too," Roger offered.

Felicity glared at her mother for a moment, trying to communicate that she would just as soon Mother go back to playing the piano rather than stand talking to Roger. Her mother got the hint, but frowned back as if to say, "Don't glare at me, young lady."

She smiled and said, "I must get back to my piano practice. Goodbye, Roger."

He acknowledged and, once Felicity's mother was gone, turned to Felicity. "I thought you might like to go do a bit of school shopping," he said with a hopeful note in his voice. "We could pick up a few things and I need to look for a new owl. I'm afraid mine met a rather sad end this spring. Do you have an owl yet?" he asked.

An owl was about the only thing Felicity did not have. Between her parents, grandparents and aunt, Felicity had been well-stocked for the coming school year. The selection of an owl had been the one item which had not been taken care of.

"No," she said. "But I would like to look for one. I have no idea what to look for in an owl."

"Well, we could go look for one down at WCMI; they have the best selection of owls, according to the boys at school."

"That would be great!" Felicity said. She stuck her head into the living-room.

"Mother, can I go with Roger and look for an owl?" Her face had the sort of look on it which told her mother that she really wanted her to say yes.

"I guess it would be all right." Her mother then thought for a moment. "But I don't have any wizard money. You'll need to stop by the bank and get some from your father. How are you going to get there?" she asked. "Remember, no flying in the city."

Felicity had been given strict warnings about flying in the city. The sight of a girl on a broom flying over the rooftops of Providence would have been sure to catch the attention of the non-magical residents.

She turned back to Roger. "How are we going to get there?" she asked.

"I have some Viator Dust," Roger said.

Felicity had no idea what Viator Dust was or what it did, but she really didn't care. She turned back to her mother.

"Roger has some Viator Dust," she said.

"Oh, that's fine then. Have a good time and be back home in time for supper," her mother answered. "And, if you do buy a owl, make sure it has a cage," she added.

"Roger, what's Viator Dust?" Felicity asked as they stood on the front stoop.

"It's a transportation charm," he said calmly. "It will take you places provided they are not too far away. It's only good for maybe two miles at the most and then you never know where you might end up. But from here to your father's bank shouldn't be any problem. Here..."

Roger took Felicity's hand. Felicity felt an odd little feeling as he did so. Roger smiled and then looked to see if the street was clear of people.

"Proficiscor," he said as he tossed a bit of silvery dust into the air.

In an instant the two of them stood in front of Gringotts Bank. "You see," he said, letting go of her hand, "as simple as can be."

Felicity noticed that her hand felt warm and moist.

She went into the bank and upstairs to her father's office. The door was open and she stuck her head in. Her father was at his desk.

"Hello, Dad," she said.

"Pumpkin!" her father looked up somewhat suprised to see her. "Whatever brings you down here?"

Felicity walked into the office. "I am sorry to bother you at work. Roger and I came down to look at owls. But Mother said I needed to talk to you about money for one."

"How much do you need?" her father asked.

This question stumped Felicity as she had no idea how much an owl would cost. "I don't know," she answered. "How much are they?"

"Well, let's see, it's been a while since I needed to buy an owl... I know just who to ask."

Martin Stockwell then reached down and pulled a rubber tube from under his desk. On the end of the tube was what appeared to be a mouthpiece. He took a deep breath and blew into the tube.

In a moment, a short stout woman wearing a cape and a black floor-length dress appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Mr. Stockwell?" she asked.

"Mrs. Quimbly, this is my daughter, Felicity. She needs to buy an owl for school. How much are owls these days?"

Mrs. Quimbly was a business-like woman. "Provided you don't want a fancy imported one," she said curtly. "I believe that two galleons, 14 sickles and 17 knuts should do."

"Thank you," Felicity's father said and, with that, Mrs. Quimbly turned and walked out the door. "Well, she would know." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of coins. "Here's three galleons and some sickles and knuts," he said, reaching across the desk. "Don't spend too much on one, they tend to get shot at up in Maine."

"I won't, thanks, Daddy." Felicity turned and hurried down the stairs to Roger, who was waiting for her in the lobby of the bank, watching the owls making their deliveries and considering which type he might like.

"How much did you get?" he asked as Felicity came down the stairs.

"Three galleons and some change," she replied, somewhat confused.

"Three galleons and some change!" Roger looked surprised.

"Is that a lot?" asked Felicity. She was still not accustomed to how wizard money worked.

"You could get a really good owl for three galleons!" Roger answered.

"My father said not to spend too much on one as they can get shot up in Maine," Felicity said. "Is that true? Do people shoot them?"

"It's true," Roger said. "I think that must have been what happened to mine. There's the trolley now." He said, pointing to the streetcar making its way toward them.

Roger placed two small tokens into the fare-box of the trolley, which responded with a "thank you."

"And were would you be going today, Master Williams?" The trolley asked.

"We need to go to WCMI to buy an owl," Roger told the trolley.

"WCMI it is, then," said the trolley and off it went. It rolled down the street clanging its brass bell at the intersections and occasionally issuing its cheery warning to pedestrians. Felicity and Roger held onto the leather straps that hung from the brass rod over their heads. They swayed as the trolley moved down the street.

After a bit, the trolley came to a stop and announced: "WCMI."

Roger and Felicity stepped off onto the street. "Thanks," said Roger. He looked at Felicity, who realized that she, too, should thank the trolley. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," replied the trolley. Then it rang its bell and started off down the street again. As it did, Felicity read the words painted on its side: ÔMagical Electric Street Railway of Providence.'

They stood in front of a large four-story building, which took up the entire block. Its front was set off by a cast-iron set of arches. Above the doors, in bright brass letters, were the words "The Wizards' Cooperative Mercantile Institution," or, as it was universally known in the wizarding world, WCMI.

WCMI was a sort of department store for all things magical. Six floors of wonders and what not, attended to by an array of elves, fairies, humans and what-have-you.

Felicity and Roger went through the front door and stood on the ground floor for a moment. The store was a bustle of activity. They turned and walked past a counter of potions. A hand-lettered sign proclaimed that love charms were 20 percent off.

"They must not work very well if they have them an sale," thought Felicity.

The two had just about reached the elevators when they heard voices behind them.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Roger Williams from Salem; and who's that with him, his little girlfriend?" the loud, taunting voice called.

Felicity wished for an invisibility charm right then. She blushed deeply and she and Roger turned around.

"Ravenscroft," Roger whispered to her.

Before them stood three boys, all dressed the same in white shirts with forest-green blazers and black trousers. Each had on a forest-green tie which, by the looks of them, had not ever been tied properly. On the ties was embroidered letter R.

It was the center boy who had spoken to them. He was taller than the other two, who stood slightly behind him.

"Say she's cute," said the boy to his left, just before the taller boy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Leave her out of this, Murphy," Roger growled. "You're not still worked up over that last goal, are you?"

"I'll deal with you this fall!" The tall boy warned as his companions grinned.

"We'll see about that!" Roger replied in a low tone.

"You fellows going up?" came a voice from behind Felicity. It was from the elf who ran the elevator.

"Yes, we're going up," said Roger strongly, as he turned and guided Felicity into the old cage elevator.

"What department?" The elf asked as he closed the gates.

"We're looking for owls," Felicity offered. She was trying to break the tension she felt in the air.

"Magical animals it is, then," said the elf as he pushed the lever on the elevator and they began rising. Roger glared at the three boys until they disappeared from view.

"Who was that?" Felicity asked.

"Ravenscroft guys," he said. "We beat them at Laquidd last fall. Seems like they haven't gotten over it, either."

Ravenscroft was one of several other schools of wizardry and witchcraft in America. Felicity had remembered reading about some of them in the book her father had taken from her that day in June when they drove to Cape Cod.

In Ravenscroft's case, it might be better called a school of wizardry only. For, while the other magical school had both boys and girls attending, Ravenscroft was all boys. They were, as Roger would tell her, Salem Academy's greatest rival in nearly every way.

The Magical Animals Department carried a wide range of products from lizards and snakes to cats and owls.

Felicity and Roger made their way over to the owl section, which was housed in the back. A large cage ran the length of the wall and that was, in turn, broken up into smaller cages. Owls of all description were on display.

Felicity was taken with a great white owl until she saw the price. This, she thought, must have been one of those imported owls Mrs. Quimbly had referred to.

"You'll want one that can carry a load," Roger advised, "so that your mother can send you treats now and then."

Felicity stood looking at a barn owl. She figured such a common-looking bird might not be so likely to be shot.

"May I help you, young lady?" The voice came from a sales clerk standing next to her.

"I'm, I'm looking for an owl," Felicity said.

The clerk looked at her school uniform. "I assume this is for school then," he said.

"Yes, and I was told not to spend too much on one because they can get shot," she said qucikly.

The clerk had obviously heard this instruction before. He looked at the owl in the cage before them. "This is an excellent buy, it's a barn owl able to carry a good-sized package from home if needed."

The clerk was clearly skilled a promoting owls in members of the Entered class at Salem Academy, thought Felicity.

"Does it come with a cage?" Felicity remembered her mother's instructions.

"All of our owls come with a cage and a name," the clerk informed her. "His name is Solomon; would you like him?"

"How much is he?" Felicity asked.

"1 galleon, 15 sickles and 21 knuts."

"Yes," Felicity said "I think I'll take him."

"Very good. I'll get him ready for you, it will just be a moment. While you wait, perhaps you might find something that interests you in the book department." The clerk pointed to a display of books just beyond the cages.

Roger was busy working on a deal for a Great Horned owl at the far end of the line of cages next to the books. Felicity walked over and began picking through the books on the sale table. One caught her eye. It was The Search for the Widow's Son.

Felicity flipped it over and read the book's jacket. This is what it said:

The Search for the Widow's Son, who will free the magical peoples of the Americas to return to their ancestral home of Salem, Massachusetts, is as much the story of the search for those can raise him as it is for the Widow's Son himself.

For the curse, it is said, can only be broken when ÔThe Raisers' assemble in Salem to free the ÔWidow's Son' and the town itself from the curse placed upon it and restore Salem to its once important position in the American wizarding world.

This book looks at the history of the ÔWidow's Son' and who he and ÔThe Raisers' might be.

The book was only 26 knuts. Felicity decided to buy it. She walked back over to Roger, who had finished his purchase and was now holding the bird by means of a rather heavy leather glove on his right hand. The bird was perched on his arm.

"He's a good one," Roger proclaimed proudly. "He should be able to carry anything my mom can make."

The sales clerk returned with Felicity's owl placed in a cage and covered by a cloth.

"I would like this book, as well," Felicity said holding out the book.

The clerk took out a pad of paper and a pencil and worked some math. "Very well," said the clerk, "for the owl and the book, that will be two galleons, one sickle and eight knuts; tax, you know."

Felicity reached into her pocket and showed Roger the coins. He picked out what she needed and she dropped the coins into the clerk's hand.

The clerk then reached down to a coin dispenser attached to his belt and pressed a couple of buttons. He handed Felicity back her change and thanked her for her business.

On the trolley ride back to Gringotts, Roger asked to see the book.

"History," he frowned, "my worst subject."

They arrived at Gringotts just as Felicity's father was leaving to go home. Martin Stockwell helped Felicity with the cage, which was quite a bit bigger and heavier than she had anticipated.

Roger decided to see if his father was still at his office as he wanted to show off his new owl.

Felicity waved goodbye to Roger and thanked him for his help in selecting Solomon. Roger waved back, his owl still perched on his arm.

"That was nice of Roger to take the time to help you," Felicity's father said as they walked down the street.

"Yes it was," thought Felicity. She noticed that odd little feeling again.