Caution: Witch In Progress (11 page)

    She then became aware that Mr Daemon was watching her with a
faraway look in his eyes.

    ‘I think we have a natural,’ he saw him mouth, almost too
quietly for anyone to hear.

    He then asked Gertie again if Owl was alright. This time Gertie
replied that Owl seemed fine. Owl bumped himself so often, she explained, he
was used to it. ‘Poor Owl,’ she said, ‘It’s all because of his sight. I wish I
could do something to help him.’

    Gertie missed the next few minutes of the class, as an idea began
to form in her mind.

Mr
Daemon looked carefully at each young witch and warlock in turn. Somehow, it
felt like a very probing look to Gertie. It seemed as if the teacher was trying
to peer inside them all, rather than at them. It was obvious everyone felt as
uncomfortable as Gertie did, because she saw a few of the other pupils actually
shudder as Mr Daemon’s gaze passed from them. To her surprise, no one spoke.

    Finally, Mr Daemon broke the silence.

    ‘Well now,’ he began. ‘I can see no obvious reasons in any of
you to suggest you will not be fit to own a familiar. Some of you will gain
more of a friendship and a connection to your familiars than others, but no one
here has a nature that makes them cruel to animals.’

    Gertie was surprised Fang hadn’t fallen into that category.
Maybe he was only cruel to people.

    Some pupils looked shocked. Fang gave a sharp intake of breath.

    ‘What?’ asked Mr Daemon. ‘Do I surprise you? Surely not. All
creatures deserve kindness, and none more so than your chosen familiars. You
will yourselves be treated, in the same manner as you treat your familiars. It
is advisable then, wouldn’t you say, to be kind to them.’

    Gertie was still stroking Owl’s feathers. She couldn’t imagine
treating him any other way. She saw Fang give Vlad a slightly alarmed stare.
The bat gave him a similarly dark glare back.

    Charlie was now red with yellow polka dots, and Ghoul stared at
him proudly.

    Bertha and Jasper began to snore in unison.

    Mr Daemon’s voice rose as he continued, and Bertha jolted awake.
Jasper continued to snore. After all, he wasn’t expected to listen.

    ‘Not every witch and warlock, as I’m sure you will have noticed,
has a familiar.’

    No, thought Gertie. Neither Ma nor Gran have.

    ‘This is a matter of personal choice,’ Mr Daemon explained. ‘Most
young trainee witches and warlocks however, do have one. They find the help
given by a familiar invaluable.’

    Gertie stared at Owl, wondering when he would start to be
amazingly helpful. Owl turned his head on one side to get in a better
scratching position.

    ‘We recommend all trainees have one, at least until your skills
improve. Your familiar will find ways to warn you of danger, as they are very
sensitive to harmful intent and powers being used against you. They will also
lend their own energy to your spells, if treated well. They have very close
connections to psychic powers, and also, to you. You scratch his ear,’ Mr
Daemon added, looking at Gertie who was doing just that, ‘and he will scratch
yours, so to speak.’

    Everyone was staring at their familiars in a very different way.
Up to today, they had not seen them as much more than pets.

    ‘The bond between a witch or a warlock and their familiars is
one of the strongest you will ever find,’ Mr Daemon said, keeping the attention
of the whole class. ‘This is one of the reasons why some older witches and
warlocks do not have familiars. The bond with their first, most important,
familiar, was so strong they cannot face the thought of replacing them when the
creature passes on. We all know animals do not live as long as we do, sadly.
Familiars however, do live longer than normal people’s pets do. We believe this
might be something to do with the strong psychic bond between master or
mistress, and familiar. You will find if the first familiar is replaced, then
that witch or warlock will probably keep different familiars all their lives.
Albert is my third familiar, and a very fine fellow he is too.’

    Albert turned his yellow eyes in Mr Daemon’s direction, and
purred softly.

    Gertie was taking in all the teacher was saying with the
greatest of interest, and was thinking about the residents of Vile Vale. She
knew Mr Daemon must be right, because both her Ma and her Gran had spoken about
having a familiar when they were young, but never another. Grothilde, on the
other hand, seemed to get another every few years, or less. And it wasn’t
always because she had lost them off her broomstick in full flight. Gertie was
impressed. Mr Daemon did know an awful lot about familiars, and he seemed kind.
She liked him. She nudged Bertha, who was beginning to snore again and
distracting her. Gertie wanted to give her full attention to the teacher.

    ‘The most common familiars are cats, toads, owls and dogs.’ Mr
Daemon was now saying. ‘But as we can all see here, almost any creature can
play the part. Finding your familiar is a very personal thing. Whether you
intended it or not, as you were seeking your familiar you would be sending out
psychic messages. When you came across the creature that responded to your call
by coming to you, I am sure you immediately felt the strongest kind of
connection. A familiar can be any creature with which you feel an all important
affinity.’

    Quite a few pupils were nodding and staring intently at their
chosen familiars. Even Fang had eye to eye contact with his. It looked more
like eyes locked in a battle of wills, but at least it was some kind of
connection.

    Gertie thought about the dull thud that had announced Owl’s
arrival as he slid down the tree trunk. Had he been rushing to her call? She
thought not, but it was a nice idea. They had certainly hit it off right away.
Well, as soon as he got over his concussion.

    ‘A witch or warlock and their familiar are like two sides of the
same coin,’ Mr Daemon continued. ‘When a true bond is formed, you can read each
other like a book. You know all of each other’s good and bad points, and admire
each other for them all. You will even find, in time, that you know what your
familiar is thinking. Your mind will communicate as surely as if you were
talking together. Your familiar will know your mind much more quickly than you
will theirs. They are far more able to use their psychic powers naturally than
we are. Also, even though you are very unlikely to ever be able to communicate
with anyone else’s familiar; they will be well able to communicate freely with
each other.’

    Gertie could see the truth in that by glancing around the room.
Vlad had spotted Killer, and was obviously sending some terrible threats over
to the praying mantis. It was all but on its knees praying at this very moment.

    Diablo had taken to glaring at Clawd’s rat, which was clearly
beginning to feel the sense of his own death this time.

    It was only Mr Daemon’s calming spell currently keeping cat from
rat, bat from praying mantis, dog from cat (though not Jasper, he was too lazy
to take chase), and chameleon from spider; to name but a few. It was a very
interesting lesson, all in all.

    ‘That leads us very nicely to our first test with our familiars.’

    Everyone groaned at the word, test.

    ‘A little enthusiasm would be helpful,’ continued Mr Daemon. ‘This
is nothing too difficult. We are going to test the strength of your psychic
contact with your chosen familiar.’

    Dozens of pairs of eyes stared blankly at the teacher.

    ‘Call it mind reading if you wish,’ Mr Daemon explained. ‘Whether
you know it or not, you will have some degree of mind contact with your
familiar. How often do you think of something, and your familiar immediately
responds to the thought before you utter a word or make a move?’

    Nods and comments showed that quite a few of the pupils had
experienced it.

    ‘Right then, I want you to try, by thought alone, to get your
familiars to do something, or to behave in a certain way. Think about it. It’s
up to you what you want them to do. I shall give you a little practice time,
then I will pick a few of you out to show us all what you can do.’

    Gertie didn’t like the sound of that. She hated the thought of
being picked out. Maybe she wouldn’t be picked. After all, she was sat right at
the back, and there were a lot of pupils in the class. Owl wasn’t a very
unusual familiar. Still, she had better decide what she would do. Before Gertie
stared owl in the eyes and began to concentrate, she saw Mr Daemon was glancing
around the room. He noticed the gag on Minx’s beak.

    ‘Why the gag, Lucyfer?’ he asked.

    ‘Minx won’t stop talking once she starts, sir,’ explained the
young witch.

    ‘Uhm, well, surely she can’t be that bad? Take it off and let’s
see,’ suggested the teacher.

    ‘Are you sure, sir?’ asked Lucyfer. ‘You won’t like it.’

    ‘Let’s try,’ repeated Mr Daemon.

    Lucyfer slipped the gag from her myna’s beak. Minx stared
around, but didn’t say a word.

    ‘You see,’ said Mr Daemon. ‘Now what’s wrong with that?’

    ‘What’s wrong with that?’ Minx mimicked loudly.

    ‘Ah, I see,’ added Mr Daemon.

    ‘Ah, I see,’ repeated Minx.

    The class all laughed. So did Minx in its own squawky way. The
bird then began to sing, loudly, as she strutted around Lucyfer’s desk in her
jaunty way of walking. Unfortunately, it was a rude song.

    ‘Oh dear,’ the teacher began…

    ‘Oh dear!’ squawked Minx.

    ‘I see what you mean, Lucyfer,’

    ‘See what you mean, see what you mean.’

    ‘Please put the gag back on, for now.’

    ‘Gag back on, gag back on on on on.’

    Lucyfer grabbed the bird, and quickly slipped the gag around its
beak. The myna gave a sigh, and settled down again. Minx was used to being
gagged, frequently. She probably had no idea why.

    ‘I feel your first test should be to try to convince your myna
bird that it doesn’t need to talk ALL the time, Lucyfer. Try concentrating very
hard and see if you can get through to her mind.’

    Lucyfer didn’t look very convinced, but stared hard at Minx who
was currently trying to pull at the gag with a very yellow leg ending in claws.

    After a while, the class was interrupted by Ghoul shrieking ‘IT
WORKED!’

    ‘Ah, do we have a success?’ asked Mr Daemon in interest.

    ‘Oh yes!’ replied Ghoul with glee.

    ‘Right, young warlock. Can you tell us, or better still show us,
what you and your chameleon can do?’

    ‘Well,’ began Ghoul excitedly, ‘I asked Charlie to turn green,
and he did!’

    ‘Yes, but how many colours did he cycle through before he hit
green?’ asked Fang with a sneer.

    ‘Eh?’ asked Ghoul. ‘What do you mean?’

    ‘Uhm, Fang has a point,’ agreed Mr Daemon, to the delight of
Fang. ‘Sometimes, coincidence can play a part. Did your chameleon turn green
soon after you started to concentrate on him turning green, Ghoul?’

    ‘Well, fairly quickly,’ replied Ghoul, looking a little let down
now.

    ‘Why don’t you show us?’ asked the teacher.

    Ghoul looked around, clearly wishing he hadn’t singled himself
out like this, and said, ‘Okay, green.’

    He stared at the purple chameleon intently. Charlie stared back.
He turned orange, then red, then pink, yellow, black, blue, white, blue again
but with yellow dots, lemon, then green!

    ‘See!’ enthused Ghoul.

    Fang laughed so much he splashed everyone around him with spit.

    ‘Not completely conclusive, Ghoul,’ said Mr Daemon, choosing his
words carefully. ‘But, a great try. Keep up the good work.’

    Ghoul was delighted, and stroked Charlie’s head in affection.

    ‘One quick question, Ghoul,’ Mr Daemon asked with a thoughtful
look on his face. ‘When you were thinking, green, did you see the word green,
or did you see the colour in your mind?’

    ‘Uhm, I guess I thought of the word, green,’ replied Ghoul,
looking puzzled.

    ‘Ah, now. That might be the problem. Words will mean little or
nothing to your familiars as they do not communicate in the same way we do. Try
again Ghoul, but this time see the colour, green. In fact, see Charlie as
green, and try to communicate that thought to him.’

    ‘Right!’ said Ghoul with enthusiasm.

    Charlie was currently staring around, probably wondering why
everyone was looking at him. He turned a bright shade of pink. Out of
embarrassment perhaps.

    ‘Charlie, look at me,’ encouraged Ghoul. The chameleon did.
Ghoul screwed up his face in concentrated effort as he stared into his
chameleon’s eyes.

    Charlie turned blue, then yellow, then green!

    ‘Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!’ called Ghoul, ‘It worked!’

    ‘Better Ghoul, much better,’ agreed Mr Daemon. ‘And that, class,
is a good pointer for you all to remember. Try to think in images that will
mean something to your familiars. Now, any more volunteers?’

    Bertha, yes, Bertha, actually spoke.

    Gertie looked at her in shock, thinking she must be talking in
her sleep. No, she was actually facing Mr Daemon and was actively talking. Her
usual yellow skin had taken on a pinkish tinge rather like Ghoul’s chameleon
had earlier.