Caution: Witch In Progress (20 page)

    Gertie was sure Mr Morbid was looking at her again! It was
probably just her feelings of guilt. She might feel better if she told
Grothilde the truth one day. Maybe not yet though.

    The pupils spaced out, and a lot of concentrating on fingertips
began.

    Gertie made sure she was well distanced from anyone else, and
stared at her fingers. She stared at them more in awe than in anticipation. Did
she really want to see fire on the ends of them? What if she couldn’t control
it? What if she set fire to…to what? Gertie looked around herself carefully to
see what she might set fire to. Bertha! What if she set fire to Bertha! The big
girl had loomed into Gertie’s line of vision. She was staring at her own
fingertips with a bored expression. Well, maybe Gertie couldn’t really set fire
to Bertha, but the very thought put her off trying too hard. Owl was near too.
The other birds were keeping their distance. They didn’t seem to like the burnt
smell one bit.

    Bertha didn’t appear to share Gertie’s worries. She was staring
at her hands as if she hoped they would do something clever, without any effort
on her part. They didn’t. Jasper dozed unconcernedly at her feet. The big girl
looked up suddenly to see what was happening as they all heard an excited
squeal coming from Malicia.

    Gertie turned her attention to Malicia too. Small flickering
flames were playing around her fingertips!

    ‘Good, very good!’ exclaimed Mr Morbid, hurrying over. ‘Look
class, this is what you are all aiming for.’

    Fang looked envious, but tried to be as pleasant as he could
(which wasn’t very pleasant), since Malicia was his friend. It was still
obvious to Gertie that he had wanted to be the first to produce fire.

    Malicia was now forming small balls of fire under Mr Morbid’s
careful instruction. Once they were controlled on the ends of her fingers, the
teacher told her to throw them at a rock a few paces away. Malicia did it!

    Seeing the small fires, the bird familiars began to react. They
didn’t like it at all. Most of them flew off to a safer distance. Owl couldn’t
really see what was going on, but his actions made it clear he could sense
danger.

    Gertie felt his anxiety at once. ‘It’s alright, Owl,’ she
consoled him. ‘You fly off somewhere nice. I can manage without you in this
class.’ Owl blinked at her. He had no idea what she was saying, but Gertie saw
him pick up on the idea of what she meant.

    ‘Off you go, Owl, really!’ Gertie encouraged.

    Owl didn’t wait to be told again. He must have believed his
witch was in no danger, because he flew off in the direction of the woods.

    All the familiars seemed at least a little panicky, but some
more than others. More pupils were having minor successes now, and the faint
smell of burning was all around.

    ‘Don’t forget,’ called Mr Morbid, ‘No throwing until I see what
you’re doing, and tell you what to aim at.’

    Gertie didn’t think Nastassia’s praying mantis was happy at all.
He was staring through one side of his jar where he could see his witch
producing flickers of fire, and on the other side was Fang’s vampire bat
eyeballing him. How much stress could he take?

    Fang had finally managed to produce a ball of fire, which he
proceeded to throw as high as he could skywards. Victor the vulture was flying
overhead at the time, but flew off even quicker with a singed feather.

    ‘FANG!’ called Mr Morbid, and hurried over to sort him out.

    Yet another teacher not happy with Fang, thought Gertie. She
looked over to see how Bertha was getting on. Strangely enough, her friend
seemed to be staring at her fingertips with more interest, and muttering
something. Gertie decided that if even Bertha was getting involved, she must
try harder. She asked Bertha what she was doing.

    Bertha looked away from her fingertips and explained. ‘I’m
getting hungry. I wondered if anyone would notice if I ate some of the
marshmallows I’ve brought in my pockets. I prefer them toasted though, so it
made me think...’

    There was a definite glint in Bertha’s eye, and she began
staring at her fingertips again with real effort. She mumbled a little ditty
under her breath about toasting marshmallows. If wasn’t long before she jumped,
and smiled. Soon, she was holding a marshmallow in one hand, and toasting it
with the other. Jasper watched with one weary eye, just in case he should move,
or better still should any marshmallow fall.

    ‘Good control,’ said Mr Morbid, who had come up behind Bertha, ‘but
not exactly what I had in mind.’

    Bertha quickly ate her marshmallow before the teacher could
confiscate it.

    He moved on towards Gertie who saw Bertha sigh with relief then,
pleased the teacher’s attention was distracted, reach out another marshmallow
to toast.

    ‘How’s it going, Gertie?’ the teacher asked.

‘Uhm, not very well I’m afraid, sir,’ she replied, a bit downcast.

    ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Mr Morbid. ‘I’m sure it will come to you.
Greta speaks…er, sorry, Miss Fiendish, speaks very highly of you.’

    Gertie stared at him in surprise. ‘She does?’

    ‘Yes, of course she does,’ he replied. ‘Are you frightened of
fire, Gertie?’ he asked in a low voice.

    Gertie thought about it for a moment, and then replied. ‘Well,
not frightened of fire as such, but of what I might do with it.’

    ‘Don’t be,’ reassured the teacher. ‘Believe me, Gertie, I can
put out fires as easily as I can make them. Do you think I’d be allowed up here
with all you little fire devils if I couldn’t?’

    ‘Well, I guess not,’ replied Gertie, feeling a little better.

    ‘Okay then, off you go, make fire!’ he encouraged. His eyes
crinkled up at the corners in an amused way, and his dark eyes sparkled.

    Gertie smiled. She decided that he looked a lot younger than she
had originally thought, and looked quite kind, for a warlock.

    She tried again in a more relaxed, but determined way.

    Mr Morbid suddenly said ‘Ooops,’ and hurried off towards Ghoul.
The boy had managed to set fire to his own notepad. It should have been put
safely out of the way. With a brief movement of his slim hands and a few words,
Mr Morbid soon had the fire out. He then looked over at Gertie and winked in an
‘I told you so’ sort of way.

    Gertie liked him. She wondered if Miss Fiendish knew his first
name like he did hers. Secretly, she hoped so.

    With a smile on her face, she watched the first flickers of
flame beginning on her fingertips.

Gertie
felt she could burst with things to tell Ma and Gran on their next visit. This
would be the last time she saw them before her Presentation. So far, Gertie
hadn’t even told Ma or Gran what she was about to attempt. As the time grew
closer, she decided she should confide in someone, just to make sure she was
doing the right thing. Who better to talk it over with than the two people she
loved most in the whole world.

    She knew Gran could tell there was something on her mind the
minute they arrived. The hugs and smiles and kisses were all the same, but
there was something lurking under the surface. It was a sort of anticipation,
or even confusion. Whatever it was, Gran didn’t ask. Gertie knew she was
waiting for her to get to the point sooner or later, in her own way.

    Ma listened appreciatively to Gertie’s girlish chatter about her
classes, and even about seeing flickers of fire at her fingertips. Eventually,
Gertie fell silent, and looked down at her feet.

    ‘Is everything alright?’ asked Ma in concern.

    Gran looked at Ma, in a knowing way. ‘I think our Gertie has
something to tell us,’ she said at last, quietly (for Gran).

    Gertie looked at her Gran and smiled. She then felt a bit
troubled again.

    Both of the older witches waited patiently for Gertie to begin.

    ‘Well,’ Gertie finally said. ‘I’m not too sure whether it’s
something I want to actually tell you, or to ask you. It’s about my
Presentation.’ She paused, and looked at them both in turn, a serious
expression on her face.

    You know you can tell us anything, don’t you, Gertie?’ Ma asked.

    ‘Of course!’ replied the young witch, breaking into a smile again.
One was never far from Gertie’s face. ‘It’s just, well, it’s…’ Gertie had never
felt so lost for words.

    ‘We’ll help in any way we can,’ Gran encouraged.

    After another pause, a wave of words gushed out of Gertie, in
danger of tripping over themselves in an attempt to get out first. Almost
without stopping for breath, Gertie told them everything she had read, all she
had collected, how she had studied, and what she planned to do.

    It was now Ma and Gran’s turn to be quiet. They looked at each
other as Gertie finally finished speaking. Both looked unsure what to say. Ma
was the first to speak.

    ‘Are you sure it’s…safe?’ she asked.

    ‘As sure as I can be,’ replied Gertie, staring intently at Ma.

    ‘I mean, if something went wrong…’ Ma left the thought hanging
in the air.

    ‘I know,’ replied Gertie, looking down. She then stared them in
the face again, ‘but if it goes right!’

    ‘And, do you feel it will go right, my little imp?’ asked Gran,
looking deep into Gertie’s eyes.

    Gertie’s clear blue eyes stared back. She had thought about this
for a long time. ‘Yes, Gran,’ she replied in a confident voice.

    ‘Well then, that’s good enough for me, lass,’ Gran replied with
a crooked smile. ‘I know you well enough to believe you wouldn’t do something
like this if you had any doubts. So, what are you asking us, Gertie?’ she
asked.

    ‘I guess I had to talk it through,’ replied Gertie. ‘I had to be
sure.’

    ‘And are you?’ asked Ma.

    After only a slight pause, Gertie’s answer was a definite ‘Yes.’

    Amidst a few more hugs, Gertie’s Presentation was finalised.

    The big day soon dawned. Much too soon for Gertie. It wasn’t
just the form her Presentation would take; it was being the centre of
everyone’s attention while she did it. Nothing must be allowed to spoil her
concentration. So much depended on it.

    The Presentations were to take place in a small extension at the
back of the Academy. They had all heard that so many things could happen, and
did happen, on Presentation Day. The staff therefore took no unnecessary
chances with their best rooms. The building was only one storey high, with no
windows. The less there was to break, the better.

    Lit only by flaming torches high on the walls, an eerie glow
filled the room. It was furnished very sparsely with one, long, oak table and
three high backed oak chairs. Miss Wick sat on the centre chair, with her hands
clasped together on the heavy table. On either side of her sat Mr Wolfsbane,
and Miss Hemlock. The first term witches and warlocks together with their
familiars, were instructed to stand against the far stone wall on entering the
room. From here, each would have to walk in turn to the centre of the room to
give their Presentation. Gertie was dreading it. Fang looked quite excited
about the whole thing. Bertha appeared half asleep.

    Once the muffled animal noises and shuffling of feet had
subsided, Miss Wick began to speak.

    ‘Welcome, all of you, to your first Presentation. As you can
see, the judges today are myself, Mr Wolfsbane and Miss Hemlock. The teachers
used as judges are chosen at random each term, to give you all a fair chance,
whatever your favourite subject.’

    Gertie secretly wished that Miss Fiendish had been there, but it
wasn’t to be.

    ‘I will choose names out of this small cauldron,’ she pointed to
the black object on the desk before her. ‘As your name is called, you will come
forward and give your Presentation. You will then return to the group. We will
make notes of your performance, but no one will be finally marked until all
your Presentations have been seen. Any questions?’

    No one had anything to ask.

    ‘Right,’ announced the Head Witch. ‘We will begin!’

    With that, she dipped her hand into the cauldron and pulled out
a folded piece of paper. Everyone held their breath as she opened it. No one
wanted to be first, except maybe Fang.

    Miss Wick looked up from the piece of paper, met eyes with each
of the pupils, then announced ‘GHOUL’

    Ghoul gulped loudly and asked ‘Me, Miss?’

    ‘You are, Ghoul, are you not?’ asked Miss Wick.

    ‘Well, er, yes, Miss,’ replied the young warlock, looking like
he hoped someone else might say ‘I’m called Ghoul too!’ Obviously, it didn’t
happen.

    Taking a deep breath, he lifted Charlie out of one of the huge
pockets in his cloak, and stepped forwards. He then stood before the table, as
if frozen to the spot. Charlie looked pale. He seemed to sense Ghoul’s unease.
The chameleon was a sort of sickly pale yellow colour. A bit like Ghoul really,
thought Gertie.

    ‘You may begin,’ said Miss Wick, when Ghoul didn’t start to do
anything.

    Ghoul stared at the teachers, and twisted his face up. The
teachers stared back. After a while, Miss Wick repeated in a louder voice ‘You
may begin now, Ghoul.’

    ‘But, er, that was it, Miss,’ mumbled Ghoul, looking down at his
feet.

    The teachers looked at each other, then back at Ghoul. Mr
Wolfsbane suddenly seemed to realise what was happening, and took pity on
Ghoul.

    ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘Is your Presentation a grimace?’

    ‘Yes, sir’ replied Ghoul.

    ‘I see. Well relax, young Ghoul. I’ve seen you do much better
than that in class,’ he continued.

    Ghoul looked close to tears.

    ‘Not that your grimace wasn’t very good,’ encouraged Mr
Wolfsbane.

    ‘It was?’ asked Ghoul, looking a bit more confident.

    ‘Oh yes,’ replied the warlock. ‘But, pretend we’re back in class,
and do another for us. Can you do that?’

    ‘I’ll try, sir.’ Ghoul composed himself, and stroked Charlie’s
head to help to concentrate. He then thrust his face forwards quickly, as
taught by Mr Wolfsbane, and gave a most fearsome grimace. His face took on such
an evil glare as he drooled, that even Miss Wick gave a slight intake of
breath.

    All three judges began to scribble away on their notepads.

    ‘Thank you, Ghoul,’ said Miss Wick. ‘You may return to the
others.’

    Ghoul appeared to feel much better now. He looked pleased with
his performance as he walked back to stand by the wall. Even Charlie had turned
a healthier shade of green.

    A few pupils whispered to Ghoul, or patted him on the back.

    Fang just smirked. ‘No competition,’ he muttered.

    Miss Wick was already dipping into the cauldron for the second
name. As the pupils heard the rustle of paper, they all fell silent again.

    ‘MALICIA,’ called the Head.

    After a slight jump on hearing her name, Malicia stepped
forwards. She looked more confident than Ghoul had.

    ‘May I say something before I begin?’ she asked, her voice a
little quaky, but growing stronger.

    ‘Of course,’ replied Miss Wick.

    ‘I am about to produce fire,’ announced Malicia, more loudly and
much more confidently now. ‘But due to the confines of the room, and the
possible danger, I will keep the fireballs small.’

    ‘That sounds wise to me,’ replied Miss Wick, looking quite
impressed already.

    ‘I want you to know I can produce them much bigger, and far more
powerful,’ continued Malicia. She was clearly getting into the flow of her own
importance now. Gertie thought that Malicia could already see herself being
presented with the Golden Spider Award.

    ‘Excellent,’ replied the Head. ‘Now please astound us with your
Presentation.’ Miss Wick seemed to be looking forward to it.

    Malicia gave quite a display. In moments, she brought fire to
her fingertips with ease, and passed it from one hand to the other. She then
waved her hands in such a way that the small flickering flames danced around
them in fiery patterns. Everyone was quite entranced. After a while of this
perfectly controlled display, Malicia cast a few, small, harmless fireballs at
the stone wall where they spluttered and died out. She then stood staring at
Miss Wick, looking very pleased with herself.

    ‘Thank you for your splendid display,’ said Miss Wick. ‘You may
now return to the others.’

    All three teachers scribbled away for quite some time, while
many of the other pupils stared at Malicia in awe. Diablo had simply licked his
paws the whole time, and was now proceeding to wash himself. He was the only
one who didn’t look impressed at all.

    Fang didn’t even meet his friend’s gaze. Gertie knew it was
because her display was pretty good, and he was annoyed.

    Everyone’s attention was soon distracted again by Miss Wick
calling ‘HAGGIE.’

    Gertie felt her heart thumping in her throat every time she
heard the paper rattle. She was so nervous! Her name could be called out at any
time. She turned to look at Owl on her shoulder, and reached up to stroke his
feathers. He obviously had no idea what was going on. He probably wished he
could fly off in the open again.

    Haggie gave quite a good demonstration of the Point and the
Voice. Her hand remained steady, and her voice commanding. Miss Hemlock looked
particularly impressed. Haggie even managed a good point with each hand, which
would give her extra marks.

    Miss Wick didn’t look as impressed as she had been with the
fireballs, but she scribbled away nevertheless.

    It wasn’t long before all the pupils were holding their breath
again as the Head Witch dipped into the cauldron. Holding up the next piece of
paper, she hesitated. Gertie was sure that Miss Wick did this on purpose to add
to the suspense. After looking around at all the anxious faces again, she
called, ‘BERTHA.’

    Gertie jumped. Oh gosh, Bertha was right next to her. That was
too close for comfort. Bertha didn’t move, so Gertie gave her a nudge. Bertha
had been leaning against the wall and, Gertie suspected, snoozing with her eyes
open. That was something she had cultivated quite well in the last few weeks.

    ‘Huh?’ asked Bertha.

    ‘BERTHA,’ called Miss Wick again.

    ‘Oh, is it my turn?’ asked the big girl, not looking too
bothered at all. She left Jasper where he was, snoozing in a dark corner.
Bertha picked up her broom from where it was leaning against the wall, and
waddled to the centre of the room.

    ‘Can I put something on your table, Miss?’ she asked.

    ‘Yes, you may,’ replied Miss Wick.

    Bertha reached into the deep pockets of her cloak and took out
several small cakes and unwrapped chocolate bars. She placed them carefully on
the table.

    ‘Uhm, could I just ask if these have anything to do with your
Presentation, Bertha?’ asked Miss Wick, rather puzzled.

    ‘Oh yes,’ replied the big girl. ‘They play a vital part.’

    Some of the pupils giggled, but fell silent at a glance from
Miss Wick.

    ‘Then please proceed, Bertha,’ encouraged Miss Wick. ‘Begin your
Presentation.’

    Bertha, with a struggle, lifted her fat leg over her broomstick
and sat astride it. Muttering a few words, she rose easily into the air. Only a
few feet high. She then proceeded to make a slow but controlled ride around the
room. The teachers scribbled a few notes. Bertha then paused in mid air with
her back to the wall, and waited until she had their full attention again.
Next, she stared hard at one of the cakes on the table. As Bertha began to move
forwards again, so the cake began to rise. As Bertha flew slowly past the
table, the cake headed into her mouth.