"'My Journal of Being 13 and Our Trip to Scotland' by Adela"
by Kelly Chambliss
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Chapter Five
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June 21, 2001
"Words fucking fail me."
I did not say this - - Pop did, sitting right there in Julia's flat last night after dinner. And that lets you know just how shocking it all is, because Pop usually never says that word around me.
The news is so astounding I can hardly think straight even now, but I will try to tell things in order.
First of all, we got to meet Julia, who is very nice and fun. She has long, curly brown hair and a cool British accent (a bit like Stephen's but different, and of course not like Miranda's Scottish one at all) and she is about Uncle Matt's age. She says I can call her Aunt Julia if I want to, that she'd be honored, but I don't have to. It's up to me.
Between Pop being a talker (well, and me too) and Julia being so friendly, we just leaped right into conversation, it was like we'd known her forever.
She had made a big cottage pie (which is veggies and ground meat with mashed potatoes on top, I liked it), and we all served ourselves and sat around in her living room (she calls it the "sitting room"; we had to eat there because there isn't room in her kitchen) and ate and talked and laughed.
It was fun, but the whole time, Uncle Matt was acting kind of odd. He took a plate of pie but barely ate a bite, and then he kept jumping up and sitting down and then jumping right up again and pacing around.
Finally Pop laughed and was like, "Matt, what's with the jack-in-the-box routine? Have you eaten jumping beans or something?"
Uncle Matt stopped pacing and gave Julia this sort of helpless look. She grinned and nodded. "Yes, I think the witching hour has come. Go ahead. Tell them now."
"Tell us what?" I asked.
Uncle Matt sat down but then stood right up again and said. "Look, I'll just say right off that I know it's unacceptably late for me to tell you what I'm about to tell you, but when you hear it, I think you'll understand why I never seemed to be able to find a good time to talk about it. I was going to tell you that day when Adela had her play and we went out for coffee but. . .well, I chickened out."
Suddenly I thought I understood. "Uncle Matt!" I said. "I bet I know what you're going to tell us! You ARE a spy after all! Aren't you? That's it, isn't it?"
Uncle Matt shook his head. "No, Addie. I'm not a spy."
Then he took a deep breath like somebody about to jump off a cliff and said, "But I am a wizard."
A wizard!? There was this little silence, and then Pop burst out laughing. Even Dad chuckled.
"Sure you are," said Pop. "You were always a wizard at getting your own way when you were a kid, that's for sure." He winked at me and said, "Grandma spoiled him rotten" as an aside.
"She did not," said Uncle Matt. "Seriously, I'm a wizard. I'm a person who is able to do magic. I know it sounds crazy, but there are quite a few of us in the world - - men and women. . .well, wizards and" - - he waved his hand at Julia - - "witches. . .who have certain physiological powers that non-magical people don't have."
"What do you mean, Matt?" asked Dad. "Are you talking about mental telepathy or something like that? Because obviously, you can't be talking about 'magic' in the fairy tale sense. Spells and broomsticks and magic wands and the like. There's no such thing."
"But there is. Spells, broomsticks, wands, and more. I - - "
And then I really DID understand. It came to me in a total flash, and I knew I was right. I KNEW it.
"No, it's true!" I yelled, and I jumped up so fast that I knocked my plate of cottage pie onto the floor. "Dad, Pop, it's true! I've seen it! Last summer! It wasn't a mini blowtorch, it was a magic wand, I know it. And that fishing line pulley, it wasn't fishing line, it was magic! I saw it! I saw them! Stephen and Miranda. They aren't wiccans, they're magic, they have to be! This explains everything!"
I guess I wasn't making a lot of sense to anyone but me, because Pop said, "Sorry, Della, but it doesn't explain a thing to me." And Dad said, "Sit down, honey, and take a breath and then tell just what you mean."
So I tried to. "Last summer," I said. "When I thought Stephen and Miranda were aliens. Stephen got attacked by that plant and Miranda made it go away using a stick that shot fire. And then the whiskey bottle flew out of the house. Miranda said the stick was a mini blowtorch and Stephen said the whiskey was on a pulley made of thin fishing line. It sort of made sense at the time, but now I think that being witches and wizards and having a magic wand makes more sense. And it also explains other weird events, like that exploding wine glass at the choir party, you remember?"
Pop and Dad both nodded.
"And there are things I haven't told you about, like Stephen doing a ritual with leaves in his garden last fall. I thought he and Miranda must be wiccans, because Dr. Reese's friend Judith is wiccan, and she says people can use the force of their minds to do things that seem magical, like breaking a glass without touching it, just through crystals and concentration and stuff. But now I don't think it's just wiccan force of mind. I think it must be real magic."
"You're right," said Uncle Matt. "It IS real magic. I'll show you."
He took a thin wooden stick out of his jacket and pointed it at my spilled cottage pie. The plate raised up into the air and the meat and potatoes gathered themselves off the floor into a neat pile and put themselves on the plate. Then Uncle Matt said, "Locomotor plate," and it zoomed off to the kitchen by itself!
By this time Aunt Julia had a stick in her hand, too; it was longer and thinner than Uncle Matt's, but basically the same idea. She picked up her empty wine glass from the table next to her and said, "Aguamenti." And the glass immediately filled with water!
(I am not sure I have spelled these magic words correctly, but that's what they sounded like. They are spells, Uncle Matt told us later.)
And that's when Pop said, "Words fucking fail me."
I knew just how he felt.
Dad was shaking his head. "Impressive tricks," he said. "But I'm sorry, Matt. Julia. I just don't believe we're seeing" - - and he used air quotes - - "'magic.' The physical universe contains some pretty miraculous things, but even the strangest phenomena obey the basic laws of physics. I'm sure there's some logical explanation for what we've just seen. There is no 'magic.'"
I thought Uncle Matt might be upset that Dad didn't believe him, but he was actually smiling. "Ever the scientist, Jim," he said. "I'm not surprised; I didn't expect you to be convinced by just one demonstration."
"Two demonstrations," said Julia, lifting her glass of water. Pop sort of half laughed, I think he was starting to feel a little less shocked.
Uncle Matt went on, "So we took the liberty of inviting some people that I hope may be able to help persuade you." He looked at his watch. "They should be here any minute."
Before we had much time to wonder who he was talking about, there was a sound outside the flat like a TV gunshot, and then a few seconds later, a knock came on the door.
Julia got up to open it. . .and Stephen and Miranda walked in!
o - - -
That "o and three hyphens" represents me lying collapsed flat on the ground in a dead faint (not literally, but it's how stunned I felt when I saw them).
I was so so glad to see them!
I ran and threw my arms around Miranda and said, "I'm so so glad to see you! How did you get here? How do you know Uncle Matt? Are you a witch? Is Stephen a wizard? Are you - - "
Stephen held up his hand and said, "Stop. I warn you that I charge extra for more than four questions at a time." He nodded to Dad and Pop. "James. Timothy. Good evening. I expect you're surprised to see us."
"That's one word for it," said Pop, and Dad said, "Surprised, yes, and I confess, utterly baffled by this entire evening. I take it you're here to help explain?"
They were all shaking hands while they said these things, and Miranda was hugging Julia, and Uncle Matt was getting more wine glasses.
"Let's all sit down, shall we?" Julia said. "There's a lot to tell, and you might as well be comfortable while you hear it."
Finally everyone who wanted a drink had one, and we all found places to sit. Miranda was next to Stephen on the sofa, and only when we were settled down did I notice that they weren't wearing ordinary clothes. Stephen had this long black coat with a high collar and white cuffs and a million buttons, he looked like something out of A Christmas Carol. Miranda was wearing a long brocade dress with a sort of velvet vest over it, and flowing long sleeves, all in different shades of green with gold trim. It was just lovely, she looked like a queen. But it wasn't like anything she'd ever worn when she lived next door to us. It was just exactly what a real witch might wear.
Stephen took a sip of his wine and began. "Miss Edwards, among your many questions I believe was a request to know how we got here. We arrived via a process known in our magical world as 'apparition,' a form of teletransportation that allowed us to travel from Hogsmeade to London in an instant."
"I'm sorry, but that's impossible!" said Dad. He actually sounded a little upset. "The laws of physics - - "
"Are in constant operation, even in magic." It was Miranda who said this, and she smiled at Dad. "My science - - transfiguration - - is a magical one, Mr. Edwards; it involves a sort of molecular alchemy that Muggle science would no doubt not recognize. But it follows laws."
"Muggle?" asked Dad.
"For Merlin's sake, Matthew, haven't you even got as far as defining 'Muggle' for them?" demanded Stephen.
"We sort of got stuck at 'wizard' and 'witch,'" Uncle Matt said, sounding half apologetic, half defensive.
"It's a lot to take in," said Pop.
"'Muggle' is what we call non-magical people," Miranda said. "But the point I wanted to make is that both our worlds are subject to the same laws of physics that you mention, James. We magical folk are simply able to access and manipulate those laws in ways different from Muggles. Like so."
From the inside of her vest she pulled out her magic wand and waved it at Stephen's empty wine glass.
And - - I am NOT making this up - - it turned into a hamster! A real, live hamster that pushed its little nose into Dad's napkin that was still lying on the coffee table.
Miranda made a different motion with her wand, and the hamster was a wine glass again.
We just stared.
"It's magic, yes," she said. "But also science. Subject to the laws of the physical universe, which are far more complex and multi-faceted than any of us is able to understand."
"Evidently," said Dad faintly. He looked a little pale, and Pop's mouth was literally hanging open. I felt. . .well, I can't really describe it. Sort of scared and excited and tingly at the same time.
And I was pretty pleased with myself, too. Okay, so Stephen and Miranda aren't spies or aliens or wiccans. But I knew they were something out of the ordinary, and I was right!