In the small town of Halcyon, there lived Hazel Moonfield, minding her own business. She dipped the feather into the ink bottle and began to write. The owl made a sound, looking at the letter. The lazy old owl, which had been her late grandmother's pet, was probably sad because she had to carry the letter Hazel was writing. The room was filled with candles, grimoires, a cauldron, jars of herbs, and vials of potions. Hazel preferred writing with the feather rather than a pen. She enjoyed nature and its sounds. It was the start of her favorite month-Autumn. In the witch's circle, it was a great month for brewing potions. Unfortunately, she didn't have to make potions or do magic because she lived in the town disguised as a writer. Her beloved friend Natalie Sonnet, who was a writer, sent her poems which Hazel later published in the town magazine as her own work. She was currently writing a novel and wanted a peaceful atmosphere, as she told the townspeople.
Her grandmother, a herbalist and also a witch, had a greenhouse filled with a great variety of magical plants and trees. She had cast an enchanted spell connected to her death to protect the plants from being noticed by muggles.
Nobody came to Hazel's home. She felt like everyone knew she was a witch, but nobody cared. When she first arrived in town, the old town selectman, James Whitefield, had told her that if she didn't cause any harm, she could live there peacefully like her grandmother, and he welcomed her with open arms. She felt she belonged. She attended town meetings and talked to her neighbors. Everybody in town was welcoming and kind.
Hazel was immersed in her writing when she heard a knock. Surprised, she hid her letter in a drawer and looked around. The room was filled with magical items. She had no explanation for this if questioned by the police.
She took her wand and hid it inside her coat in case she had to use it. She opened the door and found a nervous boy standing there.
"Hello!" he said shyly.
"Hello, little one! Are you okay?" She thought the boy might be lost or something.
"I need your help..." he said nervously, expecting she would decline. He looked about ten years old, wearing dark blue shorts and a red t-shirt, and had mud all over his body.
"Tell me your mother's name. I'll call her if you're lost," she said sweetly.
"No. I came to meet you."
"Me? Who sent you?" she inquired.
"I need a lucky potion," he said plainly, as if it were a command. Hazel didn't expect this.
"What?"
"I know you're a witch. I heard my grandmother telling my mom in the kitchen early this morning."
"Oh boy," she sighed. "There is no such thing as witches. It's a myth. You should go home."
She closed the door. The boy gave one last look at the house and walked away. Hazel felt horrible for behaving like that. It was the first time someone had asked her for help involving magic. But she was not supposed to do magic in town. She had to pretend she was a muggle to live peacefully. And the boy looked innocent and needy. A lucky potion brings you luck for an entire day-whatever you do, you win; whatever you wish, it will happen. It could also be misused. Hazel thought it wasn't wise to give a ten-year-old boy a lucky potion and consoled herself with that thought.
After finishing the letter, she visited the greenhouse. Her grandmother had a wide collection of magical and medicinal herbs, including belladonna, wormwood, mandrake, lavender, valerian, ginger, rosemary, dandelion, sunflower, and many more. She thought about what would be needed to make the lucky potion. She had never brewed a potion before. She was busy with her studies, and her parents had never allowed her to practice witchcraft or brew potions at home. She went to look at Grandma's potion book to see what was needed. It contained more than a thousand potions, including dangerous poisons. The lucky potion was one of the simpler ones. The ingredients included dragonfly wings, moonlit dewdrops, crimson maple leaves, golden sunflower petals, and whispering wind breath. These ingredients seemed easy to gather.
She had to post the letter in the mailbox. On the way, she could collect maple leaves. She didn't want to bother the owl; it was old and tired, and if it got caught, it would be trouble. The owl was a friend who made her feel less lonely in the house. Since it was autumn and maple trees were everywhere, she could easily find some fallen leaves. She took a bath, got ready, and went straight to the post office with the letter. The postal worker, Richard, was at the counter.
"Never seen you here! New to town?" Richard asked in a friendly way.
"Yeah! I'm Halsey's granddaughter, Hazel," she said with a wide smile, handing the letter to him. He checked to ensure it was properly stamped and addressed.
"It will take a few days to reach there. Hope you don't mind."
"Okay. Thank you," she said, starting to leave. Just then, The boy came in, crying.
"Dad!" he called out. Richard looked at him with concern.
"I told you not to go there anymore. Come, I'll take you home." He hugged the boy. The boy noticed Hazel with a petrified expression, perhaps misunderstanding that she came to tell about their previous meeting.
"Go inside and wash your face in the washroom first," Richard advised. The boy, still staring at Hazel, went to the washroom.
"There's a football tournament going on in town. Our town kids are playing against the city kids. Those city kids are bullies; they win tournaments every time. They beat him when he crosses the ground or sees them alone. I told James, but he doesn't want to make an issue. My kid needs to go to tuition through that ground. I can't take him there every day; I have work to do. What can I do? I'm a poor postal worker. I'm sorry for the drama," Richard said.
"It's okay. I understand. I wish I could help," Hazel consoled him. It was a bit much to share with a stranger, but she knew he needed to vent. It was her nature as a witch to listen and help the needy.
"Hope they win the tournament," Richard sighed. Hazel felt sympathetic for the boy. Maybe he had too much on his plate and just wanted to win. On her way back, she collected the crimson maple leaves from the roadside.
In the evening, she went to the greenhouse. It was the end of sunflower season, and it was the perfect time for harvesting golden petals. Additionally, it was a full moon tonight. The timing seemed perfect, as if nature wanted her to brew the potion. It was her first potion, and nature has a way of helping witches. Perhaps the universe itself sent the boy to her. She watched the full moon from her greenhouse. There was a special area in the greenhouse where her grandmother had planted plants specifically to collect moonlit dewdrops. Hazel collected them with care. She only needed two more ingredients for her potion now.
She went to sleep early that night so she could wake up early to collect the dragonfly wings. She had a dream where she became the best potion maker in the world and gathered many medals. She woke up with a smile when her alarm rang.
Before the sun came up, while the dragonflies fluttered near the small pond in the backyard-created by her grandmother with magic-she collected the dragonfly wings from the water. Everything was ready in the cauldron, which was placed on a table in the greenhouse. She just needed the whispering wind breath. She swirled the cauldron with her wand in an anticlockwise direction. She opened the spellbook and studied the spell for inviting a light breeze.
"Phesmatos Adferte levem aurum," she whispered. The cauldron captured the enchanted wind breath. The potion came to life, and it was a golden yellow-a color she adored. Golden yellow represented luck, love, and hope. She collected the potion in a small bottle. She had only made it for a single use. She put the bottle on one of her shelves and looked at it with a sad face. Who would use it now, she wondered.
Days passed. She wished for the boy to come sometimes. It was the first potion she ever made, and it disturbed her that it was not used. The tournament day was approaching, and the boy would not ask for the potion once it was over. Early in the morning of the tournament day, she heard a knock on the door. She jumped from her chair and walked to the door in excitement. When she opened it, the boy was standing there with a nervous look. He was covered in mud and looked at her with his puppy eyes.
"Today is the tournament," his voice cracked as he spoke. He was afraid of losing.
"Come inside," she said, and the boy followed her into the living room. They sat on the sofa. The owl made a noise and looked at her in disapproval. Her grandmother would never have invited someone to the house and allowed them a little peek at the magical objects. She wanted to show the boy she was a real witch. The boy observed the magical objects and spell books around the room. It was a cozy space, and a candle was lit on the corner table. He noticed the ink bottle near the candle, a grandfather clock by the floor lamp, a lantern situated near the window, and a globe on the shelf.
"Enough with the observation," she commanded. The boy shook and gave her a nervous look.
"Are you going to help me?" he asked.
"Maybe. Let me give you something refreshing. You look tired."
She went to the kitchen to make moonlit lemonade. The boy stared at the objects and noticed a small box on the shelf. Without making a sound, he stood up and walked to the shelf. He opened the small box, which contained a diamond ring that shone brightly. The boy had a crush at school and wanted to propose to her, thinking the ring was a good idea. He stood there daydreaming about his crush saying yes to him.
In the kitchen, Hazel added freshly squeezed lemon juice and blueberry juice into the pitcher to make the moonlit lemonade. She added a drop of enchanted honey to sweeten the drink and then added sparkling water and stirred it. She poured the drink into a glass filled with ice cubes and added edible glitter for a refreshing feel.
The boy put the small ring box into his pocket and sat on the sofa. When Hazel returned with the refreshing drink, he was sitting there with an innocent face. The boy drank the lemonade and gave her a wide smile.
"This is the best drink I've ever had," he said, joy evident in his voice for the first time. "I have to win. I practiced a lot day and night. I couldn't sleep, you know. Today, when they attacked, I fought back and punched one of them," he said proudly.
She was a little disappointed. There was something about the boy she didn't trust. Something new. She looked at the half-filled glass of moonlit lemonade. The boy wanted her to pour the lucky potion into the drink. She sensed that was why he hadn't drunk it all.
"Luck is a boon, my dear. If you win everything by adding a bit of magic, it won't make you happy. There will be more joy when you win something through hard work," she said.
"It's not like I'm not hardworking. I need a little luck tomorrow. I really want to win."
Hazel didn't want to mess with the boy and risk losing his hope. She went to the kitchen and brought back a small bottle that contained the lucky potion. It was plain with no color—just water. She switched the drinks.
"Here you go!" She poured the water into the moonlit lemonade. The boy drank it with excitement. He stood up.
"Yes, I feel it. Today I will win." He placed the glass on the table. "Thank you." He left the house with joy.
Hazel sighed. Maybe he would win, she thought. She wanted to give the potion to the boy, but something was not right about him. She put the original bottle with the lucky potion into her pocket and went for a morning walk. When she reached a roadside bench near one of the crimson maple trees, she sat down and began to read a book by her best friend Natalie Sonnet. A middle-aged woman running in her gym clothes, sweating and breathing fast, sat near her. It was jogging time for the town, she guessed. The woman placed the water bottle she was carrying on the bench.
"Oh hey! You're the one who's new to town," the woman said.
"Yes, Hazel," Hazel replied, pausing her reading. They shook hands and introduced each other.
"I'm Marjorie," The woman said, her hands sweaty.
Hazel wondered if this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
"I run a cafe nearby. Hope you'll visit sometime."
"Sure." Hazel liked to mingle with the townspeople and attend the town meetings because they were nice and welcoming.
"Doc said I should exercise to maintain my sugar level, so I jog every day," Marjorie laughed. The townspeople were chatty and shared random details when they first met. "The cafe business isn't doing well. I was at the hospital with my mother. She died. It was her cafe, and now people don't come because it's not the same. I get maybe two or three customers a day. But today is the tournament. People are coming from everywhere. I hope it's a lucky day." She laughed again and bent to tie her shoes.
Marjorie seemed genuine and in need. Hazel smiled and poured the lucky potion into Marjorie's bottle without her noticing.
"See you around." Marjorie stood up and took her water bottle. She continued her jog.
"Hope you have a lucky day," Hazel shouted. Marjorie turned back and winked at her. Hazel felt happy. That day, Marjorie had a lot of customers and made a large amount of money. In the afternoon, Hazel heard from a neighbor that the town boys had won the tournament. The boy had won; she felt surprised, but somehow it felt right. The boy had just believed he drank the potion. He and his teammates had done enough hard work.
Hazel sat at her table reading the spellbook, waiting for her next gig.
( To be continued)